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[Abigail stands in her home, looking as if she's about to speak. She walks to her harpsichord instead and sits down. A teacup drops into view and seems to float in the air above her. Abigail seems not to notice, she begins to play and sings. The song is "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from Phantom of the Opera, with some words changed.]

You were once my one companion
You were all that mattered
You were once a friend and father
Then my world was shattered

Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near
Sometimes it seemed
If I just dreamed
Somehow you would be here

Wishing I could hear your voice again
Knowing that I never should
Dreaming of you won't help me to do
All that this new life promised I could.

A knife to throat and a kitchen floor
Cold and lonely
Seem to me the wrong companions
You were warm and gentle before that night.

Too many night fighting back tears
Why can't the past just die?

[The teacup falls to the floor and shatters. She jumps up and stares at it for a moment, then looks up wide-eyed.]

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do sing or play. I was going to show off my new place. New-ish? I realized I hadn't shown it since I moved in and I..I don't know what came over me. Or where this came from. It's not one of mine.

[She starts picking up piece of the broken teacup.]

Oh, god. If anyone was affected by my harpsichord power, I'm sorry.

((ooc - if you want your character affected - it might have brought up feelings of sadness/grief/fear/confusion. It also could have triggered memories of being hurt/killed by a loved one if that happened in your character's past. Characters don't have to be affected if they heard; she wasn't deliberately using her powers so it wouldn't be as powerful.))

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[ And that is three. This is officially a thing that is going around then. Shit. ]

[ Harry comes on, looking worried and concerned. ]

Are you okay, miss? Looks like a number of people are being affected by... something new.

Yeah, I'm okay. I think. I don't like that I wasn't in control of myself. Is this the latest craziness?

[She looks down at the teacup pieces in her hand and looks back up again.]

At least I didn't dance.

Good, and I can imagine.

I am beginning to think so. You are the third in two days to do this, all Imports.

I haven't investigated further yet, but yes.

[ Harry has a suspicion this is one of those things he'll get caught in, sooner or later. ]

[She thinks for a moment.]

The press conference guy and the guy with the medieval acrobat dance, right? Did either of them get broken teacups?

Exactly those. And not as far as iu know, though the second one got backup dancers and singers and mysterious set pieces that appeared and disappeared for his performance.

It seems whatever is doing this is making it almost like a musical.

[ Why does that tug his memory? That sounds so familiar from somewhere. Damn. He suddenly misses Bob. ]

A musical? Huh, guess I got off easy. Could've been flying through the air on wires or have a chandelier drop on me.

[She tries to smile, make it all a joke, but it's hard.]

I hope I'm just a minor character and my part's done.

[ Harry nods, his own lips lopsided with the attempt at humor. Nice try, though! ]

I am hoping to avoid it altogether, but I know my luck.

Either way, I am glad no harm was done to you. [ He nods. That is, to him, the most important part. ]

Thanks.

[She's glad this particular bit of craziness hasn't been dangerous. But there is the new worry that she was dangerous.]

Do you know if anyone was hurt by my harpsichord power?

I don't know, no. [ A pause, then he clears his throat and speaks. ]

Er, what is your harpsichord power? What does it do?

When I play, I can heal people, help them sleep, cause an emotional response, help them remember things. It's usually a good power.

I'm worried that I might have brought up bad memories for people or made them feel depressed.

I hope not.

You seem like a good person, and I know you did not intend this.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

[Vanya just happens to be looking at the network when the impromptu concert comes up. For a moment she watches, because she remembers the conversation they had while she was affected by kryptonite; she even has Abigail's CD, and she is good. But the song feels - it just feels, and soon V feels her gaze unfocus.

Knife to throat, a kitchen floor - cold and lonely, and all she can remember is gasping for breath while Luther squeezed the air from her lungs, and waking up in that silent, empty cell. Too many nights brings her back further, to mostly forgotten memories only recently remembered. When she was four, when she spent weeks, months? She doesn't know, but so long, gray day after gray day in that cell, peppered only by crustless sandwiches from Mom and tests with Dad and Pogo.

Vanya doesn't notice when she starts crying, and she only barely has the frame of mind to mark the feed private before responding.]

Was that - about your dad?

It could have been.

[Abigail's father had been the first one to cut her in throat in a kitchen. She gazes down at the teacup pieces in her hand. She hears Hannibal's voice in her head, talking of shattered teacups before he killed her.]

There's someone else it could have been about too.

[He'd kept her in his basement for so long, filling her head with ideas about being her new father, taking her to Europe, giving her a life instead of taking it away.]

They both loved me in the only ways they could.

[She misses them and the sense of family and being loved that they had given her.]

I loved them, even though the things they did were messed up.

Did I bring up messed up memories for you? I'm sorry.

No, sor--

[She literally bites her lip to cut off the apology. What's there to apologize for? She didn't ask for this, she doesn't have to apologize just because Abigail is. Vanya squeezes her eyes shut tightly, holding the camera at a terrible angle in her lap. It gives her just a moment to breathe, to just take a second to think. It doesn't help nearly as much as she hopes it will, but at least it's not her stumbling over herself to apologize for nothing.]

