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)
itscurtains2016-10-22 12:25 pm
stagemanagers) wrote in itscurtains2016-10-22 12:25 pm
First Trial
[Just as everyone is starting to finish their investigations, there's a slow ominous sound from the lobby.
The gilded doors on the northern wall have opened.
This time, the space behind them is lit; you're free to enter. There's one more set of doors to pass through, and then you're all, finally, in the House. There's one grand chandelier above, glittering crystal, and the seats around you are made of fine red velvet. Those don't seem to be for you, though - all the way down in front of the stage, where the orchestra might sit, there's a circle of wooden podiums. They're arranged so that everyone can face each other, and are fixed into place. Each one bears a metal plaque with a cast member's name engraved on it. There's also a metal panel on top, with twenty ivory buttons paired to everyone's name.
Among these, only Jean Valjean's podium is different - that one is draped in black crepe, with a larger greyscale version of his headshot from the playbill framed and sitting at its foot like a funerary portrait. Standing where he might have stood, a bare lightbulb glows faintly atop a metal pole.
Right here, you're very close to the stage. But the curtain is closed, and it's a little too high to easily clamber up. You may not want to try. You've got more important business right now, after all.
As everyone is finding their places, the Balladeer's voice suddenly sounds loud and clear throughout the space.]
Okay, guys, here's how we do trial. I've...never actually been involved in something like this before, but you can do it. Just take all the time you need to talk it out - I'll be right here the whole time. You don't need a unanimous vote, we go by majority rule.
Oh, and don't mess with those buttons until you're really ready to vote. You won't be able to take it back.
...good luck.
The gilded doors on the northern wall have opened.
This time, the space behind them is lit; you're free to enter. There's one more set of doors to pass through, and then you're all, finally, in the House. There's one grand chandelier above, glittering crystal, and the seats around you are made of fine red velvet. Those don't seem to be for you, though - all the way down in front of the stage, where the orchestra might sit, there's a circle of wooden podiums. They're arranged so that everyone can face each other, and are fixed into place. Each one bears a metal plaque with a cast member's name engraved on it. There's also a metal panel on top, with twenty ivory buttons paired to everyone's name.
Among these, only Jean Valjean's podium is different - that one is draped in black crepe, with a larger greyscale version of his headshot from the playbill framed and sitting at its foot like a funerary portrait. Standing where he might have stood, a bare lightbulb glows faintly atop a metal pole.
Right here, you're very close to the stage. But the curtain is closed, and it's a little too high to easily clamber up. You may not want to try. You've got more important business right now, after all.
As everyone is finding their places, the Balladeer's voice suddenly sounds loud and clear throughout the space.]
Okay, guys, here's how we do trial. I've...never actually been involved in something like this before, but you can do it. Just take all the time you need to talk it out - I'll be right here the whole time. You don't need a unanimous vote, we go by majority rule.
Oh, and don't mess with those buttons until you're really ready to vote. You won't be able to take it back.
...good luck.
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Running in circles won't get you through this, squabbling, squabbling and tripping yourselves up.
Don't you understand what's at stake now? "If you don't vote right then everyone here will die!"
A missing contact doesn't implicate me, and I'll tell you why, listen carefully!
"We can probably ignore the weakest," and you can test, besides he was so much bigger,
And didn't you all see? I've no mark, or injury to speak of,
Explain what I did, just what you think I did,
Otherwise your "proof's" just coincidentally!
I became a monkey who imitated, to hold close the person I so loved.
All my wants, all my hopes, that resounded inside me, the Paw gave me my way to obtain all that!
If I did this crime, there'd be no reward, I could last a month, why can't you see?
Tell me why, you can try, to pin his death on me, but this unhappy object seals my one true alibi!
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Your injuries could have been healed some how. The discussion has come up more than once already.
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Want to enlighten me of how my "injury" could be healed? Want me to remove my clothing again to remind you? I have not been harmed.
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If what you are saying about the wishes is true, you could've wished away the injuries.
[how are they having a serious discussion about magic he doesnt know but he has to work with what hes got]
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...I received the Paw from the merchandise booth earlier this week. You can ask Natalie. It had no more power left.
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If it had no more power, then you'd need the wish that was offered. I don't pretend to know how magic works or if anyone has it, but after everything that has happened here it isn't beyond imagination to believe someone would have enough power to heal injuries - whether it be you or our hosts.
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I knew the cost for winning. The Balladeer-san told me. I was interrupting you...because it's not his fault. I knew that it would be only me leaving.
I thought I was okay with that.
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[he shakes his head. The Law is highly disappointed in you]
But you'll pay for your crime, now.
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If it means anything...I didn't want it to be him.
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[i have heard such protestations blah blah blah]
If you didn't want it to be him, you shouldn't have done it.
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And maybe you speak truthfully, about no wounds now
But if you have a monkey's paw
if you are the monkey
whatever you or it might be
Perhaps then, one final favor?
a small one, to cleanse yourself of injury?
You have contacts, and if your contact fell out in battle, no doubt, with the little time you had you'd have no time to come back and get it before others awoke. It could also explain why the death wound was so clumsy, would it not?
And - the man you killed was praying, and old, he'd have little time to get back and fight you, a younger and faster opponent.
Whatever you might say, your contact puts you in the area Jean Valjean was killed. Funny, how you never mentioned you'd lost that contact before your deception arose.
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"Jean Valjean is supposed to be stronger than other men, and so physically should appear robust." From just looking at him and myself, you should have all been able to tell, there is no way I could win in a fight against him.
As for my contact? After half of you assuming it had to belong to the murderer, why would I speak up? You would jump on me, like you did now.
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As I've said. Supplicants do not always fight back. And given his past, do you really think he'd want more for the Inspector to hold against him, fighting a young girl like you?
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Astarte-san, or Astarte-san's Impostor, why would let someone kill them?
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[Don't you dare try to out-creep her!!!]
That you stand out the least would make you less suspect, naturally. And, had you not lost the contact, perhaps that police uniform might have led us to the Inspector. And because of his bad blood with the deceased, it would be easy to pin it on him, while you quietly waited for us all to die for you.
[Honestly Impostor-chan would be a lot more impressed with you for Reasons but you were totes sloppy, ok]
At the very least, had you drawn their attention then, you would seem all the less suspicious now.
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You speak well, occasionally... Astarte-san's Imposter. I'll give you some of that.
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[No!! She's supposed to be the creepiest one here, stoooop!!!!]
And you won't speak at all, soon enough....D-ne.
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Please. Impostor-san.
[That's all she'll say, though, looks like she's bored]