The Narrator

I am a very simple person. Yep, it's a Stanley Parable Narrator RP account. Mun is 21+. NO LEWD!!!

[voiceofverbose]

"This is the story of a man named Stanley..."

-Muse-

Independent RP account for The Narrator from The Stanley Parable/TSP: Ultra Deluxe.

Has memory of all endings unless not present or erased. (Ultra Deluxe endings included)

Although sticking close to canon, headcanons will also be used in this portrayal.

Happy to interact with other iterations of The Narrator as well.

All artwork used will be either official artwork or my own unless otherwise stated. I will always specify and credit when art is someone else's. Pfp is my own. Banner is official.

-Additional Muse Details-

My rendition of The Narrator can be both a disembodied voice and a physical being. Think of him like the cheshire cat or the ghost of a starving artist that won't leave anyone alone. When he does appear, he is humanoid; looking something like this.

"This section is about a mun named Plasma.... Plasma?! Really? What is that, your gAmEr TaG? That's not a real name!"

(-MUN INFORMATION-)

DMs are always open to plot or chat, but bear in mind that the mun is a bit shy. She goes by Plasma.

(Side blog. Follows back from elsewhere.)

[voiceofverbose]

The Narrator gave a small wave in return. As Stanley headed up toward the boss’ office, Alexander followed, turning to the next page in his notebook. He continued on.

“As Stanley reached the top of the stairs, he was greeted with the fancier interior design of the upper floor. Truly, this is where the office’s budget had gone. Was that mahogany? Despite the overwhelming inconsistency of decor, Stanley pressed on. At the end of the room lay the door to the boss’ office. And just across from that, another open room with a seemingly average elevator inside.”

The Narrator stopped his speech there and looked up from the notebook to Stanley. “Well Stanley, the floor is yours. I wonder what path you’ll discover first.” He waited in silence, eager to see what Stanley might do next; where he might go.

As Alexander waited for Stanley’s next move, he snapped his fingers. The notebook he had been holding disappeared, and in it’s place, he held a cup of coffee. He took a sip. Repeating the process, the coffee cup disappeared and he was once again holding the notebook. “Don’t mind me.” He spoke up again with a genuine smile. “Take all the time you want to.”

[the-haunted-office]

Yeah, this is a bit strange, Stanley has to admit to himself. Having the Narrator - well, a Narrator - right there with him while narrating for him. It took away the whole mystical omniscient being thing and replaced it with the feeling of having your boss follow you around everywhere, standing over your shoulder, watching you work.

He follows what the Narrator is saying, though. ...Is that mahogany? He has no idea. Stanley can't tell the difference between mahogany and any other kind of wood. It's a good thing he's not being tested on this. As far as he's concerned, yeah, it's wood, and the upper floor does look a bit nicer than below. That's just like upper management - never wasting an opportunity to reminds the lower echelon just how much more money they have.

Stanley shrugs. He doesn't particularly care beyond that thought.

Now, he's seen this particular elevator before. At least, he's sure he has. His own office has an elevator in the same place. Did this Narrator mention it for a reason? Could there be something different to his elevator?

There's a moment's hesitation, where Stanley looks at the cup of coffee Alexander just spawned in for himself and Stanley finds himself wanting some coffee too. He hasn't had much coffee lately and he's been missing it. But he doesn't quite feel brave enough to ask for some either. So he shrugs again and heads for the elevator.

After he gets in he regards the buttons that he is presented with. Up or down. He makes his choice and presses one of the buttons. Time to see what's up with it.

[voiceofverbose]

UP.

Alexander tried his best to maintain a neutral expression, but he was positively giddy. He chose UP! This was the first new path the narrator had thought of and he couldn’t be happier that it was Stanley’s first choice too. He stood beside Stanley in the elevator, humming along to the tune as they awaited their destination.

A few moments went by and it seemed at first as though nothing had changed. Perhaps this was just the same old boring elevator. That was, until the walls of the elevator seemed to fade away, becoming transparent like windows. Beyond the confines of the elevator, a new sight unfurled before the two. The vast expanse of space, and Earth, the office, moving ever further away.

