Log:All the World a Stage!
>>> Description changed by The Bravo.
A play house. Old school. Like...old London type of round play house. The sort that Hamlet, or Romeo and Juliet were played in when first written. It's decorated as some Italian city, complete with a sign that says VERONA hanging from the ceiling.
When all you've been reading has been plays, tragic, sad, funny...weird little plays, and you've discovered that these things happen to be possible. These rooms that become whatever a person wants, then one might just be inclined to make this happen.
It's not much of a production, party of one, with no other actors and no audience, but Bravo is center stage, holding a hand up as she quotes the line, "Hark...what light through...yon.." She quotes it very badly, though.
Ever since his last stint in the Facility, the Capitalist had tried many tricks in an attempt to enter one of these two mysterious rooms that suddenly appeared one day. There was the unscrewing of the door handle, lockpicking and all sorts of ideas he had in which none of them worked. Now? All he needed to do was twist the handle and it would open up for him.
There were two doors available to choose from and with how many voices her heard chatting in the dining area, he figured that most of the others were too busy eating. Both of these magical rooms couldn't be occupied, right? So he tries the first door, letting it swing open. Unlike some of the others, he never experienced what it was like looking into one of these rooms, did the interior manifest itself automatically, something that can be seen without stepping inside?
Dressed in his full business attire: a grey suit jacket and slacks with a white dress shirt beneath, complete with a perfectly done up tie, expensive shoes and even cuff-links. Then there is that shiny watch on his wrist. He seems to make a big deal of looking somewhat presentable when he leaves his room.
Where he ends up is behind some curtains, the backstage of sorts. For all he knows, this is the passageway to wherever the door chooses to lead, so he continues on, only realizing that, no, he was not alone here and thus, this place couldn't have been conjured up by his own subconcious thoughts. A curious look is then given the figure in the limelight, watching her from his distance before offering some sort of slow applaud to announce his own entrance. "So out of everywhere in the world, no universe, this is where you'd rather be?"
Some people don't put quite as much thought into their clothes...every day. Bravo has put some thought into it today, though, which means that she's dressed for the part, of sorts. It's a long, flowing dress and ballet slippers, which does nothing for the current role of Romeo she seems to be attempting to play, but it's a world better than tights and a cod piece.
The applause causes her to glance over, then she laughs, "Hey, C..." She shrugs her shoulders, though, at the question, "It's hard when all that I can conjure up comes from the books I've read, or the music on that television." She moves to pick up her book, the one in question to read the line she flubbed. "What brings you here to my little stage?"
Without waiting for an answer though, she drops to one knee, hand stretched out as she starts the line over, this time pointing at him, "But, soft!" She looks at the page, then back up, "What light through yon window breaks. It is the east, and C is the sun...Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon."
The stage-gown, of course, draws most of his attention with how fancy it looks on the perky blonde. The only other person who he'd ever seen dressed in something similar to this dress was the Creepshow... in a blood-stained wedding gown. "It sure looks like someone knew where she wanted to be once she woke up this morning." Her very image looks so fantastical and dream-like, that he would think that he were asleep right now, but it matches the room setting in all of its pomp.
Having lived life in 2018 as part of his first memory, he knows all about Romeo and Juliet, though unlike the fair Bravo, he hadn't touch any books regarding the start-crossed tale, so while she has inspiration to draw from, her words seem familiar, as if he'd heard or read them before, most likely when Conrad Wellson was in one English Lit class or other.
"As for myself, I didn't expect anyone to be here, but I guess I was wrong." Even with is presence here, sharing her spotlight, he doesn't feel like he's intruding overly much, and simply looks out across the empty audience seats, before taking in the show's backdrop in some form of admiration. "All of this looks so real." A hand reaches out for one of the curtains, feeling the fabric between his fingers.
"Yeah...I was inspired." Bravo agrees, getting back to her feet, marking the place where she is in the play before she tucks the book beneath her arm, turning to look out across the empty seats, "It'd probably be better with an audience..but I figure, that's probably a tough invitation to make around here." There's a hand that slides through her hair, brushing it back from her face before she turns back towards him.
Noting that he seems to be quite caught up with the curtains she tilts her head, smiling faintly before she wanders across the stage to where he's standing. The soles of her shoes are quiet, shush-shushing across the wooden stage as she moves to stand next to him, "It feels real...sounds real..." She lifts her shoulders faintly in a shrug, "I don't know how this place works the way it does....but everything here?" She looks around, pondering something before she reaches out to grab his hand where it's feeling at the fabric.
