Week Six

[stagemanagers]

[Last week, in It's Curtains, the weather changed, and with it your fortune in Dads. Discord took Salieri out - or perhaps Salieri took Discord out - and left the survivors with that much less impulse control. Nonetheless, a visit from a new friend might have provided a little bit of much-needed hope?

On Sunday morning, you'll find that the other side of the second floor has opened up - as well as the actual intended path to reach the roof garden. You can finally stop climbing up that rope every time you want to have a picnic or secret lover's rendezvous!

Outside, the weather seems to have calmed down. It's sunny again, with rather a lot of clouds. Though it's warm, the atmosphere seems very...still.]


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

TUESDAY

[stagemanagers]

MOTIVE: One More Spoon of Cough Syrup Now [cw: hallucinations, discussion of sickness]

[tailor_made]

[Tuesday has come around once more and life in the school has been hard- (Hard?)- has been bad- (Bad?)- has been rough (Kinky!) especially in these last few days. Down to a Single Dad Making a Difference (not including Your Bonus Lesbian Dad Maya Tendo) and weighed down by an assortment of terrible memories, things are looking grim for the students of Gershwin High School Academy University.

On and on, again and again, just like the 4 weeks before the doors to the cafeteria silently close and lock for the thirty minutes before noon hits and Hester’s usual announcement happens.]

I...okay. Come to the cafeteria please.

[The cafeteria has been, obviously, deep cleaned since Salieri’s corpse had been found up the stairs at Hester’s usual spot but she’s not standing there today. No, today she’s standing on the ground floor, hands folded over her middle while she waits for the remaining twelve students to come in. Her head is lowered, like she's fully expecting to be yelled at by at least one someone this afternoon. There are no mannequins around her, no table set-up with envelopes or anything else. Just Hester, standing alone.

When everyone is in place, a beat starts to play, Hester taps her foot in rhythm and begins to sing.]

Life's too short to even care at all, you know
We’re losing our minds, losing our minds, losing control
These fishes in the sea, they're staring at me
Whoa oh-oh, oh, whoa-oh, oh
A dead world aches for a beat of a drum, oh-whoa oh, oh

The Wizard has decided your next motive. [She lifts her head only a little, looking at them but not able to look anyone in the eyes. While she sings, everyone gathered will start to feel…off. A little tired, a little achy.] 

If I could find a way to see this straight
I'd run away, to some fortune that
I, I should have found
By now
And so I run now to the things they said could restore it
Restore life the way it should be
I'm waiting for this cough syrup
To come down

[She starts to quickly walk forward as she sings, brushing past people even if they try to reach out to her, heading straight for the open cafeteria doors.]

One more spoon of cough syrup now, oh, whoa-oh
One more spoon of cough syrup now, whoa, oh, whoa


[Once she steps over the threshold into the hallway the doors gently close behind her. If anyone chooses to chase after her, she'll be gone but on a small table just outside the doors are several bottles of a mild cold medicine and enough cups of hot herbal tea for twelve people, all in butter yellow tea cups.]


[ooc: here we go, friends, your final motive: down with the sickness. The symptoms of this illness include a fever, hallucinations (visual, auditory, olfactory) and fluctuating energy levels ranging from sluggish to excessively caffinated. Symptoms can be as severe or mild as you like and can fluctuate between those as often as you like.]

[mcfife]

Wait!

[Angus blinks, his forehead getting a bit warm, but shakes it off.]

What are you doing? [He runs after here, but alas, is too late to catch her. She is gone, and her presence has been replaced by...medicine?]

...I don't like the looks of this.

[employeeoftheyear]

["It's not worth killing people for maybes" has been Spongebob's motto from day 1. All these motives have just been the threat of something bad will happen, that there's no proof that anything will happen.

But when he starts feeling achy and tired out of nowhere, he feels a looming sense of horror. Maybe this whole time the Wizard wasn't lying?

Oh god he can't think straight. He's just going to... lie down for a bit, looking at nothing.]

