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

[37773972]

I...tried. [And guesses he did a decent job? As for the last part, he manages a shaky laugh] And that could be worse, too, I guess. Riley's...well.

[ARE GARBAGE]

[heathencall]

Mm. [He's noticed that much as well. It makes him angry, when he thinks about it. It shouldn't have fallen to a near literal demon to offer her some sort of gratification in life.]

If it is all the same to you, I'd rather not think about this mess any longer.

[37773972]

...that's fine. I more or less came in here to try and take my mind off things.

[beat]

What're you reading?

[heathencall]

[Deadpan]

A book.

[And then a wry smile.]

History. Figured I ought to do some catching up if I'm hoping to run away to your future.

[37773972]

[A book, he says. Stephen gives him a look, but he's smiling as well, because- yep, there goes the explanation. His smile turns dry, though.]

We don't know that's my world's. You may be reading Steven's.

[heathencall]

[Mephisto starts to argue but... Stephen probably has a point. He huffs instead and casts the book aside.]

Happy?

[37773972]

It might be mine. [Just gonna watch the book take a trip, bye, Bookisha.] I think most of us are from the same place, anyway, just...different times.

[heathencall]

[Mephisto grits his teeth. He reaches over to retrieve the book, and exposing the span of his back as he does. He hopes Stephen enjoys the view, for all the trouble he's causing.]

[37773972]

[Dem Tats, Tho. He remembers first seeing them and not understanding what he was about to see until they formed, and half-raises a hand before catching himself and lowering it]

...Mephisto, can I ask you something?

[heathencall]

[He retrieves the book and sits back up. One brow lowers, while the other lifts.]

What is it?

[37773972]

[Stephen motions to his own back]

Could I see them again? Your wings.

[heathencall]

[Mephisto blinks slowly not... comprehending the question at first. Why it's a necessity to see this part of him. But he's always been something of a showboat, so it takes only a second for the wings to flicker into existence, if slightly folded given their proximity to Stephen.]

Happy?

[37773972]

[Maybe he just wanted a reminder. Maybe he just wanted to see them again. Either way, he leans back as they manifest, giving space for the...sickly-looking feathers, really, to exist. Unconsciously, his hand raises again, the back of it brushing against some feathers]

And they're always like this?...[He thinks he knows the answer]

[heathencall]

[The feathered appendage flinches back almost instinctively, before finally settling into place. Mephisto himself, on the other hand, remains rather stiff. The question Stephen asks doesn't help that.]

Since I fell, yes.

[37773972]

[Stephen stills his hand, allowing the wing to resettle back in to place before lowering that hand. He seems to be thinking about something, and then...]

Wait here. I'll be right back.

[Excuse him while he pushes himself off the bed]

[heathencall]

[He starts to protest, but just like that, Stephen is gone. Mephisto sits back against the bed and... returns to his book?

Alright, then.]

[37773972]

[Stephen is back in short order, holding a bottle of...dish soap. He brings it over for Mephisto to examine]

...they use it to help clean off birds, when there's oil spills. I thought- maybe I could try it on your wings?

[He's going to desperately hope it doesn't sound as stupid as he feels right now]

[heathencall]

[He squints at the items in Stephen's hands, frown playing at his lip. He bites back the urge to snap off a patronizing comment. If Stephen wants to try that hard to clean him up, Mephisto won't stop him.

He will mutter something under his breath, though.]

Be better off with holy water.

[37773972]

[Heard that] Last I checked, Anne wasn't a priest. [But. That's not a 'no'.] Just let me try for five minutes, and if you hate it, I'll stop. Alright?

[C'mon, give him at least a little clearer sign of 'go ahead']

[heathencall]

There's a chapel upstairs, isn't there?

[He isn't saying go ahead, but if Stephen is still standing there... Mephisto will spread his wings a little further.]

[37773972]

Don't you still need a priest?

[That's a good enough sign for him to sit back down, and...take a look at things. It's not that the wings are dirty, they just...don't look healthy. And this is about the only thing Stephen can think to do, and what's more?

He wants to do it. It's small and it's stupid and it's pointless, but- he wants to feel like he's doing something. And yeah, something got done today, but this...

He pours some of the soap in to his hands, and - because clearly he brought a bottle of water with this, and sure, a cloth - slowly, carefully runs one against feathers. It occurs to him he has no idea how to do this, or how it'll even feel to Mephisto.]

If it hurts, tell me, alright?

[heathencall]

They're feathers, Stephen. They don't feel pain. [Even as he says this, though, he feels where feather within Stephen's hand strains against his skin. He shudders bodily, but makes no move to shy away or vocalize any desire to stop.

Stephen will find rather quickly that his efforts aren't doing much. Sure, it clears away whatever dust has accumulated over the course of the day, but the color is just as sallow and sickly as ever.]

[37773972]

I don't have them, I don't know. [Give him a break, alright? They connect to skin, anyway, don't they?

But- he's trying. And he's going slowly, thoroughly. As if that would somehow make a difference one way or another. He's trying not to get frustrated with the lack of progress - he can at least tell where he's been, and not been - but a frown forms on his face he moves through the plumes]

[heathencall]

And you call yourself a man of science.

[Despite no progress being made on Stephen's part, it's... at least helping Mephisto relax. Yes, the occasional tug borders on the uncomfortable, and he's sure it's probably not a great sign that a couple of feathers fall out in Stephen's hands.

But it does shut him up, so at least there's that.]

[37773972]

I'm a man of star science, not bird. [beat] Or religious studies.

[He's trying his damndest to be gentle, but...each feather falling out makes his heart twinge, like he's done something wrong. Carefully, so carefully, he sets them aside together before moving back and trying to continue even more gently.

When he moves to the other wing, he's so focused on this he's barely realized they've stopped quipping at one another]