conversations: human
conversations:  [OOC Thread] 
  
  The year is 200X. All of the students at Morrowbrook Academy of the Arts are anxiously awaiting the finals of their spring semester, and even more so, the ensuing quarter of summer freedom. Being that the finals are one short month away, the eager adolescents are hard at work, writing the term papers that, in retrospect, should already have been well on the way to completion, but as yet consist of ten blank pages awaiting script. (You know you've procrastinated, admit it!) But four of these students are about to have their worlds turned upside-down!
  
  Cassandra: 
   Spoiler 
  Leaving the library late this night, Cassandra arrives at her dormitory night on the hour of twelve. From the corner of one eye, she sees a transparent, but dark figure on four legs rush past down the corridor and down the stairs toward the courtyard. Just unsure enough that it is a hallucination induced by lack of sleep, she considers following it outside.
   
  
  Henry: 
   Spoiler 
  In the afternoon, Henry opens an email advertising an art sale, including images of some of the featured paintings. His eyes stop on an irresistible piece that takes his breath away. With his parents' credit card at his side, Henry knows that price is no object. The art sale will be held at midnight in the dormitory's courtyard.
   
  
  Alexander: 
   Spoiler 
  Alexander receives a text message: "Saw ur ad on dorms communitw bord com to courtyrd at midnite w cello"
   
  
  Geoffrey: 
   Spoiler 
  In the cafeteria, Geoffrey sees, sitting alone, a lovely redheaded girl he's never seen before. Shocked at himself for not having noticed this beauty before, he sits with her and strikes up a conversation. Mel, a flirtatious girl, says she has a load of work to do, but proposes that the two rendezvous in the dormitory courtyard at midnight.
   
  
    By the way... IT'S MIDNIGHT!  
conversations: Tortoise262:
conversations: human
conversations:  She paused there a moment, on the threshold of the dormitory, the wind ruffling the long hem of her black dress.  Outside, the bells begin to chime midnight.  Her breath puffed white in the chill spring air.
  
  "Well," she whispered to herself.  "Dark, dark, dark. They all go into the dark . . . ."  She trailed off, one pale hand against the doorframe, and then stepped out back onto the dewy grass, cold against her feet.  Without hesitation, she set off after it, whatever it was, into the dark.
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
  
  Yawning, Alex picked up the cello case and slung it across his back. Trudging out of the door he wondered  Why midnight? . But shrugged to himself and headed off to the courtyard, his hair blown about slightly by the wind.
conversations: Zyks:
conversations: human
conversations:  Henry Derossi 
  
  Henry quickly got onto his bike and raced over to the dormitory's courtyard. An art sale at midnight. This was his kind of happening. And that wonderful painting. Those lines! Pure genius.
  
  The wind blew through his black hair. It was cold out. Henry briefly stopped to put on his hood, pulling it deeply over his face, hiding his eyes. He then jumped back on the bike and pedalled as fast as he could. He knew he had the money to buy the painting, but he'd have to get there in time too.
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Geoffrey 
  
  Geoffrey casually walks out to the courtyard at the exact stroke of midnight, one hand is his pocket, the other holding a lit cigarette. He stands still for a moment drawing a breath from his cigarette, which lights up like a tiny red dot amids the darkness. His sharp lined face slowly moving his eyes across the yard, taking in his surroundings, fully expecting to see a girl anxious to meet him.
conversations: Wizard of the Coat:
conversations: human
conversations:  The four of you enter the courtyard finding no objects of interest, other than the usual benches and the ornate angel fountain in the center. You see no people, save for each other.
conversations: Tortoise262:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  She steps forward toward the angel.  " So enter the fourth murderer ," she says quietly.  " And we are all welcome. "
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
  
  Alex looks about the courtyard, looking confused
  
   Now what the hell? You lot don't look like musician types. I don't suppose any of you sent me the text? 
  
  He gets out his phone and checks it again.
conversations: Zyks:
conversations: human
conversations:  Looking at Cassandra in specific Geoff stands quiet for a moment as he draws the final breath of smoke into his lungs and tosses the remaining butt of the cigarette.
  
   Not quite what I'd expected... 
   
