Rising While Descending

by caterpillarjc

Summary:

It's up to Ocean to decide who will live beyond the Cyclone disaster, but Karnak dies before she can make her choice. Stuck at the Fall Fair indefinitely, the former St. Cassian Chamber Choir members have to cope with spending every second with only each other to talk to for the rest of eternity. Most of them have got nothing left to do, no way to get closure. But one of them doesn't even know who she was in life, so... why not help her out?
Since they've got nothing to lose, they might as well show her everything they loved about this place.

Notes:

hey everyone, my name is CJ! i know i'm a bit late to this fandom, but i love this musical sm and so here's the first chapter of my funky little au. i hope someone enjoys it. hopefully this will end up being long-ish

Chapter 1

Notes:

ocean will not be the pov character for most of this story, nor will most of the chapters be this short! this one's just a bit funky

Ocean stood alone and stared at the empty fairground through the warehouse window. Karnak had just given her the final choice, something she didn’t even ask for. She wanted to win— God, she swore she did, but she wanted to do it by convincing the rest of the choir that she deserved it. She realized she’d been nothing but a terrible person to each and every one of them, but at least she always played by the rules.

She kept forcing the words "I vote for myself" to her lips, but couldn’t quite bring herself to utter them. Did that make her slightly less than an awful, irredeemable person? At least in the eyes of her former choirmates? She couldn’t find an easy answer to that question, for once. She couldn’t do anything anymore. Ocean O’Connell-Rosenburg, the most successful girl in town, was failing to form a coherent thought.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but time is pressing,” said Karnak. Ocean whirled around, tears stinging her eyes.

“Look, if you could just kindly step off for like three seconds—” she snapped. She wiped away her tears, took a deep breath, and closed her mouth again. She still couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring those four words into the world and still know peace in whatever afterlife she found herself in next.

Before she could even think about who she would choose, though, she heard something moving behind her, a loud crack, and then an ominous hiss.

“Your lucky number is seven. You will get a promotion. You will soar to great heights. Be sure to ride the Cyclone…”

“No!” shrieked Noel. There was a long silence.

Constance whispered: “Is he dead?”

Ocean breathed in sharply. No. No, no, no, this was not how it was meant to go. She was meant to choose whoever deserved to go back the most, and then the rest of them would go on to the afterlife, happy with the fact that at least one of them got the chance to live again. That was the reality she’d made peace with in her head… half a second before Karnak’s death, and five seconds too late.

“Yes, he is.” That was Jane, clear and sharp.

“Goddamnit, Ocean, hadn’t you ruined enough things already?” said Noel. His voice was softer than usual; bitter and sorrowful.

“That wasn’t meant to happen for another four minutes,” said Ricky. “It wasn’t her fault.” Ocean knew she’d done nothing to deserve a defense from Ricky. She felt self-loathing grip her, the way it usually only did when she was alone.

She took a few deep breaths and desperately searched for a way to be the group’s guiding light like she always tried to be. “Now we’ve got the whole fair to explore. For eternity! Isn’t that great?” she said, still staring out into the empty rides. Nobody answered. “How about we all go to sleep and… figure things out in the morning.”

“We don’t need sleep. We’re dead,” said Mischa bluntly.

“It’s likely that we can still physically sleep,” Ricky mused. “There’s no indication of whether or not we need it, but I’d assume not, since our bodies don’t need to be in working order anymore…

“I am exhausted,” said Jane Doe in that monotone voice of hers, making Ricky jump a little.

“We can at least rest for a while,” said Constance. Ocean finally turned around. She smiled gratefully at the two girls.

Noel sighed and sat down, bringing his knees to his chest and closing his eyes. Mischa lay down next to him, spread-eagle against the ground. Ocean almost laughed at the contrast.

One by one, the former St. Cassian's Chamber Choir fell asleep beside each other in that warehouse, still wearing their uncomfortable uniforms but too tired to care.

Ocean had always tried to initiate group sleepovers when the choir was alive, but nobody was interested. How ironic to finally get her dream when they were all dead and hopeless, not to mention that all six of them hated Ocean with a passion. She was nearly asleep when her eyes fluttered open to see Jane looming over their little pile uncertainly. She swayed slightly back and forth in the moonlight. Ocean beckoned her over with her finger, and Jane smiled shyly. She curled up into the fetal position, facing Ocean.

And so the choir fell into the deepest sleep any of them had ever had.

