The Play's The Thing - Aristide and Bellamy

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

I couldn't believe I was trying this again. Not so soon after my colossal failure earlier this summer. And yet here I was, holding more tryouts, tryouts for a play that would never happen.

I didn't have the money. I didn't have the playhouse. Eisheth, I didn't have the drive any more, it seemed. No one else seemed to care if this was all going to come together. Why should I?

Luckily my flask cared. It might have actually cared too much. I was blisteringly drunk. It was a wonder I was able to see straight. Light seemed a hindrance to me, and so I had the house lights dim on the stage.

With a signal to the young rapscallion manning the door, I told him to let the next victim in. I was in a foul mood, make no mistake. Unless I saw some actual talent or a stunningly gorgeous woman, I would probably hurl my script at their head.

[Bellamy nó Eglantine]

I always meant to get out, to explore, to actually DO something with my life now that I had my marque finished. I had actually been meaning to do it for quite some time. I was thirty-three now, after all and it had been a good fourteen years since my marque had been complete. Sweet Naamah, I better do something useful. Not that I did not love her services, no, I absolutely adored them, but I was getting on in life and I knew that patrons would be fewer and there was only so much doting and babying that my little adepts could take. There were other services to which I was pledged that came with the Eglantine House -- of song and dance and tricks and entertainment and while I am certain that there are those who are better than me in the ways of the bedchamber, it is hard to find one who can pluck a string as well as several hearts when I have my mandolin at hand.

I am not particularly sure where I heard of Aristide de Crier's work, but someone had convinced me that he was very good though they had left out the pleasant fact that he was a drunkard. I realized it right away when I stepped up there. Now, I was no stunningly gorgeous woman, but I was an Eglantine House Second. Even though I bested the man in years, I still had looks to run by and luckily, some talent pocketed as well. Even though my audition had nothing to do with song, I felt much more at ease to have it at hand. After all, I never knew what I would use it for and the man who told me about the auditions said that everything would be prepared for me beforehand, so I did not have to worry and yet...

Aristide was looking straight at me, drunk and bored to death it seemed, waiting expectantly.

"Erm..." I was one that was almost impossible to get nervous, made uncomfortable or angry, but right now, I had a feeling deep in my gut that I was doing something horrendously wrong. "Was I... supposed to uhm... bring something in, sir?"

Oh precious Naamah. I just ruined my first chance at life.

F-A-I-L.

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

I somehow resisted the urge to grind my palms into my eyes--that would take movement, which I most certainly did not feel like doing--or throwing my script at him--it was the only copy I had.

"It is of no consequence, ah..." I squinted down at the card with his name on it. "Bellamy no Eglantine." I looked back up at Bellamy. Was this the best Eglantine had to offer? Elua above, no wonder I had never gotten around to visit that house. How ridiculously disappointing. I looked around at the sheets of paper on my table, finally picking up one and holding it out for him to come and get.

"Here, you can read this," I said, trying to keep the impatience from my voice and failing miserably. "Just do your best, love, alright?"

I had already forgotten his name.

[Bellamy nó Eglantine]

The man was frustrated. Frustrated out of his mind. I could read him like a bat like any of my patrons and I had to say, I writhed a little in my spot. It was hard to bring any true emotions out of me other than joy and mirth, but I was feeling so many right now it was impossible to decipher one from another. I was scared, nervous and absolutely excited and that was only to name a few. On the top of the list was horror, however. The man who had told me about the auditions had said NOTHING about preparing a monologue and I realized what an error this would be.

The playwright was irritated beyond containment I could see as he shuffled through his papers, trying to find something for me and eventually pulled one out. Then he said it.He called me love. Oh sure, he meant it to try to keep me from being scared and it entirely worked. My bones could have melted, for all I knew and I reached down to grab the paper, determined to do my best in the name of Naamah and Elua. I charmed people with a moment's notice at the Winter's Ball, so why could I not do it here? I looked at the paper he had given me and my mouth went a little slack. It was a monologue written for a woman about to get married. Elua's Balls, I already knew I could not read this.