“What Stanley would soon learn from observing his surroundings, was that this was no ordinary elevator. The boss had many secrets he kept from those at the office. One such secret was this, an elevator reaching into the cosmos. More specifically, into the Boss’ private Interstellar Observatory. We should be arriving in a few moments. Tell me Stanley, do you like stargazing?” Alexander inquired, his gaze fixed on the swirling galaxies and stars outside.

[voiceofverbose]

Alexander nods along, studying Stanley’s signing closely; not wanting to miss anything accidentally.

“Oh, well Rita is another employee here. Employee 419. Goodness, always so eager to find some new or hidden detail, she veers off course as awful as Stanley! -Er, my Stanley. Do you have any other employees where you come from?”

He turns his attention back to his story and continues. “Yet there was not a single person here either. Feeling a wave of disbelief, Stanley decided to go up to his Boss’ office, hoping he might find an answer there.”

Not even a moment after The Narrator had said this, he appeared, seemingly out of thin air next to Stanley. Hopefully he hadn’t given Stanley too much of a scare. “Alright Stanley, now this is where it gets interesting. I’ve added some new choices up here. Go on, have a look around!”

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley thinks hard, trying to remember 419. He's sure he could remember them, they were just down the hallway from him, how couldn't he remember them? But just like when he met 404 a few weeks ago, he can't seem to recall who 419 was. He has to take the Narrator's word for it, which is a little unsettling - not because he's taking the Narrator's word, but because he can't remember 419 himself.

...What had happened to all his coworkers? And who were they, really?

The only thing he can do in response to the Narrator's question is shake his head. No, there aren't any other employees where he comes from. He's been told, via the Story, that he has coworkers, but he's never seen them. Never found a trace of them outside of their abandoned offices and random memos scattered throughout the office.

He does indeed start heading up to the Boss' office while feeling a wave of disbelief. Finding these other offices, with other Narrators, other Stanleys, and other employees has called into question all sorts of inconsistencies, and they're becoming harder to ignore. He doesn't make it very far before someone appears right next to him, though.

Stanley flinches slightly, already somewhat used to unexpected appearances, and blinks at the man who's standing there. Is this the Narrator? Or someone else? Ah, as usual, the accent gives it away. This is the Narrator. He can't help but wonder if his own Narrator looks like this.

"Hi," he signs a bit nervously, not sure what else to say. This is awkward as all hell for him and he's not sure how he's supposed to respond.

He doesn't respond. Not right away. He looks around. New choices? Where? Up the stairs? They must be, because that's where he was told to go. But then... is the Narrator going to follow him around in person and narrate for him?

Stanley kind of looks at him a little puzzled at first, then shrugs and starts heading up to the Boss' office like he was instructed. He's very curious about what these new choices might be. Hopefully nothing too disappointing. Or painful.

[voiceofverbose]

The Narrator gave a small wave in return. As Stanley headed up toward the boss’ office, Alexander followed, turning to the next page in his notebook. He continued on.

“As Stanley reached the top of the stairs, he was greeted with the fancier interior design of the upper floor. Truly, this is where the office’s budget had gone. Was that mahogany? Despite the overwhelming inconsistency of decor, Stanley pressed on. At the end of the room lay the door to the boss’ office. And just across from that, another open room with a seemingly average elevator inside.”

The Narrator stopped his speech there and looked up from the notebook to Stanley. “Well Stanley, the floor is yours. I wonder what path you’ll discover first.” He waited in silence, eager to see what Stanley might do next; where he might go.

As Alexander waited for Stanley’s next move, he snapped his fingers. The notebook he had been holding disappeared, and in it’s place, he held a cup of coffee. He took a sip. Repeating the process, the coffee cup disappeared and he was once again holding the notebook. “Don’t mind me.” He spoke up again with a genuine smile. “Take all the time you want to.”

