Week Three

[stagemanagers]

[Last week, some shit went down! Salieri's scene went off without a hitch, but the good mood didn't last. The first motive was a bit of a doozy, and yet it didn't even have anything to do with the eventual accidental death of Mumble Happyfeet! At least Sissi was already pretty much dating Death anyway, right? She's probably fine, wherever she is.

This week, new menus have been posted in the cafeteria. But, more importantly, it seems that other new information has emerged. Everyone wakes on Sunday with some new memories - or are they old ones? - floating around in their heads. Maybe there was something to your discussions of time travel after all. Maybe there was someting to the Wizard's knowledge of the future.

Regardless, you're still stuck in here. At least there's some new places to explore this week. Maybe you'll find something helpful.]

Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday

(( Be sure to submit your memory regains and your AC for this week! Hester's office hours and the merch booth also remain available! ))

Comments

Choir Room

[violentenvies]

[well THAT is more than enough to get Salieri's attention. He'd been in the band room, and has been since he woke up that morning at sunrise. When the screaming started, it'd been more than enough to, quite frankly, scare the daylights out of him, causing him to startle badly, sending papers flying every which way. They join the papers that had already been on the ground, tossed aside in his own frustration, and they somewhat cushion his fall as he topples backwards off the piano bench.

Salieri lays there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, a little dazed--before he shakes his head, pulling himself together enough to climb to his feet, stumbling for the door. He steps outside the door frame just in time to see Farrah run into the choir room from the hall, screaming. Salieri moves, immediately going to go after her, any newly acquired memories of his own temporarily pushed to the back of his mind as worry for her welfare replaces it.

He gets to the choir room just as her screams transition from fear into anger.]

Farrah?!

[he's quickly moving into the room and over to her] Farrah, what's happened--?

[brokeforgood]

[Farrah shrieks when another figure enters the room, and she's got a chair halfway off the ground before she realizes it's Salieri, and thankfully, she doesn't chuck a plastic chair at him-- just throws it aside with another shriek.]

That bitch! The fucking-- BITCH!

[violentenvies]

[Salieri blinks, nearly freezing when she hefts the chair and watches her throw it aside, eyes darting after it--but then his attention immediately back on her, braving the wrath of another chair as he gets closer. The language is...well, it sure is, but that's not important right now]

Who, precisely? [he takes a couple more steps towards her, a bit cautious]

[brokeforgood]

Riley fucking Williams! She fucking did it! She came in and--- [Farrah shrieks again, shoving the nearest row of chairs clear off the raisers. She's at least keeping her destruction in the opposite direction of him? She doesn't want to hurt him. She just wants to destroy everything]

Fucking stabbed me! Again-- and again, and---

[violentenvies]

[This time, he doesn't flinch at the destruction. Instead, he goes pale as she tells him that she was murdered--stabbed, again and again--]

That's-- [his voice is tight, strained Nothing's gonna harm you fists clenching at his sides Not while I'm around, watching the destruction continue]

I...[No one's gonna hurt you] I'm sorry, Farrah.

[brokeforgood]

[She pauses in her rampage, to look at him—- and for just a moment, she’s failed him too. She can see it. And the rage washes away, replaced by something more full of despair.]

I really fucked up. I ruined the team. For her to hate me that much—- [ She stops. And just stares at him, helplessly, hands pressed against her chest and stomach where the blood had been heaviest, in the photos.]

[violentenvies]

[she looks at him, helplessly, and what can he do but move towards her, ascending already reaching out for her, to put his hands on her shoulders, put an arm around her, something--]

No matter what happened, what you did, for her to do such a thing--it's unforgivable. [there's a tightness to his voice, an anger that's building in his chest] I am so, so sorry, Farrah.

[brokeforgood]

I said I was sorry, too. A-and I was --- I was so sorry. I wanted to be better. But she didn't say anything. She just kept--- [Farrah stops talking, and lets out a sob.]

[violentenvies]

[something inside him twists hard, painfully, as her voice dies away and she lets out a sob--and he's reaching out to fully pull her into his arms, then]

I'm sorry, Farrah. It was undeserved, and this horrible young woman--[that anger is leeching into his voice now, a quiet fury]--she had no right to lay hands on you.

[brokeforgood]

[She had no right. It's easier to believe when he says it-- and she forces back the excuses she continues to try and offer for Riley. Farrah knows he's right, deep down, and she hates it.

