week 7

[stagemanagers]

[Seven weeks. Twelve deaths. Five survivors.

When you wake up at the start of the new week nothing in the opera house seems all that different. The Box Office door is still locked tight as it ever was but the box you've been submitting letters to for the past several weeks still appears to be open. The Phantom is still accepting correspondence apparently.

But something within you is different. You remember everything. All the gaps, the missing pieces, entire chunks of time from back home- they're back and neatly fitted where they should be in your heads.

Just like the previous week, there's a distinct lack of contact from the dead after all of their activity before. No moving Tom Jones cutouts, no recording studio mishaps, no mysterious deliveries for Tad Cooper or automatic writing sessions. It's probably fine though.

As the days trickle by you get the looming the end is near.]

[ Sunday Monday Tuesday ]

[ooc: don't forget to submit your final memories, toss in your regain coins and check in for endgame! Reminder, since this is the last week all characters should be at their true canon point memory-wise!]

Comments

SUNDAY

[stagemanagers]

[madgiganticfeelings]

[Christine wakes on the floor of the hallway with a start. The feeling of a memory coming to her is familiar after so many weeks trapped here, but the feeling of everything suddenly slotting into place, all her memories fitting together in the way they're supposed to be... that's disorienting.

At least she knows Rich, Jake, everyone had ended up safe and sound in the end. At least she knows Jeremy was free of his SQUIP at the very end. At least she had been ready to have a normal, happy life... before she got swept away from everything she loved, and thrust into a new world. And before, not content to just take away her old home, this place took away everything she ever showed love or interest towards.

She probably is cursed, isn't she?

She digs the heels of her palms against her eyes and exhales slowly, before standing up. She has a job to do. There's no time to sleep, no time to eat, if she even had the courage to enter the room she'd lost her Watson in, and certainly no time to waste crying. Stephen gave her a job, and she's got to find the clues he was wondering about.

She pops into the library once more, and before long, she can be found struggling under a pile of thick books. All of them seem to be related to quantum physics, which is certainly not her usual interest.

She takes all her prizes into the computer room, where she alternates between taking notes, checking the indexes of the tomes she's acquired, and... staring at the blinking cursor she's left on the still empty password field.

Maybe once, she slams her fists down on the desk and screams with frustration, but that's probably fine.

And as is typical for her, she is in the cemetary that evening to deliver her letters. They aren't as good as they have been, and her writing is rather sloppy. But she delivers them anyways, and then spends a long time sat there, staring at the markers that now represent every friend she's had, everyone she's trusted and confided in and loved so entirely and so foolishly.

She shoots up from her seat, and races off suddenly, only to return with a armful of tools, which she dumps on the ground in front of the crypt that (presumably) holds Stephen. She looks for what seems to be the heaviest, sturdiest sledgehammer she grabbed in her frenzy, and drags it up to the stone slab. For a moment, she stares up at it... and then screams as she swings her bludgeon towards it.

Her cries echo in the evening air as she keeps stubbornly swinging at the stubborn rock, over and over, waiting for something to crack open.]

investigation

[stagemanagers]

[Well, it's gonna take some effort, but Angus already proved that these stones can be broken. Eventually, it'll crack.]

[likemypicture]

[Just as Christine’s thinking she’s cursed, Mephisto’s bedroom door opens—- only instead of Mephisto, it’s Anne, and she almost trips over Christine. Thankfully, she catches herself, managing to hop over Christine last minute, and close the door without making a commotion to wake poor Mephisto.]

Oh, Good Morning Christine! [.... At least she’s so bright and cheerful that it’s. Pretty obvious this isn’t a walk of shame, even if she is in yesterday’s dress.]

cw: mild emeto,

[heathencall]

[Saturday is spent mourning, licking his wounds and preparing to move on. Any attempts to shut himself out had been impossible -- Anne and Christine had seen to that much. He has no choice but to continue on, not by himself, but with the rest of the group.

He'll figure out the rest once they're out of here.

As has become common here, Mephisto doesn't plan to sleep Saturday night. But there's a brief moment when a blink lasts just a little too long and --

He's falling. Only this time, it isn't from Heaven, but further into the Earth. Helena and Ariel stand above him, staring as he falls screaming into the depths of hell. He'd succeeded, his deal with Ariel -- the ultimate truth revealing ultimate contentment -- was complete.

