Doors

He's gone.

Coffee.

Black? With cream? Sugar?

Or some fancy frou frou drink that you likely can't even pronounce from Daddy Starbucks?

[As 'Nightcrawler']

There is a vast community here, I see, of many types of people. I wish to know what you think about forgiveness. When it can be offered, that is, and what it means to give it. Whether it can help the person who forgives as well as the forgiven. I know what God says on this matter, but I would like to hear what man says, as well.

I can't believe I'm doing this

Entirely out of extreme self-interest and a lack of ability to pay the few bills I can usually manage to afford on a monthly basis, I'm offering up a deal to those of you who're stuck in this shit situation. And I mean an actual deal, not some elaborate bullshit metaphor - I own a used bookstore two blocks off the strip, on Koval and East Harmon. Two for one on almost anything in the store.

This only applies to you people - show up and show me this entry in whatever notebook or phone you got it on, and the deal's yours. Only applies to one transaction, and it doesn't apply to your friends, family, and other sundry loved ones. The cheaper of the two items purchased is the free one. Though considering that most of the stuff I sell is ten bucks or less, you're not exactly going to lose any real money.

Payment in hard liquor also accepted

Am I the only person who has one of these magic journal deals who is more disturbed by the fact that some strange hotel knew my home address, than the fact that I have a second consciousness inhabiting my mind?

I wonder if there's some kind of do-not-mail-magical-items list I can get on. Or a more specific do-not-mail-useless-magical-items list. I wouldn't mind getting some of the better fantastical, mystical creations, like self-folding laundry or whatever. Or maybe a coffee brewer.

Woah, I can take the reigns on this thing? Sweet! This guy has got a seriously large stick right up his ass, it was really starting to get on my last nerve.

Anyway, what's a girl got to do for fun 'round here? It is Vegas after all, I'm sure I could get into some right good trouble~

I am pleased to say that the dormitories at the Opera Populaire have been reopened and are already filling up with our cast and crew.

Our first showing will be the second week of August, and I invite anyone who is interested to attend. Tickets for this showing to those of you here will be complimentary of course.

And I would like to have a word with our neighborhood Phantom if he would be so kind.

So. Roll call time.

How many of you have kids or are wanting them? I'm just curious, flipping through these journals and wondering about all of you out there and your dreams and aspirations. What makes you tick.

So, my editor just sent me a few advanced copies of my newest book.

Anyone interested in giving it a read? Could use some fresh opinions on it.

[locked to raoul c.]

Monsieur. If it won't cause you great trouble, I'd like to speak with you about your [ ... ] plans for the Opera House.

I think it's probably fucked up that I enjoy living in my shitty studio apartment more than the high roller suites they comp me at Caesar's and the Bellagio. Is that fucked up? I vote yes. But there's something about the grotesque opulence of a hotel suite that would normally cost about a kajillion dollars per night that just makes my skin crawl. There's the way that the plush carpeting matches the velvet drapes which match the color scheme of the dust ruffle on the bed - ugh. What exactly is a dust ruffle for, exactly? How does one ruffle dust? Anyway, I digress.

It's the whole package that just creeps me out. There's something much more soothing about coming home to a mattress on the floor, a stack of books instead of a giant headboard made out of teak or mahogany or something other fancy kind of wood that I wouldn't be able to identify if my life depended on it. I like my bare white walls. They're simple. Easy to understand. No fuss.

I prefer my tiny little kitchen, even if the last occupants chose to paint it the most truly awful shade of pink that has ever existed. At least it's functional. Practical. I've got everything I need, I know where everything is without having to fumble through a dozen dimmer-fader-clapper light switch settings before I can just turn the fucking lights on to take a piss at night. No fancy claw-foot tubs to stub my toes on, or chrome bathroom fixtures polished to a blinding sheen and reflecting my pores to the size of dinner plates. No nosy maids rap-tap-tapping at ten in the fucking morning despite the very obvious 'DO NOT DISTURB FOR THE LOVE OF GOD' sign swinging from the door handle. Just peace. My space. My stuff.

And my cat. She's the best part of coming home to that shitty hole in the wall on Fremont Street. So maybe it is fucked up, but I'll take my cat and my own boring life over the five stars of the Strip pretty much any day of the week.

[As Christine D]

[Locked to Nadir]
Monsieur, I have not heard of you. Are you well after the occurrences of last week?

[Locked to Raoul]
Raoul Vicomte, I have a request, Monsieur, if I might impose.

[Locked to the Phantom]
We have not spoken since Are you aware of what Monsieur, I wished to inquire after your health.

[Locked to the Phantom peoples]

Check in. Does anyone need any help?

[Locked to Nick P]

Did you survive?

[After talking to Liam]

[Locked to Louis D]
Get your ass on here and talk to me, or I'm going to hunt you down with a blowtorch, and you won't like it.

[Locked to Aiden S]
Back to being yourself, in all your virgin glory?

[Locked to Elias M]
Next time I sound like a well-spoken idiot, you hit me upside the head with something until I act like my regular bitchy self, you got it?

[Locked to Neil D]
How do I even Well, we fucked that up really impressively.

[Joint lock to Tristan M & Tiffani R]
Back to our regularly scheduled programming, robot and rodent.

[the day following Raoul and Loki's conversation]

[Locked to Sam A.]

[the handwriting is familiar, modern, much like Liam's normal scrawl]

I feel like I should apologise to you.

[Locked to Aiden S.]

Thank you.

[posted shortly after the events of this as aiden s., but the handwriting is absolutely not his.]

[locked to sam a/christine d]

Whether you are Samantha or Mademoiselle Daae, I wish to speak with you about recent matters. I'm sure you can imagine what.

[locked to neil d./erik]

[ ... ] Are you well, sir? Both yourself and Erik?

[public]

Though I did not intend to involve myself in this so-strange and unpleasant situation, my choice to stay my hand has resulted in nothing good. While I try to fix the damage my inaction has wrought, I wish to extend a warning to those on either side of their door: that to try and prevent passage from one side to the other has drastic consequences, especially on those in an unstable frame of mind. Do not try to solve this unusual problem by trying to destroy it or make it go away. I can assure you it will not work out the way you intend.

[ ... ] And for those of you who find yourself concerned with strangers' plights, keep a watchful eye on each other. To deal with two wills in one often leads to struggle, and a hand of goodwill could be someone's saving grace.

[mid-day, after this]

Did you know that here in Las Vegas, one can be married by a strange looking man in a jeweled white jumpsuit?

We opted for the more low-key option, but I marvel at such things.

[As 'Liam R.']

You do realise that locking on door will only make me find a way to open another door up, right?

Or do you think it's so easy to keep us away?

[After checking out the Phantom door for himself, and seeing that it is indeed welded shut.]

[Locked to Sam A.]

It didn't mean anything, huh? You know this won't Erik will So. I saw your handiwork. Pretty impressive.

[Locked to Aiden S.]

You really think cutting off access to the door will work?

[After the Paris party, but before making it back to the Aria to meet Neil.]

[Locked to Liam R]
Conscious?

[Locked to Aiden S]
That could have gone better.

[Call to Louis D]
[While talking to Iris. Ring.]