  "no, I'm not quite the musician type."  The upper class British accent is clear to all and seems genuine.  "And for now I have no intention of killing you either."  he says to Cassandra in a slightly darker mysterious kind of voice with a mischievous grin on his face.
  
   "The name is Montgomery, Geoffrey Montgomery."  the well build, tall dark haired and smartly dressed teenager says, and for some reason his accent doesn't make it sound corny.
conversations: Wizard of the Coat:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  Cassandra continues to walk over to the angel, taking a seat on its cold damp marble lap.  She says, mostly to herself, " A stone angel cries in the mist . . . does it mourn God's betrayal . . . and the fall of man . . . or does it sweat from the labour . . . of holding up the pillars of the world?   She looks up.  " I'm not a musician either.  And you shouldn't smoke.  It's against the rule. "
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Heh"  Henry mumbled, looking around a bit embarrassed. He looked as if he was about to ask something to the others, but then reconsidered and sat down on one of the benches, clutching to his backpack. He was blushing and stared down at the floor, trying to remember wether it had really been the courtyard where the painting was being sold.
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
  
  Alex shifts over to the bench, puts his cello down next to it and sits next to Henry.
  
   "Well it looks like I'm not the only one tricked to be here right? I'm Alex by the way. As you probably guessed I'm a cellist" 
conversations: Zyks:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Right. Ehrm..."  Henry mumbles, not sure the cellist is talking to him. He gets up and paces back and forth a bit.
  
   "Look do any of you guys know where the art exhibition is?"  he finally asks.
   "I need to get there. Urgently" 
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  " Hello, Alex the Cellist, " Cassandra says from her perch in the angel's lap.  " Tonight, you can call me Œnone, forlorn of Paris. 
    You're babbling ,  said the rough voice in her head.
  
  She turned to Henry.  " Your art is right here!  At the crossroad, four strangers meet.  Plays, paintings, and poems could be born from such a concept.  Crossroads are magical places. "
  
    They're going to think you're an idiot.  They probably already do  , the voice growled.
  
  In the angel's lap, she closes her eyes and rests her head on the marble.
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  Henry looked at the angel.
  
   "Well, this  is  nice but I haven't got my gear with me, just a sketchbook and some pencils. Besides, I really do need to get to that art exposition. Can't you help me?" 
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  " Well, I am sorry, but I've not heard nor seen of any art exhibition out here under the midnight moon. "  Her accent suggests Ireland, her speech sounds drowsy, or perhaps just weary.  " I say again, you may have to simply accept your found art.  What about our fourth murderer, " she says to Geoffrey.  " We have a cellist, a poet, and a painter.  What are you?  Or are you here on a football scholarship? 
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
   
   Spoiler 
  since we're all on the accents right now, Alex speaks English like a regular guy, middle class. He does have a slight yorkshiremans accent though
  
  edit: minor point too, if its ok with Mr. GM, the cello is electric 😁  google images "electric cello" if you want to know what I mean 😛
   
  
   "I don't know of any art exposition either, though I can't say I've been listening out for any" 
   Football scholarship? better bloody not be. Footballers: overpayed and underworked. No talent betwen them, let alone brains. 
  
  Alex looks expectantly at Geoff, hoping Cassandra was wrong about the football.
conversations: Zyks:
conversations: human
conversations:  Henry Derossi 
  
  Henry sniggered slightly at Cassandra's joke. He then stops abrubtly and looks around a bit apologetically.
  
  The few words he had spoken here sounded a bit stiff. It was like he had learned English out of a book, rather than by hearing people speak it.
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  " Oh, the strong, silent type.  What about you, Alex the Cellist?  Was there a midnight concert on the green, or where you following something? "
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Heh. I'm not ... Strong"  Henry said, slightly embarrassed. He relaxed a bit and sat down again. It didn't look like he was going to get to that art exposition.
  
    Might as well make the best of this   he thought, pulling out his sketchbook. He started drawing the angel, Cassandra in it's lap, and a strange pattern of colours as a halo for the angel, spreading over the entire page. He remembered he had no colours, so he just did their outlines. The angel got a sword on his painting, and barbed wire would circle up the statue, Cassandra holding one end. A single drop of blood would be shown falling from her hand, the water beneath already rippling before the drop even hit.
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
   "Nah, I got a text from someone, saying they'd seen my message on the boards, and to come here with my cello. I have no idea who.
  