[voiceofverbose]

The Narrator raises his brows in confusion. He's silent, just like his own Stanley. But this one knows sign language! What a delight! Unfortunately, Alexander did not.

He knew he should have taken the time to learn. He would have to hope that an old book on his shelf would help him to understand this new Stanley better.

There was a silence in the office, only interrupted by the sound of pages turning and the quiet murmuring of the Narrator as he studied the book's contents.

At last, the silence breaks. "I suppose where you came from doesn't matter right now, does it? What matters is that you're here. Sure, let's run through one. It's not as though my Stanley is here at the moment to do it anyway. Probably off exploring some unimportant nook with Rita. Stanley, if you'd be so kind as to step into your office, we can begin."

Alexander shuffled his papers around before beginning again. "All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo."

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley just stands there quietly, waiting to see what the Narrator wants him to do. Nothing, it seems, as he has gone unusually quiet. Well, that's enough to convince him - this really isn't his Narrator. If it were his Narrator, he'd already be spitting out ideas, faster than Stanley could hope to understand them.

He's actually starting to wonder if something has gone wrong on this Narrator's end. Is he maybe trying to figure out what he's said? Is he online looking up the hand gestures Stanley made? Or did he maybe fall asleep...?

The office worker shrugs and is about to start wandering around on his own - maybe he'll get into the broom closet, that always gets the Narrator's attention - when the Narrator finally comes back on.

Stanley blinks. Signs some more while going ahead into his office as he was instructed. "Who's Rita? And what about your Stanley?"

He is interested in meeting them, but isn't yet willing to go against what the Narrator is telling him to do. This is what he's been conditioned to do for as long as he can remember. Obey authority... unless he sees a really good reason to disobey or is feeling particularly spiteful, neither of which are the case right now.

His arms fall to his sides. The same story? Again? Really? Do all the Narrators really tell the same story like this? He doesn't want to do that! But - he sighs - he may as well go through with it. Maybe after that the Narrator will be in a really good mood and he'll ask if he can meet this other Stanley and Rita.

Stanley obeys and makes his way to the meeting room like he's done hundreds of times. Maybe even thousands. Who knows? He can't remember that far back.

[voiceofverbose]

Alexander nods along, studying Stanley’s signing closely; not wanting to miss anything accidentally.

“Oh, well Rita is another employee here. Employee 419. Goodness, always so eager to find some new or hidden detail, she veers off course as awful as Stanley! -Er, my Stanley. Do you have any other employees where you come from?”

He turns his attention back to his story and continues. “Yet there was not a single person here either. Feeling a wave of disbelief, Stanley decided to go up to his Boss’ office, hoping he might find an answer there.”

Not even a moment after The Narrator had said this, he appeared, seemingly out of thin air next to Stanley. Hopefully he hadn’t given Stanley too much of a scare. “Alright Stanley, now this is where it gets interesting. I’ve added some new choices up here. Go on, have a look around!”

[voiceofverbose]

Stanley can't believe that he's found yet another office. This must be like, what, the fourth or fifth one? And they all look pretty much just like his. How strange. But he's also becoming intrigued by the notion of how many identical offices might be out there. Is there also a Narrator in this one?

He decides to seek out his office, #427, to see if he's allowed in there. Back at the Haunted Office, the Narrator doesn't let him into there. In fact, that office door is locked and he was given #247 in place of it. That really ground his gears, but he's gotten used to it by now.

Still, he has to see if this office's #427 is the same as his own.

Pushing up his glasses, the dark-haired office worker makes his way in that direction.

@the-haunted-office

There at the end of the hall, the door to office #427 sat open, a faint glow coming from the computer inside. Office, sweet office.

From the quiet ambience of the office’s electrical hum, a voice filled the vast landscape of forsaken cubicles. There was a narrator here after all.

“Oh! Stanley, there you are. I’ve been thinking, perhaps we could use a few new endings. I’ve been workshopping some ideas. So if you got a few hours, I’d like to run through a few stories with you. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course yoooouuuu- are not my Stanley, are you? Where did you come from?”