...I thought you guys were dead. I'm glad you really do love me.

[He's fine.]

[comeandfindme]

[ Peregrine's...marginally more energized than Sunday. She's been going back and forth between avoiding people deliberately and sitting outside, not really engaging with much. Usually she tries not to show up at the cafeteria on Tuesdays early, as some kind of show of defiance.

Today, she figures what's the point. She tries to go talk to Hester before the singing starts, but then she feels...almost dizzy? Warm. Far too warm. ]

What...?

[ Hester keeps singing but Peregrine finds it hard to focus on it. There's...whispers. She puts a hand to her head, and when Hester starts to leave, Peregrine tries to follow—

But almost immediately she finds herself winded. Finds herself catching herself on a nearby table. Breathing heavily. ]

What...the fuck?

[sugarlumps]

...well that's lumping dumb, what does that even mean.

[And. Slowly, with the grace of a sinking ocean liner, LSP slides down into a sitting position with her back to the wall. There is no apparent change in expression.]

[whatyouwant]

Do we have an inventory of the nurse's office? I have a feeling we're going to need it.

[barberic]

[Jokes on you, Hester, Benjamin's been feeling like shit for weeks!

Still, somehow about halfway through her song, it becomes hard to focus on what she's trying to get across. But before he can muster up the words to try and stop her, a familiar smell catches his nose. He sniffs the air, and then smiles, tears brimming in his eyes.]

[feudalladyshandmaid]

Hester, wait.

[But she's already slipping through the crowd, weaving towards the exit. Cass gives chase, but through the crowd , she stays just one step ahead of Cassandra.]

Hold on, I- [She reaches the doors, and.] And she's gone.

[Wonderful time to have to grab the doorway for purchase. That floor is trying to rush her.]

cw hallucinations

[employeeoftheyear]

[Spongebob is, quite understandably, pretty sapped from the motive physically. He's actually going to spend most of his day curled up in the Nurse's room. He looks like he's trying to sleep but he's mumbling to himself pretty noticeably.]

I'm sorry guys. I really did try. You don't have to be so mean about it.

[Every now and again, his visions are forgotten by his horrible sneezing fits, with every sneeze producing a stream of soap bubbles from his nose and mouth.

He's fine, he's totally fine.]

[defyingfrigidity]

[Elsa had shuffled into the Nurse's Office, digging around for some tissues to hold over her and Cass's colds, when she notices... a bubble floating in front of her. She blinks once, twice, certain she's seeing things... and then follows the trail of them over to Spongebob.

Uh.]

H-Hey... are you okay?

[feudalladyshandmaid]

--There's got to be something that can-

[Cassandra had stepped into the Nurse's office expecting, well, nothing. Just a normal room where she could probably find some kind of medicine to nurse the headache she'd been having since yesterday.

Instead... she pushes through the doors and into a wall of. Bubbles. Huh.]

What- Spongebob...?

cw for visual hallucinations

[mcfife]

[Angus can't afford to be sick, he can't let the Wizard weaken them when they are ready to attack! As long as they have Hester's medicine and rest, they should be fine. What kind of prince would he be if his schedule was dictated by his illness?

So straight to the weight room he goes, going through his usual warmups, lying on on the barbell bench, chanting, singing to fight through the crummy haze and get strong.]

We put our hand on iron bars
And lift them to the sky
We scream out loud
And fight the weights
Adrenaline makes us fly
While we watch our muscles growing
They grow larger than they should
Than muscles should

[Halfway through a lift, one of his hands slip, and instead of grabbing the bar again, he screams - just for a second - and flails until that weight falls to the side, sending Angus toppling onto the floor.

With that bit of bruising, he opts to spend time in the art room in front of a painting. Nice. Peaceful. Good things. Unicorns and rainbows. No wicked prince would ever love these things. Yet as a light blue stroke of acrylic is laid upon the canvas, it turns dark. Red. Shimmering. Snaking through the rest of the image like a crack in the Earth, showing just how close to hell all of this really is.

