itscurtains | Week Three

[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! ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... That's Miguel. [It's quiet, but not quite a whisper.] I... I think I loved him, once.

[Or is it that he still does? He can't tell. All he knows is that his dream handed him the agonizing information that Miguel had chosen him and he... ruined it, like everything else in his life. He burned the sketchbook, deleted all their text messages, trashed half the photos Miguel had taken, and edited Miguel out of the other half. There was so much anger, a kind of furious hopelessness that makes him think he understands what Peregrine meant about "three months without hope" now, but he doesn't... He doesn't have any of the context for it. What the hell happened between sophomore and junior year?]

Oh. I'm sorry.

[For what, he doesn't know, but this doesn't seem like...a happy thing, clearly.]

Did you...remember something, too?

... Yeah. I don't really have context for it but I was... angry? Because Miguel and I broke up, I guess, except we weren't dating? So I don't know.

[He breathes out, still kind of scrubbing at his face.]

Maybe there was more to it.

[The Balladeer's pretty sure that there wasn't much else that happened, before the dream-memory he got back; that was supposed to happen pretty soon. But maybe it could happen all mixed up?]

Shame you had to remember that part first. [...] Is there - you want me to get you some water or something?

[There's more to it. Like, there's obviously more to it because he simply doesn't remember the depth of his feelings for Miguel. He cares about him a lot, obviously, but not... not like that. At least he's pretty sure not like that?]

..... Yeah. I. Some water would be great, honestly.

Okay. I'll be right back.

[He's been fetching food and drink for a lot of upset teens lately. He's an expert at quickly grabbing a glass of water! In retrospect, he wishes maybe he'd thought to make some tea or hot chocolate...but he doesn't want to be gone longer than he said he would, so he just gets the water and returns.]

Here. You wanna come out from under the desk? [Like, he guesses it's fine if you don't, but? Seems uncomfortable.]

[Connor peers up at B for a moment and then crawls out from under the desk to sit on the chair he, uh, recently vacated.]

... Thanks. [He takes a sip of water.] Sorry to, uh. Be so fucking messed up.

You're fine.

[He perches himself on the edge of the computer desk nearby.]

I'm basically a narrative device from a musical about murderers. Not exactly a shining example of normalcy.

Hey, can I ask you a fucked up question about metatextual shit?

[He gets what B means when he says he's "not a person" and shit, but the implications of it are.... well. He just has a question about it, is all.]

Shoot.

[That's his whole thing!]

... We're all fictional, aren't we? Like. In the grand scheme of things, we're all from someone else's story. [He hesitates for a moment.] Do you... know how it ends?

[He's not really sure how much fourth wall-y shit B knows.]

Oh. People don't...really like when I talk about things being like that.

[Which is far from a denial. Still, he's quiet for a moment; it's a little odd to have it openly acknowledged, and he knows it's...apparently a sensitive topic for folks. He wants to choose his words.]

No, I don't. If this were my show, I think I would, but not like this. There are...people I would have recognized, if they showed up here - shows I know about - but no one here. I honestly think that might have been on purpose.

... Makes sense, I guess. You know your own story, but not necessarily. [He twists the glass of water in the condensation on the table.] Well, that's spoilers, right? And nobody likes that shit.

[He huffs out a breath, amused. The question he was asking was specific to him, maybe, but that's okay. It's better not to know, maybe. To... write a new ending.]

I would tell you, if I did know. They probably know that about me.

[If someone asked? Even if it was a bad ending? He'd tell them. The Balladeer believes in the truth, even if it's ugly, even if it's one of those horrible photos.]

My show's just history anyway, so there's not really such a thing as spoiling the ending. I might've respected someone else's work, if this were something normal, but... [Well. He's not feeling terribly beholden to courtesy here.]

Nah, it's—I'm just spouting bullshit, I think. I don't really want to know how everything ended. We're here. The ending's already different.

[And that's a good thing, maybe. He thinks it could be a good thing, at least.]

...you think so?

[Like - on one hand, yes, clearly. But on the other, it's a little odd for him to think about, bound to the Show as he is.]

I don't...exactly know how my show was supposed to end, for me. Probably nothing much. It's not as if I had a character arc. But you think everyone can just...do whatever they want now?

Week Three

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