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]

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]

[heathencall]

[With silence overtaking them, Mephisto allows his eyes to drift shut. He won't sleep -- aside from one occasion, every time he's allowed himself to sleep, he's remembered something else. Yes, he's noticed the pattern, but it's still not worth it.

Still, it's easier to steady his breathing, to organize his thoughts like this. He can't recall a time that he's ever been cared for in such away, at least not beyond a more carnal form of the act. He can't even recall something similar happening in Heaven, before his graceless fall.

It's intimate. And it should scare him but...

He huffs out a pleased sigh.]

[37773972]

[...oh. Hey. That's an encouraging sign. At least, even if he's not making much progress in terms of making them shine...it's definitely not hurting Mephisto. He wonders what it does feel like, briefly, then refocuses.

There's enough feathers that have fallen out, after all. And if they continued at this rate, then Mephisto won't have many left.

...]

Do they regrow?

[heathencall]

Slowly. In time. [Slower than the other angels, certainly. But in his fall, he'd maintained some connection to the power he'd once held. It was how he was able to do half of the things he did.

It also would explain his susceptibilities to more mundane things. His stomach had ached for hours after the previous trial.

But. He doesn't want to think about any of that.]

I've lost more in one moment before, Stephen. Don't worry about what was shed tonight.

[37773972]

Doesn't mean I can be happy about it. [But if they regrow...he won't be Upset. Still, any others that fall join the small pile he's made, neatly stacked as he resumes the task at literal hand.] Imagine if you brought them out again and they were bare. That wouldn't be nearly as impressive.

[And he's not going to be responsible for that, alright?]

[heathencall]

[Mephisto huffs, pride wounded. There are few things he can take pleasure in any more, especially here. His glorious appearance is one of those.]

Never speak of such a thing again.

[With that, he relaxes back into a... semi-docile state. Though, after a moment a somewhat sly smile curls across his lips.]

Am I going to catch you squirreling them away to remember me by?

[37773972]

[Stephen chuckles softly, giving a careful pat to the wing he's finishing.] I won't even think about it. [He'd rather think of how he wanted these to get, but...it's pretty clear that's not going to happen. Still, he's doing his best, damn it.

As for the question?]

Considering our deal, I don't need to, do I?

[heathencall]

Perhaps not. Perhaps I was simply trying to establish just how much of a sentimental fool you are.

[He glances toward Stephen, and for a moment, there's a note of... affection in his expression. It's mixed with something close to gratitude as well, two very foreign feelings that make Mephisto almost uncomfortable.]

You know your soul isn't truly bound to mine. You can refute me at any time.

[37773972]

[Don't give him a reason to need to keep them, Mephisto, and he won't. As it stands, he may give them to the kids and tell them to play arts and crafts. Not that he'd admit that, because ooh boy.

Still. He pauses, meeting that gaze, and...smiling, wryly]

I probably wouldn't have made a deal with you if you'd tried to force me. The fact you gave me an option is part of why I made the offer I did. [And, may as well admit it;] I was also counting on you wanting to keep me around for a while.

[And he...looks away. Back to the wings, finishing up the last few plumes]

...you're good company, Mephisto. I know you're still trying to figure things out, but if it helps, so am I.

[heathencall]

[Figuring things out. That's putting it mildly. His faith, or lack thereof, had been shattered. His track record of spurning dependency has gone out of the window. Despite having fallen over the mere concept of taking care of humans, he's taken a number of them under his wings.

And he grieves. That's the hardest thing to come to terms with.]

If I were the type to admit it. [He shifts away as Stephen finishes up, if only to face the man directly.] I would say that you have helped me immensely in figuring that much out.

[37773972]

I don't think I'd mind following you until you've figured out as much as you need to. [Especially with the deal including 'waiting 70 years before taking any souls'.] Just don't be heading for a new country every other day?

[That's more a request than a requirement. He wouldn't mind seeing the world- but he also wants the chance to, you know. Be.]

I promise you, there's a lot of places where you can spend years and still not discover everything.

[heathencall]

Yes, I suppose the rigors of travel would not be as easy on you as they would be for me.

[Still, he considers it for a moment, moving city to city every night, no need to wait for Stephen to catch up. He could fall asleep under a different set of stars every night, indulge in any number of sins during the day. He could live freely, no longer dreaming of heaven.

But... That sweet tasting dream felt a little sour when he thought of seeing it all without Stephen.]

Together, then. A slow journey across the globe.

[37773972]

[...]

Could...we go by boat, instead of flying? Or trains, they're nice.

[please. do not. make him. fly.]

[heathencall]

I've told you before, my wings don't work. We would not be able to fly, even if I wanted to.

[37773972]

No, not by wings, I mean-

[oh god he has to explain it doesn't he]

Can I see the book you were reading for a minute? Maybe it covers the Wright Brothers.

[heathencall]

[Mephisto is already laughing. There's something about that exasperation that charms him.

He does hand the book over after awhile, though.]

[37773972]

[mephisto you ass but

Stephen flips around for a few seconds before he's able to narrow down the time period, and-]

Here. Things have improved since then, so they're pretty common now, and they're supposed to be safe, but...I don't like them.

[That sure is a picture of the Wright Brothers with their flying machine!]

[heathencall]

[Mephisto spends a long moment studying that flying machine.

And then promptly closes the book.]

I am inclined to agree. That looks awful.

[37773972]

[There's an undeniable sag of relief in Stephen's shoulders.] They are. I had to fly to get to Germany- I'm hoping it'll be the last time I'll ever need to be on one.

[heathencall]

Boats, then. Across the world.

[Together, he repeats to himself. It makes his chest feel... warm, when he thinks about it.]

[37773972]

[...]

I wonder if I sold everything, if I could afford a boat...