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Author Topic: We Are Merely Players  (Read 805 times)

Description: tag: Epona

Offline Dubhghall Moriarty

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We Are Merely Players
« on: Jun 04, 17, 04:10:57 PM »
In the Hammer and Anvil

The theater was a wonderful place, and word of mouth had certainly spread about their latest show.  Dug, as he was called off-stage, had agreed with Epona that sometimes, word of mouth was not enough.  They were not a travelling show, after all.  Everyone should know about their stage, but some did not, and it was the troupe’s job to see that people were informed.   Dug had made the fliers himself.  He was not simply an extraordinary thief thespian, he was a perceptive entrepreneur.  He had run a troupe once himself, after all, and his had been absent the advantage of a permanent facility.  So, he had managed to find a stack of rag parchment, purchased with his own coin, and with a few inks from their supplies, had designed fliers for the show.  Of course, being an artiste, every individual flier was a unique work of art.

Dubhghall went out on the road that afternoon, handing the fliers to passers-by and occasionally nailing them to trees, or the fences of the locals.  Dug moved through town with a smile, a skip, and sometimes even a song on his lips.  Somehow, his pockets gathered a small collection of items along the way.  He was not always sure how they got there, but he was certain if anyone needed them, they would ask him for it.  He had a key, a small knife, several coins stamped with the previous Queen’s face, a few pewter buttons, and few nails and—well—he seemed to have misplaced the hammer he brought with.

He frowned at the barren wooden wall before him.  It needed a flyer, so he tacked it up with the small knife he had found somewhere, and immediate felt a tug at his sleeve.  An angry red-haired boy glared up at him, and pointed at the knife.  ”Is this yours, Laddy?”  The boy nodded, ”But, I am using it at the—OW!”  The rapscallion kicked him in the shin and pointed again, ”Fine!  No need to get belligerent!”  Dug patted himself down, found a fork—of all things!  And returned the knife to the boy, who kicked at him again, before running off.  ”Well, I suppose my advertising endeavors have come to an end.”

Dug made his way back to theater and entered through what he called the ‘stage door’.  He went backstage, removed his coat, and began to empty his pockets.  He sometimes found all kinds of loose items in town, and it was important that he sort through them, in case anything needed return.  He called out, ”Epona!  I am back!  The flyers are up, so maybe we will get some of our more distant neighbors for this evening’s show!”  He smiled at that, ”Surely they are deprived by their extreme lack of, well, ME.”

Offline Epona Corcoran

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #1 on: Jun 07, 17, 08:02:01 PM »

Spring, 191 the Hammer and Anvil Inn
Playing at the Theatre in 191: the Phantom of the Opera, debuting Brandywine and the Merchant of Venice, featuring Arthfael as the Duke (and extra acrobatics).

Epona Corcoran walked through her theatre, a clipboard in hand, with a half dozen scripts of the plays they were considering for next year. Because it took time to learn lines, choreograph. And it took... money ... to create costumes and props. Dubhghall had been positively riveting, playing opposite Arthfael in the Merchant of Venice, and Epona wanted to speak with him about playing the male lead in the Taming of the Shrew.

It was possible Epona herself would have to take the stage in the title role, for Brandywhine had still not recovered from her vocal strain performing as Christine in Phantom, and Epona was adamant that the young singer/actress not risk permanent damage. There were plenty of dancing roles, and new stage scenes to paint, since the ... fire.

She shuddered; the Jeweled Blood were both blessing and curse. It was there extravagant wealth that made the theatre thrive, and yet their violent natures terrified Epona. One day, they would not content themselves with almost burning down her home.

Epona's chin lifted, exotic, not-from-around here features on full display. Soft brown hair, just the color of brown sugar, tumbled down her shoulders, as she shook off the fear and dark thoughts. She let a brief aria slowly fill, and fill and fill the theatre, until her clear, beautifully trained soprano swept to every office, each window.

The magic of the stage had never left her; dust, candle wax, and old velvet filled the vast room with the scents of home. As she allowed the final notes to drift away, a voice called to her.

Dubhghall!

