CURTAIN CALL

[guardianofsplendor]

[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?]

Comments

[tellthestory]

.....I...can't believe she just left.

[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.

[dontfeedplants]

I still wanted to ask her...

["-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?]

[tellthestory]

.......you know what, don't sweat it.

[jesus, player, it's rude to break the fourth wall at people who can't]

[dontfeedplants]

Oh okay.

[Man he really hates having zero idea what's going on again.]

... So what now? How are we supposed to get home without her?

[He actually doesn't sound overly concerned about this. They're all together and no one else is going to die, and it's not like he's exactly in a rush to be anywhere. But it would be nice to have some idea.]

[tellthestory]

.....did you find a script in her office or anything?

[dontfeedplants]

I didn't find anything like that, but maybe someone else did?

[He looks over at the rest of Team A.]

[catliketread]

I found a lot of things that meant nothing to me, so perhaps something in there would be useful?

[. . .]

Oh wait, I threw the evidence. Give me a moment.

[GOTTA GO FIND IT ALL GIVE HIM LIKE FIVE MINUTES]

[aflatouttahell]

[WELL THERE WAS A LOT OF SHIT IN THERE THAT WENT RIGHT OVER HER HEAD, BUT...]

So... does that make you Showrunner now? Is that what just happened? Minus the... talk about Dennys and CSS and stuff?

[tellthestory]

Uh...I mean, I guess? I'm the only one here...

[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.

[aflatouttahell]

Well, she said her powers came with her role, right? If she left all this to you, then... isn't it your show now?

[trettende]

[ Wow, ok, meta bullshit aside— ]

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. ]

[tellthestory]

[He lets out a short, surprised laugh at the kiss - still not used to that.]

I hope...I hope she was actually listening. Who knows what she's going off to do now?

[trettende]

I mean, that's true...

[ He's not super used to it either, but his emotions are still dialed up to 11 right now. This while "what's actually happening" might help sober him up. ]

She's taking everything down but we're still stuck here. [ Here's a random idea, why not. ] Should we... vote you in as the new show runner or what?

[catliketread]

[.......so all of that just happened. uh. RIGHT LET'S TRY TO MOVE FORWARD.]

Well, now that that's over with, who has an idea for how we revive our dead companions?

[oh my god]

[tellthestory]

If she were still here, it'd be like that.

[He snaps his fingers.]

Her not doing that is actually the least surprising thing about this.

[catliketread]

You didn't inherit any magical abilities from her when she handed you the show? Or what's left of it anyway? That's a bit disappointing.

[MAN WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN THAT EASY]

[tellthestory]

We had pretty different narration styles. I'dve run my first show a bit differently if I were that much in charge...

[But he snaps his fingers like she used to anyway.

.....]

Yeah, that didn't work.

[catliketread]

Well, there must be something here we can use! We're not going to leave them behind.

[tellthestory]

There's nothing backstage, I've been there. Maybe she left something up in her box...

[dechagny]

...What do these things even mean? Plurk, CSS, e-mail, Dennys?

[Forgive him for focusing on something weird, he's...still in shock that his "jump ship and join us" speech worked.]

[pennyless]

Denny's is a restaurant, email and CSS are, um. Future things.

...I have no idea what Plurk is.

[dechagny]

Is Dennys any good as an eating establishment?

[Like we might as well go find one right]

[pennyless]

...

[He's about to shatter Raoul's hopes and dreams but.

Shit, man, he could absolutely go for some french toast.]

I mean, actually it's not that bad. It's- it's definitely like nothing, uh. Most of the people here have ever had before.

[dechagny]

[Just don't let the waitress turn it into a Grand Slamwich]

Ah! Well, then, I suppose it's worth a try, if...we inexplicably find ourselves at one. Outside.

[Let's be happy about stuff and then find the exit.]

[pennyless]

I guess, it'd probably be pretty thematically appropriate, too. You know, like- like one last big dinner, before we all, uh. Go our separate ways?