Week Five

[stagemanagers]

[Last week, you had your very first minor body pileup! Granted, the Balladeer's death was entirely unrelated to anything, but at least he died as he lived - getting completely fucked up in some kind of carnival-themed hellscape. Only two days later, another terrible accident took Rina and Varian both from you. It's just been one of those weeks, huh? At least you got to add both of their corpses to your weird growing collection!

Again, you'll wake up this morning with another new snippet of memory. You'll also find that the stairs in the lobby are no longer blocked. You can only access one part of the second floor, but it seems like there's some neat stuff up there!

Outside, a few things seem to have changed. For one, the weather has turned - it'll be overcast this week, with periodic rain and even scattered thunderstorms. For another, the bushes around that rock out by the football field have bloomed. That's nice.

Get to it, friends! I'm sure everything will be fine this week!]


Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday

(( Be sure to submit your memory regain and your AC for this week! As always, Hester's office hours and the merch booth remain available. ))

Comments

[barberic]

[Benjamin is still in a vaguely manic state of energy. In fact, whatever is carrying him forward, seems to be getting a little frustrated with his lack of progress. He hasn't slept more than a couple of hours total, this week, his expression pale and eyes haunted, almost bruise-black, so Ambassador won't see him in the morning. He can be found in the cafeteria, though, very early in the morning, turning in some coins to the vending machine.

Luckily nothing that comes out to day seems to be acutely traumatic, like last time, although he spends some time standing there with the flannel held in his hands, staring at the shirt like it's an accusation.

By the time that night time hours are ended, he's deposited most of his items where he thinks they'll get more use, between the costume room and the scene shop, and moved on to the weight room, where he's squared up with a punching bag and spends a while raining down absolutely punishing blows onto it, until his shirt is soaked about halfway down his back, and the thick leather has burned the bare skin on his knuckles until they've begun to crack and bleed.

He takes a shower in the boys' locker room, just standing under scalding water hot as an exorcism for a few minutes before he begins to scrub himself clean. Aside from the copious amount of steam, anybody who comes in may catch a glimpse of the old, thick scars that stripe viciously across his back.

After he showers, he slips into a t-shirt that's just barely looser than skintight, and contemplates in the locker room for a long moment before he decides to slip into the red flannel. It fits him like a glove, and he stares at his reflection with an unreadable expression as he rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, baring his forearms.

After the motive, he goes to the library, looking through the music books for something. When he finds what he's looking for, he goes to the music room, where he wordlessly picks up one of the guitars that the Balladeer had tuned, weeks ago, and starts at the beginning of the book, practicing the first two basic chords, over and over again with a grim determination.

When his fingers won't play anymore, he puts away the guitar and takes the book back to his room to leave it in his trunk. Then he goes on a walk through the grounds, despite the threat of rain overhead. His walk takes him pretty much everywhere, but he ends up nonetheless in the garden, where he stops to rest on the edge of the pond, basking in the stillness and the growing pressure that promises rain soon.]

There's a grief that can't be spoken,
There's a pain goes on and on...

weight room

[violentenvies]

[Salieri doesn't normally go around the gym or the weight room. But he's heading towards the boys locker room this morning when he hears the sounds of movement, and goes to investigate.

He can't say he's surprised, exactly, to find Benjamin there. Salieri does pause in the door frame, debating on whether to interrupt him, when he notices the glint of red on his friend's knuckles amid the sweat of exertion]

--Benjamin? [he steps into the room, then, concern furrowing his brow]

[barberic]

[Benjamin stops when he notices a smear of red across the leather of the punching bag, his chest heaving, muscles burning, and painful hands opening and closing into fists at his sides.

He swings one more punch, with the other hand, letting out a grunt of pain and effort as it makes contact, and is about to take another when he hears Antonio call out from behind him.

He reaches out and stops the punching bag in place.]

Good morning, Antonio.

[It's like, maybe 8 am at this point.]

[violentenvies]

Good morning. [he's usually up early anyway, so he's going to approach]

I see you're working hard. [UNDERSTATEMENT but he's not going to address that just yet]

[barberic]

I wouldn't call it working, necessarily. That would imply there's something to be gained from it other than keeping my right hook in shape for the Wizard.

[He pushes back his sweaty hair from his face, taking a deep breath to steady his breathing.]

What brings you here?

[violentenvies]

I will be very much looking forward to watching that right hook connect, then.

[a little levity, of course]

As for me...I was on my way to the locker room, but I heard someone in here and came to investigate.

[he glances at Benjamin's knuckles, frowning a little, looking worried]

...as much as I am looking forward to your attack on the Wizard...perhaps it would be best to suspend that for today, my friend? You look like you could use some patching up.

[barberic]

[When Antonio mentions his knuckles, Benjamin lifts his hand and turns it over.