She wandered back stage, torn between relief that he'd gotten the fliers up, and the wish that someone had gone with him to keep him out of trouble! But the bight smile, the sweet eyes worked their magic on Epona, so instead of scolding her lostling, she smiled back. "Thank you, Dug, for your efforts. Let us plan for a full theatre. I'm sure lots of people want to see you -"

Her gaze caught the pile of 'lost items' that followed Dug around like a cloud. Oh, yes. They'd have a crowd tonight. She winced, just briefly, and sought out one of the soft, soothing candies that eased her through difficult stints of meeting the Blood. "Why don't we just put all of these items into the lost and found, so those who need them can find them?" Yet she did not reach for the stolen items; she had worked hard to conceal the way her left hand was bruised from her people, especially the Blood Males.

They could get so irritated when she got injured, no matter how innocuous the wound. And was likely to set the whole lot of them on edge, when she needed them calm and focused. And that meant she had to be both of those things, too.

So Epona dismissed the rough morning, ignored the stolen items, and focused on what mattered.

The Play's the thing.

She took a deep breath, and flipped the script over, so he could read it. "What do you think, Dug? Are you ready for a Leading role?" Epona could only hope that her inability to keep her leading men didn't deter the ever-confident and cheerful young man. After all, unless he wears hiding a Jewel somewhere, he was spared Niall's fate.

And no one could have anticipated what happened to Jordan!

Offline Dubhghall Moriarty

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #2 on: Jun 07, 17, 09:39:38 PM »
Dubhghall was always happy to see Epona, and not just because she was a lass that was easy to look at.  She had saved his life, given him his dream, and overlooked his various—well—what could he call them?  Proclivities?  He was a thief, reflexively so, it was almost as easy as breathing.  He was not malicious about it, and he no longer planned heists.  He had given that up, but it seemed his idle hands were always busy, even when he did not realize that they were.  He considered sweeping all his various new treasures aside, but he had promised himself, just that morning—again—not to hide such things from Epona, because she might see something that could cause trouble, and it was best if that sort of thing was spotted early.  He grinned at her gratitude, and waved off her thanks.

”I think we should always plan for a full theater, Dear.”  He laughed, ”Of course they want to see me.  I am the very thing for everyone’s evening, they just do not know it yet.”  Dug noticed where Epona’s eyes drifted, and tried not to look as guilty as he felt.  Her suggestion made him smile, and he nodded.  ”Of course, Epona-Lass, I will do that very thing.  I do not think anything here is terribly valuable, but perhaps the coin of sentiment is attached, an’ that makes them more than worth returnin’ to these good people.”  Dug found the appropriate wooden box, and swept the items into the confines of it.  They would put it out that evening, and maybe—just maybe—there’d be something left after their audience reclaimed their goods.

Dug’s eyebrows shot up, ”Truly?  I have always been ready, Epona, you know that.  After all, there are no small parts, and when I play them, every role is a leading role.”  He grinned, ”I was born to play the lead, but how do you want the people to see him.  Are we to angle toward darkness or towards absurdity?”  He was serious for a moment and thoughtful as his eyes narrowed slightly.  ”Comedy might bring in more coin.  What do you think?”

Offline Epona Corcoran

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #3 on: Jun 08, 17, 01:20:40 AM »
Spring, 191 the Hammer and Anvil Inn
Playing at the Theatre in 191: the Phantom of the Opera, debuting Brandywine and the Merchant of Venice, featuring Arthfael as the Duke (and extra acrobatics).

Epona Corcoran shook her head at Dubhghall Moriarty's unshakeable confidence. That was true secret of her Theatre; the resilience of those who lived and worked here. His assertion that he was just the thing for everyone's evening was entirely true; he had as true a flair for impromptu performances as he did the stage floor. More then one long evening here had been lightened by his good cheer.

The flash of guilt that dashed across his features was endearing, and if he'd been Landen she'd have offered him a familiar, comforting hug. But Blood ... even Jeweless Blood ... could be odd about the casual touch that was so much a part of theater life. So she contented herself with looking through the knick-knack's to ascertain what was unique enough to be easily returned to its owner.

