curtainsdown | and I know things now, many valuable things

Entry tags:

act 1,
intro

and I know things now, many valuable things

[You remember dying. Maybe the memory is clear and bright and your body still aches from the cause. Maybe it was fast enough that you didn't feel it and don't remember what you went through. But no matter how you went out you're still trapped here.

When you open your eyes it might take you a minute to recognize your surroundings. It's your dressing room, that much is certain, but nothing is where you remember it. It's like everything has been picked up and moved to the other side of the room. The entire room has been perfectly mirrored from what it used to be and, upon leaving, it seems the rest of the opera house is just the same. If you remember one room being in the east wing, it's now in the west. If it was in the west, it's now in the east.

Welcome back to the Opera House, friends, you're not out of the woods yet.]

[ooc: Welcome to deadland, darlings! It's a perfectly mirrored version of the Opera House and each week, as new people die after new floors have been revealed, the stairwell doors will unlock and allow you to reach them. For example, week 3 victims will unlock floor 2 and so on and so forth. Also, all dead characters will wake up at their actual canon point.

Have fun because we have some fun things planned for you.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[welcome, D-ne and Jean Valjean.]

[D-ne wakes up screaming. That's strange, because she wasn't screaming when she died; it was impossible to be, with all the blood in her mouth. But then, within a few seconds, she understands strange is par for the course for her.

The perfect "imposter."
I am not the traitor!
As I thought, the Fox was you.
The title is... The "Bookmark of Demise."
In other words... No matter how much we try, we wouldn't be able to solve it?
- Let's try it one more time.

Screaming, and clutching her head. She can't understand. She can't understand anything. She can't understand why she's even here...!

What the hell was the point of any of that?! Even if she won, would it have done anything?! How many times has she played out this role, killing someone who-

...

D-ne stays there for a long time. Trying to make sense of everything, and dwelling on the memories of her past...and of the trial. The people she met here. The reeling revelation of just how long it's been since she really interacted with anyone outside the club. It's far too much for her to take in. It's something that she's been destined to never understand.

At some point, though, what she does understand is that she can't stay there forever. There's something she has to do, if her intuition is right. It seems like, in this kind of story...

With each step, she trembles. She feels a sharp cold pain. Like the razor's back, going in and out and in and out of her body. Still, she pushes herself out of the dressing room, down the hall- the wrong one, at first, why everything is backwards she can't comprehend but she supposes it's fitting- and to the dining room.

Her destination is the place she killed Valjean, his makeshift prayer site. With any luck, he'll already be there. If not, she'll wait until he arrives. If he never does... Then she'll wait forever.]

[Valjean, too, woke up alone.

He spent a moment sitting on the edge of his bed, breathing hard and checking himself for injuries. His chest is fine, his face and neck are fine, there's not so much as a speck of blood on his clothes. It's as if none of it ever happened. Were the memory of the razor plunging into him not so vivid, he might be able to convince himself it was just a dream. But he knows better. He was the one to finally end up dead in this place. He had feared finding someone else dead more than he'd thought it could happen to him, but if it had to be someone, this seems right. He was the eldest of all of them, after all.

To be frank, this isn't what he expected to happen after death. Wandering around the strangely mirrored Opera House, he finds everything more or less as it was, except that he's alone. No Heaven, no Hell - just a reflection of their former prison. He can't imagine why, but there must be a reason. It's almost a comforting thought. Perhaps there is still something he can do. Maybe he's some sort of spirit now, and can intercede.

He remembers more home now. The revolution. Meeting Javert again, still with the first face. Cosette's wedding. That brings him a great deal of comfort; she doesn't need him any longer. She's safe at home whether he returns or not. In fact, he had left her on his own already. It was anticipation of arrest that drove him, but strangely, he can't recall Javert ever coming for him. Instead, he remembers growing ill.

He doesn't quite remember dying there, but he knows it was coming. He had accepted it. And having accepted death once, he can do so again.

Valjean isn't at the altar when D-ne finally comes looking. In fact, the altar doesn't seem to exist here. That was disappointing to find, but he doesn't need one to pray. He did pray for a while at first - an entirely reasonable reaction to being dead and here - but now he's in the kitchen, apparently having moved on to making himself some food. There didn't seem to be much else to do, and sticking to routine is easiest.]

[The altar should be there. The candle sticks, the cross. It should have been there...with a puddle of blood, and two unsettling trails. D-ne finds the fact that it isn't unsettling, like something's crawling beneath her skin. She stares where it should be, as if it'll will it back into existence, to no avail.

Eventually, it's only natural that she smells something coming from the kitchen. There...should only be one other person there, so it only stands to reason, naturally, that the one making it should be...

She's never had to face a person she's killed outside of B-ko. Though she walked here of her own power, it's terrifying. Though the fear pushes on her, she forces herself to move her weighted feet. She stands in the kitchen doorway, seeing Valjean at work, and it's suddenly so much like the first time she laid eyes on the kind man that it steals her breath.]

..........