  My message was on starting up a... well I don't know if it would be a band or a quartet... but a group of musicians to play in an alternative way. You know, cellos playing bass riffs, violins shredding and playing guitar solos and the likes. I may play classical, but I'm something of a rocker at heart. And theres so much potential with electric classical instruments 
  
  he smiles and brushes his fringe back slightly
  
   And you? why are you here today?and you do have a strange name if you don't mind me saying. 
conversations: Zyks:
conversations: human
conversations:  As the group stands bewildered at each other, a sudden hush falls upon them as the courtyard's fountain comes to a startling stop. A red-haired ethereal beauty wearing a white toga appears above the stone angel. For a moment, she seems the epitome of grace. That moment ends as soon as she attempts to jump down, but trips over Cassandra and falls flat on her face!
  
  Brushing herself off as she gets up, she begins to speak with a musical voice, as ethereal as her visage:  "Ahem! My name is Melpomene, and I'm afraid you've all been mislead! I apologize I had to gather you on false pretenses, but the matter is urgent. My world is in trouble and you four are the only ones who can help!"  At once, Melpomene's thoughts are heard audibly.   Yeah, that sounded good!  
  
  Geoffrey: 
   Spoiler 
  She looks familiar! 😉
   
conversations: Tortoise262:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  " Melpomene ," she says slowly, crossing each syllable with care.  " The muse of tragedy. . . shouldn't you wish for trouble?  For my part, I would have preferred Calliope, but I'm jealous that way. "  The strangeness of the situation really hadn't sunk in yet.
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
  
  Alex just watches for now, a curious look on his face. He's a bit surprised by all this, though it was quite funny when she fell over.
conversations: Zyks:
conversations: human
conversations:  Henry folds over the sheet of paper he drew the stone angel on and quickly begins sketching Melpomene. In his rendition, her red hair flows around her like a burning red sun. Pity he didn't have any colours with him.
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Shocked, Melpomene gapes at Geoffrey and addresses him.  "Don't you have anything to say?" 
conversations: Tortoise262:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  " Oh, don't mind him ," she says, " he's here on a scholarship.  The school pays him to be quiet and look cute. "  Cassandra climbs off the statue.  She seems to be taking this all very calmly, as if it's happened before.  " So, you need our help?  Muses are supposed to help artists, not the other way around ."
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Don't need no muse..."  Henry mumbled as he tilted his sketchbook, looked at the drawing critically, and then slashed the paper with his pencil as if it were a blade. It resulted in thick swarving lines running from the muse's head to the edges of the paper. He looked at the paper again and seemed pleased.
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Geoffrey 
  
  Geoffrey stands silently for a moment, trying indeed to just look good as he lights a new sigarette. He merely shrugs at Cassandra's words, not caring too much.
  
   "I  must  be dreaming" 
  
  He says it casually to Melpomene, placing extra emphasis on the word must. He continues a moment later confidently, but his undertone is one of disbelief and amusement. He's obviously enjoying the dream and very self confident.
  
   "Well, I'm glad I get the part of the hero" 
conversations: Wizard of the Coat:
conversations: human
conversations:  Henry makes another sketch. This time it's a pair of skeletal hands holding a pack of sigarettes and a lit sigarette. The rims of the sketch are filled with smoke coming from the sigarette.
conversations: MrEdwardNigma:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alexander 
   You can be the hero mate, keep th elimelight to yourself, maybe it'll stay off me. 
  
  He grins and turns his attention back to the newcomer
  
   so whats this "world". And why are we so special? 
   Though with the ego of some people round here, I could be the only one questioning that 
conversations: Zyks:
conversations: human
conversations:  Cassandra 
  
  " Because we're artists, silly, " Cassandra says to Alexander.  " We are special; we make the world - or worlds.  Now, muse, sing, the rage of Achilles the son of Peleus, the destructive rage that sent countless pains on the Achaeans. "
conversations: Voshkod:
conversations: human
conversations:  Geoffrey 
   "I knew I shouldn't have started on that Greek drama elective...one class on classical heroes and I'm dreaming of muses that have Greek poets speak to me."  Geoff says to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.
conversations: Wizard of the Coat: