(no subject)
WHO: Everyone involved in the NOHoPE musical and everyone in the audience! Tag yourselves in.
WHERE: NOHoPE
WHEN: Friday night, April 15th
WARNINGS: Gruesome things happening to fictional characters. No, not those fictional characters.
SUMMARY: The hospital puts on Katurian and Andy's musical and the Major starts spewing kittens I AM NOT LYING ABOUT THIS LAST PART.
FORMAT: Whatever you desire!
Katurian attended the last few rehearsals in crutches. He would not fall. If he didn't have the musical to prop him up, oh, how he would have crumbled, how he would have bolted himself in his apartment and feared the outside world, the world where anyone could follow him home and take a scythe to his extremities. It would have been another meltdown. It would have been the end. But Gamzee's attack didn't break him, at least not yet, because he needed to see this. He needed to see his words and Andy's words explode in front of him. He needed them to pass through his skin and into his bloodstream, to tighten his joints like wind-up toys. He needed applause. Clapping like the roar of an ocean.
Before he was human (weak, frayed, powerless), he was a performer.
The night of the performance, he grinned the entire time. His fingers were bouncing with a nervous, excited energy on the arms of his chair. The whole hospital auditorium had been done up like a real theatre, with lighting and rugs on the floor and everything. He periodically left the audience to visit their make-shift green room before the show and between the acts, his trips as automatic and involuntary as a sneeze, even though he moved considerably slower on his crutches. He was ever-present, as omniscient as his humanity allowed him.
This musical, he had decided somewhat feverishly, would be his legacy.
WHERE: NOHoPE
WHEN: Friday night, April 15th
WARNINGS: Gruesome things happening to fictional characters. No, not those fictional characters.
SUMMARY: The hospital puts on Katurian and Andy's musical and the Major starts spewing kittens I AM NOT LYING ABOUT THIS LAST PART.
FORMAT: Whatever you desire!
Katurian attended the last few rehearsals in crutches. He would not fall. If he didn't have the musical to prop him up, oh, how he would have crumbled, how he would have bolted himself in his apartment and feared the outside world, the world where anyone could follow him home and take a scythe to his extremities. It would have been another meltdown. It would have been the end. But Gamzee's attack didn't break him, at least not yet, because he needed to see this. He needed to see his words and Andy's words explode in front of him. He needed them to pass through his skin and into his bloodstream, to tighten his joints like wind-up toys. He needed applause. Clapping like the roar of an ocean.
Before he was human (weak, frayed, powerless), he was a performer.
The night of the performance, he grinned the entire time. His fingers were bouncing with a nervous, excited energy on the arms of his chair. The whole hospital auditorium had been done up like a real theatre, with lighting and rugs on the floor and everything. He periodically left the audience to visit their make-shift green room before the show and between the acts, his trips as automatic and involuntary as a sneeze, even though he moved considerably slower on his crutches. He was ever-present, as omniscient as his humanity allowed him.
This musical, he had decided somewhat feverishly, would be his legacy.