"Come on.." She then turns, fully intending to bodily drag him along with her. There's a good chance that if he digs in his heels and refuses to budge that she's not going to get more than a step or two before she's on her ass, though. If he chooses to follow, she leads him across the stage, off it, then through the audience seats before finding a tiny stairwell that leads up to the second floor balcony.
"I don't even think I have any clothing that would fit this particular circumstance," The Capitalist murmurs, now curious about what the Bravo has in her wardrobe, but he quickly adds, "Thank goodness for that." He very well may not be the most artistically-minded person and all of these theatrics do nothing for him, the way he focuses primarily on the realness of this conjured up world around him. "The accoustics here are great, if these aren't... whatever this place is, I would've thought that we were standing in an actual, fully built and perfectly modified theater."
His own distraction makes it easy for the Bravo to sneak up on him and while there's some resistance initially, due to him being caught off guard, that fades away as he releases the plush fabric from his grasp to be somewhat easily led off to the stairwell. "I'd ask if you were an actress in a past life, but as you've no memories of your own..." He starts, turning every so often to take in his surroundings and look upon the many rows of seats which they had passed before finally reaching the balcony section so that they are greeted with the view of not just the stage but the empty seads below. "No expenses were spared for any of this. But how?"
"I've no idea if I was. Or am." Bravo agrees, and although that is admitting that she lacks the memories, she hasn't seemed so very broken up about them yet, and this time around isn't too much different. "But like I told your wife, I'm going to explore and experience everything I can." She moves towards the edge of the balcony, looking downwards. "Me, this me...I mean. Might not be my original memories, but they feel a lot more mine than what you all got stuck with."
She pauses, glancing at him before offering him an apologetic smile, "No offense? It's just...after hearing everything you all have been through, I just.." She shrugs her shoulders, hands lifting out towards her sides, "I want to own this...my own feeligs. Memories...the sensations and experiences."
As for the how, she shakes her head, moving to drop into one of the small seats up on the balcony, legs crossing, "No idea how any of this is possible. But part of me finds it amazing, and then...terrifying. No expense, but also...why?"
"I've never been here without memories or a name." The Capitalist says, his expression softening into one of thoughtfulness, "I'm a little envious of you right now. You, without memories, yet having your own desire and personality. Makes me wonder what mine would have been without living my life as Wellson or Driscoll or McTa--." McTavish is what he was going to say, just as the Bravo mentions his wife. "In our first memories, we were Conrad and Madison Wellson, the power siblings behind Wyred Fest. So you know how awkward that makes things now."
A faint smile tugs at his lips, it's not a happy one, not really, somewhat wryly amused by his and the Penitent's situation. Though the Bravo might fall comfortable into one of the balcony seats, the Captialist steps in to lean forward against the railing, both of his hands gripping at the rail as he observes the empty seats and the now empty stage from this vantage point. "I believe we're just waiting to see how our next set of memories further upsets whatever relationship we've established for ourselves, something which isn't all that clear at the moment. The... 80's music videos on the television might be hinting at what's to come and while I have no real memory of the 80's, I know if that period in time, and it sounds horrifying." To this talk on why they are allowed to have these toys to play with, it's a question that makes him fall quiet for a moment. "That's what some of us are still trying to piece together. I might need to speak to No--..." Does he call the man Nolan or Professor Drake? The former he had a close bond with, the latter... "Professor Drake. I know that he's been trying to sort this all out."
"Do whatever memories this place gives you matter?" Bravo counters, crossing her legs as she gazes out over the theater, although the places directly below them aren't nearly as visible from her vantage point as they are his. "If you have feelings, here and now, those matter more than whatever your future memories might be..."
There is a slow breath taken in, a pause made, then she's launching forward, "But then again I suppose what comes before all this ultimately might mean more. What if she really were your sister? Or your enemy?" She smiles faintly, the expression almost bittersweet for a split second before her attention shifts back towards him, "What does it feel like? Love."
"That's the thing," The Capitalist starts with his explanation, "The memories of these other lives feel so real that when we're here, you still feel like that person. Especially, if it's your first memory. I had no other memories by that of Conrad Wellson, so after I died and ended up in this place." He's about to wave a dismissive hand around him, only realizing that they were somewhere completely different than the sterile Facility rooms, that he keeps that grip locked onto the the ledge, though there's a twitching of the muscle in that arm that might hint that he was about to attempt such a gesture.
"I continued to carry on with the woman Wellson had fallen for on the island. Then we woke up a second time and I swear, I would've killed both Maata and Madison if they didn't fight so hard so that I'd remember Conrad Wellson again. Then again, Maata was a born soldier and even my second memory as Rhys Driscoll, knew to never turn his back on her. At least, her Noc persona as Michel Thorne. She was the soldier."
