week 4

[stagemanagers]

[Another week, and two more dead. King Richard and Red are both gone, and once again, it was through nothing more than an accident in the heat of the moment. Maybe if you all stay calm and collected, nothing bad will happen again?

Well, maybe not.

When you wake on Sunday, you'll find that you've recovered another one of those memories - or had another dream, if you still wanna be in denial about it. The grounds remain as they are, but this time, the door blocking the stairwell has been unsealed. You can now venture up to the second floor! This is the second time that's happened; it's almost as if you get more space every time someone dies. Or maybe the whole place just seems quieter.]

Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday


(( Welcome to Week 4! Please remember to submit your AC and your memory regains, as well as your coins! You can also still contact the Phantom. ))

Comments

[garbageface]

[ That sounds.......right...... ]

Yeah, and I think butter, too? You add all that, I’ll add the butter and the chocolate chips.

[ So Santana throws in about half a stick of fridge-temp butter, because she’s an overconfident cheerleader who cannot cook at all!! ]

[heathencall]

[Looks right to him! He goes to find the eggs -- three should do, right? That measurement is a little less concrete than everything else -- and then adds some water in as well.

While Santana looks for the chips, he grabs a spoon and gets to stirring. This... probably looks fine?]

So. Is it weakness to say thank you?

[garbageface]

[ santana flips her ponytail out of sheer pride for her recipe. but she shouldn’t count her chickens before they hatch! ]

Mm, maybe. But you can thank me anyway. If we make enough of these, we can sell them. Make a fortune in trombones or whatever.

[ As Mephisto is mixing, Santana preheats the oven. ]

[heathencall]

[The disgust on Mephisto's face is clear as he glances over at Santana.]

I think I've had more than my fair share of Trombones, thank you. [He pauses.] How long until the oven is ready?

[garbageface]

What’s with that look? You got trombone trauma or something?

[ how very no fun of you mephisto! ]

About five minutes.

[heathencall]

I think anyone who was buried beneath that mountain would have trauma, yes.

[He huffs once.]

For something so advanced, it seems to take forever to heat up.

[garbageface]

You -- what?

[ santana shakes her head. you know what? nevermind. ]

Well, yeah, it's gotta get pretty hot. You can stick your hand inside and feel. Just like, don't touch anything.

[ this is great advice! ]

[heathencall]

[Santana would never lead him astray. He opens the door to the oven and lets his hand hover within.]

Not nearly warm enough. What do we do in the meantime?

[Maybe if he keeps his hands busy...]

[garbageface]

Yeah, well, it’s not gonna be like the fires of hell or whatever, but it’ll get there.

[ Oh, Mephiso, you sweet summer child. Santana hands him a stick of butter and takes out a cookie sheet. ]

Rub this butter all over that pan to get it greasy. That way we can actually get the cookies off it when they’ve finished baking. Then we’ll get the dough on it.

[heathencall]

[He regrets asking, this was a very obvious answer. He will... get to work rubbing the cookie sheet down. It feels kind of weird, and his hands feel gross. He'll make faces the entire time.]

This seems outside of your realm of expertise, Santana. Right down to the fact that you've been helpful instead of insulting me.

[garbageface]

[ Okay, first of all, how dare?? ]

Uh, actually, genius, nothing is outside my realm of expertise. Also, do you want me to insult you? 'Cause you've got a lot of material for me to work with.

[ she sighs. ]

Whatever. I'm just -- not feeling it right now.

[heathencall]

[Ah, that feels a little like normal. He won't admit it out loud, but he was starting to worry about her.]

My deepest apologies. [He hesitates for just a moment.] Though if I may press my luck just a little further. Speaking as someone who has done his best to feel nothing toward most living things, it won't hurt you to feel something from time to time.

[garbageface]

I feel plenty of things. Annoyance, superiority, hatred. You know, the usual.

[ That’s where Mephisto is wrong. Feeling anything else, anything more vulnerable, would hurt. ]

[heathencall]

[He can't help but laugh. He doesn't want to come off mocking but... it's almost hard not to.]

You sound like I did. [His mirth tapers off after a moment.] Are you sure you're not a demon yourself?

[garbageface]

[ At the mocking laugh, Santana shoots Mephisto a properly scathing glare. Careful, dude, or you’ll end up in the oven.

She starts aggressively spooning cookie dough on the baking sheet. ]

Probably not. But I wish I was. Everyone else probably thinks I am one, so, might as well be. Also, correction. I sound like you but way cooler.

[heathencall]

You don't give them much of a reason to think otherwise.

[He follows her motions for a moment, before grabbing a spoon and joining in.]

I can assure you, it isn't that great of a role to assume. Even you do bring more... "coolness" to it.

[garbageface]

It’s better that way. [ said bitterly. ] Even if I didn’t give them a reason, they still would think that, trust me.

[ You know what I think you are, Santana? ]

If it’s not that great, why’d you start?

[heathencall]

[Mephisto wants to argue with her but... He doesn't have the capacity to understand her situation. He's deliberately avoided prying at her backstory, knows better than to push in the same ways he's done with Riley and Christine.]

I wouldn't say I started at all. The decision was made for me after I was cast from Heaven for refusing to serve humans.

[And here he is... serving cookies.]

[garbageface]

[ yeah, but the cookies are gonna be terrible, so those don't even count. ]

What, like, you didn't wanna be at our beck and call so you got kicked out? [ santana frowns. ] That's super lame.

[heathencall]

That I got kicked out? Because I am inclined to agree, it was very... lame.

[A beat.] Or do you think it's lame that I didn't want to serve you?

[garbageface]

That you got kicked out.

[ Santana shrugs. ]

If it were me, I wouldn't serve, either. [ that's not exactly a ringing endorsement given santana's personality, but oh well. ] Besides, it seems -- I dunno, kinda dehumanizing to be forced to serve. Or de-angelizing. Whatever. It's getting messed with.

[ and Mephisto knows how Santana feels about that! ]

[heathencall]

I'm inclined to agree. [He flicks some dough down onto the pan hard enough that the momentum causes it to clank against the metal surface. He makes a face at the noise.]

But. That was the Word of God. Who was I to defy him? [A shrug.] It's one thing I will say of this place. At least I've been given a choice.

[garbageface]

Hey, I defy the Word of God all the time. It's fun.

[ santana stares at their half-formed cookies, thinking. ]

Yeah, this place mostly sucks, but. Parts of it are halfway decent, I guess.

[heathencall]

Like being able to chase people down with a knife, and talk down to a demon?

[Congratulations, Santana, you've earned one (1) grin from Mephisto.]

[garbageface]

[ Santana's a winner! Mephisto earns one (1) conspiratorial grin right back. ]

Exactly. Talking down to other humans was getting predictable, you're much more fun.

[ the oven beeps! looks like it's ready. ]

Alright, Medieval Times. Ready to throw your first batch of cookies in an oven?

[ what a milestone. ]