I Want to Cage Your Canary

[Visla Eraclaire]

Closed to Duffy & Ruby

. . .rising one morning with the rosy dawn, he went before the
sun, and spake thus unto it:

Thou great star! What would be thy happiness if thou hadst not those for
whom thou shinest!

For ten years hast thou climbed hither unto my cave: thou wouldst have
wearied of thy light and of the journey, had it not been for me, mine
eagle, and my serpent.

But we awaited thee every morning, took from thee thine overflow
and blessed thee for it.

Lo! I am weary of my wisdom, like the bee that hath gathered too much
honey; I need hands outstretched to take it.

Visla snapped the book closed and tossed it over to the nightstand. She had hoped that the odd assortment of literature in Uiria's library might pique her interest and carry her through the dreary winter day that was unfolding outside her window. Aelva sat across from her practicing her spells. Visla was more than a little resentful that her companion had regained the arcane gifts while she remained powerless. She always reminded herself, that it was better to have one mage than none. But the iniquity only heaped further on an imbalanced relationship. Visla could not help but feel like a burden to the beautiful, skillful, and powerful woman that followed her. At least she followed, she thought.

"Bored with it already? The title certainly seemed interesting," Aelva asked, dismissing a small green flame from her hands and looking across the room at Visla.

"I would make a joke about books and their covers, but that would just put icing on the cliche cake," Visla sighed and turned onto her side in bed.

"It doesn't help that you've barely moved from that bed in a week. I thought the trip to the library might finally break your complacency," Aelva replied. She stood from the chair in the corner and went to look out the window. Grey clouds hung lazily over a largely leafless forest of brown trees, only the occasional evergreen broke the monotony. "I really wish our window faced town. I want to people watch."

"Go ahead. I'll just take a nap," Visla replied with a resigned tone, pulling the covers up over her shoulders.

Aelva sat down on the bed they had shared for the better part of a month and pulled the sheets back, exposing Visla and her cotton nightgown to the chilly air. "I'm not spending another day here doing nothing, Vis," Aelva insisted, revealing her claws for playful emphasis.

"You aren't doing nothing. You're working on your spells! I'm the one who's uselessly laying about in a room we're borrowing from near strangers. You'll get your variety once they kick us out," Visla huffed, crossing her arms from frustration and to hold in what little warmth her slight body produced.

"Is that what this is all about? Do you really want to be the person you were then again? I know I wouldn't want to go back to the way I was before I met you, powerful as I was," Aelva stretched herself out next to Visla and tried to pull her arms apart.

"Fine, fine. We'll do something," she relented, letting Aelva hold her by the arm. "But it's up to you to figure it out."

Aelva smiled knowingly. "Good, I have just the thing. Go see if Elenore has a dress for you to borrow. We're going to see a play."

"There's a play in town? I hadn't heard."

"You wouldn't hear because you spend all day in this room, but no there isn't. It's in Scara Brae tomorrow," Aelva said, returning to her seat and beginning to practice a series of hand gestures that would become critical by day's end.

"Scara Brae? I don't know what manner of technology these Uirians have, but I have no interest in being teleported anywhere. If you still have memories from your time in the crystal, you'll remember why," Visla objected, pulling the covers back up.

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything. Just go borrow a dress," Aelva said confidently.

Visla sighed and slunk out of bed and down the hallway to look for Elenore.

[Ruby]

Ruby concerned herself with the comings and goings of the troupe, standing guard to their mutual interests with a sheet of paper and a long length of cane. She pointed here and there and muttered commands to the younger troupe members, directing her sheep to the slaughterhouse of Scara Brae’s streets.

“No. No, Pete, put that over there, the magnolias go in that vase, and you, no-” she sighed, “Lilith! Put the banner out of the thirdwindow, do you hear me?” She got a mouthful of half uttered promises and everybody’s frantic movement scuttled to another part of the room. Something told here in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t holding as much authority as she had become accustomed to. People were moving on their own merits, like ants all working in haphazard union.

Resting her hands on her hips for a moment Ruby recited some of the lines she was about to perform, levelling out her growing stress by pretending she was considerably better dressed, better off, and being swept off her feet by a medieval prince. A girl could dream, couldn’t she? “Pete!” She tapped the watch hanging from a chain about her waist, suddenly reminiscent of her duties. Nobody replied. “Pete!” Still no answer. She drew in a breath.

”PETE!”

It didn’t take long for the wiry haired blonde trouble maker to zip to her side, a bundle of ribbons and string in his arms and a look of sudden bewilderment hiding his bogies. “Ah, there you are, it’s time to wave the flag out of the wotsit…” He chimed ‘the window?’ “Yes, yes, the window - leave that over by Laverne, she’ll see to it.” He didn’t move, stricken with stupidity. “Now, preferably? I mean, stay if you like, watch us all starve?” He nodded, took a few moments for it to dawn on him then zipped away with cluttered feet to the tavern’s alley facing window.

“Prithee, forgive my selfishness, Father, and spare my sweet Marcus…” Which is precisely what he’d have to do, if Duffy messed everything up again. As much as their mutual adoration for one another had it’s certain plutonic merits, he had the most annoying habit of being far too bombastic with the part. Not arrogance persay, she mused, walking over to the window to peer over the inn’s borders at the gathering crowd beyond, more, creative license.

As if my magic a scorch of distant sound heralded Duffy’s arrival through the Old Harbour Inn’s open balcony window. Ruby dropped her paper in shock, tensing her shoulders and scrunching up her face with nervous flinching. She didn’t need to ask who it was, she’d been around him long enough to know calamity personified when it came calling. She laughed. She laughed some more, and it quickly became uncomfortable giggles. “Oh, -” she guffawed, “oh Duffy!”

The thief struggled to get up from a bundle of accessories and attire, suddenly redder than a summer plum and more taken aback than a virginal sacrifice in a medieval play. Such laughter drew attention from the crowd and the cacophonic gossiping from the sun kissed congregation outside fell flat on it’s face. “Oh,” Ruby whispered, gesturing Duffy over to the window to peer out over the ledge. “I think it’s about time, whatever trick you pulled off that blasted room has, err, gotten us our debut catch.”

She pulled on the rope and tossed it to her companion, flicking over the visualised pages in her mind once more. With a cough and a stomp of her stiletto heels she drew in her chest and strapped the corset she always wore, crimson and stunning, that little bit tighter. Duffy asked for her hand and they made to leap out of the inn’s window.

“Prithee, call me 'princess' no more! Marcus, wilt thou truly cherish me, the king's only daughter? Or is such a desire too dear to wish for!? After our nuptials, shall I become no more than a puppet? A mindless puppet, never to laugh, never to cry? I wish to live my life under the sky. At times I shall laugh, at other times cry. For no life is more insincere than that lived as a masquerade.” Duffy smiled at her remembrance, and donned the rest of his costume. With a great swing, out they went into the bright lights and theatrical espionage.

[Duffy]

Set between posts two and three of Lucian's Call. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19487)

The square that was at the heart of Bakery, Lombard, Loveless and Holmsgrove Streets was a simple yet understated place on the edges of the docklands. A fountain was all that occupied it most of the time, with the exception of once weekly markets where stalls of all varieties would congregate here from the poorer trade districts to share their wares, their gossip, and often their wives. Leaving the Square via Loveless Avenue, the way was book ended on the left by the Harbour Land Inn, and on the right, the much, much taller building, consisting mainly of rooms, apartments and various hovels of a poor quality, but much used and loved rooms nether the less. From here, Duffy could see into the top floor attic window of the Inn, and the faint trace of shadows running back and forth inside.

Every year they adapted I Want To Be Your Canary to suit the modern day themes and fit in recent events or changes to monarchy and the like. This year, a comet was being portended by the madmen on the streets. There was more than likely absolutely no truth in it whatsoever, but a good troupe, especially the Tantalum, knew how to milk controversy. The front of the apartment building Duffy was glancing down from held a great clockwork clock front, a hundred concentric gears turned and ticked and ticked and chimed away the days and night in plain view of all, he could feel the movements of it’s great pendulum reverberating through the roof beneath him…he used it to time himself. All he needed now was the sign, and then the performance would begin.

The drab architecture of the north avenues combined with the colourful artisan districts of the south, often giving rise to conflicts between the reserved people of Bakery and Lombard, and the somewhat Hispanic and gypsy families of Loveless and Holsmgrove. There could not be a more diverse and culturally vibrant part of Scara Brae, even if it ended with a dagger in the back or a 'your father's a braggart' every now and then. It was the sort of place in a story that the narrator would be nervous, and with good reason.

“Oh where are though, Cornelia, my Canary Grande - my sweet riposte!” he recited a random line plucked from his skull to break the monotony, he was most impatient, bubbling and desperate to be doing anything other than standing. A gentle breeze whipped up dust and birds scattered from the sporadic trees on the edges of the square in a silent flock, their beating wings drowned out by the torrent of footfalls, conversations and haggling from below.

A little face appears in the fourth floor window, waving a small blue flag with a faint white symbol. Duffy beamed a broad smile of over-enthusiastic connotations and stoop upright, tensing his legs, stretching out his arms and bouncing once or twice for good measure. “Well!” Talking to himself might not be the surest sign of sanity, but he did so to re-assure his movements and he ran towards the ledge with all his gusto. As he brought his right foot up onto the ledge he plucked a memory that caused him to push with the right force and pose to pounce upwards and outwards. He landed with both feet on the end of the flag pole and, somewhat comically found himself flung up even higher and forwards and ultimately down…

The plan was to use the Tinder Gear prop to cause a trail of lingering flame in the air that went downwards, a bit like a comet’s tail. As soon as he brought his arms up and began a semi-bothered spin he felt…awkward. He was going down far too fast, weighed with the heavy flint gloves and fuel pipes. Still, he ejected the liquid in a light spray as he went and just as he crash landed onto the balcony of the fourth floor of the Harbour Inn, he let off an almighty clap - a single spark caught the vapour trail and flame licked up into the sky. Had Duffy been upright at that point, and not in the middle of a very awkward and flailing tumble into the room, across the floor and headlong into a pile of rather fetching pink dresses, he would’ve certainly heard people in the street scream with shock.

Getting straight to work the other performers of the troupe flung bags of flour off the balcony and out of the windows, some threw, very carefully trying to not hit anyone as they did so bits of wood and cloth out as well, to give the impression that something had fallen and crashed into the inn itself! There was a lot of coughing and mock screaming and crashing from inside as the younger performers slammed chairs down onto the floorboards and the youngest, Zack and Joe jumped up and down and ran to and fro to create a fake commotion.

Duffy came to his senses a minute or so later, removing a scarf and an umbrella from his belts and dusting himself off with a blush. “That dint go so well,” he chuckled, but could see everyone was too busy, except for Ruby, who was trying very very hard not to laugh - very unlady like! The silence outside drew them both very cautiously to window to peer out at what was going on. People from all over the square had dropped whatever it was they were doing, fish, apple, book, child (and apparently literally, from the faint crying at the back of the crowd) and slowly approached the dusty inn. The paranoia and curiosity was almost tangible in the air, the young scamp didn’t even need to look at Ruby, or anyone else that matter to see they all thought the same. This was it!

Twirling around on one foot he pointed at one group to his left and one to his right and waved them to the window. With some sort of wooden contraption they let fly two very long and wide blue tapestries out of the windows, each equidistant of the large entrance doors of the inn three floors down. Two on the roof tossed bucket after bucket of paper and cloth clippings, which came down like a rainbow’s glow, and the doors of the inn burst open and out came Pete and his young friends, skipping, jumping, whistling and speeding. They pulled the tables of the inn together by the steps, and a great cloth hanging drops down over the front of the inn, hung from the loading cranes and rafters. In a split second, the inn was now a castle front adorned with the banner of the Tantalum, fronted by a ramshackle makeshift stage and adorned with suddenly appearing fake bushes, trees and paper props. Some of them twitched, the children inside unable to contain themselves.

The crowd gawked, stunned to silence.

Duffy turned to Ruby and smiled with his cheeky little smile, “So, my Lady Cornelia, shall we?” He held out his hand and tutted as she winked at Jack over her shoulder. She yanked him together they went out the window on a rope swing.

Nobody seemed to recognise them as they landed with their backs to the crowd, but as she put on a crown of a dubious nature, and he drew a dagger and held it aloft they began whispering. Then two trumpets appeared in the windows of the ‘castle,’ and began to play the Scara Brae waltz. Duffy turned and dropped on one knee. He muttered the immortal line to begin the tale of Marcus and Cornelia once more….

“I want to be your canary!”

The wave of cheers and applause drowned out the docklands, and news spread fast that the Tantalum where once more afoot!

[Visla Eraclaire]

Certain abilities from a mid-level status update that will hopefully be approved by the conclusion of this battle are employed, including the wings

After a rummage through a dusty closet and a few temporary alterations, Visla found herself draped in a black silken dress belonging to her host. The figures were similar enough that it didn't look particularly foolish. Visla wearing a formal gown at all was enough of an oddity without hanging seams and unflattering hemlines. By the time she returned to the room to present herself to Aelva, it was already late in the day.

"So, what travel arrangements have you made then," she asked as the pushed open the door.

The answer was right before her eyes. The room was cloaked in a veil of shadows, the waning sunlight from outside the window choked out by the eldritch darkness. A candle on the nightstand shone faint light on Aelva, silhouetted by a mighty pair of black wings. They were formless and insubstantial, shifting at the periphery and writhing within with ebony tendrils.

"When did you learn that?" Visla asked, trying not to sound impressed.

"While you were reading," Aelva answered with a smile. "We'll have to wait for nightfall, they don't seem to like the light."

With that, she dismissed them back into the shadows from whence they came. The shadows themselves vanished as the veil around the room fell and the waning red light of late afternoon streamed in through the window. Visla allowed the hint of a grin to form on her lips as she flopped back into bed, dress and all, to wait. She picked back up the book and flipped a few pages ahead, in hopes that it would improve.

Lo! I show you the Last Man.

"What is love? What is creation? What is longing? What is a star?" -- so asks the Last Man, and blinks.

The earth has become small, and on it hops the Last Man, who makes everything small. His species is ineradicable as the flea; the Last Man lives longest.

"We have discovered happiness" -- say the Last Men, and they blink.

They have left the regions where it is hard to live; for they need warmth.

And so she read on from there until the light outside the window faded and left her unable to continue. Aelva's hand fell upon her shoulder and the two walked out into the yard together. A pair of grave markers stood to their right and Visla gave a passing glance to them, wondering if the luxury of a room to give to a pair of vagrant women had come at the cost of those two. She dismissed the idea as she watched Aelva intone the Infernal words of the ritual and gesticulate with precision the complex somatic components. From the darkness all around them, the wings appeared and bore the pair aloft, Visla clutched close in Aelva's arms.

Over the forested land, to the cliffs, to the sea they flew. Over crashing waves bathed in moonlight they soared eastward. The sea air rushed through their hair and Visla clutched the borrowed dress close to her with one hand and her cane with the other as the wind whipped around her. With surprising speed, Visla could see the flickering lights of Scara Brae on the horizon. Before she had time even to appreciate the wonder, they had landed outside of their destination. The wings melted away and Aelva released Visla to walk ahead while she regained her composure. The young woman was more frustrated with her slow, clumsy gait than usual after the whirlwind trip. The tapped her cane hard against the cobblestones until Aelva caught up and took her arm.

The two proceeded to an inn which bore a poster for the play – "I Want to be Your Canary." Visla had read of it though she had never viewed the script or seen a performance. It was, to her knowledge, a rather trite romantic piece and she scowled over at Aelva as they approached the inn's entrance.

"You knew what play it was?" she asked with a note of ire.

"I knew the name. I'd never heard of it. Is there something wrong?" Aelva replied innocently.

"I suppose we'll see if there's something wrong tomorrow. For now, I just want to sleep. I'm weary of my wisdom," Visla recited and leaned heavily on Aelva as they proceeded to book a room.

The next day, Aelva allowed Visla to sleep until almost noon. The lethargy was worrisome for a woman as inactive as her companion, but she figured she had earned it. There was little to do in Scara Brae but mock young adventurers anyway, though on reflection she imagined that was a pastime Visla would heartily cherish. When the powerless warlock finally awoke, Aelva was standing over her, already clothed and ready, holding Visla's dress.

"How much did you spend on that?" Visla yawned and gestured at the tight corset and loose shawl draped over Aelva's human form.

"Nothing," Aelva said, rolling her eyes and replacing the clothing at a whim with a full length purple ball gown. "It's all fake. I hope you'll be more attentive at the play."

"Right, right," Visla grumbled and snatched the dress from the woman's hand. Aelva shifted her attire back to the more avant-garde appearance as her summoner dressed herself. She adjusted a few pins on Visla's dress and ran her fingers through her hair before nodding and helping her toward the door.

"Did you at least get us good seats?" the warlock asked as they walked down the stairs to the venue for the play.

"It's general admission," Aelva replied.

"If we're sitting with the rabble, why did I have to borrow a dress?"

"You look nice," Aelva said and then hushed her as they made their way to a pair of empty seats on the edge of an aisle. By the time they reached them, the first line had already been delivered.

"I want to be your canary!"

The people around them cheered and Aelva clapped her hands politely in her lap. Visla scowled and looked over at her, settling in for a long evening.

[Duffy]

The opening lines of the play garnered a rapturous applause from the congregated rabble. It was a familiar play and a very familiar line to many of them, one which had been spoken a thousand times from the troupe all across Scara Brae. Older than some of the city itself, the sumptuous tale of love and sacrifice began as it always did, before the king’s castle on the drawbridge. Even as the lines slipped like liquid fire from the cast’s lips, the true action, and thus, the true purpose of the performance went on behind the onlooker’s backs. Darting in and out of their feet and casually bumping into people with apologies Pete, Graham, Timor and three girls Duffy didn’t yet recognise made their own efforts. They didn’t have any lines, but their performance was more admirable than theirs.

He turned and spiralled and brought the simple longsword up to catch the evening sun, it glimmered and the audience wooed, you couldn’t make this shit up. Somebody had, along time ago, it was just up Duffy’s street that nobody had bettered it. They’d be out of work considerably quickly if another writer came up with a similar story - he’d been rather glad he’d found the last public copy, and glad further still that he’d ‘accidentally’ lost it after memorising it. They kept their own copies under lock and key in the Prima Vista, naturally.

The little things you did to keep your family happy, he chuckled. The audience grew silent once more, waiting for the sword to drop and for the coy Cornelia to stand from her crouching shock; for act one to begin. Ruby pushed up and slowly stepped forwards to peer at her soon to be forbidden love. She resembled a blind as a bat hatter, but pulled off the look well.

CORNELIA: Marcus?

Duffy turned his head, ‘The brave prince turned to meet her gaze!’ “What the?” He muttered, looking about with a confused expression for just long enough for Ruby to catch him. She frowned, but carried on regardless.

CORNELIA: Sweet Marcus, I fear I love thee more than I should!

MARCUS: Princess... Wilt thou be happy, married to a lowly peasant
such as I?

CORNELIA: Prithee, call me 'princess' no more! Marcus, wilt thou truly
cherish me, the king's only daughter? Or is such a desire too dear to wish for!? After our nuptials, shall I become no more than a puppet? A mindless puppet, never to laugh, never to cry? I wish to live my life under the sky. At times I shall laugh, at other times cry. For no life is more insincere than that lived as a masquerade.

MARCUS: So much consideration thou hast given it! But worry not! [They
embrace] Cast away thy trappings of royalty, and I shall swaddle thou in a gown of pure love! Never again will I part from thee! Pray, my love, make me thy canary to keep forever in the cage of thy bosom! Let us embark on the first ship tomorrow, before dawn can tell of our elopement!

CORNELIA: All my fortunes at thy foot, I lay, and I shall follow thee throughout the world!

MARCUS: No cloud, no squall shall hinder us!

[Marcus turned around and walked off stage.]

[Ruby]

Recombinant and awkward as Miss Ruby was at times, she showed no sign of slipping up or forgetting her lines now. If one were to inspect her eyes, they would find inner fire that could scorch the skin of the unwary onlooker, so bright was her passion for the role she succumbed to. A life lead in the twilight of nobility had it’s pleasures and rewards, one of which was the ability to fully embrace the princess’s role, her mindset, her divinity. She made comment often enough about how she was born to play Cornelia, born to relive the same tragic tale of loss and life loved unfeelingly.

They went through the motions of the rather soppy opening act and all went smoothly, with one distinct exception. Ruby was almost certain she heard a voice, from above, like a whispering rambling old man making commentary on their every move. As she spiralled and rallied off a line full of ‘Prithee’ and ‘what if’ up went her gaze, finding nothing but empty windows and rattling old planks. Nobody…

Marcus strolled from the stage, and Ruby mimicked his departure, leaving to the right of the sea of tables, as was the custom. She slipped behind the large red curtain to the small changing areas which sat to either side of the makeshift castle and was set upon my a rather flustered Lilith, and a very hunched and moaning Clement. Both women seemed to have more pins, bobbles and strands of ribbon about their person than the crowd put together, and they were a very extravagant crowd today. “Excuse me ladies, but, what in the blazes are you dressed like that for?”

Lilith replied first, muttering something about small children and messy hair, and then Clement coughed and continued the point that was fustily trying to be made. “What Lilith means, Ruby…is the children we directed for Act 2, you know, the battle, have decided to join Pete and the others in their little thievery escapades out in the crowd. Now, that leaves three people, very silent people at that, to pretend to be an army of, what was it?” Lilith continued the sentence, as if they were twins of sorts, “forty guards, ‘armed to the teeth.’ Something I hope in your esteemed grandeur, Ruby La Roux, you realise is not what you might call a practical problem to solve!”

Ruby thought carefully, the cold calculation of a born diva revolving around in glitzy show room doors. “So what’s with the chintz?”

“We’re dressing up the costume props as makeshift men and running them on the same runners and rope pulleys that we use for the seagulls and the magic effects, since Paulo our redundant sorcerer has decided to take the day off due to some foreign Salvarian flu -” Clement chipped in, politely darting Lilith a smile, “we believe it to be the hangover variety, although he won’t open the door to anyone to prove us otherwise.”

“Sounds like you have it under control,” Ruby continued her hasty costume change, from simple gown to long white dress. The next scene was in the castle throne room. She could hear the pullers at work and the second great screen came pummelling down over the castle. Red banners and candlesticks found themselves on the stage placed by hurried hands and runners who disappeared as quickly as they arrived. She paused for thought as several moving and giggling bushes ran past her. “Is there anyone still in the inn?”

“Inside?” Lilith looked up curiously at the sign, “No maam, I don’t think so. I’d wager everyone’s out front gawping their faces off.”

“Yes…I thought as much…” So who was that mystery voice? She shrugged, tucked her waist sash tightly into the folds of her gown and turned to face the steps.

At that precise moment of ascension Duffy, now clad in metallic fauz armour and a feathered hat stepped up onto the steps on the far side. He wore a mask of golden hue, shaped into the visage of a minotaur. She ceased to be Princess Cornelia, and he Marcus, and they strode out onto the throne room floor to continue their silent courting.

Several others followed them, standing in as courtiers and one regal looking man donning a crown sat on a simple wooden chair painted gold at the centre. He boomed his voice as loud as he could, “Ladies and gentlemen of the court, please stand for the arrival of her majesty, Queen Brahne!”

The trumpets flared, Duffy smiled at Ruby with a secret knowing, and Cornelia bowed as a lanky Clement wobbled onto stage in a dress stuffed with potato sacks and spare material. Her face was painted blue, her wig more extravagant than anything they’d ever tried as a prop before. Her demeanour was foul and…well, exactly as the queen of old Scara Brae was.

Truimph! Everyone thought ironically at once.

About the same time, using the fanfare as a veil of noise and cover the young and scampy blonde kid named Pete reached out a grubby little mitt. He eyed up a woman with a cane wearing a dress that screamed ‘She’s rich!’

Snatch!


Pete is grabbing something shiny from Visla, what and if he’s successful or not is of course up to you. The Narrator’s voice, in the odd text that accompanies Duffy from time to time is a personification of his awakening spell singing abilities, hopefully to add a little humour once I get my groove on.

[Visla Eraclaire]

As Visla listened to the trite old lines recited on stage, she let her eyes wander through the crowd. She yawned from moment to moment, not genuinely tired, but doing her best to put on an act more convincing that the performers in front of her. It would be impossible to confess any interest in a story of forbidden love, inequity of station. The analogy was strikingly obvious and even recognizing it would give it more credence than it deserved. Still, it would do an even greater injustice to her companion's intelligence to think she didn't see it. The only question that remained was whether it was planned.

She said she'd never heard of the play, but Visla knew she was not above deceit, especially the sort of coy lies that shielded good intentions. She had just been complaining about imbalance that very morning. Was this supposed to be Aelva's answer to that? No, surely she was overthinking things. It was just a play, a silly play, after all. No people loved as the characters did, with such devotion, in such tragic circumstances.

As Marcus left the stage, Aelva turned and smiled at Visla, placing her hand on Visla's. Not a word had been spoken between them since the play began, but this was a true silence. The torrent of thoughts and worries within Visla's mind were quieted, and the two turned and watched the ensuing scenes. Visla even grinned as the oafish presentation of the former queen came onstage.

She brought her hand to her chest in a sort of reflexive gesture, a feigned restraint, but when she did, she felt something amiss. A weight was missing, and not a metaphorical burden at all, but a very real and very valuable one. The signet ring she wore around her neck was gone, entirely. How she failed to feel it snap, or the clasp being loosened, it was beyond her. Could she simply have forgotten it? No, she remembered hearing it clink as she soared over the sea to Scara Brae. Her eyes darted among the crowd and she clutched Aelva's arm tightly, alerting her to do the same.

Aelva spotted a boy only one row down with his hands in the pocket of one of the wealthier looking patrons. Without a word, she revealed her claws and snatched at the scamp's loose linen outfit, just the sort of baggy dress that could conceal a dozen nasty tricks. She missed his flesh but tore his shirt and alerted him to scamper down the middle aisle making a break for the backstage. A few of the audience members turned and murmured at the interuption.

"Very subtle," Visla muttered to her companion. "Time to play along."

She rose from her seat and grabbed her cane in hand, swinging it about with overblown drama as she shouted, "Forsooth! I, a noble in the Queen's Court, have been robbed by that rapscallion! Surely he is one of the rabble that accompanies the scoundrel Marcus! I and my demonic servant will make him pay with his life!"

"Cute," Aelva whispered. "I think you missed your true calling."

"Shut up, it's your fault. Go after him," Visla ordered and started hobbling after the child.

Aelva dropped her illusion and revealed her demonic form, darting swiftly toward the backstage on a cloud of darkness. It was all far more impressive than anything the play itself had to offer, but the crowd seemed more appreciative than suspicious, greeting the addition with excited gasps and thunderous applause.

[Duffy]

The Day Before


Lysander‘s Theme ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zK2NabPiiII )

The music drifted up through the claptrap floor, it’s resistance to noise long dissipated it acting merely as a hollow shield to the lively cacophony. The sun was shining once more, as it tended to do early in the morning over the busy market trading and morning hubbub that was Scara Brae before lunch, and in turn, the bright rays of radiant cosiness dove through the stained glass ceiling of the Prima Vista. This synthesis suited Duffy perfectly, who was sat once more at the centre of raised wooden platform, surrounded by parchment, book and quill alike, working on his scribbling, his plays, or whatever words gave him the drive to run at the day with all his heart. He flicked the feather to sign off a line with a small blot, and looked up for a moment to think on where to take his character next.