Curious about this new Stanley, Alexander paused; letting his question linger. He wondered if this Stanley spoke.

[the-haunted-office]

The moment Stanley hears the Narrator speaking he stops.

...Is this his own office after all? Did he make it back somehow? Maybe all that weirdness with the other offices was all a dream, or really was just part of a story. That... kind of makes him sad. He'd met some really cool folks, had been doted on, cared for...

Wait. What does the Narrator mean he's not his Stanley? Is this a dream within a dream? Dreamception?

Stanley's confusion clearly reflects on his face, the way his eyebrows are pinched together and his lips drawn to the side in query.

Where did he come from? That's almost as good of a question as "where is he going?".

He shrugs, not out of nonchalance but out of genuine ignorance. Then he lifts up his hands to sign, "I honestly don't know anymore." He pauses. And because he has nothing better to do and this kind of confusion is becoming almost natural to him and he's met several Narrators now who all wanted to narrate for him and because he's always been a sort of go-with-the-flow kind of guy, he signs, "We can do the stories if you like. I'm just wandering around lost anyway."

[voiceofverbose]

The Narrator raises his brows in confusion. He's silent, just like his own Stanley. But this one knows sign language! What a delight! Unfortunately, Alexander did not.

He knew he should have taken the time to learn. He would have to hope that an old book on his shelf would help him to understand this new Stanley better.

There was a silence in the office, only interrupted by the sound of pages turning and the quiet murmuring of the Narrator as he studied the book's contents.

At last, the silence breaks. "I suppose where you came from doesn't matter right now, does it? What matters is that you're here. Sure, let's run through one. It's not as though my Stanley is here at the moment to do it anyway. Probably off exploring some unimportant nook with Rita. Stanley, if you'd be so kind as to step into your office, we can begin."

Alexander shuffled his papers around before beginning again. "All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply missed a memo."

[plasma-sky]

Alexander secretly loves the Twilight book series.

@the-haunted-office

[voiceofverbose]

Stanley can't believe that he's found yet another office. This must be like, what, the fourth or fifth one? And they all look pretty much just like his. How strange. But he's also becoming intrigued by the notion of how many identical offices might be out there. Is there also a Narrator in this one?

He decides to seek out his office, #427, to see if he's allowed in there. Back at the Haunted Office, the Narrator doesn't let him into there. In fact, that office door is locked and he was given #247 in place of it. That really ground his gears, but he's gotten used to it by now.

Still, he has to see if this office's #427 is the same as his own.

Pushing up his glasses, the dark-haired office worker makes his way in that direction.

@the-haunted-office

There at the end of the hall, the door to office #427 sat open, a faint glow coming from the computer inside. Office, sweet office.

From the quiet ambience of the office’s electrical hum, a voice filled the vast landscape of forsaken cubicles. There was a narrator here after all.

“Oh! Stanley, there you are. I’ve been thinking, perhaps we could use a few new endings. I’ve been workshopping some ideas. So if you got a few hours, I’d like to run through a few stories with you. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course yoooouuuu- are not my Stanley, are you? Where did you come from?”

Curious about this new Stanley, Alexander paused; letting his question linger. He wondered if this Stanley spoke.

[voiceofverbose]

Thud. 🎭 groans from the unceremonious fall in his face, feathered wings ruffling indignantly. He takes inventory of everything- wings unhurt, no injuries except for some bruising- and slowly starts to sit up, frowning.

In the vast expanse of the office, a voice spoke. Where it came from was nigh indiscernible.

“All of his coworkers were gone. What could it mean? Stanley decided to go to the meeting room. Perhaps he had simply…. hold on-

You’re not Stanley. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you in the office before…”

In an instant, a form to the voice materialized, holding out a hand to help the stranger to his feet.

“How did you get in here? Are you alright?”

