WEEK 0 - EXECUTION

[guestservices]

W̴͍̎E̴̝̊E̸͚͝K̸͕̿ ZERO: EXECUTION

By now, you've all got to be expecting it. Time marches on, and as Sunday morning arrives, you'll find yourself rising from your bed around 9. It starts off as a gentle suggestion, a feeling that you're going to be late for something. Aren't you going to be late for something?

Whether you answer that call or not, eventually, you'll find yourself walking directly down to the lobby, to a room that has so far been locked. All of you stand in front of a pair of golden doors, blocked off by a red velvet rope.

There's a moment of silence, and then a strange clattering noise. The doors fly open, and you'll find that you're standing in a darkened room where rows and rows of blue velvet seats lead up to a stage. The stage in front of you is covered with a pair of matching, rich blue velvet curtains, emblazoned with the logo of the Starlight Hotel.

Welcome, everyone, to the Starlight Theater.

You'll find yourself feeling like you must sit. You can choose your seat, but every seat in the house in the Starlight Theater guarantees a perfect view of the stage - there's no hiding. Should you try to merely stand, you'll find a pair of hands on your shoulders, and your body will move along without your permission into a seat. For those of you looking at your less cooperative friend, you might see the figure walking them to their seat is skeletal in nature, almost dancing behind them as they're ushered into their seat.

In fact... The empty seats in the theater are already filled. Skeletons sit in each empty seat, but make no mistake, audience: they clatter and move around, excited. Some of them are holding popcorn. Some of them look at you, then at the screen, eager. Others raise their arms to flag something, or someone - shadowy ushers burst from the floor and provide refreshments - and skeletons pour drinks down their nonexistent throats and stomachs, slurping at straws in a way that should be impossible.

Eventually, the bone clattering stops, and a hush falls over the crowd. Looking around, you might have noticed that one of your own didn't make it to the theater - Sheila Hammond is not among you.

Perhaps she's backstage?

You don't get much time to think about it, though. The lights dim, and a pair of spotlights spin arches across the curtains, as somewhere, a drumroll plays.

Lights, camera, action!

N̸A̵V̴I̶G̶A̶T̴I̴O̸N̷.̷

█ LOCATIONS █ STATUSES █ PROFILES █ AUDIENCES
█ REPORTING █ PRIVATE CONVOS █ MURDER

Comments

[toesies]

[Truly hope Sebastian slandered this poor man and his wife was super duper dead by the time he came back.

Now it's her turn to look at him in disbelief.]

What? Why?

[ercnerd]

[If only.

He straightens with the faintest shrug of a shoulder.]

Executions at the school weren't like this. Your body would move of its own accord to off the other party. I've made my peace with what's to happen today, so I handicapped myself in preparation last night.

[toesies]

... Oh.

[A pause, as she stares at him, like. What the fuck. Help.]

Okay, well, now I'm officially depressed. And here I was, about to ask you if you were ready to fight it out. [A little awkwardly, she pulls away from the door.] So, do you want me to just—

[She makes a slashing motion against her throat with her index finger, sticking out her tongue and lolling her head to the side, like a cartoonish imitation of death.]

You know?

[ercnerd]

I still have one hand. It'd be best if I could just do it myself . . .

[His gaze roams the office as he speaks, perhaps in search of a way where he can do just that, before settling back on Sheila.]

. . . Acting out a story is too troublesome, but do you suppose we're meant to explore it a little more?

[Coming from Wiwaldi, where stories were everything, he has to wonder, though he isn't fond of this premise in the slightest.]

[toesies]

[She makes a bit of a face.]

Yeahhhh, let's not do that. No offense, but I think I'll just feel worse if I have to watch you try and kill yourself one-handedly with office supplies.

[Imagine if he fucks up somehow and ends up gurgling on the floor? Awful. She wanders over to the desk, searching for something nice and sharp, before cocking an eyebrow at the suggestion.]

What do you mean?

[ercnerd]

[Let him gurgle on the floor, then. It'd be his fault for doing a lousy job.

Sieghart is quiet. It keeps cropping up, so maybe he should address it. For Hope and Harrowhark, the following subtitles are punctuated by feelings of deep affection and loss.]

You were talking about Julia, right? [His lips twitch—whether to deepen or lose the smile remains a mystery.] My "beautiful, perfect, goddess wife."

[toesies]

... Yeah. I mean, I don't know her name. But Sebastian brought up your, uh, marriage.

[She pulls a fountain pen out of a drawer, looking it over, and setting it aside momentarily.]

Do you want to talk about her? I don't mind hearing you out, if you want to do a little story time before we send you off.

[ercnerd]

[Of course it was Sebastian. Sieghart watches her rummage for objects with which she can presumably kill him as he breathes in.

(What's this sensation of resentment? It's not appropriate to where he is. Harrowhark doesn't strike him as the type. Ah. Must be Hope. What's going on with that kid now?)]

