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.
OTA
Augh - the hallway's too dim to read by. It's lucky the door to the lobby is so close to wherever he's woken up. If anyone ventures into the lobby, they will see Raoul, well-dressed and sitting upon one of the couches as he parses through the booklet with a furrowed brow, paused at his own page. He looks up when he hears you enter, and stands quickly, glancing at your face before flipping through the program and approaching.]
Excuse me! Excuse me, ah...[When he's close enough, he'll point to your entry in the program.] Would this happen to be you? I would like to ask you some questions - namely, where is this place, and do you know exactly what is going on?
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Re: OTA
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OTA
When Seymour finally takes in what this room is definitely not his basement, his slight off feeling changed to a feeling of concern. Suddenly he is hit with the realization that he doesn't actually remember falling asleep.
Really his confusion is the only thing that's preventing him from freaking out.
Soon he spots the booklet and flips through it in hopes to get some idea as to why he's here.
And… that sure is a picture of him right there.]
“Actor”? [Did someone want to make a play out of his life? No, that didn’t make any sense, he only had small fame with Audrey II so far. Definitely not enough success to justify anyone wanting to write a play about him.
Besides he thought sadly I’m not even that interesting
He soon slowly exited his room, still unsure whether this was just a dream or not, and seeing how grand the building he was in was, he was more convinced that he was dreaming. Skid Row never had its own theater, but even if it had one, it wouldn’t have been even half as grand as the building he was in right now.
So Seymour is just going to wander the building, agape at the scenery and not actually looking where he's going. There is a good chance he might accidentally run into you.
With no exaggeration he is going to bump into at least half of you guys from his dazed wandering.]
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OTA
Leaving through the booklet, his smile only widens when he sees one particular name. Natalie Goodman, the Invisible Girl. How ironic, but also how perfect. He scans the rest of the program, and sticks it in the back pocket of his pants, lazily. He's no actor, and the thought of someone actually playing him is one hell of a laugh, but he'll take it.
Leaving the room, he wanders out through the hallway to the lobby. Yes, this is going to be fantastic. As someone walks by, he waves cheerfully.]
Hey! Are you as surprised and stuck as I am here?
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OTA | press A for accidental bumping or B for da rules
Where am I...?
[He picks up the pamphlet and flips through it, stopping when he sees his own face looking back at him. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all.
Pulling his hoodie tighter around him for comfort, he leaves the room and looks around cautiously. His posture is subdued and withdrawn, but he's so focused on the carpet and on surveilling the walls and the chandeliers that he is definitely not looking where he is going in the slightest, making it inevitable that he's going to bump into somebody.]
Ah!
[But what catches his attention the most is the posted rules in the foyer.
Ohhh, suddenly he likes this even less.]
This has to be some kind of mistake...
B
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A because... :V
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B
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b.
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A
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Once she gets out into the lobby, she pokes her head out from behind a spare hanging dress and gapes at her surroundings.]
Whaaaaaaaat!?
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OTA!!!!
She rubs her new sore spots, knowing they might bruise later. After a few more moments of checking out the room, she emerges, rubbing the tips of her right hand with thumb. Those strange glass lights were a lot hotter than they looked. She's standing in front of her door to check out just what this hallway was about.]
Why are there numbers on the door?
[A little while later Anna was walking into the lobby, head very much in the booklet. It's clear she's on her own page as she stops and crumples the booklet in her hands.]
I am not slightly disheveled!
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His attention is taken away from this upon inspection of the room, as he finds the booklet. James picks up the strange-looking booklet, and begins to read. He stops at his own entry, and chuckles.]
Such a delightfully handsome visage, if I do say so myself.
[He begins to read and his face sours, contouring into an expression of disgust.]
Captain Hook, [His eye twitches, and his mustache almost droops.] is not a washed-up coward.
[Oh, this takes immediate precedence. Such naysayers to the Hook name would be made to walk the plank, of course! He stomps out of his room, booklet impaled on his hook, and yells to nobody in particular.]
Who is responsible for this trite?! Who has attempted to sully the good name of Captain Hook?! Show yourself now!
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The room itself is equally surreal, right down to the strange lights above the vanity. The Pirate King doesn't recognize exactly what the room is supposed to be, so he moves to stand and leave, only to pause after seeing the key and the program. He picks them both up and heads outside.
You might find him in the hallway just outside his room, where he's examining the star and tapping a finger to his chin. "The Pirate King" is listed on the star twice, along with two post-it notes with the same thing.]
Well, I am a Pirate King.
[...
.......
Where the hell is his crew to launch into song? It feels really weird just to say it like that...
Anyway, he'll move on to the lobby. This is absolutely nothing like anything he's seen before (the plays he has seen were so long ago and they were in much, much smaller theaters) and for a moment all he can do is stare upwards in awe. This place looks like it cost a fortune to construct. Those chandeliers alone are probably worth more than he's made in his life. But the beauty of this place can't captivate him forever, and his next concern lies with the windows.]
Boarded up, eh? Hmm...