It was an uncertain creation, the character of Lysander, but from his mind it had sprung and that was all there was too it. It’d been months, heavens, he’d forgotten how long exactly, since the debut of Lysander’s Flock, and in the time he’d been away on his spurious adventures in Corone it’d gained such a furious momentum that the troupe had to stop performing anything else, for fear of reprisal. That’d hurt his ego somewhat, knowing that another man had played his creation, his verbal, semantic and personal homunculus; Lysander was as much a part of Duffy’s youthful little mind as he was a piece in a very light hearted adventure tale. He had seen the man in the flesh to know that it was true.

With his free hand he picked up the simple wine glass, lacking in any adornment asides from smudges and dirt and took a delicate sip. There were several people downstairs that would scold him drastically for drinking before noon, but he found it helped in very sparse moderation, and he felt he deserved it after his escapades in far off lands, forgotten wars and the affairs of others. The handsome haul of gold he’d somehow managed to scrabble together on his travels had not only replenished the coffers of the troupe, his own trousers, and those of their Spartan debtors, but also provided a means to fix the three broken panes in the century old roof. That alone was worth it - he couldn’t begin to describe the annoyance of a leaky, windy, open air workspace, especially in the harsh winters.

He felt…satisfied. Not gloated, and certainly not the sort of contentment that came after far too much enjoyment at a banquet or a Wenham Celebration…no…this was more a gentle and subtle wave of sub conscious euphoria - a breeze of happiness on a sea of troubles that was ‘life’ and all it’s little nuances.

Ignoring the space beyond the stage, Duffy expected the items lain around him. His leather bound book, which now contained the lyrics to some of the songs that had conjured manna and other things besides was there…several ageing books that smelt of damp brick too, one a copy of Grammah Fyr Chyldryn, the other a first edition of I Want To Be Your Canary. His daggers were absent, no doubt tucked under his pillow in his partisan quarters, but there rested his enigma…the ‘katarhna,’ as he wiry accent called it. He supped the wine again, a bottle he’d paid ‘a small fortune’ over four months ago in Old Man Jacob’s Bazaar, the challenge of purchasing it and not drinking it for so long was partly why he survived; he couldn’t die without drinking ‘luxury’ now, could he? There were pens and inkpots and whetstones and chalk scattered around him as well, a pair of breeches, for some inexplicable reason, had fallen from the rafters as he entered the room.

Duffy wondered what another might think about him if they could see only the things arrayed on the stage. A mad man’s ramblings, perhaps? Did the wine, bottle and battered iron plate give a hint at something aristocratic, something machiavellian? Or did they hint, as the troupe master expected, at shackles of vice and an escape to the beyond. It dawned on him eventually that the last line he’d written; ‘Of the mortal coil I am so fond, but for now, let us unravel history’ hadn’t been expanded upon in almost an hour. Wasn’t it funny… He questioned to himself with a furrowed brow and a stern stare up at the sun roof. These little distractions we suffer all our lives taking so much of our time and brilliance… Shaking his head and clicking his back he picked up the feather he’d dropped absent mind idly and refreshed it’s nib with a new ink pot’s bounty.

The song from below reached it’s first chorus and the strings made the stage vibrate with harmonious melody; it was the piece of music that had been arranged to act as Lysander’s Theme in different scenes from the first play, but the first performance had the conductor riddled with some coughing bug or another and it wasn’t exactly perfect - he’d asked the musicians to practice it until it was beyond flawless, and driven into the realm of ethereal. On the one hand, he wished for peace and quite to finish off the opening scene of the Bladesinger’s triumphant return, but on the other, it sounded so charming, it was keeping him sedated and grounded, a balance of drunken euphoria and melancholic attention that was serving him well.

‘But Lysander…our emotions mingled in the springs of life, if we begin to disobey those primordial instructions, what manner of song will you have to sing to save the souls of the people of our town? He paused to read over the line, and did so several times, but he shook his head as something was jarring. He scribbled out words and shuffled them about, ‘But Lysander…our emotions mingled in the springs of life, if we begin to disobey those primordial-arcane instructions, what manner of song will you have to sing to savecalm the souls of the peopleremnants of our town? Speaking out the amendments in a brash but evidently female role Duffy was satisfied with it, and how it connected and felt with the previous scene. “It’ll do…it’ll do,” he muttered a self assurance. He sipped from the glass once more and then lied down forwards to continue writing in a position similar to that of a young boy sending a letter to his father on the front; with coy promises, bewildered eyes, and a great deal of uncertainty.

Something told him that tomorrow’s celebrations for Lucian’s Call would be more boisterous, more worthwhile, and more full of calamity than they’d ever been. The old saying that ‘someone will get hurt’ came to mind. It was usually him, so he took another sip, just to dampen the impact.

[Ruby]

CORNELIA: Good day...

BLANK: Wist thee of Marcus?

CORNELIA: Marcus!? What news dost thou bring?

BLANK: This!

[He punches her in the stomach].

At least, this was how the second scene was supposed to end. What Ruby had not expected was a stoic shout as Blank’s fist come up to feign into her stomach, and for Pete to once again be causing them too much trouble. Marcus turned to look out across the crowd from behind his golden mask, suddenly very aware that something was wrong.

Ruby glanced at ‘the king,’ nodding sharply left to get the scene wrapped up and the brief interval in place between location changes as a safety cushion. The curiosity of the crowd turned to the winged thing that pursued the Tantalum’s youngest member, and a sense of emergency welled in her tightly strung chest. She flopped forwards into Blank’s arms and a brief round of applause urged them all from the stage to the changing veils on either side, men to the their side, women to theirs. She didn't realise the applause was for the challenge the undignified woman had shouted.

“What in GOD’S name is going on?” Ruby did not look impressed. The girls in the comfort of the red curtain did not look impressed either. “What is he doing getting caught during the scene? Haven’t we taught him better? Get out there and stop him, you hear me? The next scene will go on as planned, there will be no stopping, no hick ups, this is Lucian’s Call, we will honour that memory with or without the involvement of the city guard-” she paused, looking very surprised to see Lilith and Clement still standing there. "Go! Go! Go!" She flailed her arms and threw caution to the noble wind of etiquette.

Meanwhile, on the far side of the stage.

“Blank, you the guards are in the next scene and King Leo will make a return. I have roughly half an hour before I’m required again so I’m gonna slip out and sort out our mutual friend’s mess…If I ain’t back, or bleedin’ when I am, we’ll move the refreshment interval to the end of this act instead of the next, got that?” The caped man known as Blank (nobody knew his real name, which was somewhat ironic) simply nodded gruffly and went about his costume change.

Duffy didn’t think twice about picking up the two daggers resting on the nearby crate and tucked them into his boots. He kept the mask on, to give himself some obscurity and cover, and slipped through the curtain to disappear into the crowd. The exact moment he did so Pete bundled past him, ignoring Duffy’s cries for an explanation.

He got it in the form of a winged thing approaching him very quickly, he would have gasped with shock if he knew what the succubus was, but words escaped him. He stood with his back against the curtain and pulled the gap closed as a cheeky grin hit his face like a pie with too much cream. Swallowing his sudden fear he mumbled something in the thing's general direction. “Is…is there something I can help you with sir…madam…lord?”

Meanwhile, back on the other side of the stage.

Ruby clicked her neck and repositioned herself out of the way of the courtiers who strode past her in their flamboyance and pride. Something niggled the back of her mind to the point of frustration. She too was uneeded on the stage during the next scene…deciding against her better judgement to go out into the crowd and tackle the problem herself, she slipped unnoticed into the open air and skipped and pushed through the dense bodies.

At the same time Blank, King Leo and the extras waded onto the lower construction platform, Ruby appeared behind the winged being and saw Duffy feebly attempt to make conversation with the people Pete had stolen from. She assumed he had, the woman with the cane immediately behind the winged entity seemed as flustered, peeved and angered as she was.

“Excuse me madam?” She tapped Visla gently on the shoulder, “what seems to be the problem here?”

[Visla Eraclaire]

I realize Aelva's enthrall cannot work on Duffy. Aelva doesn't.

Aelva's unnatural swiftness and Visla's crippled gait separated the two and left them confronted with two different interventions. An unremarkable looking man stood between Aelva and her quarry. She caught a brief glimpse of the child as it ducked behind the red curtain that separated the actors' preparation area from the audience. Remembering Visla's chastisement for bearing her claws, she decided to engage in a bit more subterfuge than brutishness.

“Why don't you step aside?” she asked him with a smile, boring into his eyes with her gaze.

She figured him for a common fool who would fall victim to her wiles without resistance. Confident that he was dispatched, she rushed past him toward the child with claws ready to snatch the ring back at the very least. It shocked her how quickly her demonic fury could be stoked by such a petty slight. She had regarded Visla as the one more likely to fly off the chain like a rabid dog and here was she menacing a mere child with the full force of her infernal rage.

A few awkward, hobbling steps back Visla received an interruption of her own. A tap on the shoulder made her turn without thought and gaze at a woman that was almost entirely her opposite. She looked, to Visla, as if she would be dressed flamboyantly regardless of whether there was a play on at all. Visla wagered that the woman was a fair bit her senior and more 'worldly' to put it kindly. She struck her cane against the ground and gave a curt reply, projecting her voice in hopes of keeping the crowd convinced it was all part of the show. It was, after all, in everyone's best interest, she figured.