He set the brush on the table.] Pottery it is.

Weight Room

[themuseabandonsyou]

[ Orpheus is... doing okay, mostly! He hurts all over, and it's a strange and uncomfortable sensation and he sort of feels like he's going to crawl out of his own skin, but he's got it together better than... most of the others, it seems like. So he makes his way to the weight room, in the hopes of running into Angus. Which he does! Just in time to watch him go sprawling to the floor. ]

Your highness!

[ He hurries on over, dropping to one knee next to him and checking him over for injuries. Hopefully the weight didn't fall on him or he didn't twist anything in the process of dropping it. ]

Mods?

[whatyouwant]

[Elle has been pretty melancholy since Sunday, but the motive announcement puts her back into work-mode. She's feeling pretty okay, so she heads to the Nurse's Office right after the motive to take stock of what kinds of medicine they have. While she doesn't know a lot about medicine, she knows enough to pull out the cough syrup and fever reducers. (Mods: Any change to the med stock? How are we looking on cold remedies, cough syrup, fever reducers, and ice packs?)

The fever overtakes her slowly. By the evening she's made her way into the kitchen. Anyone who walks in will find Elle leaning against a cabinet, one hand in a bowl, the other holding a can of chicken noodle soup, staring blankly at the sink. Her skin is very flush and she's notably warm to the touch. Bruiser is circling her legs, very concerned. ]

Kitchen, because you know why

[barberic]

[After his nap in the library, Benjamin feels more lucid than before, but still like he was hit by a runaway carriage. He's after a glass of milk to try and get his strength up, but what he finds when he enters the kitchen is Elle, looking a dozen times worse than he feels.]

...Miss Elle? Are you alright?

investigation, visual and auditory hallucinations

[comeandfindme]

[ The worst part of learning everything you can about surviving in the wilderness is you know the signs. You know what it’s supposed to look like, to feel like, when the worst thing happens.

What is the worst thing?

For Peregrine, it’s this:

She manages to get her bearings after the motive. There’s a fire in her again, though what she realizes later is that it’s from the fever. She grabs the camera from the library and continues photoquest, immediately starting to snap photos around the first floor living area. It’s her intention to get the whole building. That’s what she wants to do today. But she starts getting winded. Is she not keeping up her training enough, she wonders first?

But then the chills set in.

Peregrine doesn’t understand. It’s warm, it’s nice. It’s psychosomatic, she told Janis, weeks ago, when she first started shivering and couldn’t stop. That’s what it has to be, it’s psychosomatic—but she can’t…stop. She can’t stop feeling cold. Her cloak is warm, Connor made sure it was—

Shivering, she hurries out to the grounds, because maybe if she stands outside, under the sun, it’ll center her.

And she sees snow. All around her, there’s snow. The clouds cover the sun and the snow falls, steadily, heavily, like that day, and she can’t stop shivering, despite how she’s sweating.

If Peregrine sees anyone, she rushes over to them, but it seems like…every so often she has trouble with her coordination. Like she’s going to trip. Like she’s going to fall. ]

You can’t— We have to get inside. We have to- I have to- get you inside, come on.

[ Already, she knows what this is. Peregrine knows what the worst thing is.

Late in the evening, she remembers what she was planning before and winds her way up to the Darkroom, to develop her photos. Even after they’re done, though…she doesn’t leave. She just leans against the counter, breathing heavily, and— ]

J… Jacob?

[ Peregrine stays curled up on the floor in her cloak for a long time, having a quiet, delirious conversation with someone who isn’t there. ]

darkroom

[perchlorate]

No.

[ The voice that answers is gruff and low. On the other side of the room is the hazy, dark outline of a broad older man.

