The Leading Player (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
guardianofsplendor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
itscurtains2016-11-28 02:42 pm
guardianofsplendor) wrote in itscurtains2016-11-28 02:42 pm
CURTAIN CALL
[Once all is said and done, the Leading Player turns her attention back to everyone else. She claps her hands once and the lights turn off and on in quick succession in an attempt to gain back everyone’s attention.]
Ladies! Gentlemen! Cast, crew, and audience alike! Under the usual genre conventions this would be where I would demand you vote to choose your fate, to stay with my troupe or have one of you sacrifice yourselves to the flames and bring this game to an end. However, you’ve all already made your votes clear and due to executive demand we’re obligated to present you with the ending you’ve earned by stealing my crew and forming a united front. You’re all real cute, with your private Plurks. [Wow, bitter much, LP?]
So enjoy your happy, sappy ending. I’m sure Denny’s will love having you. [She snaps her fingers and the fires in the pit finally extinguish.] Show’s over. Fastrada, get the others. Lewis, take the curtains, get the ghost lights, clean up the house. Berthe, take down the page since someone would rather go be a hermit handing out seeds to children than help me with CSS. And turn off the email notifications, I don’t even want to look at this!
[The remaining stagehands, those who didn’t respond to the cast’s attempts at friendship, look at each other and split off, posture a little downtrodden as they slink into the wings or the house. One of them starts to gather up the ghostlights from the side of the stage; another begins stripping the curtains.
The Player herself hops down from her platform, landing easily. For a moment, she stands looking down into the pit, posture tense. One hand rests on her hip; the other hangs at her side, still holding Hans’s winter coat.]
Charlemagne, get the throne.
[Still up there, the Balladeer sidesteps the stagehand as he comes to take the chair, and cautiously begins to make his way down the stairs. The Player pays him no mind; she takes a breath, straightens, and steps around the pit towards the apron.]
And as for all of you - [It’s not clear who she’s addressing now but it’s not the characters.] - we hope you’ve enjoyed your time with us, as participants or even simply as spectators. Hopefully you’ll join us the next time around. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be. [She snaps her fingers and seemingly out of nowhere a hat and cane appear. The coat doesn’t fit the aesthetic, but she slings it over her shoulder nonetheless. The stagehands moving the platform away and taking down the lighting rigs part before her as she turns and strides upstage.]
I’m erasing myself from the narrative
Let future murdergame casts wonder
Where the Player went to
When she left the stage
Go turn your new page,
And I’ll watch this burn...
[She pauses before the last curtain, letting the orchestra continue the song without her for a few phrases.]
I forfeit my rights to all this. Whatever you took from my office, just give it to him. [She jerks her head towards the Balladeer.]
Let him have the memory
Of when this was ours…
...the world seemed to burn...
[Without looking back, she parts the curtain, steps through, and is gone. The remaining stagehands filter out a few moments later, leaving a bare stage and a quiet theatre behind them.
But, of course, there's still a little more magic to do, isn't there?]
Ladies! Gentlemen! Cast, crew, and audience alike! Under the usual genre conventions this would be where I would demand you vote to choose your fate, to stay with my troupe or have one of you sacrifice yourselves to the flames and bring this game to an end. However, you’ve all already made your votes clear and due to executive demand we’re obligated to present you with the ending you’ve earned by stealing my crew and forming a united front. You’re all real cute, with your private Plurks. [Wow, bitter much, LP?]
So enjoy your happy, sappy ending. I’m sure Denny’s will love having you. [She snaps her fingers and the fires in the pit finally extinguish.] Show’s over. Fastrada, get the others. Lewis, take the curtains, get the ghost lights, clean up the house. Berthe, take down the page since someone would rather go be a hermit handing out seeds to children than help me with CSS. And turn off the email notifications, I don’t even want to look at this!
[The remaining stagehands, those who didn’t respond to the cast’s attempts at friendship, look at each other and split off, posture a little downtrodden as they slink into the wings or the house. One of them starts to gather up the ghostlights from the side of the stage; another begins stripping the curtains.
The Player herself hops down from her platform, landing easily. For a moment, she stands looking down into the pit, posture tense. One hand rests on her hip; the other hangs at her side, still holding Hans’s winter coat.]
Charlemagne, get the throne.
[Still up there, the Balladeer sidesteps the stagehand as he comes to take the chair, and cautiously begins to make his way down the stairs. The Player pays him no mind; she takes a breath, straightens, and steps around the pit towards the apron.]
And as for all of you - [It’s not clear who she’s addressing now but it’s not the characters.] - we hope you’ve enjoyed your time with us, as participants or even simply as spectators. Hopefully you’ll join us the next time around. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be. [She snaps her fingers and seemingly out of nowhere a hat and cane appear. The coat doesn’t fit the aesthetic, but she slings it over her shoulder nonetheless. The stagehands moving the platform away and taking down the lighting rigs part before her as she turns and strides upstage.]
I’m erasing myself from the narrative
Let future murdergame casts wonder
Where the Player went to
When she left the stage
Go turn your new page,
And I’ll watch this burn...
[She pauses before the last curtain, letting the orchestra continue the song without her for a few phrases.]
I forfeit my rights to all this. Whatever you took from my office, just give it to him. [She jerks her head towards the Balladeer.]
Let him have the memory
Of when this was ours…
...the world seemed to burn...
[Without looking back, she parts the curtain, steps through, and is gone. The remaining stagehands filter out a few moments later, leaving a bare stage and a quiet theatre behind them.