“One of your thieving bastards has made off with my signet ring! I shall revenge myself upon you if it is not returned. Beware, wench, for I am no mere lady, but a powerful sorceress! The demons at my command will hunt you to the ends of the earth if I am not given satisfaction,” she shouted with sweeping gestures. For all her normal reservations, Visla had a bubbling cauldron of drama within her that she was eager to let out in such an apt setting.

She would almost admit to enjoying it.

“Bring forth him who has wronged me, and I may be merciful! If my familiar lays hands on him first, I can make no assurances of his survival,” she glared with a sinister seriousness at the end of her line, locking eyes with the matron. The flowery words were an act, but beneath them was absolute truth.

[Duffy]

The young man’s ‘plain face’ went blank, lulled into a semi waver by Aelva’s attempt at enthralling him with her wiles. ‘So the brave hero faced down the mighty succubus, quenched in her beauty but sated not,’ a moment passed. “Wait, what?” He spoke to no-one in particular, not helping his diminishing sense of authority much. I’m going to track you down damnit, and see to you! His eyes scrolled about, searching for an unseen calamity. The matter of the succubus came back to haunt him, still unsure as he was as to the thing’s gender. He was almost certain it was a woman…it had those things, what did you call them?

“Breasts!”

The realisation of what he’d just said very loudly dawned on him. He blushed seven shades of crimson brighter than Ruby’s hair or Pete’s impending beating and turned around to catch sight of the succubus. “Do excuse me, Madame, but whatever you just…did…with those eyes,” he pointed between his own and made a sort of witch docterin motion, half flail, half oogy boogy. “Did not work. If you’d kindly step away from the curtain so that we can be avin’ a discourse proper suited.”

From over his shoulder Duffy caught wind of a suddenly heated and somewhat theatrical conversation that was unfolding between a young lady and his hot headed counterpart. They were seemingly lucky enough to have gotten away with the ‘mid scene entertainment’ skit, an illusion maintained by the stranger’s somewhat lavish speech and throwing of accusations. Naturally, she was perfectly right, Pete had stolen from her, but he wasn’t a bastard, he’d seen the paperwork to prove it.


---

Ruby lavished in the basque of the young debutants attempts at putting her down, making her feel small. Try as she might she found it very difficult to get any angrier, knowing in her heart that the accusations levelled against the troupe were utterly justified. Part of the street girl in her questioned wherever or not Visla spoke as she did in her everyday routine, the noble woman in her couldn’t help but mentally correct the lack of etiquette. She threw the latter ideals out of the window, landing heavily as they did in hypocrisy avenue.

“I am afraid you must have us mistaken for a common street troupe with no connection to the royal house of Scara Brae or any indoctrinated discipline, m’lady. Whatever loss you’ve endured in the bustling crowds are, and there is little else to say but this, entirely due to your lack of personal awareness and competency about your own person.” She cleared her throat and checked up on Duffy, who appeared to making haphazard attempts at blocking the succubus’s entrance to the backstage area.

They did not have long to ‘correct’ this incident.

What a hiding Pete was going to get…

[Visla Eraclaire]

Aelva turned around immediately when she heard the man speak. Evidently he was capable of defying her, though she still thought it an unwise course of action. Unless he was far more noteworthy than he appeared, standing toe to toe with her would only end badly. Unfortunately, painting the walls with his blood would be almost as troublesome to her as it would be to him. It was still a play after all, and she figured the little brat wouldn't get far on his own. The little thief was just a pawn, and maybe this man was what passed for the theater group's king.

“If you intend to stop me, you'll need more than words,” Aelva taunted, attempting to get in on the act. She mumbled an infernal curse and conjured up balefire to back up her threat.

The insidious green flame sprung up around Duffy, attempting to feed from the warmth of his body. The dancing demonic flames added to the crowd's excitement even as they choked the heat and life from the air around them. Aelva hoped the audience didn't happen to contain any particularly astute scholars of the arcane who would note the chill and realize that these were no stage effect. The odds of that in Scara Brae seemed low enough to justify the spectacle.

“Slay the demon, Marcus!” shouted a particularly rowdy crowd member, who was quite convinced this was the best production of Canary he had ever seen.

While Aelva ramped up the tempo, Visla cursed her powerlessness. Even the feeble abilities she had mastered at the Academy would be enough to put on a show, but she was stuck with little more than her puffed up exclamations. Or was she?

“How dare you besmirch my honor! You will answer for this, vile woman. Let a veil of darkness take you!” she cried with suggestive emphasis, turning her gaze to Aelva.

Occupied as she was with the man in her way, Aelva took a significant risk turning her back on him. Still, it was neither the first or the last time she put Visla's often vain desires above her safety. She spun about as gracefully as she could manage and gestured toward the woman. A globe of utter blackness sprang from nothing and surrounded her head and sultry upper body, trading the crowd one exciting image for another, hopefully less often seen one.

[Ruby]

The sumptuous setting went black, suddenly obsidian where once it was azure and gold and vibrant with life and laughter. In her mind, Ruby gasped, screamed, night fainted from the shock. Visla’s idle threats had meant nothing until she had commanded the succubus to some foul deed. She scrabbled at the nothingness, calling out for help.

Up on the stage, which was now suffering from diverted attention, the last dance of the second scene, and the end of the first act conducted itself neatly from the raised platform. A small girl with pigtails and a cute little hand painted sign appeared from the female side of the backstage area, and positioned a small placard on the throne King Leo had previously occupied. It read ‘Innternval; fifteen clicks and was devoid of any legible grammar or sense. The crowd gathered what it meant, and almost all of them turned to see the sub-scene unfolding between the hero and his love.

The Aria shined.

It sung.

Ruby opened her mouth and let the first note claw at the magic that surrounded her, separated her from the vision she loved so much. The indignity of being unseen and unseeing the world was a trifle to what others might have endured, but she did not like it, and she would not suffer it.


No one move, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swcT5BZ9hvY)
No one speak,
Please don’t say that it’s just me, it’s not just me.
And even though I wont forget,
Just don’t want this to end just yet, not just yet.

Someone in the crowd shouted something about a duet, about love transcending all, and somewhere inside the sphere of darkness, something kindled in Ruby’s heart. She forgot that she was Ruby, and poured all emotion into the sense of being she used in her acting. Cornelia’s trial and love and true passion to transcend all boundaries to be with Marcus…that was what she sung for, that was what she would sing for louder and clearer and louder still.

A small fae glow formed in the darkness, illuminating the spell’s constraints with a green sparkle. Ruby, unseen by all others, smiled.

The Aria shined brighter.

The rest of the troupe started to gather on the stage, some peered around the edges of the curtain at the new unwritten, unrehearsed part of the play they were not prepared for. Lilith tugged at ponytails and straightened up the children, bushes and stand in soldiers. Blank, calm and emotionless as ever stood leant against the archway of the tavern, chewing on straw. Clement wrote, taking every angle of the words spoken, as much as she could hear them down in her scrawny hand. She muttered about the sheer passion and brilliance and was tempted to shout ‘hire that woman!’ The song permeated the darkness, the vibrant melody lightened their niggling doubt that everything was not as that it seemed.

Lilith turned to her left momentarily, catching Pete hiding in the male section of backstage, panting frantically and half crying. The shiny thing in his hand made her put two and two together… “PETE!” She shouted, storming off sideways like a dragon’s rampage personified. He twitched his nose, and held out the amulet as she plummeted down the steps and appeared by his side. “What in the blazes, I heard the rumours but didn’t think you’d be so stupid?” He sobbed louder, making her job harder.


And if I had one chance to freeze time
And stand still and soak in everything,
I’d choose right now.
And if I had one night with sunshine to break through and show you everything,
I’d choose right now,
Before the fears that I once had start coming back… again.

If this is it, all we have,
I know I’ve done all I can,
If this is it.
And we can stop,
Inside again,
And can stay till the end,
If this is it.

Not in many a year had the crowds that gathered at Lucian’s Call seen such a spectacle, as the one which erupted from where Cornelia had been. A single green orb flew upwards, a chiming noise following it, perfectly accented against the end of the chorus that grew from with. Behind it trailed streamers of light, sparkles and radiant flames in olive, mauve, deep green and jungle hue.


And if I had one chance to freeze time
And stand still and soak in everything,
I’d choose right now.
And if I had one night with sunshine to break through and show you everything,
I’d choose right now,
Before the fears that I once had start coming back… again.

A chorus of ‘ooooooooo’ and ‘aaahhhhhh’ followed the casting away of the shadows, and in the tumultuous flurry of dancing lights there stood Cornelia, Ruby, mistress of the crimson and dancing beauty. She spiralled, twisted and turned, her hair and bangles flowing majestically as The Aria, the voice of the arts itself took over and rushed out in a wave of lyrics, dance and dedication.


Oh please come back again… again,
Oh please come back again,
Oh please come back again.
And I’m so scared I might forget,
Just don’t want this to end just yet,
Not just yet.

And if I had one chance to freeze time
And stand still and soak in everything,
I’d choose right now.
And if I had one night with sunshine to break through and show you everything,
I’d choose right now,
Before the fears that I once had start coming back… again.

