stagemanagers: (Default)
[personal profile] stagemanagers
[Everything has its season, everything has it's time.

School has is finally out and, once you’ve all gathered your things and climbed on the bus (of course with a trailer attached to the back for the actual barn animals), Beetlejuice roars the engine to life again and takes off across the football field and into the corn. The trip is on the longer side but surprisingly smooth, considering the driver. Better out than in, as it were. On the bus ride there’s time to relax, to talk with your rescuers, to curl up with your loved ones and maybe even take a nap. Hester certainly is- the best sleep she’s had since prom night.

Eventually the road evens out to smooth asphalt and through the windows you’ll see the sun just getting into position to set in the west, right behind the sign for the safe haven known as the Liminal Denny’s.]




[The bus rolls to a halt several feet from the doors. Maybe there are people waiting for you in the parking lot. Maybe they’re already inside, sipping coffee and ordering maple bacon sundaes for their dear ones stumbling off Beetlejuice’s Wild Ride. Maybe someone is camped out by the dumpster. The options are endless at the Liminal Denny’s!

You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The owner decided a long time ago that the invoked revelry that comes with these cast parties is worth the mess left behind. Just don’t forget to tip your waitstaff. Heather works hard, she deserves it. After their grand slams have been slammed and goodbyes have been said everyone will be free to leave the liminal space that is this strange inter-dimensional Denny's and find themselves exactly where they want to be.

This might be the end but it doesn’t mean you have to say good-bye just yet.

The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways
The atmosphere as thrilling here as always
Feel the early morning madness
Feel the magic in the making
Why, everything's as if we never said goodbye
]





[ooc: Welcome to the cast party and final log of It's Curtains act 3 and the end of the main continuity of Curtains! It has been a buckwild five years and we want to express how grateful we are for people giving this weird ass concept a chance and sticking with us through a pretty long hiatus and also Evan Hansen.

As this is the final Denny’s log, there is no castmate limit! Go nuts for donuts, ect ect. As a reminder for our past participants: it has been 5 years since R1 and 1 year since R2 and if anyone has a R0 character they would like to bring and want some loose context- let us know!

You’re all stars and thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Go take your final bows.]
guardianofsplendor: (to take by storm)
[personal profile] 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?]
stagemanagers: (Default)
[personal profile] stagemanagers
You've all dispersed into a lot of hidden areas, but you'll come together as a group once more. When you do, you'll find that the theatre doors are open.

For once, things are different inside. There are no podiums in the orchestra pit; instead, the curtain is open and the stage is lit. You'll notice there's a small set of stairs at either end, allowing you easy access up. Ten podiums have been moved onto the bare stage, arranged in a loose semi-circle facing a higher wooden platform. Atop it is a single chair, red-cushioned and gilded like a throne. In the vaguely circular space between the platform and the podiums is absolutely nothing: it's a deep, dark pit. The lighting in here is pretty good, but it still doesn't reach the bottom.

The podiums that once belonged to the dead are gone entirely. The bare lightbulbs that stood in their places, however, are clustered on either side of the stage, like a makeshift audience. They're finally turned off.

As the cast enters and begins to find their places, there's a sound like an invisible orchestra tuning up. Strings and woodwinds run scales in a quiet cacophony that eventually shapes itself into a wordless song. A man in jeans and a plain white T-shirt enters from stage right as they play, singing quietly as if to himself as he ascends the stairs onto the platform and turns out to survey the cast.

Velkommen, bienvenue, welcome...

The Balladeer falls quiet, looking thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head and taking his seat. Once there, he turns his attention to flipping through the papers in his hands. "Well. Let's get started, shall we?"

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