"Indeed, Dug! When you play a role, everyone adores them. Which means at the very least, I'll have fewer people complaining about you upstaging them." She flashed a grin, to take the sting out of her words, though it faded to more thoughtful. There were several takes on the play in question, from down right offensive to the Blood, to a gentle romantic comedy. She tapped the play she held in her hand.

"It'll be tricky, playing this right, Dug. We can't afford to offend the Blood with certain ... parochial views of Ladies. But there's no tension, if both character's don't grow. So I'd like to play through several scenes, and we'll use blocking, scenery and costumes to set the tone we're after. Ardent young man, above anything so ephemeral as love; lonely, intelligent but powerless lady. We'll increase the role of her mother, and ..."

It was the first step, working through the personalities, and in some ways the most fun. It was creative, and interactive. She grinned at Dug, stepped back, and gave him a sweeping bow, miming a feathered cap and long cloak. She backed to the middle of the stage, and flipped through her version of the play. She chose a scene at random, to help set the mood, tone and nuance of the rather famous Petruchio.

Hyllians; they loved their fancy names. But this was Scelt. She tried several versions of his name, and found her Sceltic lilt effortlessly transformed the alien name into Patricio, a local name meaning, of all things, nobleman.

"a scene; Patricio, and ... "

She gestured gracefully, and ... transformed.

Her posture stiffened to that of a noble woman; shoulders back, chin at precisely the correct angle to subtly challenge Dug's authority and presence. She did not walk, so much as drift around him, her cool gaze assessing him for weakness, for flaws. Her voice filled the theatre, without becoming harsh, shrill or even yelling. It wove a spell of suppressed sensuality, with that touch of despair long associated with a deep loneliness.

"Well have you heard, but ..." a flash of her eyes, a glance to the absent audience, as it to gain their agreement. "Something hard of hearing." a pause, a heart beat, for the line everyone might know. That chin lifted another finger length, glorious eyes sparked with challenge, with intent.

With authority, that any lesser man would yeild too.

"They call me Catriona, that do talk of me."

Offline Dubhghall Moriarty

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #4 on: Jun 08, 17, 05:15:00 PM »
Dubhghall had been a criminal for most of his life.  A Criminal that dreamed of acting.  Both activities might not seem related, but neither could be understaken without a certain amount of faith in one's self and the material.  Whether it was a confidence game, outright burglary, picking a pocket, or acting, it all required boundless and unshakable confidence.  Otherwise, you might never try it again after a significant failure.  In the Orphange, defering because of a failure was not really an option.  Such harsh training had bled over into his motivations and actions in his new life, which was what Epona and others saw.  Dug supposed that in some ways, it was another kind of character to play, one that hid the somewhat tarnished soul beneath it.

He smiled at her compliment, and didn't seem perturbed in the least about anyone complaining about him.  Part of acting was generosity of spirit, and he truly was not trying to steal the show from anyone.  It just happened.  He certainly did not feel like he was overstepping when he did it, he was just playing a role.  Dug nodded at her assessment.  He had heard, in his past travels, that Scelt and its people were a bit less uptight than other places, ot that he had any basis for that comparison.  However, the Blood, especially those that held authority, could be a bit tetchy about representation.  Satire was a difficult row to hoe in some places.  "I couldn't agree more, Epona.  We do not want to give anyone any reason to spread poor word of mouth, and I don't really see a profit in being too--shall we say satirical?  Since when the show is done, we still have to live here."  He smiled slightly, knowing that satire was not always welcome to the Blood.  He knew Protocol, because he had to in order to understand who he was stealing from.  "Costuming will make a different, that much is certain.  The fellow could be impressed by the Lady's intelligence, powerless or not, a woman of intellect is a commodity to the right man."