She stopped. The lights floated upwards then died. She panted, catching her breath from the sheer exhilaration of being. Her gaze caught Visla’s, and the crowd caught hers. Her heart pounded with such force her head wobbled, the blood of Tantalus pumping through her veins. Someone in the crowd sobbed, another woman clearly had been crying for several minutes. Cornelia had thrown away her royal self, and was born anew from the shadow of prosperity…

‘But could the fair princess, a siren for the sorrowed, rescue her beloved from the fires beyond?’ The mysterious voice chimed in helpfully once more, seemingly far too good at it's pre-determined role.

“Stand aside, sister, for you shall not spoil my marriage to fair yonder Marcus, burnt by the jealous green passionate flames from your wretched heart! We have shared so much in our lives, but I will not share this! I will not stand by him knowing you are here, so be gone, depart, forsake all you have known! Or I will give you these actions and motions you seem to challenge me to perform!” With a stern and stoic stance the image of red wrath that was Ruby La Roux cast aside her coy side and resolved herself to not let this tart spoil the performance of her career.

[Visla Eraclaire]

Leaving the troupe's king in check with the balefire's chilly embrace, Aelva darted through the red curtain. Outside the audience's view she no longer needed to be playful, subtle, or entertaining. The exhausted little thief wailed to a woman who was chastising him and Aelva strode straight into their midst. Her hooves clicked against the floorboards and she stared directly into Lilith's eyes. There would be no more magic or trickery. Aelva thrust her clawed hand forward, palm up, with a stern demand.

"Take it from him and give it to me. Do it now. If you do not, I will tear him to shreds before your eyes, then I will kill you. You have five seconds," she said matter-of-factly, and tapped her hoof against the ground as each second ticked by.

Back before the crowds, Visla feigned interest in the woman's song and drew nearer to her as it approached its climax. It was more than just words and notes, something unmistakably powerful lurked within the melody. Whatever magic was captured within her voice, it melted away the darkness. Perhaps at another time and place, this would be a curiosity for Visla. At the moment, she simply drew in next to the songstress as she finished her Aria, activating the mechanism within her cane that produced an injector at its tip.

"I have played along with your little performance up until now, but make no mistake. I am deadly serious about the return of my ring," she whispered, then jabbed at the singer's leg with her cane, hoping that after her patient waiting through the song, a sudden strike might catch the woman off guard. There was nothing in the injector, as it happened, but how was anyone else to know that. "You've just been injected with poison. I can announce that to the audience if you like; I don't really care. Wrap up your performance, get me my ring, and I'll give you the antidote."

With that she stepped back and hobbled back toward her seat, calling out to the crowd as she went, "Truly your words have moved me! I shan't trouble you with my trifles any longer. Be happy Cornelia. Let none come between you and Marcus."

Her role complete, she took back her seat and fixed her eyes on the singer for the remainder of the performance, impatiently drumming her fingers against the empty seat beside her.

[Duffy]

The jab to her leg did indeed connect with flesh, sending a tingle of pain to her brain. It did not cause any reaction beyond recognition, but the words that followed garnered more of a response than perhaps Visla had hoped for. There were no blows, no dressing downs, no raging bitch fights in the streets of Scara Brae, Ruby simply smiled.

“Oh sister, I am most humbled, this news of our engagement has reached you and we have resolved the issue! Come, let us spurn ourselves away to my chambers, you must help me with my wedding garb, for soon we shall be married, as King Leo has consented to our betrothal!” Grabbing Visla’s hand, the red headed temptress gently tugged her ‘sister’ through the curtains, winking at Duffy, three times in fact, in quick succession. Most would merely think nothing of it, a cheeky glance before the marital rights of man and wife could be banked, but it was but one of many secret gestures and directions amongst like minded theatre troupes.

Whatever magic the devil had conjured had taken the young thief by considerable surprise, knocking him to his knees then knocking him further still to the cold hard cobbles of the floor. He had not felt so miserable, so icy, so alone and isolated in all his life, even when the times he spent as a street runner got to their most abysmal, most rain sodden, most nightmarish. Eyes glazed over, skin paled, love lost. Without Ruby’s song he did not think he could rise from the ashes of his solitude. At it’s crescendo, the flames were vanquished as the character of Marcus swarmed through his veins, The Aria channelling the young man’s bravery and reckless abandonment into Duffy’s feeble form.

He sprung upright, only to find the winged thing gone and Ruby and her temporary accomplice to the stage pushing past him. The winks hinted at a distraction, so he turned on a heel to the on looking crowd and thought quickly. “Ladies and gentlemen!” He bounded onto the stage, the smell of fear, sweat and evening song struck his nostrils as he rose into the heavy cloud that always hung over a stage. “I am proud to announce the wedding of Marcus and Princess Cornelia, but I bid ye take a break, to enjoy the finest of ye refreshments!”

The pony tailed child who’d propped up the interval sign appeared right on cue, replacing one sign with another, which read the same, only extending said interval by an extra fifteen minutes. The moans and mumbles that replied soon died, clever merchants and street trades, who were told in advance where they would perform cut into the mass of bodies with trays of hot sausages, candies and baked goods and many things from lands afar. Duffy didn’t particularly care what they sold, as long as they sold, and kept the crowd’s attention busy enough for them to resolve their little…incident.


---

“RUBY!”

Lilith’s voice ripped through the screen a second before Ruby and Visla appeared. Never in all her life had she been so mortified at the sheer cheek of some people. Did they know who she was, who she pretended to be, heck, did they know that she was a servant of Scara Brae nobility? They had rights, all be it a conglomeration of ill fortune and feigned slavery, they were hers all the same. The encroaching surroundings made her feel very vulnerable. All she had to defend herself was the hope that she could run into the inn quickly, or failing that, a small child to prop as a shield; she'd do it, she really would, be damned with the consequences, he deserved it!

She did not take too kindly to the claws, but held the ring out on it’s chain to the succubus all the same. “You do not harm children, or threaten them in such a manner! I would be tempted to question your moral judgement, but given your disgus-”

“Lilith!” Ruby snapped, appearing at her real sister’s side at the perfect moment to stop her foolishness. “These two have been done wrong by,” she looked at Pete, very sternly. So much that he tucked himself further behind Lilith’s multicoloured ribbon dress.

“But Miss Ruby, I was jus-” she was cut short again.

“Be that as it may, they interrupted and disrupted a five century old practice of celebrating the passing of Lucian, a celebration taken to the point of divinity amongst the thespians of this good city. You will not return that ring, at least, not yet.” She thought ill of herself, although she expected that Visla’s threats concerning the needle were dubious in nature and severity, she could not take the chance in letting it slide.

It was her duty also, to ensure that the show continued.

“This is what we shall do,” she pointed at the succubus, then at Visla, her matronly tones eviscerating all momentum their threats contained. “During Act 2 you, whatever your name is, cane woman, will appear by Princess Cornelia’s side and hand her the ring at the appropriate moment during the ceremony. There will be dancing, there will be music-” Duffy bounced down the steps.

“Cake, too, I imagine.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, “Yes, that too. Once the wedding scene is over and Act 3 begins, you can take this blasted ring and be on your merry little way. But you will not leave now, or the continuity in this story we have come to live our loves in order to perform will be broken. The spell that captivates that audience, holds their attention long enough for us to cutt oursen’s a living will be diminished, and the congregation of young, orphaned children that we give a second chance to you see on stage and off, will go hungry for a night.”

It was Ruby issuing the threats now, as thinly disguised as they were.

“Do you want that on what little of your conscience remains? With your ring returned you can give me this ‘antidote,’ and we can never see one another again.”

A ragtag group of oddities the Tantalum may be, but together they were a formidable bunch of luck harassers. Duffy twirled his daggers, Blank remained blank, but rested his hand on the hilt of his longsword. Lilith, as scared and jittery and frantic as ever tucked Pete behind her, and Ruby La Roux, songtress and the true brains behind the outfit crossed her arms and tapped her black booted foot on the ancient stone. If it were not for the relatively clean aroma of soap and perfume that drifted from them, you'd assume them to be your typical seedy brothel clientèle.

“It is your choice.

But the show will go on, or you will have to cut us all down here, right now, and you will not go without a new line or two written on that pretty parchment you call a face.”

“-Rub…” Duffy cut his question short, too shocked with her sudden tone. Was this what they taught her at Lady Gregory’s?

[Visla Eraclaire]

Visla nearly fell over as she was dragged backstage from her seat. It absolutely boggled the mind that anyone could be so brazen. Perhaps the singer had not gotten a clear look at Aelva, or perhaps she simply wasn't afraid of a demon. Visla had no idea which it was, or whether she was just stark raving mad. It was, as she understood it, a common affliction in the acting business.

When she arrived backstage, Aelva quickly shifted to her side and helped steady her after the sudden jostling. They both listened with utter disbelief as the woman delivered a series of orders and ultimatums. The pair glanced at each other from time to time, unwilling to interrupt what was a far more dramatic performance than what had been unfolding onstage. Their expressions made clear that they were both thinking precisely the same thing: "Is this woman serious?"

When she finally wrapped up her soliloquy, Visla spoke first, with a measured and careful tone, "It seems that we got off on the wrong foot, what with your child stealing my belongings and all, and then my little show out there for the crowd. I'd like to take this opportunity to make very clear to you the reality of this situation."