And still he fell.

He wakes with a start, all but falling out of his bed. He sprints out of the door and -- has to very carefully dodge someone's sleeping form. Once he's navigated the minor trap, he makes his way into the bathroom and finds himself ill.

It takes almost an hour for him to regain his senses, to clean himself of the cold sweat that clings to him. He returns to his room only to dress, to grab his letters and his octocat, and then leaves.

Most of his day is based off of routine. He goes to the kitchen and starts breakfast, still as simple as ever. He then moves to the Graveyard and visits the headstone he knows will be waiting for him. He doesn't have any paper to write on, but he does scratch something into the dirt.]

I cannot save you.

[The contract that Stephen had left for him is laid over the grave. Even if he wanted to accept the deal, it was a moot point now. All of his souls, all of his power, it was all gone.

He's starting to leave, when something hits him. It starts as a spark, but before long the anger is raging through him again. He turns back to the stone, throat tight. He considers raging against the marker once more, breaking his hands upon it until there's nothing left.

Instead, a song leaves him.]

Transformation
You've changed within
Some selfish mutation
A stranger I once called a friend

What have you become?

[With that out of the way, he heads into the opera house. His goal is the library, where grabs aimlessly at books -- history, science, whatever he can get his hands on. He doesn't know how much time they have, how much longer this will go one for, but the least he can do is try to read and give himself an advantage.

RiRi is, of course, curled comfortably around his feet.

Late that night, though, after he's assumed everyone's gone to bed, Mephisto will creep down from the upper levels. He doesn't go to his room, but instead opens up Stephen's. Hopefully no one will notice as he goes to curl up there.]

bathroom

[madgiganticfeelings]

[Mephisto may do his best to dodge her, but she's always been a light sleeper, and her less than ideal conditions right now means her eyes are opening just as Mephisto starts stumbling down the hall.

Immediately, she pulls herself to her feet and starts after him. She's too disoriented to call out until they reach the bathroom, until she hears the sounds of Mephisto's illness and winces. She can guess what's caused that reaction.]

Mephisto? ...Dad?

[The word still feels a little heavy in her throat, but she ignores that and presses on.]

Are you feeling okay? Talk to me.

[garbageface]

[ Like everyone else, that night, Santana experiences the dizzying rush of all of her memories — for her, nearly an entire years’ worth — slotting into place. Most are good, some are triumphant, even. But one overshadows all the rest.

I want you to leave this house. I don’t ever want to see you ever again.

It makes her think of another voice. A newer one, but no less admired, once.

Sometimes, people don’t try to be better. Sometimes, they do.

Santana can’t stay here, in this room, this bed forever. Not when she’s remembered too much here. She opens her door, only to be greeted by Stephen’s across the hall. She can’t bear to look at that right now, though, so she does what she’s done pretty much every morning for the last few weeks: she runs.

Out of something like habit, Santana’s legs take her up to the fitness room. She stands in the doorway for a long moment, red in the face and panting, doing her best not to cry. To her credit, she doesn’t cry, not this time. Unfortunately, she does something a little more ill-advised.

Santana walks into the room, takes a fifteen pound weight, and throws it into one of the mirrors. She watches it shatter, expression blank and hollow.

She’ll stand there for a while, staring at the damage, before turning on her heel and running again, this time to the grounds. Once she’s sure she’s alone, she stops and sits in the grass, curling in on herself as she steals a glance or two at those weird stars. ]

To my UFO friend
Goodbye, goodbye
There soon will be proof
That there is no alien
Just a system of truth and lies

[ Once she’s composed herself a little, Santana will head to the graveyard. On Riley’s grave, she places a single slip of paper that reads:

I did my best to protect him, like you said. I’m sorry I couldn’t.

And on Steven’s, she lays a single red scrunchie. He deserved it more than she did, in the end. ]

Fitness Room

[heathencall]

[Mephisto is letting his legs just... take him anywhere right now. He's lost in his head, trying not to let himself think for too long.

The shattering of glass brings him back to reality, and he crosses the sparse distance separating himself from the noise. He expects to find a body, or at least someone seriously injured. The broken glass doesn't surprise him when he sees it.

The fact that it's only Santana does.]

What are you doing?