Dug loved watching Epona work.  She had been at this trade, if it could be called that, longer than he had been.  She was generally fairly easy to observe, but he never enjoyed her more than when he watched her utterly change for a role.  She would have made a fantastic criminal.   He was fairly certain that she could become anyone, given the right costume and makeup, she could change so thoroughly without either, that the rest only further solidified the character she became.  So, he followed suit.  Dug did not slouch, but he stood a bit straighter, and bit more proudly, like a man that could destroy things with but a thought.  It took him a moment to find it, but his confidence turned to a kind of swagger, as if he took up more space than he really did.  "You lie, in faith, for you are called plain Kate, and Bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst."  He did not turn as she moved around him, but rather folded his arms across his chest, and raised a single eyebrow archly, "But Kate--the prettiest Kate in the Province, Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, For dainties are all Kates, therefore, Kate."  He stressed the name, as if amused that this woman would put on airs with him, of all people.  "Take this of me, Kate, of my consolation.  I've heard of thy mildness praised in every town.  Thy virtues spoken of and the beauty sounded to the Darkness."  He sighed, "Yet, no so deeply as might be...for myself?  I am moved to woo thee for my Wife."  He smiled archly, as if he knew that particular phrase was something of a challenge.

Offline Epona Corcoran

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #5 on: Jun 09, 17, 01:02:43 AM »
Spring, 191 the Hammer and Anvil Inn
Playing at the Theatre in 191: the Phantom of the Opera, debuting Brandywine and the Merchant of Venice, featuring Arthfael as the Duke (and extra acrobatics).

Epona's nostril's flared, that perfect upper-class gesture, clearly projecting Kate's contempt that any male find her mild. Her slow orbit froze, precisely before him when Petrucio claimed to wish Kate for his wife. Hope danced across her features, was projected in the faintest catch of breath, a perfect moment of stillness; then a flash of rage, betrayal in every line of her body, followed by an amused disbelief, projected over a breathtaking pain. She did not move back, away from the Dug's arch smile, and challenging gaze, but stepped towards him, challenging.

"Moved,"

The word was distilled rage, coldly contemptuous of the man who dared speak so to her.

"Let him that moved you hither, remove you hence!" She turned her back full to him, shoulders quivering, her profile that of exquisite strength, blended with vulnerability.

"I knew you at the first," A glance, over the shoulder, taunting. mocking.

"You were moveable."

Epona lived the role; the hope and heartache, the bitterness and rage. Her life had not been easy, yet it had gifted her with a powerful array of emotions to command, released not in her daily life, but only here ... upon the stage.

Because the best tales ... they weren't meant to be read.

They were meant to be lived.

Epona loved literature; indeed, she had learned to read entirely from the duty classics gathered in the basement and offices here. All she knew of history and Protocol, Court life and other lands, had been garnered from the plays, musicals, and books of the past gathered in the basement here. To her, the Faerie stories were the most compelling, for the Fae lived all around them.

They were just called the Blood these days.

But that was not the heart of Dubhghall's gift for the stage; it wasn't his Craft, or his good looks, or even his voice. No, it was the way he lived and breathed the words, created the world around him every time he stepped onto the stage. He did not ruin other people's scenes, but invited them to join him in excellence, lifting their performance to the next level.

And not every actor could answer that call.

But for Epona, whose entire life had been the stage, who felt as much joy in shedding her own persona as he did, working with him was a gift. He caught her ever nuanced gesture, projected the arrogance and indifference of a powerful man, his voice a weapon. And so he lured her deeper still into her role, the one building off of the other, in an impromptu performance that stilled the murmurings from backstage and gathered people into doorways.

Offline Dubhghall Moriarty

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #6 on: Jun 09, 17, 02:37:46 PM »
Dug, as Patricio, maintained his expression, though with Epona it was easy.  She was a joy to watch work, but because she was so very good, it was easy for him to remain in the moment, and to see the entire situation from his character's eyes.  He could see that they were beginning to draw eyes, but he did not care.  The impromptu rehearsal was far too much fun, and it was one of his favorite pieces to read, even on his own, though he often found himself playing the parts to a mirror for his own entertainment.  Epona, as Kate, went on, as he had known that she would.  He adoption of high-class mannerism was so complete, Dug knew that she flared her nostrils without needing to expend a thoguht to do so.