But, of course, there's still a little more magic to do, isn't there?]
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[The Balladeer sounds at a bit of a loss. He steps forward, peers down into the pit himself, and then looks around and up at the stripped stage.]
God, the default journal layout here is terrible.
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["-How to get Audrey back" was the rest of his thought, but he sighs. Don't lose hope now, Seymour. Surely she's not the only being in the universe who is magical and can revive the dead. They can make this work.
There is a long pause before he says anything again.]
... What's a private plurk?
[Is that supposed to be a euphemism? Does it have something to do with how many people hooked up here?]
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[jesus, player, it's rude to break the fourth wall at people who can't]
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So... does that make you Showrunner now? Is that what just happened? Minus the... talk about Dennys and CSS and stuff?
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[He wanders over to a wall, laying a hand on it as he peers up at one of the rods where a curtain was.]
I've never had the kind of power she had over this show, though. She was always a level above me. [.....] Just leaving us here trapped without some kind of dramatic thing about it really doesn't seem like her style.
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That was incredible. I... You—We did it?
[ Hey Bal, nice of you to join them down here. Hope you're cool with a hug and a kiss because you're getting one.
He's actually on the winning side for once? ]
That—When you sang. How even narrators could be normal people, I... almost cried.
[ Slow down on the emotions, Hans, Bal is a busy guy I'm sure. ]
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I hope...I hope she was actually listening. Who knows what she's going off to do now?
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Well, now that that's over with, who has an idea for how we revive our dead companions?
[oh my god]
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[He snaps his fingers.]
Her not doing that is actually the least surprising thing about this.
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[Forgive him for focusing on something weird, he's...still in shock that his "jump ship and join us" speech worked.]
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...I have no idea what Plurk is.
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After all this time he thought he'd be more homicidal mad but nope. You win even that, LP.]
Is...is it over?
What did she mean? Does she mean there will be other 'murder games'?
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I think I'll do more good taking care of the Swans and Leading Players of the world than writing my Faust.
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LITERAL CURTAIN CALL
[The Balladeer moves from one side of the stage to the other, apparently checking the curtain placement. Under his breath, you might be able to hear him muttering about how he sure hopes you can revert changes, because he doesn't know the first thing about stylesheets.
But whatever he's doing apparently concludes to his satisfaction, because he turns around and points, summoning a spotlight to point at the opposite wing, where one of the black curtains hides the back corner of the theatre from view.]
That's better! Now - she said curtain call, let's have a real one! Enter the dead!
[That's your cue, guys! Go over there to do it, so you can have your dramatic entrance!]
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Many nights we've prayed,
With no proof anyone could hear.
In our hearts a hopeful song
We barely understood.
Now we are not afraid,
Although we know there's much to fear.
We were moving mountains
Long before we knew we could...
There can be miracles
When you believe.
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill.
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve.
When you believe,
Somehow you will.
You will when you believe.
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So while he might not have the words he originally planned and while he's fumbling to find anything of value to say right now, there is always one thing the Pirate King can default to with ease.]
Oh, better far to live and die
Under the brave black flag I fly...
[He is absolutely not about to start crying, shush.]
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In this time of fear
When prayer so often proves in vain
Hope seems like the summer bird
Too swiftly flown away
Yet now I'm standing here
My hearts so full, I can't explain...
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Yet now I'm standing here
With heart so full, I can't explain
Seeking faith and speaking words
I never thought I'd say...
[Literally. Thanks for infecting her with hopefulness guys!!]
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There can be miracles
When you believe
Though hope is frail,
Its hard to kill
Who knows what miracles
You can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe
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They don't always happen when you ask
And its easy to give in to your...
Your...
...Ooh. Haha. Mmm.
...We'll cook a cake quite large
And fill each layer in between?
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Are you kiddin' me? [The man who sweeps through the curtain next seems momentarily confused about his outfit, but quickly turns his unimpressed look back on Hook.] Even I know that's not how it goes! You can't just bust into their song with that!
Ashira el Adonnay ki ga'o ga'a
Ashira el Adonnay ki ga'o ga'a
Mi chamocha ba-elim, Adonnay?
Mi kamocha ne-edar bakodesh?
Nachita bechasdecha, a'm zu ga'alta
Nachita bechasdecha, a'm zu ga'alta
Nachita bechasdecha, a'm zu ga'alta
Mashi'yach, Mashi-yach, Mashi-yach!
[Wow, sure is lucky for everyone that someone here can take the Hebrew lyrics, even if the whole tone is faintly exasperated. But that got weird for him towards the end (given, well, personal circumstances), so he just sort of goes off to stand to the side while everyone else has their reunions. At least he fixed the song, thanks Hook.]
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When you believe
Though hope is frail
It's hard to kill
[Seems like LP sent a few dozen customers to someone's work as revenge for the water, but Hime stumbles out onto the stage eventually, wearing a ribbon around her wrist like D-ne's and holding an empty bucket.]
Are we-- are we really...
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You can achieve
When you believe?
Somehow you will
Now you will
You will when you believe
[HI, EVERYONE, MOM IS HOME AND SHE'S CRYING, EVERYTHING IS MIRACLES AND NOTHING HURTS]
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This is all to say that once the dead are all safely back on this side of the curtain, he snaps his fingers, summons a couch from the lobby, and lays the fuck down. Just to watch everything for a while.]
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