Graveyard

[madgiganticfeelings]

[When Santana reaches the graves, she might be surprised to find a few of the markers have stone fragments scattered around them. If she checks behind them, she'll find more fragments, leading to the crypts, which each have a crack large enough to look through.

The damage continues all the way down the line, and Christine is at the end of them, collapsed in a heap.]

[likemypicture]

[Anne wakes, much like she does on each Sunday morning, with a song ringing through her mind. Of course, it's a little different this week-- there are two songs in her mind, and there's no expectation that the concert will continue. There isn't anything to finish up in New York. She's told her story, she's rewritten it, and she even sang an encore. The show she'd told the phantom she so desperately needed to get back to was over.

Also different-- the fact that she was currently sprawled in a man's bed, drooling on his pillow, probably kicking him in her sleep, and definitely trying to snuggle the poor guy to death in her sleep. Whoops. After gently sneaking out of bed and out of his room, and almost tripping over Christine-- she retrieves poor, dear abandoned Tad Cooper from her bedroom, whispering soft apologies to him. Tad's not the only thing she retrieves, either. She's wearing Richard's Crown. It's too big, but thankfully, one of her regains was bobby pins-- she's tried to pin her hair so it at least isn't sliding off her head constantly.

Freshly changed, she's off to the kitchen, where she's making a huge pan of eggs. ...Jeremy never taught her how to make the good eggs, so they're not very fluffy, and there may or may not be eggshell in them (there totally is), but she makes the eggs with extra love. After she and Tad Cooper have eaten, she even covers them up and leaves a nice little note on top indicating that anyone is welcome, signed ~QAVK -- the handwriting's Anne's though, and the little drawn Tad Cooper definitely is hers.

The Cemetary is visited next-- she's following Christine's tradition of leaving letters-- it's been quiet, but they should still be able to hear her-- hopefully. She spends the longest amount of time by Richard's grave, per the norm-- she even sings a little for him-- he deserved to hear her songs, and she never got to sing them for him rightfully. As she climbs to her feet, she sings the melody of one of the songs stuck in her head--]

Oooo~oooo---
All alone-- on a throne,
In a palace that I happen to own--
Too bad I don't agree,
Cuz I'm the Queen of the Castle,
Get down you dirty rascal!

[It's absurd, and probably in poor taste, but as she sings, it seems to give her some sort of power, and she hops around a little, clapping as she sings, and giving an empowered little kick at the end.

She spends the rest of the day between the chapel, bowed in prayer so dutifully that her forehead touches the ground, and the lodge, where she sits staring at her own portrait for hours, humming quietly to herself-- the empowerment can't quite last the whole day, though.]

It's the end of the show of the history mix
We switched up the flow and we changed the prefix--

[They changed the prefix. She chokes on her song, and she weeps quietly to herself, under the portrait-Anne's gentle gaze. The words continue, nearly unable to be understood through her tears, until--]

Before we drop the curtain--
Nothing is for sure, nothing is for certain

[nope. she can't right now. She lets herself cry, holding Tad Cooper against her heart.]

Kitchen

[heathencall]

[Hello breakfast buddy. Mephisto is in the middle of trying to fry some bacon, and moves wordlessly to the side when she comes up to start in on her eggs. If he keeps himself focused on the task, nothing can go wrong!

But maybe it bothers him a little that the portions they're cooking are once again smaller than usual.

Distraction time, he supposes.]

The crown suits you.

kitchen

[garbageface]

[ Santana comes to breakfast late — yesterday left her feeling numb, and without an appetite. But it’s important to eat, she figures, so she doesn’t pass out.

She scoops up a tiny amount of Anne’s eggs and then stares at the other woman for a long moment, clearly working up the courage to say something. When she eventually speaks, her voice is halting, almost close to a monotone. ]

Thanks. For this, and — and yesterday. Sorry for, uh. Freaking out.

[musacal]

[ When Despair Became Hope...

In the dream she watches Karen fall from the tower just like poor Flora, whom she wanted to play so badly. She sees Hikari stand at the top, the new top star... and then she's gone.

But when she awakens everything is back now. All the memories from before and the memories after. Those months of worry, Karen going to find Hikari, the return, the ending...

Their brand new... Starlight. More blinding than all the repeats, with her new role...