 

***

The first thing Ocean saw when she awoke was Jane's creepy doll face, those soulful black eyes staring into hers. She didn't even have to bite back a scream or a vaguely insulting "compliment". For once in her life, Ocean was fresh out of snide remarks.

"Good moooorning, St. Cassian's Chamber Choir!" she belted. A chorus of groans and muffled "huh?"s greeted her in return; better than nothing!

"How can you be so cheery in time like this?" said Mischa.

"Because," said Ocean, surveying the pile of teenagers to make sure they were all awake, "I have an idea!"

She wasn't sure if she was redeemable in their eyes, but she had to try. Anything to get that nasty jolt of self-loathing off her back. Anything to make them all okay again.

As usual, she was met with silence. And, as usual:

"What's your idea, Ocean?" asked Constance wearily. She was lying on her back with her arms tucked behind her head.

"Well, we all saw how before it was Jane's turn to sing, she didn't get any information about herself like the rest of us did. She didn't get a favorite ride, or a birthday or anything."

"Jesus. Rub it in, why don't you," Noel muttered. Ocean ignored him.

"So! I suggest we take her on all the rides! That way maybe she can learn something about herself, plus we'll all get some bonding time."

The choir stared at her with tired eyes and shocked expressions.

"That's… a lovely idea," said Constance. Noel nodded begrudgingly. Ocean beamed, turning to Jane.

"Yes," said Jane simply. "Thank you." Her head slowly swiveled around to look at each of the choir members. Her gaze landed on Noel.

"I would like to to ride the Ferris wheel."

Chapter 2

Summary:

The choir rides the Ferris wheel.

Notes:

I've just changed this fic's name from Ride the Ferris Wheel to Rising While Descending. for Reasons!

The choir filed out of the warehouse, and for once it was Noel, not Ocean, who led them. He wasn’t sure why Jane had chosen him to show her his favorite ride first. Maybe she’d noticed what an awful mood he was in, or maybe it was just chance. Either way, anticipation warmed his skin at the thought of feeling the wind on his face once more as he went around and around (even despite his new associations with that phrase). The sun was low and bright in the sky; the moon was a fading imprint. Beyond all the darkened games and rides, he could see the tall, tall gates of the fairground. After that, there was the endless blue sky in every direction.

Noel walked with a purpose, taking large strides and occasionally looking back to make sure the group was following. An awkward silence hung over them like a thunderstorm on a humid day. Unsurprisingly, it was Ocean who broke it.

“So, Jane, do you still not know what your name is?”

“No. All I know is what Karnak told me,” Jane replied. “And he hardly told me anything at all.”

“Do you want to choose a name?” asked Ocean hesitantly. Noel stopped in his tracks, causing Jane to bump into him.

“Sorry,” Noel muttered. He simply couldn’t believe Ocean was being so considerate.

“That’s alright,” Jane replied. “I’d like to call myself Savannah.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Noel said softly.

“Ricky picked it out for me,” she explained.

“Oh, wow, you liked it that much?” said Ricky. He sounded like he was about to cry.

“Of course. It’s perfect,” said Savannah.

The Ferris wheel loomed before them, big and red and beautiful like the accident had never happened. Noel’s breath still caught in his throat when he saw it. It was an icon of romance and nostalgia; a reminder of one of the few things he loved about the town he’d never leave again. Noel stopped and gestured theatrically to the ride.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” he crooned.

“Yes,” said Mischa. “Not as dope as the shooting gallery, but she is gorgeous.”

Noel looked over his shoulder to smile at Mischa, who gave him a salute. They all filed in through the gate and started climbing into the carts.

“Dammit, I forgot. We need someone to pull the lever and make it start,” said Noel with a groan.

“I’ll do it,” said Ocean quietly, and everyone turned to her in surprise. “I need a moment anyway. I’ll ride the Ferris wheel later.”

“Are you alright?” asked Constance. God, what had Ocean done, in life at least, to deserve a girl like Constance for a friend? Noel was never as much of an asshole as she was, and yet he’d only made friends after his death. He sighed dramatically and sat down in an empty cart.

Ocean nodded tightly. “I’m fine.”

Constance cast one more glance to her best friend and then sat down in the cart behind Noel.

Savannah stared up at the Ferris wheel, unblinking, and then sat down beside Noel. Well, at least someone wanted to talk to him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hello,” she replied as Ocean pulled the lever and they began to ascend. He watched her stare out at the lifeless fair, living vicariously through her first Ferris wheel experience. Well, technically it could’ve been her fiftieth Ferris wheel experience, for all she knew.