"I'll play by ear, if you don't mind."

Pointing out the error of his ways would have made me want to fall off the stage in embarrassment or run out and I refused to do either. That was a horrid way to impress someone. I tossed the paper to the floor and closed my eyes, taking a moment to clear my head, to think of something... inspiring. I thought back to the last Winter's Ball, trying to recall what I had done in front of the Dowayne of Balm to make him so red in the face. When my eyes opened, it was then that I already started my monologue with a captivated, almost entranced expression. I speak from my heart, of truth and that is always what creates the best actor, one who takes the role so purely of themselves that almost none of their real self is left.

"I emerged in the costume of an adept because he already knew what I dressed like. Oh Elua, if only I could muster up my courage, peeling through the crowd until I find him, just as he lays a hand on another man and I absolutely will not have it. He's mine." I look straight at him then, catching my breath for a second in order to spin more of the tail of the prank I had pulled that night. "I grab his hand as demanding, yet as gentle as possible and bring that pale white hand in my own and graze his knuckles with my lips. My heart flutters at this almost forbidden action, if only he knew who. Between us, it is almost as forbidden as opening one’s House during the Longest Night and I relish the taste of this forbidden fruit that I always, in the past, avoided. What would he think, if I told him that he looked absolutely riveting as a swan, but much better, on my arm. In all my life, all I had ever wanted was for him to be mine and even for a member of Naamah's court, one's bed grows lonely. It's not a crime."

I end it then, realizing then in a way, I had spilled my entire guts out. But it had made for a gutsy monologue in that fashion, especially one from the top of my head. I have been told that when I speak, I make it seem like I am spinning a tale that had happened to me only a day before, speaking to only one in the crowd and I can only hope it has the same effect on this man.

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

I was quite taken aback when he threw the paper to the ground. In anger I took quite a large drink from my flask, momentarily enjoying the burning sensation down my throat. When he said he was going to play it by ear, I surpressed a groan of annoyance, instead smiling indulgently and nodding.

And then I watched as a change came over the man. Bellamy. I should try to remember his name. All of a sudden I felt like I was present, really there with him, as he sought out the other man. I could sense the anticipation, the waiting, and the final triumph of getting what one wanted.

I wanted that feeling, desired it so badly I could taste it.

I opened my mouth and closed it again. I took another draught of my whiskey, thinking of what to say. Finally I cleared my throat.

"That was absolutely brilliant," I said. Eisheth help me, did I really just say those words?

[Bellamy nó Eglantine]

Brilliant.

In the Night Court, I had been told that that was what I was several times in all sorts of manners and situations, but those were from people who were trained for flattery to get what they wanted and I had a habit of obliging when they did so. However, the Night Court was a small place compared to all of the City of Elua and I longed to best my talent against the real and the best, not realizing that Aristide had barely any funds nor support to get a real play going. My mind instantly romanticized the situation. It was not fame that I sought, nor fortune, just... opportunity.

"Thank you," I said in a manner likened to any Servant of Naamah. I was gracious, but did not have an ego bursting at its seams. "Shall I go now... or?" I asked, unsure of how these went. I had never gone to an audition before and I was only glad that I had done something right. I grabbed the man's paper from the floor and handed it back to him, standing afterwards, awkwardly in the silence.

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

I smiled, though inwardly I wondered if he would ever slow down enough to hear what I had to say. I took the paper from him. "The only critique I might have is that it is not just the words on the paper that you have to say, but the physical actions that you must perform as well. Be sure to move around the stage. Use the space, love." I shrugged. "But, other than that, quite entertaining."

I sat back in my chair, trying to think of what else I needed from the man. "I see that you belong to Eglantine," I said, a bit redundantly. "There is a small singing part in this play. Would you like to try out for that as well?"