When she leaves the room she's full of newfound conviction. The swords are still with here, safely sheathed at her hips, the yellow gems on their hilt twinkling in the light as if full of Nana's potential and personal shine. She isn't just the Goddess of Despair or Nana the Encore anymore. She's Nana the Stage Girl...

And she's also Hope.

Her stop though is the box office. She doesn't have a letter or baked goods but she places her hand on the box and closes her eyes. ]

...You can hear me even like this, can't you? After all, you're a Wizard right? You might even just be this whole opera house itself.

[ She reopens her eyes and stares intensely ahead, at nothing in particular. ]

I still hope to eventually meet you, you know? Despite all this. Whether you're wizard or giraffe or just a spectator I'd still like to talk, even if it's just once. Maybe that just makes me a fool, I'm sure the others wouldn't be happy to hear me say that...

But... I meant it in there. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm tired of the deaths and the votes, tired of being in endless cycles where we just tear each other down and snuff out one another's light. You can blow up lights as many times you want, or press the button on my podium again, but I don't care. I'm going to keep moving forward, to whatever this ending may be, in my own way.

[ She sighs and takes her hand off. ]

Until the day we say goodbye
I'll stay forever by their side
And if that day may be tomorrow
There'd be no regret in me
I'll pave the way
For those who gave
The colors in my heart
I want to forever remember this beautiful world
That's been shown to me...

[ She doesn't say much else after that. She'll linger for a little while, not because she expects a response but because she probably won't come back here again unless she has to. No more baked goods, and probably no more letters. This was her piece and she's said it. If you overheard any of it though, you're more than welcome to approach her.

In the late afternoon/early evening though, she's back where she belongs most: the kitchen! And she's cooking! A bunch of different stuff! Smaller amounts than usual because there's so few of them now but she's got roasted seasoned potatoes, pizza bagels, gluten free white chocolate macadamia cookies... bunch of stuff that she's putting out in the dining hall. Actually... doesn't it all look kind of familiar?

There's even a singular fancy plate set out with nothing on it. Someone's favorite dish.

There's also a cream stew. She really wanted hot pot after her memories came back, but hot pot is something you have together around a table with everyone and she knows people are probably not up for that at all right now. But a cream stew is hearty, filling and comforting, as well as easy to reheat later, so she figures it's better right now.

Hot pot can wait until they've saved all their friends. ]

Kitchen

[heathencall]

[Mephisto had done breakfast, and he's determined to do dinner too. Even if he's having a hard time keeping himself together, he'll do what he has to keep the others going. If there's even a chance at bringing anyone back, he'll have to make sure Everyone stays strong.

Admittedly, he's surprised to see someone else in there. It's a relief that Nana is bustling around, because Mephisto's worst fear is finding another dead body in the kitchen.

But she's alive. And he's not about to let her work herself to the bone. Alone at least.]

Where do you need me?

[likemypicture]

[Anne finds herself in the dining room, awed by the full spread Nana has created—- She hesitates only a few moments, before she sits down and starts folding napkins, the same way she did after the second trial. An entire variety of napkin animals—- she smiles, standing back to admire her work, tilting her head to Nana as she renters the dining room.]

It’s lovely.

box office

[madgiganticfeelings]

[Christine had been approaching the box office with a rather hasty note of her own, and probably unsurprisingly, she was moving with as much anger and as little focus as her note conveyed. She doesn't notice Nana is already at the booth until she's nearly on top of her... but she does hear her song.

Her fingers clench around the paper in her hands, as she suddenly feels another lance of rage course through her. She knows how hard Nana has been trying to get through to the Phantom and the Wizard. She knows enough of what Nana has been through to know they don't deserve her kindness and patience. She sings, and she wants to scream about how unfair this place is.

But she manages to hold it back. She makes her presence known when Nana seems to be finished with might almost be a convincing smile, sliding her note into the slot.]

...I really hope they heard you. If anything could get through to them, I think it would be that.

MONDAY

[stagemanagers]

[madgiganticfeelings]

[In the early hours of Monday morning, Christine stumbles out of a room. Not her room, mind you, but Room 5, one of the empty rooms. She looks frantic, and is breathing heavily, hands up to her chest.

She can't believe she'd do something like that. She should have gone to Mephisto, she should have asked him for help... She should have done so many other things, but she had insisted on doing this alone.

