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

[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]

[violentenvies]

[well...fair is fair. He doesn't...really want to talk about it, but. Well. Salieri huffs out a small sigh]

...might I ask, have you heard of a composer named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?

[brokeforgood]

[She grins, stabbing a finger at the photo.]

Right there. Yeah, I know the name. I’m not completely uncultured.

1/2 cw: mild disassociation, mild auditory hallucinations, non-graphic injury mention(?)

[violentenvies]

[I know the name. Salieri stiffens slightly for a moment, because even Farrah knows of him and it rankles, like a wound left open to fester, painful and itchy. For a moment, he can hear the soft melodic strings that carry the singer's voice higher, floating, sublime--]

2/2

[violentenvies]

[--no. No. Not now, not here. Farrah's sitting right next to him and she's just remembered something absolutely horrible. The last thing this girl needs is to deal with whatever's happening to him as well.

Right. He puts on a mildly sardonic smirk]

Well. I've met the man, as it turns out.

[brokeforgood]

[Farrah can feel him stiffen beside her, and for a moment, she’s panicking too. She wracks her brain, trying to think of what she said wrong—- trying to think of what the fuck she knows about Mozart—- and then he speaks.

Okay, weird. Maybe she’s just being paranoid. She passes the photo back to him, but stays put, tucked safely against his side.]

Wow. That’s wild. And boring. What did I do to piss The Wizard off so bad?

[violentenvies]

[he takes the photo, tucking it back in his jacket]

Clearly, he's jealous of your charm and good looks. [archly]