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]

[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.]