Post by Adeleene nó Eglantine (D) on Jul 18, 2007 2:06:16 GMT -5
Had it not been for the light tap on my shoulder, I probably would have still been in my little world of bliss. Nor would I have known that my soft humming had turned into quiet singing once again, and in the theatre, a performance hall is built to carry sound to the very stars. Heat rose to my cheeks at being caught, and I mumbled a quiet apology as the cast continued their rehearsal.
"Let's try this again, Liselle; from the beginning of 'If only grace.'" I felt my mother's dark gaze boring into me, frustrated that I had interrupted their performance again, but knowing that she could do nothing to dissuade it. It was something she had given up on long ago, blaming it on my father, along with my other imperfections.
"Today, Liselle." The theatre's manager was a tall, dark man with a patience more limited than a child's. Already he tapped his foot, arms folded in impatience as he waited. I risked a glance at my mother, wondering what she was thinking, but she simply turned away and went back to business. It was always that way with her, and in all honesty, I could not remember a time when my mother had looked straight through me.
Evening deepened to twilight as continued as any other, the cast desperately cramming as much practice as they could before the opening night, only three days away. I stayed in my little corner, attentive more to the performer's body language than their words. Acting, as I quickly learned, was an intricate trick to pull off, for there was more to it than just words; there was body language. If a performer couldn't control both, they would fail in convincing the audience of their charade.
They must have gone throughout the night, for i was awakened by a hand gently shaking my shoulder; I'd fallen asleep in the corner, waiting. Everyone was parting ways as I took my mother's hand, humming at free will as we trailed down the lightly populated streets. I no longer had protocol to limit my song. It was, as usual, nothing heard of in our beautiful world, but a small series of notes that just seemed to fit together. Once they came to mind, they never left, and undoubtedly, would take days to be replaced with something new.
"Not this way, Adel," my mother said quietly. I nearly stopped in my tracks at her use of my nickname, unable to recall her ever using it. I glanced up at her, unsure, and was surprised to find her looking back at me, determination and a bit of fear in her toffee brown eyes.
"Why not?" I demanded with a little pout. Routine was something I was used to at this point, and I was tired, not to mention hungry. I wanted to go home.
"We're going to see someone special today." She sounded tired, her words sharp and tone flat. It was a warning, I knew, not to ask questions, but a million had already bubbled in my mind and were desperate to be heard.
"But--" May it never be said that I was one to abide by what is supposed to be done.
"Not another word until we get there," she insisted. "I've a headache, and the last thing I need is a wall of questions that can be answered well enough if you exercised a bit of patience." I bit my bottom lip at this, silent for a while before absently humming again and thinking of the monologue that I'd fallen asleep to the night before. For having a headache, she didn't seem to mind this.
I lost track of the world around me, absorbed in my little half-song as we continued through the city streets, occasionally saying hello to those we new or graciously accepting a compliment on my mother's latest performance. I wanted to be like her, to be free to do as she willed and be loved for it.
"Stop singing, Adel, we're here," she said quietly, eyeing me critically before stopping to fix my hair a bit. I squirmed beneath her unfamiliar touch, failing to notice her own nervousness. What in the world was she doing?
The answer wasn't long in coming, though definitely not what I expected. I stood silently beside my mother as she spoke to the Dowayne, barely hearing her as she explained the situation at home, of how she was unable to control some of my tendencies that surely came from my father, as well as the fact that she was unable to support a growing girl on her wages. This brought me out of my dreamworld in a heartbeat, and I glanced from my mother to the Dowayne and back again. My mother's place was pleading, the older woman's, unreadable. My father had been mentioned, which was rare in itself, but that didn't matter just then. What I heard...it couldn't be true, could it?
My mother was giving...selling...me away. And I had no idea why.
Was it because I was bad? Part of me silently pleaded for reality to change, for someone to tell me it was all a trick, like in the plays. Where it wasn't real...but it was. I'd have given anything for it not to be true - I'd stop singing, even, just as long as I could stay.
I couldn't lose my mother, too.
A decision must have been made, an agreement met, for the next thing I knew, my mother was kneeling beside me, arms wrapped around me in a fierce hug. Her voice was full of tears when she spoke, though she never let one mar her beautiful face. Mama was an actress, and she had a role to play.
"Be good for me, Adeleene," she whispered. "Make me proud." I remember pulling out of her hold, ready to throw a massive fit if she dared to leave. But one look at her tired face and I stopped. I couldn't understand what was going on, but it seemed that she didn't like what she was doing, either. It must have been one of those "have to" situations she told me about. So I just stood there and watched her go, never once breaking down until her retreating back disappeared from sight.