Shouldn't she be able to do this alone?

Eventually, she kneels down on the floor, still gasping as she tries to bring air to her lungs. She brings her knees up to her chest, before digging around in her cloak. Eventually, she does find what she's looking for, that bottle of outdated soda the Phantom had been kind enough to offer her. She fumbles with the cap for a minute, but... then her motions slow.

She holds the bottle up again, looking at how much is left. She swirls the liquid around dazedly for a while. So little of it left... maybe enough to turn Jeremy's off, but maybe not.

So much has changed since the last time she had this antidote in her hands, but as she thinks of how desperate she was to help someone, no matter the cost to herself... things haven't really changed at all, have they?]

Pathetic.

[She mumbles it to herself a few times, echoing the distorted voice she can almost hear.

She stays seated out in the hallway until she sees everyone leave their rooms, at which point she pulls herself up on her feet and heads through her rounds. She can be found pretty much everywhere during the day, though in the afternoon, she can be found in the recording booth. Every time her finger presses play, Steven's cheerful voice sounds through the speakers, and she sits there, listening quietly. Every time his guitar strums the last note, though, she rewinds back to the beginning, and listens just as intently as she had before.

She had brought books in for her to keep studying, but they sit abandoned next to her.

She does spend a little time reading in the chapel, though. She hasn't spent a lot of time in here, and today, she certainly hasn't lit any candles, but she does let the quiet solitude of the room wash over her a bit.

...One moment, when she doesn't think anyone is nearby, she clasps her hands in front of her, whispering into the darkness.]

I... I'm sorry about this. I know I don't pray very often. My grandma always said it doesn't count unless you pray even when you aren't asking for something, so this is probably pointless anyways, huh?

I don't know who I'm speaking to, but I have to hope it's someone more loving than that. Someone who's... seen how much people here suffered. I've seen too, too many people die, people I loved so much, and-

[Her voice hitches, and she takes a moment to exhale slowly, before forcing herself to press on.]

And I just want to help. If you can... give me a little more strength, so I, so I don't let Stephen down? So I can bring everyone back and get everyone out?

And... and so the Phantom doesn't end up feeling like he has to do something like this ever again. Please. Please, help me... be enough to do that.

[And with that finished, she brings her knees up to her chest and presses her face against them, hidden among the pews for the rest of the evening.]

[likemypicture]

[Anne has been practically living in the chapel the past few days-- she has a lot of people to pray for, and words to have with God. But it's not a surprise Christine might not realize she's there-- she's made herself small in a corner of the back pew, bent over herself completely, silent.

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop on Christine-- but you know, she's here, so. She at least doesn't disturb her, trying to focus instead on her own prayers, her own promises and vows to God, what she intends to do and trade and plee for the option to have two decent men spared. So it's a bit after Christine finishes speaking that she finishes up herself-- and carefully, quietly, slips out of the pew, taking a few steps to where Christine's voice had come from.]

...Christine? [Probably best to speak up before she approaches too closely, forbid they end up with another awful accident on their hands.]

[heathencall]

[Mephisto has a pile of coins waiting for him this morning, so his first task after his usual rounds is to go cash those in at the merchandise booth. Luckily there doesn't seem to be anything too in the batch. Yes, his breath catches a little when he gets a gem, but he makes a point of not getting his hopes up.

(Only later, after writing to the Phantom, will he realize that they'd risen despite his best efforts).

What ends up getting him is the engagement ring that pops out. It's not the usual sentiment that strikes him, but the memory that comes to mind. Stephen, upset over their appearance. Mourning his broken marriage and lost child.

He shakes the memory free and retreats to his room. He's not letting himself be dragged down by memories any longer. He has to be strong now, for both the living and the dead. And if being strong means bedecking his hand with every single ring he's gotten, so be it. His hand glitters rather pleasingly, and he also figures it'll be good for knocking people around with too.

After a moment of thought, he puts on one of the breastplates he received, and the golden slippers he'd gotten. He looks a little more resplendent than usual, bright compared to his usual dark and drab colors.

Clad in this ensemble, he makes his way to the costume shop for something more to wear. He ends up coming away with a decent cloak and a pair of silver boots. It's an almost heroic get-up, or would be if he had a weapon worth a damn.

That's fine, though. He'll manage.