[voiceofverbose]

OOC: Really starting to miss TSP muses. Not really ready to write big stuff again just yet, but I might get back into some small interactions here and there with Alexander, Rita, and Maestro!Alex all three. ^u^

[voiceofverbose]

OOC: If we have threads going or if you’ve sent asks or starters in to Alexander, Rita, or Maestro!Alexander, I haven’t forgotten! I’ve just had really, really severe TSP burnout. So I’m taking a break from all 3 of them.

Sorry, kind of a bummer, I know. But I’m not done with them. They’ll be back! Just needs some time.

[the-haunted-office]

voiceofverbose​:

Alexander closed the book and set it down on the counter. “Well then…” he murmured, shocked by the diary’s abrupt ending. The narrator studied the scratches on the counter as Thursday spoke. “Hm? Oh, no. I doubt the change of seasons had anything to do with it.” He replied, returning to the door. Peering out, he squinted at the sun as it disappeared beyond the horizon.

“Oh, just our luck.” The narrator pinched the bridge of his nose. He turns back to Thursday with an exasperated, forced smile. “If it wasn’t already cold before, the sun appears to be going down and the clouds might actually spit snow. We could try to make it to the fortress tonight, but I don’t think it would be wise.”

As if on cue, a cold gale rushed into the building, rustling the debris around them. “Oh yes, very funny.” Alexander rolls his eyes at the horribly timed breeze. “Well Thursday, I suppose we’ve got ourselves a choice. Should we try to get to the fortress, or wait for the  light of dawn?”

“What? What is it?” Thursday says, walking over with a spring in her step to see what has made Alexander upset. “Oh look at that, it’s getting dark. Hmm.”

The younger Narrator stops to consider what they’re actually faced with here. She by herself would probably go on hiking out to the fortress right away, without hesitation, and without stopping. The cold is something she doesn’t necessarily like, but she can tolerate it - and she also knows that it wouldn’t really hurt her much, considering she never gets sick and her injuries heal up rather quickly.

But.

Alexander is with her. She doesn’t know what his tolerances are as far as injuries and illness and elements. It would be mightily careless of her to demand that they start out immediately, putting the Narrator at risk, when it doesn’t seem the situation is all that urgent. The town is already gone and whatever creature that did this isn’t likely hanging around by this point.

Plus, there’s the benefit of the fact that she never needs to sleep. She can stand guard! She’s never done that before and is excited by the prospect.

Thursday chuckles a little at his complaints and says, “Let’s hunker down here for the night. Little thing you might not know about me is I literally never run out of energy and I literally never need to sleep. You can get some rest, and I’ll keep an eye out for trouble! I just hope it’s warm enough in here - the cold sucks! Maybe we could start a fire, though. Hmm… Any idea how to do that, Alexander? I mean, I can do a lot of things, but I sure can’t summon fire, unfortunately.”

[voiceofverbose]

Thursday’s optimism was rather contagious. Alexander realized there was little use getting frustrated at nature; fictional and sketch drawn as it may be. With a sigh, he closed the door. “Right. Staying in town is probably for the best now.” As Thursday talks about building a fire, the narrator nods.

“You know, that’s something I think I can do.” With a spring in his step, he removed the debris from the shop’s old fireplace. He took the wood from one of the broken shelves and placed it in the hearth. “Alright, the moment of truth.” He hummed, snapping his fingers.

To both his surprise and joy, a small flame flickered on the wood! “Yes!!” Alas, it quickly fizzled out. Alexander snapped again and again in rapid succession. Sadly, the little flame did not come back. “You know, I’m convinced this paper world doesn’t like me at all.” He shook his head. “It’s a good thing it doesn’t take much to start a fire. Bear with me. I’m not exactly an expert.” He joked.

The narrator walked away from the fireplace and returned moments later with two small pieces of wood and the sword. He placed one piece in the center of the hearth and the other he sharpened to a point. Tearing a few blanks pages from the diary on the counter, he arranged them around the little wood plank. With the sharpened piece, he tried to ignite a spark.

“…This might take a while.”