[That's definitely interesting. He raps his knuckles experimentally against the shutter, then tries pulling on it. Nothing happens, of course, but it brings a sense of unease. What's the point in closing up the windows?
Finally, you might find the Pirate King sprawled out on one of the sofas in the lobby, finally looking through the booklet. He doesn't pay too much attention to the other people in there, but he stops dead when he notices a certain someone.]
That's me!
[Yes, that is definitely him. What a stunning picture! How did they get such a thing? The information in the book makes no sense whatsoever.]
An... An actor? As if someone could simply play a stunning individual like myself!?
[Well now he's sitting up and sounding offended. Clearly this is a worse insult than kidnapping him and taking him from his crew in the middle of a rockin' party.]
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lobby
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here come the fireworks, lobby
oh boy!!!
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lobby
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No way, no way, this can't be happening... Okay, breathe. Breathe—
[Of course, between reading over the information contained in the booklet and pacing in the dim light, she isn't really paying attention to where she's going or looking around for any other people. As such, she's liable to walk right into someone as she wanders around in a panic. When she inevitably does:]
Ow - hey, watch it!
[Because this was not her fault at all.]
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But after a moment to collect herself, she'll poke her head out of her room and call out:]
Hello? Is anyone there?
[Later, once she's been emboldened a little further, she'll make her way to the lobby, either pacing back and forth in thought or examining the rules.]
... Dad would be way more straightforward, but who else would set all this up...?
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Shiva Shingetsu Astarte | OTA~
No, its the blue clothing and headdress she wears. Its not her school uniform. She's supposed to have a school uniform. She's supposed to be in school with all those humans and the sailor soldiers who defended them. Then, if she is here, not in school, and not in school clothing--
Where is she?
Even the voice is silent, as she begins to pace frantically in the lobby, clutching her head as she slides the headdress off of her head. Her breathing becomes frantic. She feels nothing. There's no Lilith - no mother - behind her to tell her this is all right. No Brinvilliers in sight. No one she knows. Nothing she'd prepared for.]
This...
[Her hands shake.]
this isn't part of the plan!
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OTA
But that was another day. Winslow woke up to find something vastly different. Winslow felt like he was wearing something different, like a cloak and a black outfit. It was weird...did someone dress him up? Some kind of weird prank? His head felt heavier than usual--he had the misfortune of looking into the mirror.
A helmet. A gruesome helmet almost birdlike fitted on his head. Something was blocking one eye, maybe if he took off the helmet--no.
What happened to his face. Horrified he put the helmet right back on. What happened to his head?! Winslow attempts to make a shout, only to find nothing but strangled noises coming out. His voice...his face...someone took these from him...
Someone who KNEW him...this was some gruesome joke. Why did they want him in a show?! Was it for his song-writing ability? He had to find the way out, get out of here before these other cast members saw him and this hideous visage.
He's rushed off from his dressing room in a flutter of a cloak to the lobby, desperately rapping against the box office windows. Someone has to get him out of here! Someone is in charge they have to be!]
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OTA
Time for door duty, then. Hans will be pacing the hallway, knocking on doors. Perhaps yours? Should you choose to answer the door, you'll find a very concerned young man at your door. He doesn't look like a mirror if you ask him. ]
Hello? Sorry to bother you. I'm looking for a young woman, Anna of Arendelle. Have you seen her?
[ I mean he could try The Princess' door but then he can't excuse walking in on strangers. ]
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OTA
While theoretically, he could be run into at all of those places, at his particular moment he's in the storage closet, his program booklet tucked neatly in a pocket of his fancy police uniform while he skims the shelves, looking over such novelties as duct tape and W-D 40.]
Energizer...
[he reads the name off of one of the batteries, one that has a strange pink creature on it (???) and moves on to look at matches and candles. ah, yes, much more understandable.]
Apparently our captors still want us to survive.
Storage Closet
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A for Kitchen/Somewhere Else, B for Lobby!
It's been a long time since he truly expected to be woken by the police entering his home, but this is not something he's ever remotely expected. It's not a cell jail - and really, had he been arrested again, they would not have been so gentle as to leave him sleeping. And what are these glowing bulbs around the mirror? There doesn't seem to be any immediate danger in here, so he picks up the little booklet to leaf through it. Best to learn whatever he can.
"Jean Valjean"
Valjean darts a sudden look up at the door, as if expecting the police to barge in right that second. Nothing. Who on earth could have known this? And to call him Breadwinner, even - that's a morbid sort of humor. There's few people he'd expect to recognize him at this point...though it seems that one of them is in fact present.
Except - no. He squints at the picture, then moves to hold it up to the light from the bulbs. The name is clear enough: Inspector Javert. No Christian name provided, though he never knew that to begin with. The description isn't inaccurate, if one ignores all the strange talk of actors. But the picture? That isn't Javert. It may have been a decade, but he still knows the man's face, and that isn't it. Whoever printed this knew plenty about the both of them; why did they make such an obvious error?
Not that it truly matters. This is bad. This is disastrous. But remaining in this room will not improve his chances of escape. Valjean tucks the key and pamphlet away, straightens his shoulders, and exits.
