well this is a depressing excuse for a party

[onthebusagain]

[Mid-day on Sunday, Heather goes around and slips notes under dressing room doors.

If you don't want to be alone today, there will be snacks and people in the Ballroom today

--Heather

She's even dotted every i with a little heart! How cute.

The dining hall is a way better location for a party (or whatever this is) with its close proximity to the kitchen, and more intimate space- but Heather doesn't want to be anywhere near that place. Not for a while, at least. True to her word, Heather's brought snacks- finger sandwiches, a few bags of chips, and a big pitcher of lemonade. There isn't much else set up, but the piano is still there, should anyone want to play.]

Comments

[onthebusagain]

What the hell! I don't care what you wear, not that much. I'm talking about what an asshole you were during the trial. You didn't care at all.

[solomonjihad]

...

Trial? What...?

[There is a look of utter confusion on Astarte's face, after a moment, though, worry starts to creep into her eyes.]

Last night...don't you remember? We were at the party, the one in the dining room, and...I had quiche that the Viscount made, and...

[Something is not right. Something is very not right. That much is slowly beginning to dawn on Astarte, and she doesn't like what it means.]

You and...Hime and I...

[onthebusagain]

That wasn't-- [Heather had almost been yelling, but now she quiets, her rage subsiding. ]

That wasn't last night. What's wrong with you?

[solomonjihad]

...That's the last I remember. Then, I woke up...

[She looks more and more worried.]

It was a bad dream. I'd walked into the hallway, and there was a body. It...looked like...!

[...Oh god. She steps back.]

Heather, please, I-I need to speak to Jean Valjean...please tell me he's here...

[onthebusagain]

[Heather's face falls. There's something very, very wrong with Astarte.] Are you-- he's dead. D-ne killed him. Don't you remember? You searched his body!

[solomonjihad]

[There is a look of horror on her face. Dead. He's...dead. And it was D-ne. D-ne--

She holds her stomach as she drops to her knees.]

It can't...be...the party....then...!

Forget it, forget it. That was just a dream
Since it's a dream, let it disappear, it's just...a dream...!

[She covers her face with her hands, and shakes her head as she lets out a sob.

There's nothing in between the dream, and waking up.]

[onthebusagain]

[Oh, God, what did she do? What should she do? She wavers, then crouches down beside her, silent concern creasing across her face. ]

[solomonjihad]

I...I'm so sorry, I...someone died, and...I don't...!

[She looks up at Heather through her fingers, tears streaming from her eyes.]

I don't remember...I don't know anything of what's happened!

[onthebusagain]

[A tiny part of her wants to shove her down and yell at her some more-- but there's a bigger part of her that's worried, so she doesn't freak out on her yet.]

...Really? You can't?

[solomonjihad]

[She shakes her head, hiccuping.]

Nothing...

[onthebusagain]

Is there... are you okay?

[solomonjihad]

Please forgive me...I...

[There's no point in evading, is there?]

...

I...the booklet was right about me. About two people. I have a split personality.

Whoever you talked to, and said those things...it wasn't...me. It was something else, someone I only know as a voice deep in my mind.

But...when it comes out...

...

[onthebusagain]

That's-- [Ridiculous. Impossible. She's heard of this kind of thing on tv and the radio, but she never expected to meet someone- not someone she liked. ]

I didn't read the book. I didn't know. So that wasn't you?

[solomonjihad]

No...it wasn't me.

[In truth, who knows how long she'll be around and in control, instead of the thing in her.]

[onthebusagain]

I'll try not to hold the things she said against you. She's like- a massive bitch.

[solomonjihad]

...

[At this, she looks up at Heather, admittedly surprised. Usually, didn't humans hold grudges, even--

And yet. Here she was. She...understood.

Astarte can't help but smile in relief. Even after meeting that other self...]

Thank you...Heather...

[onthebusagain]

Sure. Just, like, don't tell anyone I was so nice about it.

[solomonjihad]

...All right.

[She's not sure why, but ok. She nods.]

I won't say anything.