If she didn't deserve it, it makes no sense. She allows him to pull her into his arms, and it is the slightest comfort-- even though she knows that not even he can protect her from her doom.]

I'll be better. [It's all she can say, between her tears.]

[violentenvies]

[I'll be better, she says--and his throat gets tight at that]

You don't have to, Farrah--you as you are is fine, it's good. [he can't protect her from anything; not even this, and he's failed her, and all he can do is hold her, for all the good it will do, if anything at all] You're good.

[brokeforgood]

[You're good. Isn't that just everything she's wanted to hear? She knows she's heard it before, but those days have been long gone-- replaced with both her own mind and her classmate's jabs. She sobs even harder when he says it. She wants it to be true. More than anything.]

I need to know
That I would be loved even when I am my true self (it has to get better)
That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed (I pray it will)
That I would be loved (am I loved?)
Even when I am drinking
I need to hear that I would be good
Even if I was bitchy.

[violentenvies]

[Those words wrench something hard in his chest, and he holds her tighter, gently rocking her back and forth a little, rubbing circles onto her upper back, as he sings back]

Come just as you are to me
Don't need apologies
Know that you are worthy
I'll take your bad days with your good
Walk through the storm I would
I do it all because I love you, I love you

Unconditional, unconditionally
I will love you unconditionally
There is no fear now
Let go and just be free
I will love you unconditionally

[brokeforgood]

[That does it. She gives up the fight to argue it away, or to try and convince him that he'll change his mind, or to point out any further faults. Instead, she hugs him tightly and cries it out.

It's been a long time since she felt like someone could actually like her-- especially since she felt adults could like her. But here they are.]

I believe you.

[violentenvies]

[he'll hold her as long as she needs]

In this, I won't fail you. I swear it. [Whatever happens from here on out, he will have her back. No matter what.]

[brokeforgood]

[That's enough to make her want to cry again. It's so much of a promise, for a girl so sure that everyone in the world hates her. She can hardly bear it-- but this makes it at least a little easily. So she slowly draws back from him, one arm wrapped about herself-- protectively pressed against where her wounds should be. The other arm, she uses to rub at her eyes, wishing the tears away.]

What does this place have against waterproof makeup--- [Ugh. Smudge, smudge, smudge.]

[violentenvies]

[oh, at that he'll fish out one of his handkerchiefs, offering it to her]

Waterproof makeup sounds like a marvel of an invention, if you ask me. Terribly cruel of them to keep it from us.

[brokeforgood]

Ugh. It's so good, you have no idea. You can cry a whole river, and your makeup's still perfect. [It's all hitting her--- the crying, the hangover--- and she groans, sitting down with the handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes with it.]

Fuck. Did you-- remember your photo, too? [She still has no idea what his even was. She's had a good reason to be self-absorbed recently. It's honestly a marvel that she's even thinking to ask about anyone else.]

[violentenvies]

That sounds dare I say magical.

[Salieri will lower himself next to her, then, resting his elbows on his knees]

Not...exactly. My picture was long after me, I believe.

[brokeforgood]

[She leans against him when he joins her, just so— both emotionally, and physically.]

Oh. [Theres only a beat. And then, because she’s Farrah—- She of course follows up with]

What was it?

[violentenvies]

[as she leans against him, Salieri shifts his arm around her shoulders to tuck her better against him]

What, my picture?

[he huffs a bit of a chuckle, and uses his other hand to fish out his picture out of the inside of his jacket, holding it out to her]

Fair's fair. I saw yours.

[brokeforgood]

[She takes it, staring at it quietly for several minutes. There are a lot of extremely witty and cutting things to say about this— but Salieri makes her want to be better. Also, this seems like a sensitive moment, and not the time to ask “Is this the track listing for the new Baby Mozart CD?”. It takes her a few minutes. And when she speaks, it’s clear she’s at least trying to be soft and gentle.]

... You wanna be on this list of old guys?

[violentenvies]

[...really he's not sure what he expected. But that, at least, startles a small laugh out of him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement]

You could say that, yes.

[brokeforgood]

[Farrah doesn’t get it, but she wants to. She pats his knee. ]

You’re at the top of my list of old guys.

And... last night? [FAIRS FAIR.]

1/2

[violentenvies]

[h e c k]