week 3

[stagemanagers]

WEEK 3
[The past weekend has been a difficult one. With Valjean's murder and D-ne's brutal execution the monotony has been broken and it can be said the show is finally and truly underway.

When the performers emerge from their rooms on Monday morning the decor of the opera house has changed. Not drastically but someone was busy during the night with some redecorating. There are cobwebs draped over nearly everything, some of them with tiny plastic spiders stuck in the cotton webbing, and pumpkins of various sizes on the floor and on the tables. Some of the walls have been adorned with cartoon-ish paper skeletons and scarecrows and in the ballroom a poseable plastic skeleton has been posed at the piano looking ready to play. Someone's even set a bowl of candy on the counter of the merch booth.

But that's not all. There's a light coming from the now open doorway in the lobby that had been previously locked for the past two weeks. This new floor is similarly decorated but why not go have a look and explore for yourself?

Despite their losses, the show must go on after all.


[Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday]

Comments

oh cripes

[dechagny]

[Let's just reach over to a nearby shelf that's totally there to get her a teacup.]

Black tea. There is milk and sugar here too, if you need it.

[solomonjihad]

...Thank you. I think I'll take milk with mine.

[Opening her book to the front flap (The old Chevy came out of the Texas dusk at near walking speed, a Pandora's box of nightmare and death. Up ahead the lights of Bill Hapscomb's Texaco station glimmered...) She looks back up.]

What are you reading?

[dechagny]

[He's happy to set the cup up for her - making tea is much simpler now that he knows how to boil water - and passes it over as she asks her question.]

Some plays, it looks like. I...had picked the books hoping they would be more informative, but then again, there is not much intellectual study on the subject of angels. Still, I thought...plays about them might be helpful.

[Angels...?]

[solomonjihad]

Angels? Why...angels?

[dechagny]

[He's quiet for a moment, obviously uncomfortable. Then, subtly, he pulls the opened red envelope from the Balladeer from his suit jacket. He just...holds it, not out to Astarte, but he's got it out. He'd probably let her see it if she asked.]

My..."secret" mentioned one specifically.

[solomonjihad]

...You mean, the Angel of Music?

[She remembers that, at least.]

[dechagny]

[A nod.] Yes. I want to see if there might be some mention of such an angel anywhere else, but so far I have not seen anything.

[solomonjihad]

...I can help, if you'd like.

[dechagny]

You wouldn't mind?

[She doesn't even have to]

[solomonjihad]

No, not at all.

[She even puts her book down.]

[dechagny]

...Very well. Please, Miss Astarte, tell me all you know of angels, and particularly if any pertain to music.

[solomonjihad]

...All right.

[So she does. Tries to. This is what she explains.

Once upon a time, thousands of years ago, the gods ruled an empire through the entire solar system, called Silver Millennium. The creatures of every planet, every species under their protection were immortal, save one.

Humans, an earthbound species who didn't live long at all, lived on the planet, and were, one day, meant to join the other celestial, immortal species. Instead, revolted against the gods out of resentment and impatience, destroying Silver Millennium. This action nearly obliterated all living beings in the solar system, humans included. The gods that didn't die or weren't forced into the cycle of reincarnation, eventually retreated from the mortal plane, along with their remaining citizens, giving up hope on humanity.

The citizens of the planets of the gods are, she explains, where angels come from, and they never forgot humanity's betrayal. These creatures cursed humanity with ignorance for their pride and haughtiness in trying to upend the way of things, and though they at first interfered with humanity's rebirth, to try and control them once more, as time passed, their influence waned considerably. Those angels that did come back to visit humans were resentful and kept trying to knock man's pride down, to little avail.

A beautiful lie in the roots of truth.]

I...don't know of any angels that would encourage music, personally.

[dechagny]

[. . .

Uh. Wow. Okay. Raoul...doesn't know if any of that works with Christian doctrine, he's not a priest, but he's figured out Astarte enough to know that if she tells him something unbelievable, she at least believes it to be absolutely true. So, he's not going to scoff or tell her all of that's impossible, but simply nod, wonder if angels are just different in the future, and move on.]

I...see. They do sound like they are...preoccupied with other matters.

[solomonjihad]

Mm. That's why, its odd that there could be an Angel of Music, helping someone like that.

[dechagny]

Unless...they had some ulterior motive?

[solomonjihad]

That's right.

[A bad one, probably, but yeah]

[dechagny]

[...This angel...no matter Christine's praise of it, if Astarte is right, then it...it could look to hurt her. Harm her. And she has no idea.

Raoul has to steady himself, beat back the urge to yell and find cameras to yell at, to throw things at them, demanding the management let him free to help Christine. But he doesn't even know if she had simply dreamed it or not - it's a knee jerk reaction, and even he's not sure where exactly it came from.

He takes a deep breath. In, hold. Out. In, hold. Out.]

That is...not what I had ever imagined, in regards to angels.

[solomonjihad]

I'm sorry, Viscount.

[Well, the angels do keep people in ignorance don't they]

[dechagny]

...It's alright. You...told me what you know, and that is really what I needed.

[Lies, what he needs is to be with Christine and make sure she's alright. But still, not Astarte's fault. It's not like she's an Angel of Music.]

[solomonjihad]

[No, she's not. its worse. fools]

You're welcome.