“Do you ever get déjà vu?” he blurted, not wanting to sit through awkward silence for the whole ride. Honestly, he had so many questions for Savannah, he just didn’t know how to ask them.

“What is that?” she said.

“It’s like when something happens and you feel like it’s happened before, but it never has. Or, in your case, you don’t know if it has.” She took in his words and brushed a stray curl behind her ear.

“I vaguely did, when I saw each of your faces after we died. I knew I’d seen you before but I didn’t know where. Other than that…” she shook her head solemnly. “It’s all nothing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh!” said Noel, feeling an odd sense of relief at her reply as they reached the first peak of the ride’s ascent. He turned his gaze to the sky, still cornflower-blue, and felt exhilaration like he hadn’t felt since the Cyclone came careening down its track just one day prior. He’d never gotten to share something so beautiful with somebody else for the first time before.

“Now I get to ask you a question,” said Savannah, tearing her eyes away from the fair to look at him.

“I suppose that’s only fair,” Noel replied with a laugh. Behind him, he heard Mischa’s deep, hearty laugh at something Constance or Ricky had said.

“Why is this your favorite ride?”

“Oh, it’s a classic. It’s not scary, but you still get that jolt in your heart when it starts moving. I always imagined I’d take my boyfriend to the fair and ride the Ferris wheel with him for our first date, but I never got a boyfriend. I should’ve known I never would.”

“That’s lovely,” said Savannah after a long silence. They were rising again. “You were quite lonely in life, weren’t you?”

Noel inhaled sharply, even though he didn’t need to anymore. “I think we all were.” And there went all his exhilaration, just as the wheel sailed back down to the earth.

“We don’t have to be anymore,” said Savannah, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Our lives are over, though. It doesn’t matter how we feel now,” he said, picking at his nails nervously.

“It matters to us.”

Her words hit him like a train. He stared into her obsidian eyes, still fidgeting with his hands, and wondered how on earth they’d all forgotten about her.

“You have a really beautiful mind, Savannah,” he said, his voice full of gentle awe. Her eyes widened and she rested her head on his shoulder, her curls soft against his chest. He listened to her jagged, desperate breaths in and out, like she was still trying to convince herself she needed the fresh air. He patted her head awkwardly in an attempt to calm her down. And that is how they stayed until the ride came to a gentle halt. Noel stood up slowly and stretched like a cat after a long nap.

“Everyone off,” said Ocean. “We have something important to discuss!”

Mischa sighed in frustration as he, Ricky, and Constance climbed off their seat. “What else could there be to discuss? We’re all dead, idiot!”

“Did you like the Ferris wheel, Savannah?” Ricky asked.

“I loved it,” Savannah declared. “I want to ride it again sometime.” Noel couldn’t help but smile at that.

“That’s great, Ja— Savannah, I’m glad this wasn’t for nothing,” said Ocean briskly. She beckoned them all away from the ride and back towards the warehouse.

“Hey, I wanted to go to one of the food stands and see if there is anything left,” said Mischa.

“Well, we can do that after this,” said Ocean, not even looking at him.

“Why do you always get the final say on everything?” Constance burst out from the back of the group. For once, she wasn’t already standing next to Ocean.

“Constance?” said Ocean, her voice breaking a little.

“Oh, don’t act like you’re being victimized right now,” Noel said contemptuously. “You’re an asshole to her every single day and this is literally the first time she’s openly challenged you.” God, there were few simple pleasures in life Noel appreciated more than calling Ocean out on her bullshit. If Constance was finally going to join him, well, the more the merrier.

“I am not an asshole!” Ocean objected. “You guys don’t think I’m an asshole, do you?”

“...You are,” said Ricky regretfully, after a delicate silence.

“Total asshole,” said Mischa, clapping Ricky on the back.

“What does that word mean?” asked Savannah, tilting her head.

“Oh, um… to be a mean person. You know, a jerk,” Ricky explained.

“Ah, yes. Ocean, you’re an asshole,” Savannah proclaimed. Noel let out a surprised laugh at her bluntness. He stopped abruptly when he saw the tears in Ocean’s eyes.

“Okay, I get it, I know,” she said. “I’ve said some ignorant things. But I’m trying, alright? Have my efforts been that bad?”

“No, they haven’t,” said Savannah thoughtfully. “You wrote a whole song just for me. And you want to help me learn things about myself.”

“Yeah that was nice,” Ricky admitted. “I’m glad you’re working on it, Ocean, but it’s gonna take a lot to make up for the time you implied that I didn’t deserve to live again because of my disability.”