She paced a bit, her cane clicking with the cadence of her speech, "My name is Visla Eraclaire, and this is Aelva," she gestured toward the succubus, who gave a bemused wave. "She is a demon, not a woman in a demon costume, not some other manner of stage magic. She has very real powers and very real claws and a very real temper, which I think your boy there can attest to," she pointed her cane toward Duffy and his balefire wounds.

"You people live in a world of half-truths and facades, so perhaps your mistakes thus far have been forgivable. I am prepared to forgive them, at least. I am prepared even to forgive the level of vanity and hubris that makes you think you can dictate how this plays out. We've both been bluffing and playing to the crowd, and that's fine. I didn't really poison you, but I suspect you already know that. That doesn't change the fact that your life is in my hands" she continued, her voice cool and collected despite the outrage that bubbled beneath the surface.

Aelva raised a single finger to interrupt and the warlock yielded to her. The succubus spoke with a hint more urgency, a striking counterpoint to Visla's plodding pace. "If you think we cannot kill you, you're sorely mistaken. If a group of hack actors could handle a demon, the Abyss would have been conquered eons ago. No, I suspect what you are thinking is that we will not kill you. After all, it's just a ring, and all we'd have to do is play along a bit longer."

Aelva walked behind Visla, placing both clawed hands on her shoulders and grinning proudly as she finished, "There is a bar in Underwood that burned down because of an offense to this woman. There is a manor house that disappeared in her presence. There is an entire town wiped off the map because it was necessary to get what she wanted. This is not a woman you want to trifle with. She has lost a great deal in her life, and she is not prepared to part with anything she still has, even a little ring, even for a few more minutes."

As Aelva spoke, Visla reflected on all those events. She was not nearly as bloodthirsty as the boasts made her out to be. The manor's disappearance wasn't even her doing. Still, Aelva was right in her conclusion. Ultimately, the ring mattered very little to the warlock. What mattered was her dignity, her unwillingness to yield to the demands of others. If she were the sort to lie down when she was told, she would never met Aelva, left the Academy, or experienced anything that had made her the person she was that day. Unreasonable as it might seem to one who had not lived her life, this was something she could not compromise.

Visla put her hands on Aelva's and wrapped them around her neck as she concluded the duet, "So, your intermission should be wrapping up shortly. My offer is more than generous. I demand no compensation and ask no retribution. All I ask for is what belongs to me. Hand me the ring, and we will disappear quietly. Continue to labor under the delusion that you are in control, and there will be blood."

[Duffy]

Ruby and Duffy looked at one another, before both seemingly deciding on the same course of action. It was short and simple and full of relevant dignity. They both took one end of the chain, hung from Lilith's shaking finger, and unhooked it to loop between their respective grasps.

"A life of dellusion we may lead," Ruby began, alternating to Duffy between lines.

"But it is a life where we are known to ourselves."

"We have no shame in our subdefuge, or theft."

"We do what we must to survive, to keep us all afloat."

"I am the sister of the changing face, and he my brother of scorn and disgrace."

"I am the brother of the altering ego, and she my sister of the thespian race."

They winked at one another, pushed Lilith back and both jumped.

Visla's ring flung itself through the air, such was the force of their retreat. It sparkled, hanging in the air like those tantamount moments of utter suspense, biting nails and shaking knees held it aloft. It continued, tumbling at it's true owner.

'The fates of the parties met, with the One Ring to rule them all...'

The narrator chuckled at his own private, intergalactic joke.

"Begone!

Leave this stage, this city."

"The Tantalum, and Tantalus both beseech a curse upon you - may we not meet again..."

"Lest us show you our real parts, our real persona's."

"BEGONE!" They both point to the curtain, hands held to cover Lilith and Pete like a fence. There was enough distance now between them for any surprise attacks to go unnoticed.

"We have held our bargain," Ruby amended, "Now hold yours, or you'll see me sing of more frivolous things than love." She shot Visla a menacing glare, flicking the feather from her eyes and bulking herself up.

She meant the antidote...not quite believing Visla's promise it was an empty needle.

[Visla Eraclaire]

As the ring flew toward Visla, Aelva snatched it from the air, knowing there was little hope that her companion could do the same. The thieves had still made off with the chain, but they both agreed silently that it simply wasn't worth any further trouble. The succubus presented the signet to Visla who slid it over her finger as the actors gave their parting words.

“I think I hate the theater,” Visla muttered to Aelva as they walked back through the curtain with Aelva resuming her human disguise. The two thespians were still giving their duet as the warlock and her companion made their exit.

The crowd outside was still absorbed by the intermission, only a few turned to see the two women walk quietly away, as they had promised. Visla yearned to deliber a final barb, to warn people to watch their valuables or to demean the performers. She restrained herself and simply walked down the streets of Scara Brae as the sun crept beneath the horizon. It would still be a few minutes longer before they could take wing and fly back to Uiria.

“Would you really have killed them over the ring?” Aelva asked as they meandered along.

“How? Bludgeon them with my cane? It would have been you who did the killing. If I had asked, would you have done it?” came Visla's coy reply.

“I'd like to say I wouldn't,” Aelva tacitly admitted before changing the subject, “Do you imagine they have a jewelry store to buy you a replacement chain?”

Visla looked down at the ring on her finger, her family's crest engraved at its center. “It's just as well. I think I've hidden the thing long enough. Today proves I'm not really afraid to reveal myself anymore, even if it is just a crowd of commoners who think I'm acting.”

“And acting rather well, I think,” Aelva laughed.

“If you're going to drag me out of bed, I may as well make the most of it,” Visla replied, raising an eyebrow at the comment.

The two found a bench facing westward and watched the sunlight fade into dusk. Visla's eyelids had begun to fall lower and lower even as the sun drooped on the sky. It was only the rustling of Aelva's ebon wings that stirred her from a sudden onset of sleep. The two sailed across the sky, back to their temporary lodging at the small house on a hill, just beyond the bounds of Uiria.

When they arrived, the air was heavy and warm with a pot of water boiling in the kitchen. Elenore glanced around to the foyer and saw the pair enter, tossing two extra servings of noodles into the water. Aelva helped Visla up the stairs and into bed, though the windy voyage had stirred her somewhat from her evening daze. She walked back down to wait in the kitchen and watched as Elenore stirred a pan of creamy sauce. It was likely a little rich for Visla. Months after losing her ability to feed on Essence, she still became ill from anything more savory than thin broth or plain starch. For Aelva's part, she didn't have any need to eat. Though she was capable of doing so, she found it wasteful generally. In spite of their conditions, both the warlock and her succubus had developed a taste for Elenore's cooking.

And so Aelva ultimately returned to the upstairs room with two bowls of noodles, one with only the barest hint of the cream sauce. She found Visla perusing the book she had held the day before, lying in bed just as if she had never moved. Setting the bowl on the bedside table, she sat in bed next to her. The two savored their meal without speaking, until Visla's spoon finally clinked against the bottom of an empty bowl.

“I would have rather liked to see the play, corny as it is,” Visla said, putting down the bowl and taking up her book again.

“A tale triumph for two unlikely lovers, I'm shocked at your sentimentality, Vis,” Aelva smirked and finished the last bit of her own dinner.

“I thought you'd never heard of it,” Visla leered over at her.

“Well, I gathered from—“

“Gathered nothing, we barely saw any of it, much less the triumph part,” Visla interrupted. “You chose it on purpose. You're the sentimental one.”

“I guess you'll never know for sure,” Aelva answered, taking their bowls and walking down back down to the kitchen.

She helped Elenore tidy up and by the time she returned Visla was fast asleep. Evidently, she had not stayed up wondering. Taking her place at the woman's side, Aelva closed her eyes. For all their belabored ploys and witty evasions, they both knew the truth.

There is always some madness in love. But there is always some reason in madness.

What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.

Evidently, my other thread with pending spoils didn't end up going through, since this thread finished so quickly. The magical abilities used by Aelva are part of a series of spoils that will be contained in a mid-level update. Duffy consented to their use.

Also, because of the nature of much of the thread and the complication of 2 v 1, I would request this be judged as a quest, at least for xp purposes. If the judge wants to declare someone "winner" that's fine, I just know that back in the day, contests between lower and higher level chars could lead to some very wonky results, even when there was very good writing.

I'm very pleased with how this thread came out.

[Duffy]

Back in the safety, solitude and servitude of the Prima Vista, Duffy considered the nature of what had transpired. After every performance he was happy, but at the same time, very sad that it was over so soon. The smiles and cheers on the faces of the audience in the square had lasted for almost an hour, right up until the guards finally heard about it and came swaying in to break it all up. The cries of ‘Stop, Thief!’ he thought were fairly accurate, given that several of the younger troupe members had been cutting purses through the second act fighting scene, but it didn’t hurt to have proof about it before you flung words about the place.

Somehow, he knew they'd cross paths with Visla again...

The noise of celebration and laughter rose through the floorboards from below, he’d slipped upstairs to sit on the edge of the stage, kicking his heels against the backboard and his back flat on the dusty stage edge, looking up and out through the great glass dome that was sort of supposed to resemble the sun at midday - the zenith of nature. As far as he was concerned, it looked like a very badly designed pentagon, with crooked edges and a serious need for refurbishment. They’d obtained about five gold worth of coppers and coins in donations from the crowd during the performance, and another couple of pieces from the purses they’d snipped. The crowd wasn’t particularly wealthy, and Duffy’d been given strict promises that they only took from those that looked like they were wearing more than they had in their wallets. It was very hard to be cross at such cute little things, snotty noses and all.

