WEEK 3: CYOA (Rufus, Sumire, Taako, Dorothy)

[retellers]

Comments

[retellers]

[ The man turns his attention to the people in the pews. ]

Did you hear that? What do you think of this answer?

[ They do not stop their praying, but they do lift their heads to give the trio their attention. ]

The congregation would like for you to elaborate.

[misstrust]

[ The congregation can get fucked.

... Is what Dorothy does not say, but probably thinks a little rebelliously. She gives Rufus a look, though.

Ugh, she doesn't want to. ]

...

[ But then she squares her shoulders and oh god where is Jeanne to stop her-- ]

I think people can rely too much on faith to the point that they're blinded by it and then they can't do anything on their own. I think if you should have faith in anything, then it ought to be in your own strength and beliefs to get yourself out of your messes you put yourself in and the people who still put up with you regardless.

And if there is a God, then he's very clearly deaf! Nothing's ever saved me but my own two legs and I refuse to give any god credit for that!!

[ DOROTHY. ]

[soulus]

[Well, she isn't wrong.

They asked for an elaboration, and they got it. Rufus doesn't have much else to add. Even if he did, he doubts saying anything contrary to Dorothy will help at this point. So he says nothing, as usual.]

[retellers]

[ Someone claps.

And then someone else does. And someone else. Soon, the church is filled with the sound of clapping, as well as the sounds of praying and organ music, which probably is not a good combo to have to listen to.

The man, however, still manages to be louder than all of that. ]

Maybe you should have a little more of it.

[ A door behind the altar opens. It definitely wasn't there before. Everyone is still clapping. ]

[misstrust]

[ This is so very uncomfortable. Dorothy only shakes her head in response and gives Rufus' shirt hem a tug as she turns away.

Door. Now. Please. ]

[soulus]

[She tugs, and he moves. Into the door, they go.]

[retellers]

[ The door leads to a tiny classroom. Posters about religion cover the walls, and at each desk sits a student in a uniform. The same man from before is seated at the teacher's desk.

He turns to look at them as they enter. ]

Welcome back. Have a seat.

[misstrust]

[ What in the hell--

Look, Dorothy took the lead last time. This time, she's actually going to glance at Rufus and raise an eyebrow. She'll follow his lead.

Well, Rufus? Feel like sitting down? ]

[soulus]

[He doesn't return Dorothy's glance. The situation is unusual, yet there's apparently something to be learned amid all this, so he moves to sit down in a vacant seat.]

[retellers]

[ As soon as Rufus sits down, the man turns his attention to Dorothy and stares at her.

Yes? ]

[misstrust]

...

[ OKAY FINE SHE'S SITTING DOWN. ]

[soulus]

[Yes, now let's get started on this lesson.]

[retellers]

[ When Dorothy sits down, they will both find that they're also now wearing the school uniform. It's a fairly generic outfit that they'd find at a boarding school--slacks and a vest for Rufus, and a skirt for Dorothy. Her hair is now pleated in two braids as well.

All of the other students stare intently at the front of the classroom, when the man speaks again. ]

Mr. Wilde, would you please tell us your thoughts on God? Do you agree with Miss MacBean?

[misstrust]

[ Well. Rufus could only get out of this for so long.

Dorothy stays quiet, though she does begin fiddling with a braid. Can she undo it? ]

[soulus]

[It's only temporary—probably. He answers evenly:]

Yes. The gods departed the world long ago. It's been the way of life for all beings to rely on their own strengths for millennia. On this, I agree with her.

However, I don't know anything about your god.

[retellers]

[ If she tries to undo it, it will immediately braid itself again. Wow.

The man nods along to the explanation. The other students stare at Rufus as he speaks, and some of them even take notes. ]

Excellent, excellent. I believe it is time for a pop quiz. Miss MacBean? Please stand.

[ It seems like it isn't a request, as Dorothy will find her body moving on its own to stand up. ]

[misstrust]

[ Rude.

Not that Dorothy can really spare the irritation right now as her body promptly betrays her and she finds herself moving against her will.

She's glowering now. But hey, she's standing! ]

[soulus]

[He watches Dorothy, and her expression tells it all. Whatever this pop quiz is, they should probably brace themselves.]

[retellers]

First question, Miss MacBean.

[ A blackboard appears on the wall, and the man points to it. ]

Will you be forgiven?

[ Her legs will move on their own to the board. It looks like she is expected to write her answer on it. There's even chalk, how old fashioned. ]

[misstrust]

[ It's no use. Dorothy tries in vain to break free from whatever's forcing her to move, but once again, her legs carry her forward and there's nowhere else she can go.

Will you be forgiven?

That's what religion says all the time, isn't it? That you'll be forgiven for your sins?

But--

She picks up the chalk.

And she writes.

"I don't need to be forgiven." ]

[soulus]

[What an absurd question.

His expression tightens, and his eyes narrow once she finishes writing her answer.]

[retellers]

I see.

[ The students that are sitting close to Rufus all suddenly stand up and move towards him. They grab at his limbs, and hold onto him as tightly as they can to try to keep him from moving from the seat.

He speaks again. ]

Will you forgive her, Mr. Wilde?

[misstrust]

[ What the hell, students.

Dorothy still can't move, so she's just going to look over her shoulder in slight dismay.

Wow, Rufus must dislike all of this personal space infringement. ]

[soulus]

[He hates it. But he doesn't move.]

Forgiveness isn't for me to give.

[retellers]

That is the incorrect answer.

[ A few things happen. The first is that, Dorothy will suddenly regain control of her limbs, which is probably nice.

The second is that a noose drops from the ceiling, over Rufus' desk. As soon as Rufus sees it, he'll be hit by a strange compulsion to stand on top of the desk and to put the noose around his neck. Despite the fact that it's a compulsion, he'll still be aware that it's kind of fucked up? But it's fine, the students will help him up. ]

Miss MacBean. When Mr. Wilde steps off this desk and breaks his neck, will you be forgiven?