[the-haunted-office]

voiceofverbose​:

Alexander hummed, deep in thought. “Well, if it’s going to stay cold, it might be for the best. Any colder and we’ll be trudging through snow!” With that, he flipped open the book again. “Oh how cliché. It IS a diary.” He muttered. “I’d like to think if we were writing the story, we’d have made much better exposition. Don’t you?” His laughter faltered into a sigh. The narrator desperately wished he still had some control of the situation.

“Anyway….what do we have here?

Day X☆:

…The amount of travellers passing through Pineburough is astounding. Business has been good for us here. May the General Store continue to flourish. If all goes well, we’ll be able to pass it down for generations…

Day X◇

…We’ve entered a partnership with the local blacksmith! Now we’re able to sell swords, shields, axes, most anything metal in our shop! I wasn’t sure moving to Pineburough was the best idea, being so small. But I never saw business this strong back in Amberwood…

Day X♧:

…I’ve been hearing strange noises at night. The wind howls like nothing I’ve heard before. It almost sounds as if nature itself were weeping. It’s unnatural. The nights were never this cold before. Something’s wrong. No one in town believes me. They just tell me ‘Winter gets mightier every year’. It doesn’t make any sense. Does no one else feel something wrong?….

Day X♤

I was right all along. From the fortress beyond the woods. That’s where that icy, ghastly, gust has been coming from. The blacksmith mentioned seeing something in the sky last night. Something big. He said it flew back toward the fortress. He had said he’d go to investigate. I haven’t seen him since. Henry, be safe…

Day X□:

It’s coming for us. There’s not much time. As I write this, the town is being evacuated. I hope my writing may save your life. To those who may settle here: beware, the monster they called Winter will hunt down anything that lives. May it not claim you t—”

The narrator stopped reading, staring at the final entry. The last word was incomplete and the ink ran in a harsh scratch from the t to the bottom of the page.

“Only way it could be more cliche is if the diary ends with the author’s last words haha,” Thursday laughs. “I mean, we’ve all see how that comes out in stories with mysterious diaries found lying on the floor of an abandoned building.”

After a short laugh, Thursday finds a place to sit down and listen to Alexander read. She really enjoys listening to him, especially when he’s reading or narrating. His cadence and accent are such that draw you in - something she always envies in other Narrators. Perhaps one day she’ll get there too, and be able to draw her Protagonists in.

As she listens she is sort of halfway between amused and sympathetic. Amused because there’s part of her that understands that they’re in a story right now, so the person who wrote this diary most likely was never real and the fact that they are learning about them via the diary is, as Alexander said, kind of cliche. But she feels sympathetic because this is still someone’s story, fictional character or not.

By the time the Narrator reaches the end of the diary, though, Thursday isn’t amused anymore. Not only did something really happen to that person, but she’s also comparing the contents of the diary to the state of her surroundings. The disarray, the scratches on the counter.

“Ahahaha,” she laughs a bit nervously. “I somehow don’t think winter is responsible for wrecking this whole place. What do you suppose actually did all this? And would it still be around now that everyone is gone? The diary seemed to indicate it might have come from that fortress. I say we should go there and investigate! Maybe we can find more clues there. But to your point it is cold…”

[voiceofverbose]

Alexander closed the book and set it down on the counter. "Well then..." he murmured, shocked by the diary's abrupt ending. The narrator studied the scratches on the counter as Thursday spoke.

"Hm? Oh, no. I doubt the change of seasons had anything to do with it." He replied, returning to the door. Peering out, he squinted at the sun as it disappeared beyond the horizon.

"Oh, just our luck." The narrator pinched the bridge of his nose. He turns back to Thursday with an exasperated, forced smile. "If it wasn't already cold before, the sun appears to be going down and the clouds might actually spit snow. We could try to make it to the fortress tonight, but I don't think it would be wise."

As if on cue, a cold gale rushed into the building, rustling the debris around them. "Oh yes, very funny." Alexander rolls his eyes at the horribly timed breeze. "Well Thursday, I suppose we've got ourselves a choice. Should we try to get to the fortress, or wait for the light of dawn?"

[skippedforward]

▶▶ @voiceofverbose x

▶▶ take control?

