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suitedreams2022-06-12 08:30 am
Entry tags:
WEEK 0 - EXECUTION





WΜ΄ΜΝEΜ΄ΜΜEΜΈΝΝKΜΈΜΏΝ 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!

NΜΈAΜ΅VΜ΄IΜΆGΜΆAΜΆTΜ΄IΜ΄OΜΈNΜ·.Μ·
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Seems like it.
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except his eye's narrowed. he's furious. ]
Well, that's new for us. Delightful.
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Us too. This is much more...elaborate, than how Sundays worked in ours.
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[ ...and then sheila suggests her method of murder. ]
That--that could go wrong in so many different ways.
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[ unless there's an old fashioned paper cutter in this divorce office or something, but that'd be. brutal. damn. ]
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No, but...it's hard to make it quick through the ears. There are other points you could attack that would be safer bets.
[ Not that he really begrudges Sheila this. Not many people have intimate knowledge of the best places to stab someone in the face through to the brain (including me, lisa, who has been rapidly googling this topic for the past few minutes and skimming results).
And there's nothing Bucky can do besides, but watch. ]
Good luck to them.
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also, bucky jinxes it by saying good luck to them. hua cheng watches on impassively, ignoring whatever guilt skeleton has decided to haunt a ghost, and just - snorts humorlessly when sieghart jolts upright. ]
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Should've gone for the eyes...
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This is a comedy of errors. Hopefully there's something else they can use.
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...how high up is this office?
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[ help he's telling her to get the chair. hua cheng massages his forehead. ]
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This is supposed to be an execution, not a wrestling match.
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he just covers his whole face with his hand now. ]
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mutters: ] I miss the spectres.
[ "KAEYA'S EXECUTION TRAUMA?" he said what he said ]
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he buries his face in his hands. are we all just covering our faces with our hands now ]
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he sinks into his seat and looks through his fingers while she hits him over the head with the typewriter and it doesn't work. we are all covering our faces. ]
I wish I was illiterate.
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[ This is going so badly. ]
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