It’d feed the most of the them for a another day or two. It was good they all knew about their situation, and would eat what was given to them. The sort of communal ethic that a troupe needed to survive had been engrained into the Tantalum from the very first day, Lucian had seen to that. “Oh Lucian…” Not fearing himself being overheard, Duffy began to speak his thoughts aloud, asking the stars themselves for answers, “what am I doing wrong? Why can’t we be as great now as you were then…”

Not so far away in the shadows, Ruby listened to the young boy’s dreams unveil themselves so freely. She heard of the streets, where she thought she felt at home, thought she’d experienced and seen for herself, but was so naive. She heard of the laughter and joy caring for the troupe gave him, and how he’d do anything to keep them together in their common goals; love, art and romance, even if most of them hadn’t gotten to the last part quite yet. They were the same passions she had, and the same Holland, Petra, Lucian…all of the Tantalum’s troupe masters had had…

“Flawless lines…perfect recollection, charm, wit, elegance, the very modern example of the modern gentleman…” With a long drawn out sigh his feet raise and drop with a bang before falling still with exasperation. As if he’d given up on his skit.

“Oh come now Duffy…” Ruby’s voice whispers softly into the room from the darkness. She chuckles as he jumps up with a start, scrabbling and scrawling and naturally falling onto the floor in a dishevelled heap. “Everything you stand for, the Tantalum stands for…everything you are…comes alive on the stage…everything you dream for, comes alive in the words you weave and the songs you sing…keep those dreams alive, and you’ll live through the many ages of Scara Brae and the cities beyond as a bard of great renown…”

“FANTASY!” Snapping perhaps prematurely, Duffy shouts at the top of his lungs. Downstairs, several score troupes fall silent. It dawns on him very slowly that he recognised the voice… “Ruby?” mustering his pride with a meek question, he scratches his head and pulls himself upright.

“Fantasy?” She steps out from behind the changing screen, wearing a short white ruffled skirt, a taught brown brassiere, and a plethora of beads, bangles and ribbons in her hair. From what Duffy could remember, she appeared to be Esmeralda, from the ancient play Notre Damnation. “A fantasy is only in your imagination Monkey Man.” She never called him that… “A fantasy is something you make happen, a dream that might seem far too unrealistic,” her foot carry her towards the stage with rhythmic, gypsy endeavours, “but will always…” she spins and blows a kiss, but instead of a wave of love, a great wall of fire rages towards him and swarms across his skin.


---

“Agh!” Waking with a start, Duffy found himself asleep on the end of the stage, his feet hanging over the edge and a spilt and shattered glass of cheap market wine dripping through the cracks of the upstairs floor. He felt bad. Very bad. Not the guilty sort of bad you got when you dirtied your Sunday best a moment before going to temple, or the bad you got when you did something you knew you shouldn’t, but couldn’t resist doing…bad as in ‘Bad,’ the bad you got the morning after a very heavy night’s celebrations.

He caught a flashback of the day before, and remembered that it’d been Lucian’s Call - the celebration anniversary of the foundation of the troupe a century back. The performance, the boisterous crowd’s cheers, everything merged into one very fragmented memory, before being broken by the sound of footsteps. “Well well, good morning sleepy head!”

It was Laverne, the Troupe’s Mistress of Piano - a talented all-round musician and far better than anyone with a needle and thread. Costume designer, conductor, and this morning, from the contents of her outstretched hand, she’d been promoted to matron. “Ughhh…” She chuckled at his groans, “what…whatd’a do?”

“According to the various whispers on the Duffy-vine, you, Miss Ruby, Pete and Jack and I think the Conley Brothers stayed up much later than everyone else and decided to drink the entire week’s supply of wine, beer and I think, from the state of the dressing room, most of the Cordon Rum too!” She plops the glass of herbal water down besides him, and hops onto the side of the stage herself. “Miss Ruby said you were singing Lucian’s Aria…can you remember?”

Duffy could not. Duffy could not remember that he was even called Duffy, never mind complicated tradespeak verses. Now that she’d filled him in, the blanks between the end of the play and the morning after were starting to fill in. He didn’t feel too bad physically, but guilt did terrible things to your bowels. “Thank god tis only once a yur,” he props himself upright and slides besides Laverne. Of all the troupe, she was the closest to him. They kind of respected each other too much to make any sort of sordid advance, but you never know - people tended to cling more to the chance of love, than to love itself. It suited her fine, and him.

“Drink this,” she picks up the glass with a delicate hand and holds it out, as it’s contents are slowly glugged down she recounts further tales of the night’s revelries. Ruby had done a fire dance, right over in the corner in the shadows, dressed as Esmeralda, and it was going well until a lick of flame caught the red ‘sunset’ curtain and the entire semi-inebriated troupe, and half asleep youngsters and sprung into collection action to douse it with water, petty cantrips and whatever came to hand. Now that she mentioned it, his nostrils did smell of smoke.

It tasted foul, but it made him feel better very quickly, “I’m not even g’na ask what’s in it…” She took the glass back and shook her head, “b‘what time is it?”

“About 11...it’s also Saturday…”

Duffy’s eyes grew like dinner plates, adrenaline suddenly taking over from his brain.

“Saturday?”

“Yes…” Laverne said that little word very sincerely, and with it came the mood and implication Duffy needed to realise he was in trouble.

“Saturday…”

Saturday was matinee day. The day the troupe performed a new play, a new-in house play, that Duffy hadn’t had the time to finish…

“It’s hard to hear yourself think sometimes, but you get by. Although silence is something you wish for, you rarely get it, so learn to cherish those moments like gold, myrrh, miracles and love. There is no such greater moment of silence than the split second before you walk out onto the stage, the anticipation of performing, the greatest playwrights of the age have all universally said, is much greater than the deed itself.”

He ran out of the room to find his book, not quite sure where his feet were going, but going there anyway. No matter how bad he felt, the show must go on! He’d never improvised two full acts before…

Spoils:

Visla's Chain, as perher bio description.

Ruby: Increase to the Scintillating Song, giving the lights produced the ability to dispel magically created darkness or voids.

Duffy: Increase to Perform! This is partially based on all threads ongoing and those judges, giving him better acting ability and dance.

[Taskmienster]

I want to cage your canary :: I am soooo sorry that it has taken this long, I was going to have it done Monday, but I hadn’t slept at all Sunday night and then went to work to open on a 7 hour day. So, I’ve been either catching up on sleep, or at work/school since then. As requested, I’ll be giving out some commentary where necessary, but all in all will be judging this as a quest instead of a 2 v. 1 battle. Have questions or concerns? Just catch me whenever.


Continuity 5.5

Both of you set it up well, though Visla did an excellent job explaining something’s that helped me understand what was going on… whereas Duffy/Ruby’s first few posts together were just muddled, hard to read, and generally confusing as hell. I didn’t know what was going on, why things were happening, or how half of what was posted related to anything else. That being said, the continuity, pacing, clarity, and persona are going to be docked in the end.

Setting 6

The setting was pretty well done, but in the end it was nothing spectacular. I enjoyed some things, and wished for more in other places… such as garb, what the places you were all in looked like, and things like that. Otherwise, it wasn’t poorly done, just not done enough.

Pacing 5

The beginning was so hard to sift through. Duffy, you seemed to write a whole lot, without explaining much, and it turned into a long-winded amalgamation of attempted character, setting, and superfluous technique that was extremely difficult to understand. I got through it, and from the point that Duffy/Ruby and Visla started to interact everything seemed to come together much more.

Dialogue 6

It was well done, but it felt like the character sometimes gets confused. I think it’s mainly because, as a reader, I’m looking at what was said and how it was said, sentence structure as well as word choices. Sometimes, the dramatic flair takes over and things come out very eloquently, sometimes it’s the opposite and broken common is what is said. However, in the end, certain times the dramatic should be forgotten in place of the common, or at least explained why it is not in place of the other form of speech.

Action 5.5

Not bad, it flowed well when the two of you were together. The characters were played well, and Visla and her demon kept to a very strict nature that didn’t seem to change at all. I would caution you, Duffy, when writing with so many characters that you be careful not to leave out at least a little bit about their personality. Their actions can show a little, but why they act the way they do is much more important to persona.

Persona 5.5

See above.

Technique 5

The writing technique was interesting, though separating characters by colored text isn’t necessary. You can show that through many ways of splitting the narrative, most of which need little more than a symbol or something to explain to the reader without words that the point of view has switched to someone else.

Mechanics 7

Only a few errors on the part of Duffy/Ruby in the way of spelling. There are, however, numerous comma mistakes that just make the entire thing difficult to read. Also, there are tense changes, and I can’t stand those. :p

Clarity 6.5

As noted in other sections, the first posts by Duffy/Ruby were muddled and so difficult to read and understand what was going on that I eventually had to stop reading them, after trying for so long, and just move to the next posts to get through the thread.

Wild Card 5

Score: 57!

Rewards:

Visla :: 1620 exp |185 gold

Duffy :: 456 exp | 170 gold

Ruby :: 335 exp | 100 gold

Edit :: Spoils - Duffy's are approved. I can't approve Ruby's spoils though. You can always work on that in a level up or in future threads though.

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

Duffy is now level 1!