At her first rejoinder, Dug continued to smirk, ignoring the anger and danger inherent in his counterpart's tone.  She turned her back to him, and he shook his head, glancing at some poor passer-by as if he were a part of the spectacle, and shaking his head, as if to say 'can you believe this?'  Dug snorted, eying the line of Epona's exquisite back, even as she taunted him from over her shoulder.  "What's moveable?"  His tone declaring that she made no sense at all, in her ire, as was true of all women, in their ire according to Patricio.

Dug loved this story.  It was one of the few plays that could go many different ways depending on how one chose to perform the nuances.  His part could just as easily be a thorough villain, as well as a comic fool.  While Epona's could come off as shrill, perhaps even a abusive, if not performed with a deft hand.  They were taking a sort of middle path, where love was not a factor in unioin, but that could later be a factor in happiness.  Dug understood the idea of arranged marriages, of the Blood members involved often not having a choice in the matter.  Yet, love could still grow out of such a union, even if it was rocky at first.  Patricio did not think any less of Caitriona because she was a woman, not at all, he found her challenge refreshing, and only wondered if he was up to the task of taming her, even as he truly enjoyed her spirit.

He was enjoying the show, and he knew that their colleagues and staff and others were too.  There were good humored puns and jokes yet to come, and Dug looked forward to all of them.

Offline Epona Corcoran

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #7 on: Jun 12, 17, 02:40:25 PM »
Spring, 191 the Hammer and Anvil Inn
Playing at the Theatre in 191: the Phantom of the Opera, debuting Brandywine and the Merchant of Venice, featuring Arthfael as the Duke (and extra acrobatics).

A joy filled Epona Corcoran, for Dug was flawless in his portrayal of male arrogance and confidence. The actress transformed that emotional energy into a simmering anger and sensual challenge, as Kate baited a dangerous man knowing how unwise that was. She whirled eyes flashing, leaping upon the opening Patricio gave to Kate. ”A join’d-stool.”

Dug, as Patricio, smiled slyly.  His eyebrows rising, and his voice lowering slightly, as if he knew what he might suggest was improper, but he was going to say it anyway.  ”I think you have it then.  Come and sit on me.”

Epona’s Kate took a single step towards this male who dared to court her, as if for a moment she might concede. Daring him not to back away in fear. Her eyes flashed, though a reluctant laugh laced through her reply. ”Asses are made to bear, and so are you.”

He chuckled, and shook his head, Women are made to bear, as are you.”

A faint tinge of color appeared upon Epona's’s cheeks, for Kate would be shocked that he so boldly took up her challenge. Gentlemen did not refer to such things, being squeamish and weak. Her chin lifted, though something in her carriage suggested she was mildly intrigued by Petrucio’s daring. Another measured step forward. ”No such jade as you, if me you mean.”

”Oh, good Kate, I’ll not burden you overmuch.”  He knew that he had struck a note with his lovely adversary, and if she was game, he was more than prepared for wit and witticisms.  That was the reason Dug adored this play.  ”I know that you are but young and light--”  And he knew that Epona would be right on Kate’s interruption and reply.

Indeed, Epona loved the rhythm and rhyme, the patterned dance that was both sharply codified and endlessly new. Kate’s pulse skipped a beat, as she provoked him further. She moved gracefully past him, brushing her hand along Petrucio’s powerful arm, for all the audience to see, though she did not pause, as she slipped past him. Her head shook, in mild dismay, as if he were a scrawny thing, ”Too light …” with a glance at him. "For such a swain as you to catch, and yet as heavy as my weight should be.”

Petrucio laughed at the mildness of the effort, at least to his ears, or smiling as if the insult was meaningless, ”Should be?”  He chuckled, ”Should--should buzz!”  He grinned, and then paused there, straightening up and shedding the character, ”Should I stop you or let you by?  I rather prefer letting you, than wrestling with you--it speaks to Petrucio’s confidence in his place.”

Epona's laughter, just then, the way she jumped in place, eyes brilliant, were all the genuine article. "I have a thought! What do you think of stepping into my space, checking me not with a touch, but presence? It'll have to be done properly, with perhaps a sharp focus of stage lights, just then, making Petrucio appear a touch sinister, that darker nature of the Blood. I'll but pause for a moment, as if struck, then glide past, with a glance behind, that will be colored by the precise tone of ...."