He carries himself warily, but not aggressively, as he explores the building wing-to-wing, testing every possible escape route. He's been known, in his time, for his ability to find them, but no possibilities are presenting themselves here. A lot of these things are unfamiliar to him - he definitely spends some time in the kitchen, picking up a few appliances for inspection and opening and closing the fridge curiously. The amount and quality of the food here is somewhat staggering, but even royalty would not have such machines. They don't exist. What is this?
Compared to the rest of the building, the lobby is intimidatingly open. It may have been years, but this situation is bringing out a thousand old instincts that never really died, and he keeps to the walls as he moves about. Eventually, he pauses in front of the rules, reading them over.]
This is madness...
kitchens are no place for royalty!!
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B for BREAD
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B
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b!
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A!
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I'll take A in the kitchen for 200
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A
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D-ne has to figure out what's going on here. This wasn't part of her instructions from Kokkuri-san.
The booklet clutched in her hands - what was that, like she's a part to be played - D-ne first walks up and down the dressing room corridor, to see who else's names are written on these doors. ...To see if, maybe, a certain name, despite not being in the booklet... With every door she reaches, she looks more and more disappointed, like a pouting kitten or a kicked puppy.
In her efforts to explore thoroughly, it's only natural that D-ne comes across the rules. She reads them over once, and then a second time. At this, her jaw tightens. Awful.] Another stringent set of rules. Isn't one enough...?
[She keeps her composure, and clicks her tongue.]
I don't recall any rumors about such a theater, though. [A little taut smile. As if this was just a bout of inconvenience.
It's another troubling facet of the day. She'll continue her examinations, exploring the west wing as much as she can and lingering around the storage closet in particular, the toolkits catching her eye.]
rules
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dressing rooms
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ota
She tries the locked doors, twice, before she starts to panic. This is one of the worst pranks they've played on her, yet.]
Very funny Heather and Heather, let me out! [Does she sound a little frantic? She sounds a little frantic.]
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Alexander...?
[Even at a sleepy glance she can tell this surely isn't the Pastures and she's alone in a strange room when she's supposed to be on her honeymoon. She climbs out of the strange bed and looks quickly around the room before spotting the program and flipping it open to read.]
Actress, what-? [This has to be a mistake. A mistake or some kind of cruel joke. Eliza hurries out of her room with the program in her hand, stopping only briefly to pick up the key on the vanity. Her first stop is the lobby, where she can be found reading over the list of rules and wringing her hands with worry.]
Whoever did this, they can't really expect us to...to do that, can they?
[A bit later, after calming down a bit, she can be found in the costume room looking for a new dress because she may be trapped with strangers in an opera house doesn't mean she has to spend all day in her nightgown.]
costume room;
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Costume room
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lobby
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lobby!
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Not like he remembers last night all that well; can't remember a thing, if he's going to be honest. Last he recalls he was talking to that one guy determined to make sure his girl didn't swing, and then after that...nothing, really.
(I completely blacked out, I don't remember a thing - here's to you, Velma Kelly, you're a regular psychic.)
That isn't to say that Billy is going to be disheveled when he finally makes his appearance in the lobby - the lights and mirror are going to be put to decent use, there's no sense in doing otherwise, and he only pauses for the briefest of moments in the hallway, tilting his head at the star adorning his door, before jerking the paper down from where it's taped up under it. He folds it once, twice as he continues on, his pace brisk and the creases sharp and smart; he tucks it into the inside pocket of his suit eventually – let the stupid door read "The", for all he cares.
Anyway.
The lobby is...better, décor-wise...or at least it would be if it weren't for those rules adorning the walls. He doesn't seem disturbed by them, per se, for the time being he's just looking kind of unimpressed; he's got his playbill with him, it would just have been stupid to leave the room without it, but he doesn't seem too interested in reading it – he's holding it slightly open in his hand, fingers slipped inbetween the creasing as though to mark his place somewhere, but for the time being he's got his arms folded and he's tapping it agitatedly against his sleeve. It's pretty much the only tell he's got going that he might be displeased with all of this – his expression is still sitting solidly at an "eh, could be worse" – but it's there just the same.]
Yeah, all of that's real cute.
[Once he's tired of everything and everyone in here, however, he can be found in the east wing of the building – he's going to...disregard the laundry room for now because that is a lot of machinery and witchcraft happening in there, but the ballroom seems...pretty nice, all things considered. He won't be playing anything, but he can be found on the grand piano's bench, going over that program he's been keeping with him.
Some of these people are...interesting, he'll grant that much. Not exactly his usual company, not anyone he'd choose to join his usual company, but probably worth a second look just the same.]
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Her room had no clues to Max's wereabouts; none of her usual things are there. Out of curiosity, she does flip through her program (she scoffs a little at her own profile) but only recognizes a few of these people. Boring!
She decides leaving is the best option, and takes her book and key with her to the hallway . She spends some time reading the names, looking bored.
Afterwards, one might find her wandering anywhere, skipping around looking for someone.]
hallway
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