This close, the knobs of his knuckles are clearly dry and split from the friction against the leather, but the damage is fairly superficial, barely any fresh blood welling up to replace the blood smeared across his knuckles and the punching bag.

Still, the sight of the blood on his knuckles reminds him of the feeling, the sound of Higgins' face shattering beneath his punches. Somehow, Benjamin goes even paler.

Someone replies:]

Perhaps so.

[But he doesn't seem to be aware that it was him.]

[violentenvies]

[Benjamin looks down at his knuckles, his focus seeming to go a bit distant for a moment--and Salieri reaches out to gently set a hand on his arm, the barest of touches to get his attention]

Why don't you come with me, and I'll use some of that emergency supplies we've stored in the locker room to get that all cleaned up for you?

[barberic]

[Benjamin snaps back into the now at the gentle touch on his arm, looks at Antonio as if he'd forgotten he was there for a moment, and then nods.]

I was going to... bathe when I was done, anyway. That was where I was going to next.

[He takes a towel and wipes the blood off of the punching bag, then picks up the change of clothes that he had with him and follows Antonio, meek as a lamb.]

[violentenvies]

[Once Benjamin's wiped down that bag, Salieri will tuck his hand into the crook of the other man's elbow and lead him gently to the locker room, easing him down onto one of the benches]

There--I'll be right back with the kit.

[barberic]

[Benjamin sits obediently, rubbing the thumb of one hand over the wounded knuckles of the other absently, sometimes digging his nail into the valleys between his knuckles just to feel something.

When Antonio returns, Benjamin can't hold it in any longer.]

...I've taken a life, Antonio.

[violentenvies]

[and Salieri freezes for a moment, very much not expecting that.

A moment later, though, he moves to sit on the bench next to him, setting out the supplies, and reaching for his hand, batting Benjamin's own hand away as he tries to make his wounds worse]

Stop that. Weren't you ever told not to pick at your scabs?

[he huffs a bit and reaches for the antiseptic wipes, tearing them open with his teeth before gently starting to clean the area. He'll work in silence a moment, before he asks, calm as anything:]

And who was it, then?

[barberic]

[He looks up at his friend, when Antonio reaches to smack his hands apart, like he's about to ask 'didn't you hear me?' before he's struck dumb by the fact that Antonio could hear that and still...want to help him.

He's silent as well, aside from a hiss of pain when the antiseptic first makes contact with the wound. Antonio's hands are soft and delicate next to his, his fingers long and nimble and unscarred. Benjamin's feel the size of bin lids in comparison, broad and callused in ways he can remember being confused by when he first woke up in the academy, ways that make all too much sense, now.]

...It was a man. Daniel O'Higgins. I knew him when he was a starving scrap of a thing, took pity on him and paid him fifteen shillings a week to sweep hair off the floor of my shop.

He recognized me, when I came back to London. Tried to blackmail me.

garden

[comeandfindme]

[ Peregrine's been out in the woods all day, with a camera. It's only natural that she stop by the garden before heading back in.

She doesn't mean to catch Benjamin in mourning, and she starts to back away, but a stray twig announces her presence anyway. ]

Shoot— sorry.

[barberic]

[He stops singing abruptly when he hears the twig snap, twisting to see who's there.

But he relaxes, when he sees that it's Peregrine.]

No, it's alright. Out for a walk?

[comeandfindme]

Sort of? I was mostly— [ She runs her thumbs over the camera in her hands with a small frown. ] I'm...trying to see if I can catch any sight of our...friends. You know. Their spirits.

[barberic]

Ah.

[He turns to more fully face forward, and therefore toward her, instead of the way that he was sitting sideways on the edge of the pool, looking at the still-mounded graves beneath the tree.

...It's painful, in a way that he wasn't prepared to not be able to endure, to see how quickly the persistent rain has already started to flatten the earth above their lost friends.

He leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, with a sigh.]

That was... A miracle, wasn't it. Last night.

[comeandfindme]

That's what most people'd call it, yeah.

[ Peregrine quietly walks toward the pond but changes her mind, instead sitting on a bench—Rina's, this time. ]

But...miracles you usually can't recreate. So, I think I'm gonna think of this more as...a rare occurrence.

[barberic]

[He gives a small, hollow half-chuckle, at that.]

I hope you're right, Miss Wells.

[comeandfindme]

Me too. [ ... ] Do you believe in those? Miracles?

[barberic]

...I don't, no.

[comeandfindme]

Well, neither do I. So, it's not one.

[barberic]

[He manages a soft snort, at that.]

Well, then there you have it. Incontrovertible proof.

[He says it lightly, but not teasing.]

Have you any luck so far? In trying to find them?

[comeandfindme]

Well, I won't know until I develop the film. So, it's not like I can really get in touch with anyone, just...have an idea that they'd be there.

[barberic]

What do you think you'll see? Do you know?

[He smiles, faintly.]

Photography is a lot less cumbersome than I'm used to.