It's Curtains Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stagemanagers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
itscurtains2021-05-30 12:40 am
stagemanagers) wrote in itscurtains2021-05-30 12:40 am
once more with feeling [act 3]
You awake in an unfamiliar bed.
It’s comfortable enough, sure, but it’s certainly not yours. The room, too, is unfamiliar, especially in such heavy darkness. There seems to have been a great effort put into making it a livable space, with fuzzy rugs laid over linoleum, beds arranged as best to fit (and one bunk bed per dorm, rip whoever has the bottom bunk), and a single desk. You've also got individually labelled trunks; if you look inside yours, you'll find a yearbook with mostly blank pages, as well as a few with some interesting information. But even with all these changes it’s clear this room started it’s life as a classroom, every window hidden behind heavy dark green curtains.
To add to the strangeness of it all, your clothes have been swapped for some kind of uniform. It, though fitting your body perfectly, might feel a bit odd to some of you, as the body you have isn’t quite the same as it was before you mysteriously fell unconscious. The other important thing to note is the people in the other beds around you, all wearing the same color-coded uniform.
The hallway outside the dorms is narrow but well-lit, with fresh white walls and some scattered posters advertising some kind of midweek club meeting. The hallway goes on until, for the more contemporary of you, the pieces start to fall together as to your location: a school. Once you leave your rooms you’re free to wander as you wish but pinned up on a corkboard just outside the cafeteria there’s framed information that you might find helpful. If you explore further into the other rooms, in fact, you'll see there's an identical copy outside all of them.
In the lobby there are linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting, and a pair of glass doors that appear to lead outside. You can see out of both of them that the sun is shining brightly and there’s definitely more to see in the distance but the glass is unbreakable; you can't get out that way right now. A rolling metal sheet blocks off the hallway to the west. For the moment, both doors leading outside are locked.
It looks like you’re stuck. But hey - at least you aren’t alone.
It’s comfortable enough, sure, but it’s certainly not yours. The room, too, is unfamiliar, especially in such heavy darkness. There seems to have been a great effort put into making it a livable space, with fuzzy rugs laid over linoleum, beds arranged as best to fit (and one bunk bed per dorm, rip whoever has the bottom bunk), and a single desk. You've also got individually labelled trunks; if you look inside yours, you'll find a yearbook with mostly blank pages, as well as a few with some interesting information. But even with all these changes it’s clear this room started it’s life as a classroom, every window hidden behind heavy dark green curtains.
To add to the strangeness of it all, your clothes have been swapped for some kind of uniform. It, though fitting your body perfectly, might feel a bit odd to some of you, as the body you have isn’t quite the same as it was before you mysteriously fell unconscious. The other important thing to note is the people in the other beds around you, all wearing the same color-coded uniform.
The hallway outside the dorms is narrow but well-lit, with fresh white walls and some scattered posters advertising some kind of midweek club meeting. The hallway goes on until, for the more contemporary of you, the pieces start to fall together as to your location: a school. Once you leave your rooms you’re free to wander as you wish but pinned up on a corkboard just outside the cafeteria there’s framed information that you might find helpful. If you explore further into the other rooms, in fact, you'll see there's an identical copy outside all of them.
In the lobby there are linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting, and a pair of glass doors that appear to lead outside. You can see out of both of them that the sun is shining brightly and there’s definitely more to see in the distance but the glass is unbreakable; you can't get out that way right now. A rolling metal sheet blocks off the hallway to the west. For the moment, both doors leading outside are locked.
It looks like you’re stuck. But hey - at least you aren’t alone.
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[Hey, he knows this!]
Just wait an hour or so and come back to the lobby. Someone from this will come and introduce themselves. They won't send you back, but they'll know more about this whole thing.
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And just how do you know that? You work with 'em?
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[Though he's doubtful. There's enough space, but it's also not exactly the setting he'd choose for a grand entrance.]
I'm supposed to be in a show like this, but not this one.
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[He thinks the answer's a little self-evident.]
Things can be both.
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Nnno. No, I'm pretty sure I've never heard of that before.
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Well...I exist, and I'm not from "real life".
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What? What's that supposed to mean? Are you one of those guys who thinks you're...like, reincarnated from a book, or something?
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[Day One: Spongebob says fuck and the cast learns about kin drama]
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Like those women who thought they were like, married to Severus Snape on the astral plane! ...Kind of. I don't think they had a person who thought he was Snape, or...I don't know, I wasn't really into it— not important. The point is. Those people! Who go on the internet and talk about how in another life they were...uh, Tony Stark or the Phantom of Opera. That's what you sound like.
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The last part is the only thing in here that he even remotely understands, so he latches onto it.]
...I know the other guy from Phantom! Raoul. I mean, I don't yet, but I was supposed to work with him in my next show.
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Playing him. Playing Raoul. 'Cause Raoul's a fictional character, from movie. ...Musical. Book— all of those.
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[I think?]
I don't...remember the actor's name, actually...
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Okay, whatever adaptation he's from, he's not real. He's a character. Just 'cause you're an...actor, or something doesn't everything's like a play.
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[ She peers at him. That is Neil Patrick Harris. Is Neil Patrick Harris fictionkin...?! ]
Then...you're Neil Patrick Harris?
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[Which is weird to think about, hm...]
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[his show has...had some problems...]
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[ugh he looks like he's rich]
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[Like. He doesn't know how else to explain it, and also saying that out loud makes it sound sort of bad actually?]
That's it.
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It's- okay. Whatever. Fine. The Balladeer. I don't have time for this anyway.
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