It's Curtains Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stagemanagers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
itscurtains2016-10-10 11:53 am
stagemanagers) wrote in itscurtains2016-10-10 11:53 am
OVERTURE
You wake up, and realize you don’t remember how you got here.
This bed is soft and warm, but it’s certainly not yours. And the room is unfamiliar - unless perhaps you’re an actor, seeing as it looks almost exactly like every dressing room in the world. It's not quite large enough to fit the bed and trunk comfortably alongside the vanity, but it what it lacks in open space, it makes up for in coziness. This could be something you’ve seen in a movie, or dreamed about experiencing one day. But whatever the case, you aren’t supposed to be here.
There’s a silver key resting on your vanity, along with a thin program booklet. The cover - where the name of the show would usually be - is blank, but if you flip through it, you’ll find some startlingly familiar information. Maybe a few familiar faces as well…
The hallway outside is narrow and poorly-lit, lined with star-studded doors. But if you make your way past them and out into the lobby, you’ll find something entirely different: an elegant, refined opera house. Crystal chandeliers glitter overhead, and the red carpet is perfect for putting on a show. A large clock on the northern wall marks the time, though with the windows shuttered and locked it's difficult to tell whether it's morning or night. There’s also some framed information pinned up that you might find helpful. If you explore further into the adjoining wings, in fact, you'll see there's an identical copy in every room.
There’s also two sets of double-doors in the lobby: one leading back the way you came, deeper into the Opera House, and one leading out. For the moment, neither of them will open.
It looks like you’re stuck. But hey - at least you aren’t alone.
This bed is soft and warm, but it’s certainly not yours. And the room is unfamiliar - unless perhaps you’re an actor, seeing as it looks almost exactly like every dressing room in the world. It's not quite large enough to fit the bed and trunk comfortably alongside the vanity, but it what it lacks in open space, it makes up for in coziness. This could be something you’ve seen in a movie, or dreamed about experiencing one day. But whatever the case, you aren’t supposed to be here.
There’s a silver key resting on your vanity, along with a thin program booklet. The cover - where the name of the show would usually be - is blank, but if you flip through it, you’ll find some startlingly familiar information. Maybe a few familiar faces as well…
The hallway outside is narrow and poorly-lit, lined with star-studded doors. But if you make your way past them and out into the lobby, you’ll find something entirely different: an elegant, refined opera house. Crystal chandeliers glitter overhead, and the red carpet is perfect for putting on a show. A large clock on the northern wall marks the time, though with the windows shuttered and locked it's difficult to tell whether it's morning or night. There’s also some framed information pinned up that you might find helpful. If you explore further into the adjoining wings, in fact, you'll see there's an identical copy in every room.
There’s also two sets of double-doors in the lobby: one leading back the way you came, deeper into the Opera House, and one leading out. For the moment, neither of them will open.
It looks like you’re stuck. But hey - at least you aren’t alone.
b!
[Eliza has, at this point, thankfully found a new dress to change into so the problem of self-consciousness is over for her now. She approaches Valjean carefully, hands clasped in front of her for lack of anything else to do with her nervous energy.]
Trapping us here, expecting us to kill each other to escape...why would someone do this?
no subject
[Children and young women. Valjean has never been the most educated in foreign affairs, but the name Alexander Hamilton does seem familiar. Odd.
But of course he's not just going to start interrogating her about what he read in the pamphlet. By rights, no one should have been spreading that information around to begin with. He offers her a bow.]
Forgive me, madame - I am Jean Valjean. [hoo boy that's still weird to say]
no subject
She curtsies in return.]
Elizabeth Schuyler- [She pauses, quick to correct herself.] Hamilton. It's a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Valjean.
no subject
[Speaking of. Her French is very good (we're totally all speaking French, right?) but she's clearly American.]
But surely no one will do such a thing. We have no reason to turn on each other like that. [Experience tells him otherwise, but he would still like very much to believe so.]