somethingspecial | Entries tagged with can't read my poker face

[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.]

[Text Sent To Network ; Attachment: Oh Holy Night]

[It's snowing. And Rachel is outside, clad in a green dress, with a red long jacket over it, complete with a green beret, readying a microphone outside of the theatre. It appears she's connected it to a speaker, which is connected to the sound system inside the theatre -- and the PCD is position directly on her, as Rachel wraps her hands around the microphone, to take a deep breath. It resonates, through the speaker, and through the network.]

It is now Christmas.

[It's quiet, and her voice echoes as she speaks into the microphone.]

I don't personally celebrate it, but as most of the individuals within the city are most familiar with the commercialized version of the holiday, I thought I would offer something of a prayer in song concerning what the holiday is supposed to be about -- so... I hope you enjoy it. And I sent a text message to all of you, with the lyrics, should you want to sing along. I would not mind the accompaniment.

[And Rachel turns slightly to press a button on a boombox that is situated on top of the speaker. There is a silence before the instrumental of the famous song begins to play, scratchy at first, before it becomes clear -- and then, Rachel takes another deep breath before she begins to sing.]

( cut for song exposition )

( [Filtered to the angels // Private // Unhackable] )

Les Miserables, written by Victor Hugo. It was originally published in French, in the year 1862. It captures the spirit of the French people, in the way that only Victor Hugo could manage. Some parts of the novel are long and tedious, but the strength and charisma of the characters shine through even through the darkest times.

In 1980, it was played for the first time in Paris as a musical. In 1985, the English adaptation was performed in London. In 1987, it opened on the Great White Way, and has been played there, to sold-out audiences, ever since.

I would like a copy of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, written in English. If anyone would be so kind as to lend me one, I would be very grateful. If I could keep it -- I can offer several books in return. I don't care what it cost. I need a copy of it. And if anyone finds a recording of the original Broadway soundtrack -- or any soundtrack -- I would give anything for it. It is only important that the numbers Do You Hear The People Sing? and Red & Black are functioning properly for now.

I also require assistance in becoming extremely inebriated. Preferably with someone who is not a psycho-murderer.

I would also like to see Arthur Pendragon.

[Rachel is calf-deep in water, holding her puppy Evita, staring at the completely and utterly flooded theatre that she has been renovating. Some parts of it have resurfaced as the water has finally begun to recede -- the stage is visible, as is the tips of the chairs of the orchestra pit -- but there is still quite a lot of damage done by the past event.

Her expression isn't shocked, necessarily, but more of a grim acceptance of what is before her, with a definite tinge of sadness in her eyes. Eventually, she hugs the dog a little closer to her chest, despite the squirming, and she finally says, in something of a small tone:]

I suppose Don't Rain On My Parade is woefully inadequate to fit the scene before us, Evita. Perhaps something a little more subtle -- though I don't think even I have a song in my repertoire to fit the bill.

[She rests her chin on the top of the puppy's head, before she adds, a bit miserably.]

... I don't even know where to begin.

[There's a long silence -- but there's the sound of breathing, so the feed is definitely on -- and it sounds as if Rachel is debating whether or not to say anything at all, judging from the soft humming coming from the voice feed.

She's thinking.

But, ultimately, she speaks softly, with some trepidation, plenty of concern, and a lot of sadness.]

It's been days. Why -- hasn't Anna come back yet?

[But then, Rachel seems to rethink her question, and she clears her throat softly.]

Though I suppose sometimes it just takes longer than others, doesn't it? Death -- it's rather traumatic, of course, and sometimes the Animus just want to take longer -- maybe it is for dramatic effect -- a grand encore for their work --

[Another pause, somewhat harsher, before her voice becomes a little quieter.]

... it is bizarre how that -- death, returning -- destruction -- all of that has become normal.

[Rachel sounds distracted -- but her tone is sincere and quiet, at least.]

I'm -- really sorry for how I acted this week. It seems, for a brief moment, that I entirely forgot where I came from and --

[There's the tiniest hitch of breath before Rachel clears her throat, steeling her nerves.]

While apologies will not take back what was said and done, I wouldn't feel right not offering one, anyway. So, I am sorry, and to whoever I spoke with during the event, I can assure you that I am not that much of a --

[...]

-- soulless witch.

( [Filtered to Blaine // Private // Unhackable] )

( [Filtered to Jesse // Private // Unhackable] )

It's almost February 14th.

[Rachel is peering at her calendar. She's drawn a heart over February 14th -- Valentine's Day -- but the bubble over her head seems rather somber, for some reason. You would think Rachel -- a girl who loves being loved and sings her heart out -- would look forward to Valentine's Day... but instead, the bubble just looks depressed.

Rachel, however, is well-practiced at her smile, and she looks at the camera almost sunnily.]

What is everyone planning on doing for Valentine's Day?

Current Mood: sad

[Rachel is lying on her stomach, on her bed, watching the early morning sun through her window. She doesn't look happy, but she doesn't look unhappy either -- more or less content as she looks towards her wall, where she has hung a makeshift calendar.

The date 'December 18th' is circled, a gold star drawn directly in the center of the date. She pushes herself up onto her elbows to stare at it for a moment before pursing her lips in thought, placing her chin in her palms.

The diva seems lost in thought. The feed times out shortly after.

Shortly after the feed, a text is sent.]

[To Kurt // Fail!Filtered]

I think we should begin our auditions for New Directions 2.0 after Christmas.

Current Mood: listless

[Rachel is carefully lighting another candle on her battered menorah, which is sitting in her windowsill, glaring outside at the never-setting sun. She seems to be humming underneath her breath and she sits on her bed to watch the candle flicker, an odd look on her face.

She hasn't ever celebrated Hanukkah without her family before.

But Rachel glances at the PCD and the odd expression is gone in an instant, replaced by a smile of determination.]

Kurt, I think we should begin auditions for a glee club of our own in Adstringendum. I've received several notifications of interest in the subject and I think that as co-captain, I can't ignore the need for entertainment in this city any more. I was considering sometime next week, after the sun has set... it will give us time to gather materials and a proper list of all those interested.

[She then reaches out and shuts off the feed, but not before she looks at her menorah one last time.]

Current Mood: discontent

Does anyone know if the rabbits are still rabid?

I haven't gone outside since last week and I'm starting to get cabin fever.

Current Mood: nervous

[There's the sound of a piano playing, strong and well played, as if the person playing the piano has played this number over and over. The piano plays for a minute or two until Rachel sings softly to herself.]

I... wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas please...

[And a well practiced pause ~]

Fold 'em, let 'em hit 'em, baby, raise it, baby, stay with me... love the game, intuition, play the cards with spades to start...and after he's been hooked, I'll play the one that's on his... heart...

[And the piano playing ceases as Rachel stops singing, her voice trailing off as her breath hitches. The recording stops shortly after that.]

Current Mood: crushed

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Rachel Berry

2025

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Page Summary

50 [Video]
49 [Video] After Raphael's death.
39 [Text]
30 [Accidental Video]
27 [Voice]
22 [Voice]
13 [Video]
9 [Accidental Video] Forwarded to early morning.
8 [Video]
5 [Text]
3 [Accidental Voice] Forwarded to the morning.

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Page generated Jun. 13th, 2025 02:32 am

Rachel Berry ★

Being a part of something special makes you special.

Entries tagged with can't read my poker face

50 [Video]

49 [Video] After Raphael's death.

39 [Text]

30 [Accidental Video]

27 [Voice]

22 [Voice]

13 [Video]

9 [Accidental Video] Forwarded to early morning.

8 [Video]

5 [Text]

3 [Accidental Voice] Forwarded to the morning.