finchwoodacademy

MURDER ON THE FINCHWOOD EXPRESS

For the final time this year, the gym has been transformed for a dance; this time, it's a murderous train, along with train station and platform! Upon entering the gym, students find themselves in a train station filled with (pointless) columns, benches, and a destination board with random Haling Cove destinations. A few paces in, a freestanding arch opens up into the rest of the gym. A newspaper stand off to the side contains old time-y looking news papers with the headline 'Finchwood Express's Maiden Voyage.' The paper is mostly filled with lorem ipsum, but the article accompanying the headline has been written by freshmen. It lists Gregory de Leon as a famous private detective that will be on the train, along with the rich (but horribly ugly) railroad owner [Character B], and "very murderable" actor/actress [Character C].

Walking through the freestanding archway leads to a train platform that's clearly the dance floor. Smoke spills across the floor from all the steam engines that are operating out of this station, and lights overhead give the impression of filtered sunlight (with some colored lights and a disco ball for fun.) The music tonight is pretty all over the place, but one song that just keeps playing is a little dated. Who keeps putting this on?? (It's [Character D]).

The rest of the gym is taken up with a train built by the hardworking theatre tech crew and shop students! Most of the cars sport only three walls and are much wider than a car would actually be, but who cares? Each contains some seating and maybe a photo op or two, though two in particular are special. The main attraction is an engine car spewing smoke from a smoke machine in its chimney, but there's also a dining car that contains a bar with a few signature mocktails, food, and lots of booths for the travelers to sit at. Martin Geary offers discreet shots from their flask to some of their classmates until a freshman yells "Poison!", grabs it from them, and takes off running. Get back here!!

About halfway through the dance, the music cuts so that the prom court winners can be announced by Neal Valentine and Venus Rosales! Winners have to come up on stage to get crowned, and they're asked to share a dance with their winning partner. But they can't make you. The freshmen will boo you if you don't, though.

When it's time to go, students file out of the gym in their fancy dress. It's a pleasantly warm and clear evening, and it's really a shame they have to head back to their dorm rooms. Maybe if they walk a little slow they can hold onto the simplicity of the evening a bit longer.

HOW THIS WORKS

The theme of prom is Murder on the Finchwood Express! The dance begins at 7:00 PM and ends at 11:30 PM. Then everyone must return to their dorms.

There is a "bar" where student council members and volunteers are making mocktails for the guests. While none of it is alcoholic, the drinks are served in cute glasses with convincing garnishes. The menu is:

PROM COURT WINNERS

Queen Pearl Kline	Queen Suzy Choi
Princess Hadlee Loxton	Princess Venus Rosales
Duke Gregory de Leon	Duke Mason Chambers

» Before the Dance: It's time to get ready! Even though you're probably all gussied up, be sure you're ready for some murder too!

» The Train Station: Upon first entering the gym, the area is set up to look like a nice train station - there are pillars (that hold up nothing), nice benches, and a small archway to walk out through that leads onto the platform (aka the dance floor).

» The Platform: A large area has been set up to look like a train platform, with the clear purpose of being the dance floor.

» The Dining Car: The bar and snack table have been encased in a roomy fake train car, where there are booths to sit in while you dine or drink. Sadly, no real alcohol is being served, unless you slipped a flask in to spike your mocktail.

» Train Car Photo Ops: As with the other dances, there are various photo ops placed throughout the gym. There's one at the engine car (you can lie on the tracks in front of it, if you want), a few different looking train cars, and a stack of luggage in an ornate sleeper car that has the tiniest bed you've ever seen (and no privacy - don't try anything funny).

» Prom Court Winners: About halfway through the dance, the music is cut and the prom court winners are announced! Come up on stage and get your crowns! Please don't give a speech!

» Murder Afoot: A game has been set up so that students can really get into the murdering spirit. Results of each round of the game will be posted here.

» Around Campus: Some people have decided to opt out of the dance, so they're free to enjoy the quieter-than-usual campus.

» The end of the night: It's been a long, fun night, but it's time to rest.

» OOC - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh. That's kind of you," Dustin says, looking up at Lucy's face as she speaks. He's too slow to catch her eyes, but she might be able to feel the weight of his attention —and worse yet, the earnest gratitude of his thanks— nonetheless. Sometimes, when he does this, it's reflexive, performative, but right now, her affirmation really is appreciated; there's a warm glow of something that feels dangerously close to self-esteem bubbling up in Dustin's chest.

"I," he says the moment he recognises it. His eyes move down, then out to the water. There's a fraction of a beat as he pushes his tongue against his teeth. "Try not to pay attention to those things."

Good boys don't care what they look like, Dustin. It's what's inside that counts. Of course, he can think of a few acceptable exceptions. "But maybe I should have dressed better," he adds, glancing back at Lucy. With the black lace and veil and subtle vines creeping up her dress, she looks a little like she's here to marry Hades. It's striking. "To match."