Noel cringed at the memory of it. He didn’t even mind that Ocean had told him he was “never gonna breed”— because he knew that already, obviously. And he didn’t think Mischa minded the comments about him going to jail— It probably encouraged the “ganster persona” that he loved so much. But what she’d said to Constance and Ricky? Noel wouldn’t blame them in the slightest if they held a grudge against Ocean forever for that. The silence that hung in the air was lengthier now, and something about it told him that the rest of the choir was thinking the same thing.

“I’m sorry,” Ocean said quietly. “We can go check how stale the donuts are while we discuss my important issue.”

Noel snorted. It wasn’t quite as impactful an apology as Ocean had probably intended, but it was something. Mischa nodded emphatically and they all walked towards the nearest food stand. The little room inside was cramped, but it smelled delicious, and the donuts were still mostly fresh— they were only a day old, after all. Noel grabbed a maple donut and sank his teeth into the sweet, soft taste of autumn. He knew they didn’t need food anymore, but God, was he glad he could still taste it.

“So,” said Mischa, leaning back against the counter with an entire chocolate donut in his mouth, “what is so important you could not wait a second to tell us?”

“The pressing issue,” Ocean began, pausing dramatically, “is that Karnak died four minutes before he was supposed to. We all heard the footsteps, didn’t we?” The group mumbled their agreement. “So…”

“So?” Noel repeated irritably. “It was probably just Virgil the rat finishing the job early.”

“But Karnak could predict his death down to the second,” said Ricky, chewing thoughtfully. “How could he be wrong?”

“He’s a novelty machine,” Noel pointed out. “He was probably exaggerating how precise his predictions were.”

“Rats don’t have footsteps that loud,” said Ocean. “But I’m not trying to accuse anyone of doing this, partly because I don’t understand why anyone would ruin their chances of coming back to life.”

Noel scoffed. “You say that as if any of us but you even had a chance.”

“Who were you going to choose, Ocean?” Constance asked, her voice small. She was looking at Ocean like she didn’t want to know the answer.

“Truthfully, I hadn’t decided yet,” Ocean said. “But I knew I wasn’t going to choose myself.” She looked up at them all, and Noel was surprised to find genuine vulnerability in her face. “That—” her voice broke. “That much I had decided.” Constance took her hand, and Ocean attempted to smile at her.

“I wonder what’s past the gate,” said Savannah, startling them all a bit.

“Heaven,” Mischa mused bitterly. “And we are stuck in this— this purgatory.”

“How do you know it’s Heaven?” Ricky asked.

“Machine said ‘the other side’. That’s Heaven,” said Mischa, with such conviction that nobody questioned him. His simple reasoning made sense, anyway.

“We should try climbing the gate,” Constance suggested.

Mischa laughed gently. “You think it could be that easy?”

“It’s worth a try,” said Constance. They all agreed to that. As fun as the concept of being stuck at a fair forever seemed, the smell of rancid beer was really getting to them at this point. And it hadn’t even been a day!

Noel groaned. “Can this wait until tomorrow? I need some alone time. I want to explore.”

“No offense, but me too,” said Ricky.

“Fine,” said Ocean. “Meeting adjourned.”

So Noel swallowed the last bite of his maple donut, the final taste of the final autumn he would ever get. At least that hadn’t been his final Ferris wheel ride.

Notes:

if you liked this chapter, I would love to hear your thoughts <3

Chapter 3

Summary:

A funeral is held.

Notes:

this took a bit longer than expected to write, but i hope you enjoy it <3

major major thanks to YouDon'tNeedAName for their lovely comments which pushed me to finish this chapter up. this one's for you!

As the group dispersed, Noel found himself heading towards the stage, still scattered with props from the magic show that had brought it to life the day before. He climbed its steps and stared out at the rows and rows of empty seats, realizing that he would never perform on one of these again; it had always been his favorite part of being in the choir. The theatre department at Uranium High School was literally nonexistent, so the choir had been the next best thing for him to join. And, honestly, Noel loved it. He hated Ocean, of course, but everyone else wasn’t too bad. He was even going to miss their daily rehearsals.

Now, he did a little pirouette across the stage, closing his eyes and imagining there were hundreds of people watching him. He’d often dreamed of performing in drag as Monique to a crowd like that. It was slightly more realistic dream than to going back in time and becoming a prostitute, at least. Something he could work up to once he left Uranium and went to college in some progressive city. His muscles eased into the movement as he danced around and hummed his song, his beautiful lament— or, well, he supposed it was technically a ballad, but he liked to think of it as a lament. He’d written it himself one night in a late-night fervid frenzy during the early days of Monique’s existence in his brain.