[Bellamy nó Eglantine]

"Terribly sorry, I will be sure to improve on that next time." I was not sure how to tell him that because I did it on the spot, I was trying to do it straight from experience and in truth, that was what I did. I stared, completely captivated by the Dowayne of Balm and unable to do anything but that, hoping that somehow I could convince him for a little promiscuity on the Longest Night where no contracts were made. I did not want to sound like I was making excuses, so I merely nodded my head to be quite agreeable and smiled, "I'm glad that you were pleased."

Well, yes, of course I belonged to Eglantine you fool. I'm Bellamy no Eglantine. I kept the smile plastered on my face, mentally scolding myself to not be so mean. I just hated redundancy, that's all. "Sure, of course," I said quickly and picked up my mandolin. I was never comfortable without it by my side. With it, I was whole. I tried to think of something appropriate, something professional, but unfortunately the only song stuck in my head was anything but that. I began to pluck absentmindedly at my strings before realizing I was already playing the intro and cursed, suddenly gripping the mandolin as if it were a living creature about its neck, as if I were trying to strangle it. I stopped that as quickly as I could for I knew that it looked insane and laughed, awkwardly.

I could not sing that song. I absolutely could not--

Before I knew it, my hands were plucking again and the tail of the boastful mouse trying to mount the prideful rooster was peeling from my lips. It had good rifts in it and it showed off my voice but it was... uhm... well...

When I finished I quickly put my mandolin down as if it were a dangerous weapon and forced a smile on my face.

"The song was stuck in my head... I'm terribly sorry."

What in the world was I doing thinking about a mouse mounting a rooster during an audition!?

[Aristide de Crier (I)]

Again I watched, trying not to stare, as he transformed. Even as he played, it seemed as if he was fighting with the instrument.

He had an excellent voice, of that there was no doubt. But the words of the song...

I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. That was so frightening that I took a drink of my flask. The sweet nectar helped to calm my nerves, but it didn't lessen my flushed appearance.

He finished soon enough, and I looked at him as he apologized. "There..." I started, and stopped. "You are quite the exceptional singer, ah..." I looked at the car again. "...Bells. I really enjoy your voice." I smirked, a crooked half-smile. "But I'm not sure if that song is quite appropriate for the family atmosphere I am trying to engender."

I stood and walked toward him, talking as I did so. "It's a bit difficult to reconcile that music with the monologue, very disparate performances, Bells." I was on the stage now, close to him, and I looked him up and down. "I'm not quite sure what to do with you, my friend." I scratched my beard as if considering, although I had already made my decision.

Finally I put my hand out. "I think I have just the part for you, Bells. Welcome to the production."

[Bellamy nó Eglantine]

I made the man blush and I was not entirely sure whether or not that was a good thing. I could only hope he was drinking a very cheap, thin wine for he had been throwing it down his throat the entire time and the smell of alcohol on his brother was indisguisable when he finally get close to me. While I may have been a little bit irked, potentially grossed out by such a fact, all my thoughts changed when his name for me tinkled in my ears.

Love was such a general name. Bells was much more personal and I decided I liked it rather quickly, enough that I forgave him for looking at my card over and over again. I let out a loud laugh, "I'm terribly sorry, I promise I won't sing a song like that in the performance... it's just... habit, I suppose." The song like the one I just sang was one of many that I sang in Eglantine House. I did ballads as well as more popular jigs, but those humorous ones, many I composed myself, were much more fun.

I felt my hair stand on end when he walked on stage and was there, close to me. I liked him. It was quite clear to me that I liked him and I only wish I didn't. That feeling of longing was unpleasant and I always experienced it without any form of release. I stared at his hand for a good long while before I finally took it, feeling that surge of electricity, that buzz of happiness fill me as I grinned.

"Thank you, I won't let you down."

Being part of a production, touching him... Bells... well, I couldn't be happier.