don't stop believing

[stagemanagers]

[Streetlights, reveals] | [Vision Statements] | [Mass Resolution: CONNECT] | [A little touch of the sun (Revival)] | [They do this bullshit like 8 times a week (Rescue)]


[It's a pleasant afternoon in the garden. Maybe not emotionally, but physically - isn't it nice when you get to have class outside?

As your voices rise, singing defiance in unison out for the Wizard, there's no immediate response; at least, nothing that clearly is a response. But there's something. Amidst the sound of your song, it may be hard to hear at first; Janis will likely be the first to notice, but eventually everyone is able to hear. It sounds as though other voices are rising along with yours.

There's something on the air - no music, or at least no instrumentals, just a disembodied sort of lyrical chant. You don't recognize any of the voices. They aren't singing the same song as you all are. Maybe they can't; they sound long long ago, and far far away now. Still - despite everything - the trees around you move lightly in a sudden soft breeze. It feels as though you have invoked something, old and entirely beyond your knowledge.

But first. Haven't you forgotten something?

It's Wednesday.

Welcome to this week's school club!]

Comments

cw: suicidal ideation

[stopbelieving]

Why would I want to do this again? I'd love to end this dead, but if I do that, it will just loop. The Leading Player will start her games all over again, and the same thing's gonna happen.

[barberic]

You're a bloody madman, that's why. You've done it twice now, by your own admission.

If we were foolish enough to believe you and go along with your plan, leaving you sole arbiter of the way things "should be," there would be no one to stop you from doing this over and over again every time there was a deviation from your divine plan.

[stopbelieving]

I don't have any plans. It's Sondheim, for you.

[brokeforgood]

Hey!

I don't know what that means [She was BUSY READING SELF HELP BOOKS] but it sounds mean! Don't talk to my dad like that!

[barberic]

It's- what?

[The fire doesn't exactly go out of him, but that knocks him on the back foot.

What happened then, well that's the play,
And he wouldn't want us to give it away...

But he shakes off the rising sound of violins.]

I shouldn't matter. My tale is over.