“Sick dance, Gruber,” said Mischa. Noel gasped, pausing mid-movement. The other boy was leaning casually against the stage stairs, smiling earnestly up at Noel, one hand at his forehead to shield his gaze from the sun. Noel’s cheeks warmed when he realized Mischa wasn’t making fun of him.

“Oh, thank you,” said Noel, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear self-consciously. “Yours was really good too. I mean, when we. Um. During my song.”

“Yeah,” said Mischa. There was an awkward silence where they both looked down at their shoes.

“The costumes are probably still back there,” Noel said, suddenly brightening. “And the makeup and all that.”

“Then we will go look,” said Mischa definitively. He jumped from the ground to the stage in one swift motion. Noel started picking at his nail polish again as he led Mischa backstage. The area was softly lit by the midday sunshine streaming in from the left and right. There were costumes scattered everywhere, although in the real world Noel assumed they must’ve been taken back by now. Or maybe this was the real world? He had no idea. He was sure Ocean or Ricky was cooking up some complex theory on where the hell they were.

As he flitted through the space, Noel felt the dizzy kind of longing he felt whenever he got the opportunity to dress up. With it had always come the question of whether or not it was worth wearing the outfit to school and facing low-to-medium-level homophobia for the next few days. In the end, he’d only ended up wearing his bolder outfits to a few school dances. But now he could do whatever he wanted. He trusted the choir enough not to be homophobic to him, whatever comments Ocean may have made on his absolutely tragic inability to breed.

“These costumes are so cool, man!” said Mischa.

Noel grinned at his enthusiasm. “Yeah.” He began pushing past racks of clothing in search of any sort of makeup. He eventually found a little table with a mirror and various makeup products all lined up neatly upon it. He held up a tube of lipstick triumphantly to show Mischa, only to find him wearing a long black cloak and a top hat, brandishing a cheap plastic wand. Noel let out a startled laugh and clapped for him.

“How do I look?” asked Mischa, twirling around in his magician outfit.

“Stunning,” said Noel lightly. And sure, he was teasing, but Mischa did look rather majestic. He suddenly had the urge to write a Monique story featuring a magician as her lover of the day, and immediately felt foolish for how pathetic he was being. I will not let myself fall any harder than this, he told himself firmly. Forever is a long time to be pining over a straight guy. It’s just a silly crush.

Still, Mischa and Noel spent the whole afternoon trying on ridiculous costumes together. Noel dearly wanted asked Mischa to dance again, but chickened out at least four times. It was fun, though, and if Noel closed his eyes he could imagine it was a date (so much for not being pathetic). So he’d take it.

Together, they gathered up some costumes they knew they weren’t going to wear and brought them back to the warehouse, placing them on the ground in a makeshift nest. They weren’t all too comfortable to sleep on, but they were soft and thus better than the cold, hard ground; anything was. And doing it meant watching each choir member’s face light up when they walked in, one by one, and saw all the colorful fabrics against the dark and dim of the warehouse. As dusk fell and Noel absentmindedly reflected on the day, he realized with a start that it had been his best in months.

When the morning came, it was slower, sleepier than the first one. Most of them slept in until ten, if Noel’s old-fashioned leather watch was to be trusted (miraculously, it hadn’t broken in the crash).

“Noel!” said Ocean when she saw him stirring, her voice low for once since Mischa and Constance were still sound asleep.

“Yes, Ocean?” Noel said tightly. Ocean produced two crisply folded pieces of paper seemingly from nowhere and brandished them triumphantly in Noel’s face.

“I was just jotting down some ideas. Theories, if you will.”

“I won’t,” said Noel dryly, regretting his decision to entertain her and flopping back down onto his nest of old dresses.

“Shut up,” she said. “This is serious.”

“Okay! Whatever. It’s serious. I’m listening,” said Noel, not moving from his relaxed position on his side.

“So. Karnak’s… body? Whatever you’d call that. It’s still there. We can have a funeral for him and the rat. Then we can take him apart to see if there are any clues.”

“Clues to what?” he snapped. “It’s like Mischa said, there’s nothing left for us to do. It doesn’t matter who killed him, it’s not like they can undo it.”

“We can try and put him back together,” said Ocean. “I’m… decently good with machines.”

“Hm,” Noel said. It was actually a pretty good idea. “Okay. I don’t hate that.”