▶▶ control of your protagonists?

▶▶ choose.

▶▶ stanley?

▶▶ rita?

▶▶ skip them?

[voiceofverbose]

Alexander was shocked by the skip button’s speech.

“Control them? Shouldn’t they be allowed to make their own choices? Sure it’s frustrating; but they’re still individual people! And another thing! What gives you the impression that I don’t have control over the situation? This is MY story after all. I AM in control!”

The Narrator hesitated, caught up rather suddenly by the thought. “…Aren’t I?”

No. Surely he had power in this story. This office was his to narrate. This had always been his tale to tell, hadn’t it?

Doubt took the Narrator in its icy grasp.

Maybe he did need to take control. Perhaps having his protagonists listen to him for once would be nice.

The narrator took a deep breath before stepping up to the button again. “Alright skip button, I’m trusting you.”

Alexander pressed the button.

[skippedforward]

(∥) five minutes pass. you wait. 

▶▶ skip again?

▶▶ it is safe.

▶▶ nothing happened.

[voiceofverbose]

The narrator looked around cautiously. Seemingly nothing had changed.

"Nothing.... happened?"

Alexander looked to the nearest clock. It was certainly five minutes later than when he'd pressed the button.

"Well, no harm done I suppose. Maybe.... just once more?"

He cautiously reached out and pressed the button.

[the-haunted-office]

voiceofverbose​:

“Judging by everything else I’ve seen here, I assume you’d have to draw water from a well if you wanted to do so little as wash your face.” Alexander added, accepting a sword and shield from Thursday. “I don’t suppose you have experience in medieval combat?” He asked, almost as a joke as he headed for the door. Though as he approached the door, he found himself stepping oddly uneven ground. The narrator would discover that this was due to a small book bound in leather just underfoot.

“Hm… would you look at that…” The narrator picked it up and flipped through its pages. “Well, it’s not the story. But it’s certainly interesting. “Do you mind if I read while we explore?” He glanced back at Thursday, pointing at the book with his free hand.

“Ahahaha, not even on so much as a video game,” Thursday jokes in return. “Come to think of it, I haven’t even played Dungeons and Dragons - although I’ve been wanting to learn. Suppose I might get some hands-on experience here? ..What’s up?”

She watches while Alexander bends down to pick up something. Sword and shield clanking, the younger Narrator goes over to see what it is he’s found, peeking over his shoulder.

“Ohhh, what’s that? Is it someone’s diary? A ledger? A library book?” she asks. “Yeah, go ahead! Let me know if you find something important or interesting in there. Where to next? Suppose we ought to hang out in here for the time being?”

[voiceofverbose]

Alexander hummed, deep in thought. "Well, if it's going to stay cold, it might be for the best. Any colder and we'll be trudging through snow!" With that, he flipped open the book again.

"Oh how cliché. It IS a diary." He muttered. "I'd like to think if we were writing the story, we'd have made much better exposition. Don't you?" His laughter faltered into a sigh. The narrator desperately wished he still had some control of the situation.

"Anyway....what do we have here?

Day X☆:

...The amount of travellers passing through Pineburough is astounding. Business has been good for us here. May the General Store continue to flourish. If all goes well, we'll be able to pass it down for generations...

Day X◇

...We've entered a partnership with the local blacksmith! Now we're able to sell swords, shields, axes, most anything metal in our shop! I wasn't sure moving to Pineburough was the best idea, being so small. But I never saw business this strong back in Amberwood...

Day X♧:

...I've been hearing strange noises at night. The wind howls like nothing I've heard before. It almost sounds as if nature itself were weeping. It's unnatural. The nights were never this cold before. Something's wrong. No one in town believes me. They just tell me 'Winter gets mightier every year'. It doesn't make any sense. Does no one else feel something wrong?....

Day X♤

I was right all along. From the fortress beyond the woods. That's where that icy, ghastly, gust has been coming from. The blacksmith mentioned seeing something in the sky last night. Something big. He said it flew back toward the fortress. He had said he'd go to investigate. I haven't seen him since. Henry, be safe...