Arthfael, older than the pair rehearsing, nonetheless gained the stage from the chorus box by the simple expedient of pulling himself up in one powerful move. He looked at the two, and shook his head, a frown apparent. "Epona ... he's too good, and that's too subtle for most of our actresses.  Where are you going to find a Kate like that? Unless you care to tread the boards yourself ..."
 
His sharp laugh rang out, "And have to greet our guests at all of those shindigs you hate so?"

Epona's delight faded to more thoughtful; she tapped her script into her hand, wincing as she forgot her sore wrist and fingers. Carefully, she tucked her script back onto her clipboard, rather tricky with her hand aching so. A glance up through her lashes, to gauge if anyone had noted. Then a more considering look at Dug, as if he somehow baffled her. "We block it out for most effective display, and when you're not rehearsing with me, you can read opposite the ladies here and see if any have the fire, hope and despair I'd like to see in Kate. No one that angry is so for no reason."

Arthfael caught Dug's gaze, amusement dancing in his gaze, though he declined to correct his liege lady.

After all, Lady Epona Corcoran was not Blood; she could never understand them.

Written by sol; please award him points for this post.[/color

Offline Dubhghall Moriarty

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #8 on: Jun 13, 17, 10:44:30 AM »
They were both in their element now, trying to piece this out in their heads.  They would need to know all the marks, all the places where people would be.  There was a difference between putting on a performance and putting on a show.  They had just done a performance, and while--in Dug's humble opinion--it was thoroughly enjoyable to the audience, even free of set dressing and costumes, a show was something that could make lasting impact.  Dug could performe nude in the village square given the need or opprtunity, he would hope that the quality of his performance would be all the audience needed, but even he preferred some structure to none at all.

When one had to perform several times in a week, th costume was often half the battle.  Dug preferred comedy, but he could do drama, and he recalled donning the costume of the villain, the soldier that resented the success of his master--a success that could not have been without him.  Putting on that costume made him feel like that soldier, almost instantly, such were the tricks that actors played pon themselves.  The stage and its dressing were others, anything to be in the moment, anything to turn the stage into reality, rather than the limiated platform that it truly was.  So, planning was required for the show, and such discussions were its bread and butter.

Dug considered Epona's direction, and nodded.  "I can do that."  He smiled at Arthfael's compliment, and then frowned slightly.  "He does have a point.  I could trod the boards with you for hours, and never tire, but not everyone is you."  He tilted his head, listening to Epona describe what she would be after, and even how should would handle Kate's inner conflict.  "I will gladly read with any lady you put in with me, Epona, but I have to ask what everyone is wondering--surely someone else can be the host, while you are being Kate?"  He shared a knowing look with Arthfael, as he did have an understanding of the underlying fierceness of those fortunate enough to bear Jewels--but for a play, that was too easy a motivation.

"How long do we have before we must be ready?"  Dug thought to ask.

Offline Epona Corcoran

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #9 on: Jun 26, 17, 10:19:28 PM »
Spring, 191 the Hammer and Anvil Inn
Playing at the Theatre in 191: the Phantom of the Opera, debuting Brandywine and the Merchant of Venice, featuring Arthfael as the Duke (and extra acrobatics).

Epona Corcoran loved the art of theatre; the actual craft and discipline that brought entire worlds to life. Art, for art’s sake. So when she glanced around the auditorium, she did not see a stage, and lights and seats. An old carriageway drifted across the stage; a stately manor home, framed behind two old elms. An echo of high class laugher, the scent of roses and jasmine. Flowing gowns for the ladies, plumed hats that would vibrate or go still with each gesture and emotion. She pivoted a few times, practicing the arrested turn and intrigued /fearful glance over her shoulder. Several hand gestures were experimented with, as she considered just art sort of sleeves would give maximum effect to the half turn and arriested movment she had Dug had agreed upon. She was weighing the advances of bustles versus corsets, when the full impact of Arthfael and Dug’s words hit her.