When asked about love, his broad shoulders lift into a shrug, "It's nice. Two out of three of my memories felt it. Then the person Conrad was in love with," He says Conrad, rather than 'I', "disappeared from this place. And the happily ever after, my third memory had with Anette, who was also Madison, that was ripped from us when we woke up here again. While it's nice, is it really worth it?"
"And Kylie and Michel were lovers." Someone has been having some odd conversations, it seems. "Seems that it's a tidy little circle, at least...before now." Bravo does at least offer something that looks like a sympathetic smile to him for his loss, real and perceived.
"Never having experienced it, I can't tell you if it is really worth it or not. I find the concept curious, interesting, both from what I've seen, heard...and what I've read." She pulls out the book, holding it up to demonstrate the reading part.
"In this...the loss of that love is enough to send someone to their grave, even when that loss wasn't real. So, I don't know? The idea of feeling something that strongly is...captivating. I've never felt love. Curiosity, fear, worry, disgust, amusement, humor...but never love so far."
With an amused lift of his brow, even without a smile on his face, it's not hard to see that the Capitalist is somewhat entertained by the Bravo's words when he turns to face her, his lower back pressed up against the railing. "She told you?" There's no need to say who 'She' is. "I have no real advice to give on how to handle any of it," Not that advice was asked for, "There's the idea to go with what feels right, but even that's muddled with your conflicting memories and emotions. In a way, I think Driscoll," He then decides to remind, "My second memory, on the Noc, he had it right. No attachments." Though even he knows that this isn't entirely the case, even for Driscoll. The opportunity was just never right.
"In our last memories, there was this challenge that my family had to complete in order to be freed from the demon attached to them. My challenge was to find a champion who was willing to throw the person they loved most into this pit to Hell. Of course, I wasn't going to force anyone to take up the mantle as Champion, I mean, it was a difficult thing to ask anyone." There's this distant look in his eyes as he remembers how it all played out.
"If no Champion was found, then my family's Demon, Vie, would consume my soul and the McTavish family would suffer through another year of the Reaping." He'll assume that others had told her about the Reaping by now. "So Anette had decided that if she was going to lose me... Cillian anyway, that she would do so on her terms and she volunteered to be my champion, so that if I had to die, my family would be released from Vie's hold. We... it was a difficult time, those few days we were given to make this decision before the Challenge was lost. Those are some powerful emotions and decisions we had to make." There's a slow shake of his head, "Not even Conrad was ever placed in that position."
"I'd think that the very act of throwing the one you loved most into a Pit would mean they weren't the one you loved most." Bravo observes thoughtfully, her brows furrowing just a fraction as she puzzles through this. "See, what you and....Anette, what you two decided, that was very noble. Tragic."
Tragic seems to be the key here. The book she'd been reading is balanced on her knee as she studies him, "I couldn't do it, I don't think. Maybe I could." The quick flip-flop of her sentiments causes her to smile very faintly, "I don't know what I'd do...if I'd do really anything. You've an advantage over me on that one, truth be told."
As for the rest, she smiles a little more, "Yes, she told me. She failed to mention the brother and sister part of things, though...just that this Michel was yours on the island, then hers on the station, and then that you two were married....and this Michel is the one that never came back through the door. All very sad. The her from the space station apparently was a big flirt, too. She got very embarrassed when that part leaked through."
"If that were the case," The Capitalist brings up regarding the Bravo's take on throwing one's loved one into the pit, "Then the challenge would have failed, so I made sure to ask any interested parties, and there truly weren't many, to make certain that they knew how strongly they felt for someone before volunteering. In the end, it didn't matter. Cillian's cousin, Nolan, was dying after a brutal banishing with the Munson's benefactor, so his love, Bella, volunteered to be my Champion, to throw Nolan into the pit before he succumbed." He then goes on to add, "Then even that was moot when that bitch, Vie, attacked me before Bella could throw Nolan into the pit, thus forfeiting the challenge herself."
This talk of Thorne and Shorley brings back the memories of Rhys Driscoll so clearly into his mind. A dangerous persona to awaken, if it truly is a separate entity from who the Capitalist truly is. "I can't say that I got to know Shorley very well, she was just someone I met in passing. I was hired by a mining ship and she was the dock worker there. Then Thorne got into a relationship with her..." And here, he's not afraid to add, "Thorne and I had our own fling. Strange how that is, being drawn to the same person in two different lifetimes, but neither of our feelings for one another was particularly strong. We were both professional merc-- security contractors, who were kept busy with various different missions and charges and the like. It was more of a little pleasure between jobs, let's say." Perhaps, he is boasting. "Kylie didn't appreciate Thorne's sleeping around, I don't think, from one of my last message with Thorne. So waking up in in this place that second time, well, Driscoll had survived his encounter with the aliens and those women, both of them, were dead. Things did not start well on my awakening."
