Rachel Berry ★

[Rachel is holding a notepad close to her chest, looking somewhat somber. She's outside, in the ashy snow, with her dog at her side, by a tree that is half burnt and broken, twisted by the event. When she speakss, her voice is quiet.]

I have heard a lot of discontent over what has happened -- and people have every right to be angry with Mister Mandrake and Miss Hino -- but I think our real focus should not be on punishing two people who made a mistake and instead should be focused on the reality that we are going to run out of food before the next snowstorm of the season. Which is why I've organized three food drop-off points within the city in some of the stable buildings that are still standing. I would like to transform two of these buildings into a shelter and while I have heard Miss Hino has already opened the Temple of Heaven to those that need it, I would also like to point out that St. Basil's Cathedral is large and able to house a lot of people.

[She pauses before looking down at her pad.]

I've set up massive crates at the Temple of Heaven, St. Basil's Cathedral, and at the fountain in the Safezone. These crates are for any canned, jarred, or non-perishable food that can be spared for the people that have lost anything. I will collect whatever food is there three times a day, to be delivered at the closest area of need, but most of the collection will be going to either Miss Unohana's clinic or the two abovementioned buildings. I am going to rely on the honor system that no one will steal from these crates, but should people do so, please keep in mind that there are over one hundred people in this city that require food just as much as you do.

Any donations of blankets, clothes, and other materials needed that were lost in the fire are also appreciated. Please leave those in the crates, too -- I will ensure they are taken to the shelters and safehouses scattered around the city. And --

[Rachel chews on her lower lip.]

I know this is a very difficult time and a lot of people don't... necessarily believe in this, but I am going to St. Basil's Cathedral tonight at seven o'clock, should anyone else want to pray with me. Everyone is invited and -- for future reference --

[And Rachel sends the coordinates to The Temple of Heaven, the fountain, St Basil's Cathedral, and Unohana's clinic in a text attachment to everyone on the network.]

-- there's where you have to go.

Thank you.

[And Rachel shuts off the feed.]

[Rachel is pale, lifeless, and covered up to her throat with a blanket in the clinic. The feed continues that way for a couple of minutes until -- there is the slightest amount of movement. Her chest, moving up and down, in slow, ragged, painful breaths -- and then Rachel's eyes flicker open, dull and confused --

-- and then she begins to panic.]

Where --

[But the word is stifled with a gasp of pain and Rachel's hand moves stiffly to her throat, tears rolling down her cheeks as she begins to feel underneath the blanket, which slips away to reveal heavy bruising and burns.]

I... I can't, my --

[She tries to push herself up, but it doesn't really work, and instead she falls back against her pillow with a hiss, her fingers digging into the sheets in an effort to try again.

Being in the clinic means she died.

She doesn't want to be in the clinic.]

ooc; Ballroom style if you want to come see her! Offlines are welcomed and encouraged.

[Rachel is lying on her bed, on her stomach, watching her record player carefully. A record is playing on it, though no sound is coming out just yet -- it seems to be between songs. Soon, though, the song begins, and while it is a bit scratchy, you can hear Barbra Streisand belting out her most famous number quite clearly.

Rachel is transfixed. Her fingers dig into her comforter and she leans forward, positively breathless, eyes wide as saucers. At the crescendo -- Hey, Mister Arnstein! Here I am! -- Rachel draws in a sharp breath, pushing herself up onto her hands, as if Barbra had just walked into her room. When the song is complete, Rachel is grinning a grin that could light a thousand suns and she swings her legs over the edge of her bed, slippered feet hitting the baseboard, as she carefully lifts the record in front of her.]

Funny Girl...

[Her brow furrows and she reaches for another album -- this one a lot more worn and patched in places, but she places it on the record player anyway, carefully adjusting it until it begins in the middle of a song. Her breath catches in her throat and Rachel immediately moves the needle, finding the beginning of the number, her fingers trembling. As the song restarts, her expression changes from pure joy to something a lot more heartbreaking -- and tears begin to roll down her cheeks, unbeknownst to her, and her breath grows a lot more shallow as she tries to catch her breath. It only takes a line or two for Rachel to remove the record from the player once more, not able to listen to the entire number. She runs her fingers over the grooves of the record before she lays it in her lap, frowning down at her pink pajama bottoms. The event hadn't bothered her much before, but -- to gain such a reaction out of a song and not even know where it came from --

That is disconcerting.]

... I feel like I should -- I should know.

[It's mumbled.]

Why don't I know?

[Oh, good afternoon, Adstringendum. Have one miss Rachel Berry, who is sitting outside, tying flowers into a large chain. There are already flowers tucked into her hair, but she seems intent on making more. Her puppy, Evita, is lounging at her side, half-asleep in the sunlight, but Rachel doesn't seem bothered enough to wake her up.

And did we mention that million dollar Miss America smile?]

Hello, Adstringendum!

[It's positively sung -- and Rachel looks towards the camera.]