I mean, yes, but it's--

[Well, not okay, because Vanya kind of wants to scream. But it's clear Abigail didn't intend it, either.]

My dad was a monster.

[It's the first time she's really maligned him out loud, and it feels so much easier to say to someone who doesn't know her family. Or, well - someone she hopes doesn't know.]

[Abigail looks away for a moment, taking time to consider how much she should reveal.]

My dad was a good man once. He became a monster. He did things, made me do things.

[She stops for a moment, figuring that she doesn't to specify what those things were.]

He made me feel like a monster too. Or that I made him a monster. Even after he died, it still felt like he was around.

[And worse, she sometimes wishes he was.]

I could try playing a happier song on my harpsichord. One that I'm in control of.

[Was Reginald Hargreeves ever a good man? Vanya has no idea, because everything she remembers about him, now, is skewed by the lie he sold. She spent her life as less than when all along she was the strongest of all her siblings.

She shouldn't feel so proud about that, she knows. It almost immediately coaxes guilt out of her.]

No, I - I don't really want to be happy, right now.

[Well, that's a lie, and she huffs out a laugh once she realizes what she's said.] I mean - thinking about my family doesn't really make me happy. I don't want to pretend it does.

And I - kinda feel the same way. About my dad.

So this was your doing.

[ Not that the effect has been particularly strong, but notable enough at least for the Asgardian to appear remotely disturbed. No, he didn't need that. ]

I prefer the more upbeat performances.

Sort of. It was more the doing of who or whatever's behind the crazy stuff that happens on this world.

I prefer the ones I have control over.

[Abigail turns back to her harpsichord and plays the celebrated chop waltz (chopsticks). This time, she uses her power to evoke feelings of amusement.]

[ Only that this time the Asgardian is prepared and maintains a strong mental block. Just in case. Loki doesn't appreciate having his anything messed with, thank you very much. ]

Your powers are bound to that instrument, girl?

[Abigail takes a moment to answer.]

My ability to affect people's feelings, to heal them, recall memories, make them sleep, those kinds of powers are all bound to the harpsichord.

[Those aren't her only powers.]

Very manipulative.

[ Because he's one to judge. ]

And bound to the location of that device.

[ Which fortunately is way to big to just be carried around. ]

That's life, most of the time. Manipulating and being manipulated.

It's supposed to be different in this world though.

[She glances down at her harpsichord for a moment and then looks back up.]

To it, and to the CDs and online music I've sold.

I prefer to avoid the latter.

[ And do the first, obviously. ]

So in theory I can acquire recordings of your play shall I ever feel the urge to drown myself in misery. That's good to know.

[ But more importantly, whom would or could he use this against? ]

So, you're good with manipulating people as long as you're the one doing it?

[Abigail shows a hint of amusement.]

They wouldn't sell if they were all misery. Different songs have different results. Most of them make people feel good or help them in some way.

Who wouldn't be?

[ He doesn't always lie. Just most of the time. ]

And I doubt you truly mind having that sort of control over others yourself.

People who've developed a certain bond with the ones doing the manipulating.

[She shrugs.]

It's been useful. I'd like it better if I could my powers on myself too.

So is this experience I hear, or simple musings?

[ Simple curiosity. ]

Experience. And what I've been told.

You formed a bond with someone manipulating you?

That's what my doctors back home said. They called it captor bonding.

I called it surviving.

I see. You were taken against your will, yet stayed willingly.

It appears to have worked, at least.

Something like that.

It worked until it didn't. That's the good thing about being an import. We get a second chance.

You died.

[ The knife to throat part, indeed. This place does appear to bring the dead back after all. ]

And how is that second chance going so far?

It's going good. I have a life here that I could never have back home.

I just wish we didn't have to put up with the weird stuff, and that people didn't have to disappear.

Sometimes it is better if people disappear again.

Certain people.

That sounds like you have someone in particular that you want to see disappear. Or that you're planning to make someone disappear.

No. Fortunately he did me the favor to disappear before I ever arrived in this realm.

[Jane's eyes are tearing up, because the performance made her think about her father, but she steels herself and shakes her head.]

It's alright. It's not your fault. Looks like this kind of stuff has been happening to everyone all day.

[The sadness in the woman's eyes make Abigail feel more guilt.]

Yeah, but most people don't have my powers.

[She looks up after a moment.]

Are you okay?

Yeah, I'll be fine. Really, don't worry. This ... whatever you want to call it with all the singing, has kind of caught everyone off guard.

It's the latest thing to mess with us. I guess whoever does it decided to switch it up from physical dangers to psychological ones.

[She winces.]

Lovely. I hope this passes quickly. More for your sake than mine, so you can keep playing without worrying about the music's effects.

Thank you. I hope so too. This power is supposed to let me help people, not hurt them.

That part of her life is supposed to over.]

And you should have the choice to do as you'd like too.

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