Week 7

[stagemanagers]

[Last week, on It's Curtains...boy, that sure was a year-long week, huh?

But despite it all, you've gotten through it with less death than there might have been. Spongebob and Farrah both survived their ill-conceived plan; Maya, with the intervention of Janis and Hester, survived her triple murder. Since the failed execution, there has been no sign of the Wizard or of Hester. It seems like you may have gotten away with that cleanly!

When you wake up on Sunday, you remember everything. All the gaps, the missing pieces, entire chunks of time from back home - they're back and neatly fitted where they should be in your heads. Elle, Orpheus, and Eurydice have also been given graves alongside the others in the garden. These ones were filled in for you; after all, you were all pretty occupied over the weekend.

Other than that...it seems like some unusual posters have been put up around the school. Sounds like something's going to happen this week. You'd better prepare.]

Sunday | Monday | Tuesday

(( As per usual, endgame will ICly take place on Wednesday, so get those last threads in! As this is the last week, all characters should be at their true canonpoint memory-wise. Feel free to continue submitting regains and...well, you can certainly try to visit Hester. No AC this week, but be sure to check in for endgame! ))

Comments

cw: ending in some bad high prompts, brief emeto

[barberic]

[Benjamin doesn't know what hotboxing is or entails.

But Farrah has dragged him to the photo dungeons, so he's here. And for a while, everything is Great. The smell takes a little getting used to, but the more he's in there the easier it gets.

Mostly he stays to himself, but anyone who comes over to sit with him is welcome.]

This may sound weird- [A word he's definitely learned from Farrah.] But will you let me play with your hair? Strictly professional- I'm a... [Buffering...] Hair artist man.

[But it's not all good vibes - after a good while of just, being totally content to vibe, his demeanor shifts a little, glancing around nervously. The bodies around him are lying too still. Why are they so still? He may reach out in concern, and give the person nearest to him a little shake.]

Sorry. Just... just scared for a second, sorry.

[But the worry continues to build, nonetheless. He feels too relaxed, heavy and sleepy. And everyone around him is... They've decided to trust him, knowing what he is, what he's done, and he can't protect them all. He can't protect anyone like this.

Others might catch him before he leaves, when he looks miserable and a little ill, like he's about to start crying any second. But when he does, when the fear that they aren't stacked in content little puppy piles gets bad enough that he can't convince himself any of them are still breathing, that's when he steps out of the room. To get fresh air. To get help. Something.

The fresh air outside the photo dungeons turns the smell of smoke lingering in his nostrils into burning flesh. He gags a little, where he stands, and barely makes it down the hall to the boys' room before he loses everything he'd managed to eat that day.]

[brokeforgood]

Oh my God, I thought you’d never ask. I was voted Best Hair at Corey Giles high school. [Mostly because the other suggestions were….less than nice or school appropriate. But also, she has the best hair. She’s left it down for this very reason, and she even shakes her head to better show off.]

You weird hair artist man.

[barberic]

[He laughs, and tugs her closer to him, so her back is to him, then uses his fingers to comb her hair back from the temples.]

Barber. That's the word.

[He hums, enjoying the feel of her hair, still wavy from her braids, running through his fingers.]

Your hair is quite lovely.