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

[yourattention]

I keep getting these stupid printed emails addressed to me out of the weird vending machine. The one that gives us back stuff from home?

[He keeps hoping for, like, more pictures or something. Instead: emails.]

It feels like a fucking practical joke, but I don't know anyone who would do this to me.

[whatyouwant]

[Elle comes a little closer to get a better look at the letter.]

Maybe you're still missing some time. Could it be from after your last memory?

[yourattention]

This one could. Orpheus gave me one earlier that couldn’t, though, and it seemed to be responding to an email I couldn’t have sent.

[So... either they’re from different people? Which, uh. Weird given that they’re all written the same way. Or that they’re all from the same person and they’re, like, what? Weird fanfic? He simply doesn’t know.]

[whatyouwant]

That's weird. Why would someone write a fake email to you? [What kind of weirdo would even do that?]

[yourattention]

I really don't know, honestly. The other thing is... it came from the vending machine, but everything else people have gotten that they recognize is something, like. Real, you know? Stuff from home. [He taps the paper with his other hand.] This is just some fucking fanfic.

[whatyouwant]

Maybe you had a secret admirer?

[yourattention]

Nah, it doesn't read like they're in love with me? More like a stalker. Like they watched me enough to know some stuff, but didn't actually know me.

[whatyouwant]

[Elle frowns.]

Yeah, that's pretty gross. I guess that's the upside of being here: they can't find you.

[Only in the murder school is Connor safe from Evan Hansen.]