"You'd know a lot better than me." Bravo replies with an almost wistful smile, then she focuses on the rest of what he said, "So you had volunteers...and the thing attacked? Sounds like it knew that it was maybe going to lose, and was a sore loser. Yeah?" Really, she's got no actual idea about it, she's just taking wild guesses and stabbing into the dark with them.
When talk switches back to the love triangle she focuses her attention there, nodding a few times, making small sounds to indicate she's listening. But then she laughs, "Maybe? I mean....she did mention that Michel stressed her out and drove her crazy, or similar. So maybe she wasn't fond of her sleeping around. But..." She lifts a finger, expression thoughtful, "She did flirt with me, so maybe it was more than just not liking that she was sleeping around, and was totally just something else." She shrugs, laughing faintly, "Or not. I mean...it's all pretty fantastical, and messed up. Messy."
"Without Maata... or Thorne's hold on either of us, maybe she felt free to indulge." The Capitalist says after some contemplation on this re-emergence of Kylie Shorley. His hands now tucked into his pants pocket, he says after some thought, "It's hard to say whether the personalities of the people we've become, if part of them are really a part of us as well or are we simply reacting to the strong memories and emotions we felt at that time. Prosperity may have been my most recent memory, but the Island, my first memory, is still very fresh. I know I lived it."
Now out of curiosity of his own, his eyes only lightly peering out at the Bravo, before he asks, "Are you... interested in women?" He then hurriedly casually adds, "I believe, we have varying preferences in each lifetime. I'm not sure, really. Kylie was one way, but I never thought that Madison or Anette were interested in women. Not that I could read their minds."
"I don't know." Bravo replies with a laugh, her hands spreading out a bit, "Maybe. No. Yes." She tilts her head, unabashedly looking him over from head to toe, then back up to his face, "Probably interested in both. If I had to put some sort of pin in it right here and now, I think that my curiosity is strongly leaning in both directions."
She stretches her legs out in front of her, hands smoothing out her dress before they settle on her stomach, studying him now with a little less leering. "Maybe they are a part of you, I mean...they are. You are operating off their memories now, and that colors who you are now, I think. Because you remember them, and what they'd do. So...even if they weren't there before, they are now?"
The Capitalist is hardly a man to blush and shy away from appreciative eyes, and he doesn't start now. In fact, there's this faint, yet somewhat cocky grin that forms on his lips that takes a moment to fade away. "I'll accept that answer." Not that he has a choice. "And you're right on that. After Prosperity, you have everyone being incredibly emotional since we came together as a town, and I guess, a family, to fight off Evil. We lost many family members along the way." A very quick pause, which is followed by, "In fact, while I don't know every single person trapped in this place, those who I do remember, we were all related in some way. It's like watching your siblings or cousins fall. It's powerful stuff. Then there are those with only memories of 1902 Nevada who will have to put up with the witchery which is the technology of this place."
"That has to be a confusing thing to handle." Bravo observes thoughtfully, "Layers upon layers of just...stuff." She muses, her focus going a bit distant as she looks past him, thinking about it. "I'd much rather have no memories than have only those. But I guess....there's not really any good memory to have. As a whole. Just bits and pieces that were nice memories."
"Admittedly, it's not all bad." The Capitalist says, his shoulders slumping gently as he quietly goes through his own memories. "Admittedly, the bad things on the Island started on the first day, festival kick-off. But there were some... good times between the chaos." His persona there did find time to ditch his girlfriend at the time to find new love! "Before the Noc, it was business as usual. Then Prosperity," He lets out a chuckle, "No, you're right, sometimes these memories began with the bad things. In Prosperity, while the Reaping wasn't upon us, we were still living in fear since it was coming up and grieving for our losses over the last year."
Dark eyes lift to look upon his conversational companion as she seems to be caught in a bit of thoughtful daydreaming. "You'll feel the good just as powerfully as you feel the bad. I won't say that the good memories aren't worth the pain and horror that might come, I mean, I wouldn't trade some of those experiences I've had for anything."
"That implies that there are some memories that you would trade." Bravo points out with a smile before she sets the book aside, pushing herself up to her feet. "But good memories, right. Those I'd like to have more of than the bad, but I'll take what I can eventually get. Words I might choose to hate myself for later."
