50 [Video]

Jan. 12th, 2012 12:53 pm
somethingspecial: (♪ Listen to me when I say.)
[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.]
somethingspecial: (♪ 'cause you had a bad day.)
[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.

39 [Text]

Aug. 31st, 2011 02:48 pm
somethingspecial: (♪ Guess this means you're sorry.)
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.
[There is a tinkling of piano -- a few stray notes -- a few casual scales -- before Rachel tries to sing softly to herself. It's obvious that she's crying. Her breath keeps hitching as she tries to hold back sobs, but Rachel, being Rachel, tries anyway.

The opening chords should be pretty familiar to anyone who has any taste in theatre who knows Rachel.]


Oh, my man I love him so -- he'll never know... all my life is just despair, but I don't care...when he takes me in his arms, the world is bright... alright...

[Her breath hitches and Rachel abruptly stops singing, drawing in a shaky breath, before she tries to continue -- but it just ends in another sob and the feed shuts off abruptly.

There is, however, a text sent afterwards.]


Jesse went home.
[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.

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