I know that, lately, a lot of horrible things have happened -- people have died, been tortured, and other such horrific things that truly have no place in a civilized society. However, I believe we can all get past this with grace -- which is why I have a number of suggestions in order to make life here slightly easier and well -- better.

For starters, I believe we could all start by working on the tiniest amount of self-control. This will be difficult, but I have full faith we can all manage admirably with the support and well-being of our fellow man.

I also think we could all get together this week and try to get to know one another a bit better. We are all living here -- and I think we could all begin to act like one big cohesive family, as we should be! Perhaps we could have a picnic -- and we could all share wonderful and marvelous things about ourselves, like our talents, or our favorite foods, or what we like the most about the city! We all have things we enjoy doing, so we should share them!

And maybe we could also have something of a fair! My favorite part of this time of year is when all of the fresh fruits and vegetables come in and my dads would take me to the fair every year and let me eat whatever I wanted, because as I live in Ohio, there is not much option to eating unique delicacies that are not friend, and the majority of things fried are in an animal by-product -- which reminds me, does anyone know how to make tofu? I bet we could find soy beans and -- I would love hummus, has anyone ever had that before? Chick peas are delicious.

[She drapes her flower chain around the neck of Evita, who stretches with a yawn, and Rachel grins down at the puppy.]

I could even put on a performance for later in the day -- something to capture the bright and cheerful atmosphere! Bright and cheerful, bright and cheerful... Oh! I have it!

[She pulls the puppy up onto her hindlegs, and Evita blinks at her, before Rachel starts to sing, almost nose-to-nose with the mutt.]

If you wake up and don't want to smile, if it takes just a little while -- open your eyes and look at the day! You'll see things in a different way!

[Evita barks, and Rachel hugs the puppy.]

Don't! Stop! Thinking about tomorrow, don't! Stop! It'll soon be here -- it'll be better than before -- yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone --

[Don't mind her. She's just going to keep singing to her puppy and building flower chains until someone tells her to shut up. And even then, Rachel will probably keep going.]

[Rachel is at a booth -- specifically, a game of skee ball. The wooden ball is clutched in her hands and she looks woefully unsure of herself. However, the individual running the stand encourages her to take a shot, and so Rachel does, the ball racing along the wooden track to sink neatly into the outmost ring, earning Rachel a tiny beaded bracelet.

Her jaw sets into a scowl at the small prize before she slides another smooth stone towards the operator, earning another wooden ball. She takes another shot, but it goes awry, and it lands once more in the lowest scoring ring. She earns another gaudy piece of costume jewelry and the operator of the booth seems to tell Rachel to try something else, but Rachel Barbra Berry is on a mission now.

The feed continues for at least twenty minutes -- Rachel pushing another stone forward and earning another ball. She gets a heap of small prizes -- plastic rings, tiny stuffed mice, a pencil with a rabbit eraser on it -- but eventually, Rachel lines up, and sinks the wooden ball in the direct center, on her very last stone, to earn a prize of her choice.

She selects a blue bear with a star on his stomach instantly, accepting the bear and her prizes -- which the operator has put into a bag for her -- with the first bright smile she has worn in at least a week. She holds up the bear, to inspect it, and her smile turns slightly watery, but she puts on a brave face all the same, before she speaks to the booth operator.]

Gold stars are my thing, you know. I sign my name with a gold star -- because gold stars are a metaphor, and metaphors are very important. They're a metaphor for me being a star.

[She pauses before she hugs the bear to her chest, ignoring the operator's lack of interest in her statement in favor of smiling to herself.]

I think I've forgotten that, lately.

[She beams at the operator before wandering off, taking up her PCD, with her Care Bear, after tossing a friendly:]

Thank you!

[Over her shoulder with a hum as she moves to the next ride.]

[Rachel is sitting on the steps of Solve, outside, holding a beat up acoustic guitar. It is a little big for her -- as are most things in Adstringendum, save for the clothes that Kurt managed to hem and tailor for her to fit her small frame -- but she manages it well enough. She carefully picks through the strings, frowning as she tunes it, her head tilted to listen to each note carefully. Apparently, it isn't to her satisfaction -- Rachel looks displeased as she fiddles with the strings before, finally, she beams.]

Oh, finally -- now...

[Rachel frowns to herself in concentration as she tries to remember a certain chord, just to test out her tuning and stringing job. She strums the guitar gently, singing something softly to herself, before she picks a song, brow knit in focus as she plays. There are a couple mistakes -- Rachel is only a recent fan of classic rock, after all -- but she manages pretty well -- and just when she opens her mouth to sing the first verse of the song --

Snap.

Two strings snap and whip across Rachel's fingers, causing her to nearly drop the guitar in surprise as the ugly sound echoes. She immediately shakes out her hand, tears welling in her eyes at the cut, before she glares down at the guitar.]

That was unnecessary -- ow --

[And the PCD cuts off at Rachel shaking out her hand, blood dribbling down her fingers.]