What's there to say? It's been six hundred years since I saw her.

[Truthfully, he'd all but forgotten how she looked until recently. He remembers the day he first glimpsed the ghost of her face—a miraculous blessing that he didn't appreciate enough at the time.]

You weren't wrong to say that I abandoned her.

[toesies]

[... She purses her lips, staring at him like she's hearing what he's saying but doesn't quite understand.]

Why, though? You were in a relationship. Did you not love her?

[ercnerd]

Of course I love her.

But I was gone too long. The day I returned to the kingdom was the day of her wedding with my little brother.

[There's nothing but fondness in his heart for that moment. Pride wells. He remembers that he was proud of them for moving on.]

I remember that they both looked happy. So I left.

[toesies]

... Oh.

[Slowly and carefully, she reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder. The one with his not fucked up hand.]

Sieghart, I'm so sorry. I take back, like, two thirds of all the bad stuff I said about you. That must have been so difficult.

[ercnerd]

[His eyes open to land on her hand. Oh. He smiles, stronger this time. Two thirds is pretty generous after everything.]

I was the one whose death they mourned. If it was difficult for anyone, it was them.

[The smile stretches into a grin.]

In any case, I couldn't live my mortal life after I was reborn as a Highlander. Even now, there's something I have to do. Let's get this over with, shall we?

[toesies]

[...

She nods, squeezing his shoulder once before pulling away.]

Okay. So... How about this? [Picking up the fountain pen, she gestures at the desk.] You lay your head down, I stab you through the ear, and drive this neat pen into your brain. It should be quick and relatively painless, so what do you say?

[Said so casually, like talking about stabbing a dude's brain is a totally normal thing.]

[ercnerd]

[Sieghart looks at Sheila, the fountain pen, then the desk. With his good hand, he pulls the chair by the window (ugh) back, sits down, and lays his head on the desktop, facing Sheila. His useless hand dangles awkwardly at his side.]

Like this?

[toesies]

[A nod.]

Yeah, just like that. [She glances at the fountain pen again, and then at him, looking apologetic.] ... This would definitely be better with a knife, but they did not equip this office for murder. Sorry.

[Stretches a little, shakes her arms and legs like she's trying to psych herself up, and and then she lifts the pen above his head.]

Welp, here goes something.

[And with that, she stabs down through his ear!]

1/2

[ercnerd]

["Don't be sorry," he wants to say, but the time for conversation has passed. He closes his eyes and waits for the fatal strike. At the very least, he's grateful that they could come to an agreement on what they should do.

The pen swings down.]

[ercnerd]

. . . Ow!

[Sieghart bolts upright, dead hand coming up to dangle uselessly by his assailed ear, with ink splattered all over the right side of his face. The force of his sudden movement knocks the chair back, sending it toppling onto the floor.

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Meanwhile, two thirds of the fountain pen sits firmly in Sheila's hand that Sieghart knocked away in his knee-jerk reaction to the pain.]

[toesies]

Oh, crap!

[Sheila yeets the broken remains of the pen away, running over to grab him by the shoulders and inspect the damage.]

Sieghart, are you okay?! Did the tip snap off inside you?

[ercnerd]

What!

[His arm lowers. It's too deep for Sheila to be able to see, so he just answers:]

. . . It's still in my ear. I can't hear out of it anymore.

[toesies]

[She grimaces.]

Sorry! [Ughhhh, she gently nudges him towards the desk so he can lean against it.] Fuck, I should have gone for your eye... Usually, being bad at murder would be a good thing.

[Just. Mumbling! Stressed mumbling. Sorry to the shirtless teen in the audience.

Sheila will just start pulling the drawers out of the desk, turning them upside down to look for something else sharp or pointy — but there's nothing really there. Just more paper, envelopes, ink... But nothing as convenient as a letter opener.]

Ugh, I can't find anything... What should we do, hit you with the chair? That is so angry!

[ercnerd]

[Sieghart is still in utter disbelief that the fountain pen broke. He breathes through the discomfort of going deaf through traumatic injury.]

We don't have much of a choice now, do we? Go and pick up the chair.

[Once she does, he'll drop down to crouch on the floor so that she can have access to his head.]

[toesies]

[She closes her eyes fastly.]

This is so not going to work, but fine. Picking up the chair.

[And then she picks up the chair





and unceremoniously bashes it over his head.]

1/2

[ercnerd]

[The chair shatters into pieces upon impact. Splinters, small and big, rain down around Sieghart's head like confetti. This time, his good hand reaches up to nurse the burgeoning bruise on the area of damage.]

Agh!

[ercnerd]

[He staggers onto his feet, disoriented and livid.]

Use the typewriter!

1/2

[toesies]

[Sheila turns to stare at the camera like she's on the office.]