WEEK 7

[stagemanagers]

WEEK 7

[Seven weeks later. Half of your number remains.

Nothing in the opera house seems all that different. The Box Office door has been locked after the death of its occupant, and there's a new copy of the house rules nailed to the front, with the last one circled heavily in black ink. The point has been made; the rest of you had better play your parts.

The crew members still aren't visibly walking the halls, but every so often there's movement in your peripheral vision, or vague half-heard whispers from the shadows. Every so often there's a thud or a snicker from inside the Merchandise Booth, though the stagehand inside will continue handing out prizes to those who earn them.

This may be your last week here. Make the most of it.]

[ Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday ]

[ooc: don't forget to submit your memories and check into the roll call!]

Comments

[stagemanagers]

[Just lucky I guess, Billy buddy.

But at least when he looks down the fabric has been yoinked from the machine and set aside with a seam ripper delicately set on top of it.]

[inforapenny]

[...wat.]

We-well, maybe not a total asshole after all.

[Tentatively, he's going to pick up the satchel and start seam-ripping that mistake. Anything else for him, "ghost?"]

[stagemanagers]

[He'll feel a light, gentle pat on his good shoulder. How's that for a non-asshole haunting?]

[inforapenny]

[Honestly, it's unnaturally cold and he doesn't really like it.]

U-uh... th- thanks.