She moves over to where he's standing at the balcony, her hands settling on the railing before she leans forward, looking down at the seats below, "Despite all the chaos and uncertainty, the lack of knowing....." She trails off, shaking her head with a laugh, "I don't even know really where I was going with that thought. I'm sure that I was going somewhere." She straightens, turning to face him more directly again, "Oh, might not be where I was going, but I'll just say that I'm going to stock up on good memories."
Now it's the Capitalist's turn to wear that distant gaze, his mind going through what possible scenario the 80's music on MTV was hinting at. He hadn't pinpointed a particular year in the 80's yet, the music of the decade seemingly blending together despite how very different the music was depending on the year. "You're going to have fond memories of bad hair, cheesy music and possibly a lot of cocaine usage." He has to laugh at that last part, his attention being brought back to the present day when he turns to look at the Bravo who had joined him.
"I can't say that I'm looking forward to what's coming up next. Then again, living life in a Western, wouldn't be close to my first choice of what memories I'd like to have."
"Oh, bad hair, cheesy music and cocaine usage? Sounds fabulous." Bravo replies, with a tone that implies anything but fabulousness is happening. She just smiles, though, dismissing the worry for now about what she might end up with memories from all the 80s.
"I suppose the cocaine usage might be worth remembering?" Bravo offers after a second, but then she laughs, "It'll be different, I guess....if I make it through to the next time around, waking up with memories of more than just this place." She reaches up, fluffing her hair, "And then I can just have the best of hair days ever more."
"Snorting coke will be the best way to cope with living life in the 80's." The Capitalist says, his voice still laced with humor. "Unfortunately, we have no memories of this place and our conversation once you wake up there... wherever there is. So any warnings and advice I give won't help you much." Idly watching as the woman fluffs her hair up in possible mock 80's style, a smirk pull on his lips. But then his tone becomes more serious, or at least thoughtful, "When you're in that life, you just live it. Going through the motions of what your new persona would be doing and for me, it's almost a little gratifying. I can make plans out there, work to see these plans come to fruition... and while it amounts to noting, since death begins to loom over us all, it's still better than being stuck in this place. I don't know about you but, but I despise how little we can actually do here." There's more fervor to his voice now, "I want to make something of myself, start my own company, advance up a career ladder. Just. Live. Life." Realization of his rising intensity forces him to tone it all down, his voice quieting, "That's what I get out of these 'dreams' or new lives, new memories. While there, I'm actually working towards some goal."
The intensity is met with open, unmasked curiosity, watching and listening to him as he continues, until he quiets down. A faint smile appears, then vanishes before she speaks up, "And in here you don't have any goal at all?" She shakes her head, looking doubtfully at him, amused, "I find it hard to believe you've not been making some kind of plan....Aaaand I don't know any different, about not being able to do a lot."
"My only goal in here is to get out of here." The Capitalist states flatly, "Unless we learn that the fate of the world outside of here is... gone, in chaos, whatever, I am planning on escaping." Just the idea of being trapped here in some Groundhog's Day world brings this bit of annoyance to his tone, "Things here reset. We don't have all the tools to do anything that we normally would in the outside world and there's no one to do it all with. Just the few dozen people here, all without ambition and drive. Except those of us who tried our hardest to find our way out of here. With all of my plans of escape failing to come to fruition, I'm in a wait and see mode. Our overseers, jailers, whoever they may be, very well might try to reach out to us at some point."
"Psychopath in Charge." Bravo suggests as another potential name for whoever is controlling everything. "We'll find a way out, if there is an out that we can go to." She offers, full of false confidence, and the lack of knowledge when it comes to the entire situation to begin with. "It'll eventually happen."
"That, possibly." The Capitalist says in agreement to the Bravo's words. "I don't know how they are getting us to live these lives," Though he remembers she had said something about a hallucinigen or something, "It could be something in the air. None of us remember going to bed every day and yet we wake up at the same time in our own beds, dressed in the same things that we sleep in every night and with all damages repaired and messes cleaned. The actual 'lives' however? It's hard to say, but I don't even know what year this is or what sort of technological and scientific breakthroughs were made." Turning back to regard the empty stage with a brief look, he announces, "If you'd like a real audience, you might be able to convince others to come watch your show. In fact, who knows, you may find volunteers to play different parts in this performance of yours. For now though, I could use some coffee."
"If I'm going to convince people to come watch, I need to practice more...I'm terrible." Bravo replies with a laugh, pushing away from the railing to move back to where she left her book, "I'll see if I can't convince anyone to at least come to watch...Maybe I can do this entire play as a one woman show? It'll be the best, or the most confusing thing in the world." She lifts the book up, giving him a quick salute before she turns to head back down the stairs.