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]

[Mephisto's voice may wobble, but Stephen's is steady- if soft. Mixing with his once again for the conclusion to their song, which, yes, still strikes him as odd- but more odd with how right it feels. As does to allow Mephisto to tug at him, if only to see where he's going, and-

-ah. It's clear enough. He doesn't need to be led in to this, and he moves forwards the rest of the distance, pressing their lips together with his other hand coming up to cup Mephisto's cheek.

He realizes, belatedly, it's still a bit damp.]

[heathencall]

[He doesn't expect Stephen to understand, will probably never be able to put into words exactly the path that he (albeit with some help) had managed to wrench Mephisto from. He can't say he's grateful, some part of him still curses this turn of fate, but he isn't unhappy, either.

He doesn't even notice the problem with Stephen's hand until a few seconds into the kiss. It's enough to entice him to stop, at least, and he rears back with a low chuckle in his throat.]

Fool.

[37773972]

[Something in Stephen's face flickers, briefly, at the affectionate insult, but- while Aston had meant it to hurt, Stephen knows Mephisto doesn't. And he manages a smile a moment later, moving past that memory of being abandoned.

He has a deal. Mephisto doesn't go back on them.]

You like it.

[A tease as he takes a few seconds to dry his hands properly]

...sorry I couldn't do more. [He tilts his head towards Mephisto's wings. Yeah, it was...kind of known, but. He still wanted...]

[heathencall]

[He considers extending their game out a little further, jabbing just as he's best known for. But that moment of emotion on Stephen's face silences him. He glances aside, lip pressing upward in a smile and head shaking.]

I do.

[At the mention of his wings, he stretches them out. He hasn't done much for the sickly, off-colored nature, but they do catch the light just a little more. It's better, if nothing else.]

You've done enough.

[More than enough, he wants to say, but he holds his tongue from that embarrassing utterance.]

[37773972]

[Stephen seems positively charmed by the admission, so there's that, smiling just a bit giddier more as he collects the rest of the things. And then, well- there's admiring the view, and thinking...]

...Maybe polishing oil would do something. If you're open to another try, sometime.

[heathencall]

Sounds a mess, but if you are so inclined to try.

[He won't say no. He's... appreciated the preening. Appreciated everything about this moment.]

But I think I should withdraw for the evening.

[37773972]

[A nod- Stephen was more or less figuring the same.]

I'll leave you to your reading, then. Good night, Mephisto. And...thanks for letting me do this.

[Even though he didn't accomplish what he set out to do, he feels...a lot better than he did, when he entered. Maybe sometimes it's not about the result, but the act itself.]