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

[heathencall]

It's nice, isn't it?

[He seems in better spirits than he has been, at least. Change of colors, change of mood, or something of that ilk.]

Consider it inspiration.

[likemypicture]

It’s so good, ja! The sparkle, it matches you! [Its hard to tell if she’s jesting or not, but Anne’s worn some pretty ridiculous stuff since arriving in the opera house, so she may very well be serious. She grins at him, fussing about opening the wine bottle she’s brought along.]

What has you feeling so fashionable?

[heathencall]

It's the final act, is it not? Where we pull out all of the stops?

[He shrugs and holds out his bedazzled hand.]

It's been awhile since I've indulged in a display of vanity. [Almost two weeks! Though perhaps that was more gluttony than anything else.] If we go down, I want to go down reveling in my favorite sin.

[likemypicture]

[Anne pauses her fumbling with the wine bottle, instantly, her face a mask of pure terror.]

You're right! I've got to find something to wear! [COULDN'T HE HAVE GIVEN HER A WARNING? She waves her hand back at his bedazzled hand.]

There's still glitter upstairs. I could-- hmm. It may be my favorite sin, too.

[heathencall]

Are you just going to splash glitter on yourself and call it good?

[Aw, Anne, this is probably one of the first times he's legitimately laughed in awhile.]

You'd have better luck in the costume shop.

[likemypicture]

Ja, the costume shop is the first step. Second step--- glitter! The most precious and despised new invention I've discovered. [That makes half of the survivors Anne's helped genuinely smile and laugh. It's a good day.

She finally defeats the wine bottle's seal, and takes a swig straight from the bottle, the ultimate vision of class.]

The costume shop. I might miss it, at the end of all of this.

[heathencall]

[Mephisto makes a face. He hasn't been attacked by glitter yet, but he's seen it enough in passing to know how irritating it is.

He smirks as she opens the bottle and holds a hand out. Repayment for the wine she's "stolen" from him?]

Wherever we wind up, we'll make sure you have a wardrobe twice as big.

[Heavy ask, but that's fine.]

[likemypicture]

[She's charitable, so she passes the wine bottle his way without a fuss.]

After my divorce, I never had to wear the same dress more than once. I expect to continue the pattern in my second life. [We're already making demands of God, this is fine.]

[heathencall]

And so it shall.

[He'll drink to that. Probably shouldn't drink and cook but it's fine.]

Favorite outfit ever. Go.

[likemypicture]

[Anna clutches her chest like Mephisto's asked her to pick a favorite child. Favorite outfit ever? What a criminal question!]

Ever! I had enough money to wear a new dress each day! That's so many outfits! I do like the outfit I wore at the concert-- so modern! Clothes are so exciting and flashy now, I love it!

Oh--- but my wedding dress. The wedding night may have been a disaster, and the marriage short and disappointing-- but the wedding itself? I wore a gown of gold, embroidered with large florals, and pearl. My crown was gold, bedecked with great stone and pearl, and the jewelry--- [She lets out a happy sigh.] The finest the country had to offer, in terms of value, sparkle, and size-- oh, to have access to them again. And then! [There's a slightly devilish smile] Sprigs of rosemary. All about my crown, and around my waist. It was very foreign of me. Court was scandalized.

[heathencall]

[Mephisto nods, painting a picture in his mind. It certainly sounds very regal. His own array of fake rings don't do the image any justice, which he thinks is a crime in and of itself. He'll have to remedy that.]

When we're out of here, we'll find ourselves the finest jewels. We'll wear new diamonds and sapphires every day, because we can.

[likemypicture]

[She mimics a swoon-- would probably actually swoon, but she doesn't want to fall off the counter.]

You know how to tempt me. Do you think we can convince the monarchy to honor my prenup now? Four thousand pounds a year, in 1500.... [She's counting on her fingers like she can actually do this math.]

[heathencall]

The most recent date I heard was 2019. That alone gives you two million of those... pounds.

[How does he do that math? We just don't know.]

You'll buy dinner first, yes?

[likemypicture]

Plus one year-- the concert takes place in 2020. [Isn't that ironic, that she's from both the most recent date, and from the 1500s at the same time? She doesn't seem too worried about it though, it just means more money.]

Dinner and then some-- two million

[heathencall]

I think by this point I have earned... reparations, have I not? For putting up with your screaming?

[Said with a rather affectionate smile.]