[She opens her mouth and nothing comes out but a small scratch. So struck she can't do anything but stare.]

[The silence here has been all-encompassing. Valjean hasn't even bothered talking aloud to himself; perhaps had it continued for weeks, he would have, but he is comfortable enough with the quiet. It's easy to notice when it's broken, and he turns.]

...D-ne.

[He's a little surprised. He does remember the Balladeer talking about killers getting executed, if they were caught. It's only that he'd thought she might actually escape - she never would have stood a chance in a real fight between them, after all, and people would likely think he had fought.

Maybe it was foolish to have acted as he did, but what's done is done. He doesn't regret it.]

I'm...sorry to see you here, whatever this is. [And he really is. He wouldn't have been any less dead if she went home, at least someone would have benefited.]

[The moment Valjean turns to look at her, D-ne flinches back, though not consciously. A man his height, in his clothes, lumbers towards her in shadow, reaches out a hand...

It was not Jean Valjean. It was never him. She knew that, and yet she reached back, to her own detriment. It's not like anything could have saved her at that moment, she was doomed the first time her razor cut his skin, but-

Still. This kind, sweet man has been tarnished in her mind, and she hates herself more for that. D-ne's jaw clenches. Teeth push against teeth until her roots groan, and against everything in her body, she walks into the kitchen.

She regrets everything.]

V- Valjean- ...san, I- I-I'm so--

[There's nothing she can say. (What did she say to B-ko, the first time...?) All D-ne can do is bow her head, very low, hands grasped at her chest and eyes glued shut.]

I'm so...! So sorry...! I'm so sorry for what I did...!

[That flinch makes him hesitate, but only for a moment. If he knew the real reason for it, he likely wouldn't do this, but now he steps forward, reaching to place his hands on her shoulders.]

Shhhhh, shhh. It's alright.

[At the touch she gasps and takes a clumsy step back, though it's not forceful enough to break contact between them. Her eyes shoot open and she sees...a normal man, the normal man she stabbed repeatedly with a straight razor, not the one who did the same to her.]

N-no, sir, I- I k-killed-- f-for- I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

It's alright. I forgive you.

[He would like to hug her, but she seems to be freaking out at the moment, so he's just gonna. Not do that.]

You were frightened, and this place has been trying to drive us all to murder since we came. How could I blame you for buckling beneath that weight?

[She stares at him in disbelief.]

You...forgive me...? But, I... Ah, I...! Wh- what-- how did- so many good people...?

[It doesn't seem she can find the words to say to this, so she just clenches her hands tighter and starts to cry as her knees buckle. When the weight of how bad you screwed up just. Comes crushing down on you, the worst familiar feeling.]

[woooooah okay no we're just going to catch her before she falls. It's easy for him to support her weight.]

Listen - I've remembered more things since I got here. I believe...I believe was dying at home, before all of this.

[It's a somewhat hushed admission; he hasn't had cause to say it aloud before. It's a strange thing to reflect on. It'd seemed clear that he wouldn't recover, so how did coming here apparently make him well again? Did he possibly die already?]

It was always borrowed time. If my death could have bought your freedom, then at least it would have done some good here.

[.....yeah someone didn't live long enough to hear all the trial rules]

[oh well time for her to lower valjean into the ground so she can let him down one more time]

Ah... [Slowly, D-ne shakes her head. She's stiff and wants to run, but she has no energy to do so.] No, it's... No, Valjean-san...

If one person...kills and fools the rest of the actors... then everyone else dies.

...ah.

Did you know that? [Though really, he suspects she must have.

That's a bit different, isn't it?]

I thought...it was the only way to... But, no, that m-matters not. I'm an a-awful monster, Valjean-san. [She can't look at him.]

Of course...I knew.

No - no, of course it matters. What were you going to say?

[His voice is still gentle. Because it's different, yes - but it doesn't make any difference. It's still not for him to condemn her.]

[She doesn't understand. Why isn't he casting her away? Telling him won't change anything, so she should just...]

...to save...my friends- the girl I love from a- a curse that was going to kill us all.

I thought it might be something like that. D-ne, you were hurt and afraid, and you did a terrible thing. That doesn't make you a monster. It makes you human.

How...? H-how can you be so...so kind?

[He frowns, patting her shoulder.] I'm no better than anyone else, either. I've been shown mercy myself in the past. How could I deny you the same? No one will ever change for the better if they're not given a chance.

Come, sit down. You'll feel better when you'v eaten.

[He might...have to help her to that chair, D-ne doesn't seem to be in the state to walk by herself. But, she won't fight him.]

What...are you making, sir?

[He will do so!]

Croissants. There's some fruit as well, if you like.

[She glances at an apple...]

Thank you, ah... wh- where do you...suppose this is...?

I couldn't say. There's no one else here...

[It's not anything he could have predicted.]

I was sure... I would end up in Hell...

[So she's very confused.]

But instead we're in limbo?

That may be it.

[No comment on the hell thing]

I think there must be something left for us to do here.

and I know things now, many valuable things

week 1

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)