"You might not pay attention to aesthetics," Lucy murmurs, "but aesthetics pay attention to you."

It's something she'd say to someone like Noah in that joking intonation of hers, where the self-awareness behind a statement is what makes it amusing, not its barbed, prodding shell. But things sound different in here. Not the room, exactly, but the bubble that builds itself around her and Dustin whenever they do this: inevitable. Or is it just Dustin's, and she visits sometimes, when the barrier is weak? Either way, it's not that she's ignoring that familiar buzz of eyes, or whatever warmth accompanies them (maybe imagined; self-projected).

See: Lucy looks back to him when he speaks again, smiling. The fondness in it is real, but somehow removed despite the way she turns to orient toward Dustin, hip jutting and hand splayed uncomfortably against the clammy floor.

"But we do," she admits softly. Grudgingly, in light of previous logic. "In other ways."

Edited 2019-05-04 17:38 (UTC)

Dustin smiles, nods in agreement. They do. He knows they do.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" He asks, in lieu of pushing her to elaborate.

Not for the first time, and far from the last, Lucy regrets herself. She shrugs at Dustin, and her eyes -- intent, a moment ago, in their study of him -- slide to the ground, the curl of her hand braced upon it. The knuckles are delicate, their skin dusted with old ink despite scrubbing earlier. Water whispers and air hums. She takes in the detail of the moment as if doing so will pause it completely. But that never works, and the silence weighs more than the question, so:

"I changed my mind," she says coolly, to fill it.

Her gaze flickers up to Dustin then, but it's a mistake looking into his face: she should know by now how difficult it's become to offer it untruths. Lucy's mind hasn't changed about much of anything, after all, only her willingness to share. Bravery is a useless gift with no followthrough. But what does a ghost do afterward, when there's nothing left unresolved?

Lucy smiles, apologetic, and shifts forward, reaching out with the fingers of her free hand. They draw themselves softly along the line of Dustin's jaw. Her thumb brushes his lower lip, and for a moment she hesitates over speaking again, distracted with tracing its shape. "I really only had one thing to say," she whispers, with wary honesty. "But I'll tell you another time."

Dustin had been leaning back, relatively casual, but that changes when Lucy catches his eye. He sits up, pulls his hands into his lap. Blinks at her, mouth parted ever-so-slightly. Waiting for her and what she'll say next.

The moment is heavy, but not with any particular intent. It just feels important in that way that little moments sometimes do to Dustin, who sees significance in drops of rain and the sound of bells and micro-expressions he isn't remotely equipped to interpret. Lucy touches his face. He holds his breath.

"Okay," he replies, swallowing hard. "Another time."

There's a beat. "I like it better out here," he says, half-chancing the subject. "Is that terrible? Student Council worked so hard."

"Yes," Lucy agrees. She moves closer, a rustle of fabric and physical intent, then laughs, crinkling her nose. "And no."

Her touch smooths itself into his hair. There's a little rumble of amusement, half at him and half at the ease of the action. It soothes her to be capable of gentleness, if not honesty.

"But of course," Lucy teases, voice dropping in its gravity, "your approval is the most important thing."

"That's not what I meant," Dustin says, which is true, but does nothing to discount the accuracy of Lucy's observation. He moves in a little closer to her; his hand drifts to her knee.

If he'd been talking to anyone else, he might've simply nodded and accepted her words as well-deserved chastisement, but unfortunately for her, Lucy's earned access the worst of him. "They did their best. That should earn... appreciation."

"Acknowledgement, yes," Lucy whispers, difficult on purpose. "If that."

She pushes her leg against his fingertips, encouraging the contact. Then, on a whim, she covers them with her own and lifts them away, replacing both to rest against the exposed skin at the center of her chest. The warmth is welcome, though she receives it impassively, stoic save for a questioning tilt to the chin.

Edited (hm) 2019-05-06 01:09 (UTC)

Oh.

Heat rises in Dustin's face as he struggles to hold back one of two feelings. The first is something awful, but the second, thank God, is his saving grace. Shame floods him like antifreeze, cool and sweet and just in time to remind him exactly why it is he can't be trusted.

He's lucky. Without it, he might've given in to impulse and kissed her immediately. The way he does, sometimes, when they're alone like this. He does try to be better than that, of course, but. Maybe Lucy's right. Trying isn't enough.

Dustin clears his throat, but his voice is still rough when he finally speaks. "I can feel your heart," he says and because ultimately, he's a failure, he doesn't move his hand.

Lucy nods ruefully. "I want you to," she admits.

Dustin's observation incites an awareness of her pulse in a heady, throbbing way that feels at once very alive and very crude. There's a special hubris, maybe, in all her secrets and omissions, when this is what she'll reduce to in the end: transient bloodbeats and wreaths of bone. Silly. None of this was built to last.

Lucy holds Dustin where he is, leans into the touch. The moment extends, drawn onward in a breath, before she releases his hand to allow for escape.

PROM

Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy

Re: Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy

Dustin & Lucy