“High praise,” Ocean muttered, but she was smiling at him.

“You don’t want to just take him apart now, though? Why the funeral?” he asked, eyeing her. She was so strange lately. Was this what change looked like? Sudden jolts of movement far outside the lines of the picture Ocean had drawn for herself? A sharp breath before leaping from the tightrope she always walked? Her friends searching her eyes for what had changed, what unfamiliar piece of metal from the Cyclone had lodged itself into her pupils to give her an expression so full, so foreign to the shape of her features? It was a trait so new and breathtaking he couldn’t help but stare her down.

“He did a lot for us,” said Ocean briskly, her gaze returning to the slightly-crumpled papers in her lap, a hasty save from having to face his curiosity.

Noel hummed in agreement, trying to sound noncommittal but most likely coming across as confused and rather delighted.

“Alright, then. Am I allowed to serve at the funeral?” he asked, his mouth quirking.

“...What?” said Ocean.

“Am I allowed,” he repeated, enunciating in order to feign annoyance, “to serve.”

She stared at him. He sighed dramatically.

“Can I wear a pretty black dress. Is all I’m asking.”

“Fine,” said Ocean with a shrug and a roll of her eyes. “Well, I’m glad we had this talk. Everybody!” she yelled, clapping her hands and swiftly turning away from Noel. “It’s time for a funeral.”

“What, for us?” said Mischa groggily.

“No, silly, that wouldn’t make sense,” said Ocean, that old condescension cutting into her voice again. “For Karnak and Virgil.” She gestured to the colorful pile of broken metal, loose wires and rotting rat-flesh in the corner they’d all been conspicuously avoiding.

“Oh, I like that,” said Savannah instantly. Ocean’s eyes widened and she jotted something down on a new sheet of paper.

“Jesus, Ocean. What are we, field mice?” said Noel.

“Hmm? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Ocean, putting away her papers again with a bright smile. “Anyway, it’s funeral time!”

“Okay,” said Ricky wearily. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his sketchbook, the open page jotted and doodled on to death. Constance mumbled her assent, looking very much like she wanted to sleep longer. Ocean looked a little put out by the lack of enthusiasm, and Noel had the strange urge to cover for her.

“I’m going to change,” Noel announced, suddenly standing up and searching the floor for his Monique dress. “Don’t look!” he added cheerily, walking to the corner farthest from everyone else. He seemed to have started a trend, because he heard the sounds of rustling feet, filling the empty echo of the warehouse with the soft sounds of human life. Their uniform grays, whites, and reds transformed into deep blues and blacks on all of them except Savannah, who didn’t leave her spot on the floor. Then, one by one, they gathered around the lifeless remains of their final adjudicators. Karnak’s broken hands, still holding their crystal ball, seemed to be reaching out to the children. Look what you could’ve had.

Constance picked up the hands and cradled them. “Everyone take something, we should put them outside,” she said quietly. And they did. Ricky took Virgil’s bass guitar and the pile of wires that had spilled from Karnak’s body as he cracked. Mischa took his head, its dull eyes once glowing with something resembling life. Jane scooped up the dead body of Virgil the rat. Noel and Ocean were left with a few bits and bobs; most notably, a few small metal boxes with buttons. Ocean peered closely at them before whisking them away and following the rest of the group outside.

They began to place the remnants of Karnak and Virgil in a circle next to the warehouse, none of them really knowing what they were doing. Constance set the hands down in the center of the circle, and Mischa put the head in front of it. They all stood and stared at their somber creation, the heavy silence only broken by occasional shuddering breaths.

“Um, I don’t mean to ruin the moment,” said Ocean uncertainly, “but is anyone else good with machines?”

The silence wavered. The choir glanced at each other, confused. “I would like to know,” said Savannah.

“You’d like to know… what?” said Ocean.

“I would like to know if I am good with machines. I might very well be. I am volunteering for whatever you’re about to suggest.”

“Oh! Okay then!” said Ocean. “I was going to try and put Karnak back together. Or search his pieces for clues about… what’s going on.”

Savannah’s black eyes widened, her head tilting to one side. “Alright,” she said, walking to Ocean uncertainly. And then Mischa said something to Ricky, and Constance walked away from the metal hands she’d placed down, and the silent sacred moment was over. Noel had been ready to sit still and stay awhile, basking in the tragedy of it all, the way it contrasted against the sunny September morning. Such a funny thing, to want for more time in one place when you’ve been made to spend forever there, your only eternity stretching out in front of you.