Sit in the dark with him? ]

Investigation

[stagemanagers]

[Are you sure you developed those photos correctly, Peregrine? It's hard to tell in the dim reddish lighting of the darkroom, but whenever she happens to look at them in another environment, she'll see that the color grading seems a little odd. All of the green accents in the living area have come out blood red in the pictures. The stripe down the edge of the hallway looks like a little river of blood...]

[barberic]

[After the meeting is over, Benjamin approaches Peregrine with concern.

He remembers how she stiffened when he touched her, before (can't blame her, even after everything others have said, in a way he's afraid that maybe she can see the blood on his hands), so he only does so briefly, now, at the same time that he speaks, to alert her to his presence.]

Let's get you that cup of tea, shall we?

cw: hallucinations, an open option that may lead to mentions of cannibalism, motive-related illness

[barberic]

[Before the motive hits, Benjamin has a very important job to do. That job being, going to the art room and writing out a poster.

DON'T EAT
THE
MEAT PIES
With a rudimentary skull and crossbones at the bottom, except the eyes of the skull are crossed out with red paint.

He picks up some rubber cement from the scene shop and slaps that bad boy on the front of the vending machine in the cafeteria.

After the motive, he takes one of the offered cups of tea out to the courtyard, where he sits for a while, vaguely sipping at it until long after it's gone cold, and humming softly. For a little while, he seems about the happiest that anyone has seen him in weeks.

It's probably fine that he seems focused intently on the seat next to him, seeing something at a much smaller height than his own.

Later in the afternoon, bordering into evening, the energy that his earlier hallucinations gave him has largely worn off. Unfortunately, he's chosen to pass out asleep in one of the comfy chairs in the library, a dry history book propped open on his chest, his chin tilted down onto his chest and his breathing deep and slow.]

Art Room

[mcfife]

...Did something happen?

[Looking at the skull, looking at the sign. He had one before, and it was fine, but that was weeks ago...]

[mayavericks]

[You know who's fine! Maya is fine! Maya is doing just fine, no matter what anyone says. She stomps to the dance studio after the motive, determined to believe that whatever odd chill is working its way down her back is nothing more than a coincidence. And when her head begins to spin from the exertion, when she coughs after drawing in too much air, it's simply because she needs sunlight.

Only, outside on the football field, she can't seem to get warm enough. No matter how many laps she runs, no matter how many layers she puts on, a chill creeps into her bones.

The fact that she's in the costume studio some hours later, barreling through piles of clothes and looking for a warm sweater? Entirely a coincidence. As is the fact that when she sits in the pile and lays back, she falls asleep for some time -- too exhausted to continue.

It's only that evening, when she thinks everyone else has settled into their evening routines, and just before many of the amenities shut down, that Maya decides to yield to a truce. She makes her way into the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.

She's only just poured it into a mug when she spots something moving in the corner. The sound of cracking porcelain and splattering liquid comes shortly after, as does the sound of a scream.]

screaming!

[barberic]

[Benjamin had had much the same thought, to stock up on a few things (to tend to Farrah more than for himself), when he hears the shatter of porcelain and the sound of a scream.

The door to the kitchen bangs open, and he has a--

...Well, that's definitely an open straight razor in his hand. But he seems stymied, by the lack of an immediate target.]

What? What is it? Maya?

[fourbutts]

[ After the motive, Janis is quick to make her way to the art room, her new home, where she... spends a large portion of the rest of the day uh. Curled up under a blanket, seated on an art room stool, staring at a blank canvas. But if you listen in, that's not where her mind is.

Yo, girl, keep it together
You're not looking so well- ]

Shut up! Shut the fuck up!

[ Uh. Okay. ]

I'm the narrator! Cut that shit out! All of it! You get... you can say what I do, if that's how you work, but no color commentary.

[ ... ]

Ugh, there you go... so this is the part where you come to laugh at me, right? Say "ha ha, look at poor little Janis, she thought she could be special, or have two whole relationships where one of them doesn't explode!"

[ She turns. ]

Just do it, Regina! Just applaud me, I did the ruining for you this time! Aren't you proud?