The Landen Lady went still, head tilted to the side, trying to calculate just how many social events she might be able to miss, if she claimed double duty by taking the role, versus the incredible time-demands attempting to direct and star in a production took. She paced a few moments, going over her most-trusted and most steady people in her mind. Brandywine had a number of skills and enjoyed social engagements; she might well pull some of the responsibility off of Epona’s shoulders. The cook’s daughter, too, had a good head for verse; she could be a dialogue coach for the parts that required it, sparing Epona that time commitment.

A grin peeked out at Dug’s final, oh-so-practical question. “I like to swap major productions at Winsol and midsummer, giving us several months yet. But don’t forget the two small-scale festivals we do on the Equinoxes. Those are short runs, but very intense.” A major draw every season, that was the goal. She chewed her lip, suddenly anxious. Did she have the resources to fund an additional event? Another sweeping glance, and her tension eased. Her brilliant, otherworldly smile drew in her entire cast and crew. She treasured the Blood for their power, their gift with special effects, costumes, scenery. And her Landen for their clam temperaments and willingness to handle those more tedious tasks of Theatre life. But mostly, she treasured the one and all becuase they were Theatre.

“I give all of you a month, to find me a Kate … or get me out of the after-parties and private showings!”

Laughter, warm and amused, poured from her people. They well knew how stressful Epona found the public appearances, speeches and private showings for the Jeweled Blood who made her theatre possible at all. Their good will relaxed her; she kept a careful eye for anyone who looked either eager to attempt the role, or angry that Epona herself was considering it. There were many, many reasons for having Dug read with everyone. As important as it was to simply give him exposure to the many unique ways to interpret Kate, there were other, more subtle reasons. Equally important to Epona, was that feeling of camaraderie; the faith that everyone who desired it would be given a chance at the lead, sooner or later.

Her gaze returned to Dug, and she walked all the way around him. “What are you thinking, for costuming?”

Offline Dubhghall Moriarty

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Re: We Are Merely Players
« Reply #10 on: Jul 26, 17, 04:46:22 PM »
Dug had never regretted joining Epona's company.  Once he embraced the life of a player, he had embraced it wholeheartedly, and there was something to be said for not having to be the one to make decisions or set their goals.  He had a achieved the sort of notoriety before his exile that left many of his criminal schemes fully his responsibility, especially when he ran his own traveling company.  Dug preferred things this way.  It allowed him to focus on the performance, and not meeting some shadowy agenda, the failure of which might leave him bleeding in the gutter.  Yes, he far preferred being employed and living his dream, than bleeding, that much was certain.

They could not live on art alone.  If they could, they would either be fabulously wealthy, or able to feed themselves on the adoration of the masses.  Dug understood necessary business decisions, and if he were honest, Epona's reminder about the festivals gave him a bit More time to prepare.  It gave them all more time.  He smiled, "Oh, the festivals.  I could never forget them, it is sort of a whirlwind of performances, and every night can be a surprise."  He could almost read Epona's thoughts, not that he did or that he would, but there was always a list of concerns when starting a new production, money among them.  However, Dug did not think any of them were there to get rich.  They just wanted to keep putting on shows.

"Find a Kate?"  Dug repeated the request dramatically, feigning shock with instant and sincere expertise.  "And here I thought that I had.  Oh, to be abandoned so soon after  the spark is found..."  And then he grinned at Epona, "We will begin our search immediately, or at least I will, though I confess, I would prefer to get you away from parties and private showings."  He laughed with the rest of the troupe.  Dug was not going to jeopardize a production because of his preference, but he truly did think that Epona should trod the boards more often, external stresses aside.  She was born to it, and was wasting herself on the banalities of society.

Dug smiled again, "Well, I know that some like to be gaudy with the role, but I would rather not.  I do not want the sight of the fellow to be a joke, I think that would weaken the punch of his words."  He considered how best to frame his thoughts on the matter, "I was thinking of something akin to 'enhanced reality', noble if simple garb, complete with blade, of course, with perhaps a splash of color to hint at the man's wit."


 

 

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