Day X□:

It's coming for us. There's not much time. As I write this, the town is being evacuated. I hope my writing may save your life. To those who may settle here: beware, the monster they called Winter will hunt down anything that lives. May it not claim you t---"

The narrator stopped reading, staring at the final entry. The last word was incomplete and the ink ran in a harsh scratch from the t to the bottom of the page.

[a-maestros-final-bow]

Life can be exciting, mysterious, confusing. It's full of highs and lows. Like a rollercoaster, such is life. And when the balance of one's heart has been thrown off, it appears.

The bright lights and faithful old sign. The intricately trimmed doors. From the humdrum it may call you.

The Balan Theatre.

Behind its doors. A new world awaits. There only remains one question: Do you enter?

[voiceofverbose]

Balan Wonderworld AU is up!

[voiceofverbose]

(Ooc: Out of curiosity, if I were to ever make a blog for the Balan Wonderworld AU Alex that's been drifting around my brain, would anyone be interested in interacting with a slowly deteriorating maestro?)

[the-haunted-office]

voiceofverbose​:

“Good idea. I suppose we can start with the shop here. It looks least likely to fall down on our heads.” The narrator laughed nervously. His joke rung with a horrible sense of seriousness. Ducking through the doorway, the two would find that although the exterior appeared alright, the interior had taken quite the beating. The shelves were all toppled over and glass items were completely shattered.

Across the sales counter, heavy scratches marred the wood. The Narrator shuddered. “Well, whatever was here last, it certainly wasn’t friendly.”

The store appeared to sell a peculiar variety when it was open. On the shelves, household essentials. Bins that used to contain produce flipped over on their sides. Behind the counter, an assortment of medieval weaponry and shields. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day… How long ago was this village destroyed exactly…?” He wondered allowed. “Thursday, see anything interesting?” He called to the other narrator.

Thursday laughs a little too. Although she is aware of how serious the situation could be, she’s also not entirely worried. This isn’t the first time she’s been in danger - including during a story - and it certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’s died if the ceiling does decide to come down on their heads. She doesn’t particularly want anything happening to Alexander, though, and he also seems to be concerned, so she endeavors to not be so blasé about perils for now.

She follows him into the shop, sticking close and keeping her eyes peeled.

It doesn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and reveal all the things that are amiss.

“Yeah, wow,” she says in agreement, going over and investigating the scratches on the counter. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that these weren’t made by frenzied Black Friday shoppers. I don’t know what could have made this, though. Something huge.”

“Uhh, haha, yeah, lots of interesting things,” she replies, hopping up over the counter to investigate the weaponry and shields. “Suppose we ought to take some of these, Narrator? Just in case? I mean, I don’t know what I’d do with them - I certainly am not skilled with either a sword or a shield - but certainly it would hurt a lot less to have them than to not have them. And, ah. If it turns out this shop is still in fact running and is just experiencing a, um, temporary shutdown, then we’ll come back later and wash their dishes or something to repay them.”

She dislodges some of the items off the display and passes them over the counter for Alexander to take if he chooses to. She certainly chooses to herself, hopping back over the counter to try them out.

“Oof, these are heavier than I expected! The movies always make it seem so easy! Still. Hmm, what else is there around here? Suppose they have anything like bathrooms in here? Not that I need to use it, just wondering.”

[voiceofverbose]

"Judging by everything else I've seen here, I assume you'd have to draw water from a well if you wanted to do so little as wash your face." Alexander added, accepting a sword and shield from Thursday.

"I don't suppose you have experience in medieval combat?" He asked, almost as a joke as he headed for the door. Though as he approached the door, he found himself stepping oddly uneven ground. The narrator would discover that this was due to a small book bound in leather just underfoot.

"Hm... would you look at that..." The narrator picked it up and flipped through its pages. "Well, it's not the story. But it's certainly interesting. "Do you mind if I read while we explore?" He glanced back at Thursday, pointing at the book with his free hand.