That was the last I saw of my mother. Now I belonged to House Eglantine, for better or worse, and when I discovered my fate as a member of Night's Doorstep, it was certainly for worse.
"Let's try this again, Liselle; from the beginning of 'If only grace.'" I felt my mother's dark gaze boring into me, frustrated that I had interrupted their performance again, but knowing that she could do nothing to dissuade it. It was something she had given up on long ago, blaming it on my father, along with my other imperfections.
"Today, Liselle." The theatre's manager was a tall, dark man with a patience more limited than a child's. Already he tapped his foot, arms folded in impatience as he waited. I risked a glance at my mother, wondering what she was thinking, but she simply turned away and went back to business. It was always that way with her, and in all honesty, I could not remember a time when my mother had looked straight through me.
Evening deepened to twilight as continued as any other, the cast desperately cramming as much practice as they could before the opening night, only three days away. I stayed in my little corner, attentive more to the performer's body language than their words. Acting, as I quickly learned, was an intricate trick to pull off, for there was more to it than just words; there was body language. If a performer couldn't control both, they would fail in convincing the audience of their charade.
They must have gone throughout the night, for i was awakened by a hand gently shaking my shoulder; I'd fallen asleep in the corner, waiting. Everyone was parting ways as I took my mother's hand, humming at free will as we trailed down the lightly populated streets. I no longer had protocol to limit my song. It was, as usual, nothing heard of in our beautiful world, but a small series of notes that just seemed to fit together. Once they came to mind, they never left, and undoubtedly, would take days to be replaced with something new.
"Not this way, Adel," my mother said quietly. I nearly stopped in my tracks at her use of my nickname, unable to recall her ever using it. I glanced up at her, unsure, and was surprised to find her looking back at me, determination and a bit of fear in her toffee brown eyes.
"Why not?" I demanded with a little pout. Routine was something I was used to at this point, and I was tired, not to mention hungry. I wanted to go home.
"We're going to see someone special today." She sounded tired, her words sharp and tone flat. It was a warning, I knew, not to ask questions, but a million had already bubbled in my mind and were desperate to be heard.
"But--" May it never be said that I was one to abide by what is supposed to be done.
"Not another word until we get there," she insisted. "I've a headache, and the last thing I need is a wall of questions that can be answered well enough if you exercised a bit of patience." I bit my bottom lip at this, silent for a while before absently humming again and thinking of the monologue that I'd fallen asleep to the night before. For having a headache, she didn't seem to mind this.
I lost track of the world around me, absorbed in my little half-song as we continued through the city streets, occasionally saying hello to those we new or graciously accepting a compliment on my mother's latest performance. I wanted to be like her, to be free to do as she willed and be loved for it.
"Stop singing, Adel, we're here," she said quietly, eyeing me critically before stopping to fix my hair a bit. I squirmed beneath her unfamiliar touch, failing to notice her own nervousness. What in the world was she doing?
The answer wasn't long in coming, though definitely not what I expected. I stood silently beside my mother as she spoke to the Dowayne, barely hearing her as she explained the situation at home, of how she was unable to control some of my tendencies that surely came from my father, as well as the fact that she was unable to support a growing girl on her wages. This brought me out of my dreamworld in a heartbeat, and I glanced from my mother to the Dowayne and back again. My mother's place was pleading, the older woman's, unreadable. My father had been mentioned, which was rare in itself, but that didn't matter just then. What I heard...it couldn't be true, could it?
My mother was giving...selling...me away. And I had no idea why.
Was it because I was bad? Part of me silently pleaded for reality to change, for someone to tell me it was all a trick, like in the plays. Where it wasn't real...but it was. I'd have given anything for it not to be true - I'd stop singing, even, just as long as I could stay.
I couldn't lose my mother, too.
A decision must have been made, an agreement met, for the next thing I knew, my mother was kneeling beside me, arms wrapped around me in a fierce hug. Her voice was full of tears when she spoke, though she never let one mar her beautiful face. Mama was an actress, and she had a role to play.
"Be good for me, Adeleene," she whispered. "Make me proud." I remember pulling out of her hold, ready to throw a massive fit if she dared to leave. But one look at her tired face and I stopped. I couldn't understand what was going on, but it seemed that she didn't like what she was doing, either. It must have been one of those "have to" situations she told me about. So I just stood there and watched her go, never once breaking down until her retreating back disappeared from sight.
That was the last I saw of my mother. Now I belonged to House Eglantine, for better or worse, and when I discovered my fate as a member of Night's Doorstep, it was certainly for worse.