Wheeling a mannequin out of the costume shop, Mephisto settles into the dance studio for some training. Angus had taught "Ariel" to throw a punch, and Mephisto still recalls it well enough. He'd never been much of fighter, but it's probably not too late for him to learn.

Later in the evening, after he's worked himself into a sweat, he'll head into the kitchen. After downing probably too much water, he sets to making dinner. Gluten-free pasta and biscuits, anyone?]

TUESDAY

[stagemanagers]

[heathencall]

[That sense of foreboding reaches a fever pitch on Tuesday. Mephisto leaves his room early on Tuesday, resolving to do a full round of the opera house just to make sure nothing's amiss. Before he goes, he changes into a new breast plate, puts on a separate pair of slippers, and drops into the laundry room. He glances at a few of the chemicals, before dropping his new cape in.

He thinks to check his room once before he goes, and finds a few more coins there. Better late than never, he figures, and takes them to the merchandise booth. There's a few interesting things to be had. He makes a point of searching through the utility belt and the pockets of the cashmere jacket just to be sure.

The 3D glasses look extremely stupid and definitely don't match his outfit but... Mephisto is curious, so he slaps them on his face and, after dropping off his gains, heads about his tour of the opera house.

When he's finally assured himself that nothing is amiss (or maybe that something is very amiss?), he drops into the recording studio. He stands with his headphones on for a significant period of time, not... saying or doing anything.

It takes a long while for the courage to come to him.]

If you are there... I want you to know that I am angry. I am... incredibly angry, really. But I... do still love you. I suppose that makes me the fool, doesn't it?

[likemypicture]

[Anne has been given a gift from God. A triumphant gift. The gift that will save lives and make the world a better place.

Anne stands outside of the merchandise booth and holds down the air horn.

BWA BWA BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

She seems impressed at least. More than impressed. She seems estatic, her mouth and eyes glimmtering with joy. ]

[madgiganticfeelings]

[When Christine wakes up in her room (thanks for moving her once again, Mephisto...) and sees the pile of coins on her dresser, she knows immediately that she's got to make a trip to the merch booth.

As per usual, though, it seems like her luck has run out. She kind of half-heartedly mutters:] Come on, big money, big money...

[But each souveneir seems to be a) an item she's seen a million times before and b) not more Mountain Dew Red, which is quite annoying.

At least until the telescope falls out.

It's a simple thing, cheap and fiddly, but Christine holds it in her hands like it's a precious gem. It's probably nothing. Probably some random bit of junk... but she knows who here spent the most time looking at the stars.]

Should have know you'd be looking out for me...

[She carries it with her while she does her rounds, and it's set right beside her as she enters the bakery. She spends quite a few hours there, humming some cheery little tune to herself (yes, probably Cooking By The Book) as she gets progressively covered in flour.

When she's done, though, she's left a nice tray of apple blossoms out to cool, plus a note:]

An apple a day keeps the Wizard away!
P.S. It works for doctors too, so eat two, Mephy.

[There's also a cute little drawing of a grumpy man in a wizard's hat.

That evening, though, Christine doesn't spend her night out in the hallways, for once. She's out later than usuals, curled up in the gardens. Steven's lion is dozing next to her, and his fluff provides a comfy pillow for her as she props the telescope up beside her. She highly doubts it's going to pick anything up, and if it is, she doesn't even know how she'd read it, but... it at least feels like she's being kept company.]

[garbageface]

[ Santana also stops by the merchandise booth, which gives her a ton of bobby pins, another Eminem tee, and...a sword? Santana takes it, carefully, and mutters: ]

Holy shit.

[ Her current cheer uniform does not match the sword, so Santana heads to the costume room, where she keeps the cheer skirt but swaps out the top for a cropped black stagehand tee, a form-fitting leather jacket, and some sensible, but appropriately kickass, boots. She'll also slap on some extra eyeliner, just to add to the mood.

She'll then drag a mannequin out to the grounds. She first practices drawing her sword -- clumsily, at first, but she gets the hang of it after a while. Then, she's circling the mannequin, stabbing and slicing at it with the occasional shout, trying to get a feel for her new weapon. She's working up quite a sweat, but it's a good outlet for all the difficult and complicated feelings she's had this week. By the end of her practice, she's breathing hard, but grinning with exhilaration at the same time. ]