• Event • Freedom of Expression: Inside

[Pig Boy]

Freedom of Expression: Inside

The event was well publicized, for all the fact that its very existence scoffed at the idea of a curfew imposed on the city, against late night theatrical performances. The atmosphere was very cheery in spite of the understated criminality of the presenters and performers. Refreshments were available, up and down aisles concessions were established for sweetrolls, beer, and other libations and refreshments. It seemed that someone had spared no expense to make this as comfortable and well stocked an event as any.

There were those who set aside their tickets to begin with, and arranged a place in the audience. Tickets and invitations were made available ahead of time. Those who could afford a box seat were of course afforded that luxury, but most of the people sat amidst the commons and lower seating, which had at least the advantage of being closer to the stage, even if the audience had to crane their neck to catch a glimpse of the theatrics.

A woman arrived on the stage presently, with long platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a black gown and finely tailored, false demon wings. She blew a kiss to the audience as they all settled in, after seeking whatever food or drinks they wanted to enjoy during the show. With that kiss, she made her proclaimation to the audience, "I must thank you, brave folk, for attending here today, even in spite of the draconian curfew imposed upon our fair city, and upon an entire class of performing artists." She smiled at the audience, which numbered in the hundreds. People had been eager to catch a ltitle bit of entertainment, after the dreary season of Cylus and the early lull crawling into Ashan. Now they were on the verge of entering the hot months, and just a few days hence Ymiden would arrive.

"But you all, at the very least, know the importance of expression and theatrical artistry, even if only for its entertainment value." She said, with a wave of her hand. And the scene on the stage changed. Upon its backdrop, a large mountain appeared, and many would recognize it as the one that Rharne stood upon, albiet without a city carved into its side. "I take you now, to before the founding. When Ilaren led a tribe of hopeful folk into this valley..."

The platinum-haired performer presently removed herself from the view of the audience, as the lights darkened around Starling Gallery. For a moment they were treated to a tableau of people dancing and carrying on in merriment around the 'base' of the mountain, frolicking like they had no care.

Thus the show had begun.

[Perdita Westcott]

Freedom of Expression

Ignorance of the law was no defense.

But on this, the last trial of Ashan, Perdita had not been out in the evening for the entire season - or the season before. So that this curfew thing was still a thing entirely passed her by. She and Eli had finally finished unpacking and they were moved in and she had thought that it would be nice if the two of them went out on a date. A time when they could have some time together, maybe even take things further in their relationship. She was ready, and she was sure he was, and this would be perfect.

Of course, she hadn't actually told Eli any of this. Oh, no. No, that would have been entirely too easy. Except Perdita would have sworn that she did tell him, that she was clear it was a date and it was romantic and it was special for them. What she'd actually done is tell him, quite plainly. "I'm going to an event on the 122nd. There's space if you'd like to come?".

She was all about the no pressure.

On the trial in question, she'd gotten dressed in a pretty gypsy-style blouse and a long blue skirt which picked up the embroidery in the blouse. A blue bolero-style cardigan covered her shoulders and she'd tied her hair back in a loose braid. The box that they had was the best in the houseTier 10 wealth, but Perdita largely didn't notice it. It was, to her, a given that they'd have a box. So entirely usual was it that she hadn't even thought to mention it.

"It's nice, isn't it," Perdita said quietly to him as they sat together. There was food and she nibbled at things and handed him things which tasted nice, for him to try. As the show seemed to begin - with a platinmum-haired woman who was far too attractive for Perdita's liking, causing her to slip her hand into Eli's. "Eli?" Perdita whispered, blushing deeply even as the show began. "I thought this would be." she paused. "Could be." She was whispering, and she realised that she was also stumbling over her words a little. But then, all at once. "I thought this would be nice," she said, nervously, squeezing his hand. "For us, I mean." That platinum blonde woman was far too attractive for her own good. "Like, a date?"

There were people dancing on the stage, and platinum-blonde had gone, but honestly, Perdita wasn't really paying attention.

[Elijah Lamoreaux]

There was many a mystery out there, Eli figured, that he'd probably know the answer to no matter how long he lived. The nature of universe, the heavens, the collective of moon, stars, gasses and so on that from what he could tell, went on forever, for instance. The meaning of life, or why some innocents were allowed to suffer while some baser and less scrupled men flourished. The big, deep questions. The cerebral stuff, like why was a group of dwellings called houses, while a group of mouses wasn't mouses at all, but mice.

But the biggest mystery he figured he'd never solve or gain any reliable insight into, was the female mind. Especially Perdie's mind. It would be helpful, was there some kind of syllabus that he could refer to, that would further help him avoid getting tripped up on the treacherous spots. Had Perdie only asked him to come along in order to be polite, he'd wondered? Was it an afterthought? Was it like ending up with an extra ticket for a show and looking for someone to fill the seat, or was there more to it? Eli had hoped there was. Much more. But without that non existent handbook, he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask.

So he'd told himself there was more, and had happily agreed to accompany Perdie to the event. If he hadn't and she'd gone anyway, he'd have driven himself mad imagining, and wondering who she'd choose to fill that seat instead. So far as curfews or any sense of shutting down certain voices, Eli had been much too busy setting up and building a new...ish business, and moving into a new home with Perdie. Too little spare time to pay much mind to local news or gossip unless it was being shouted from every corner he passed along the way.

When they were ready to leave, he stared a little too long with a smile on her face before finding his voice and telling her how wonderful she looked. All the better than that he'd taken care to choose his suit for the evening wisely, and do his best to look like someone with any business at all living in a house such as this, and one worthy of showing up on her arm. He might not be known around town for much, yet, but Perdie had an established business as well in the city, and her parents weren't exactly unknowns.

"You rented a box?" he asked when finally they walked in. Of course she did, he thought then. The cheap seats were what he was most accustomed to, so it was a strange thing to be in a position of looking down at the stage rather than craning his neck around the masses in order to just catch a glimpse. "It's nice, yeah?" he said, once they'd settled into their seats. He broke off a piece of the large cinnamon bun he'd grabbed downstairs and offered it over to her. "Try this. We should learn how to make them." Soon as they learned how to reliably boil an egg first, that was.

The blonde that opened the show was an eye catcher for sure. But Eli would have said it was her sense of the dramatics and no more than that. He only had eyes for Perdie and smiled when she reached over and took his hand. He could always tell when there was something she wanted to say, but couldn't quite, before she even started to try. It was the blush and it's nuances. He was learning those. The more he witnessed, the more he realized that there were minutely different shades, patterns, while some of her blushes reached over the bridge of her nose while others remained on just the apples of her cheeks.

And then, finally, she spat it out and he grinned wide while squeezing her hand gently in his. "I was hoping we might be able to consider it a date. I was enjoying thinking so anyway, whether it was or not," he admitted. "So that's what it is, then, a date." And of course they'd gotten it all out of order. Stealing away in the belly of a giant moth off to parts unknown when they'd only met just a couple of breaks before. Then...now, having bought their second house together, all without having gone out on a single, official date first. He didn't mind at all though. If Eli had known about the curfew, or if he'd known how the officials might frown on the nature of the performance...Even if he'd realize the powers that be might frown upon the two of them being here at all, he wouldn't have cared. In spite of it all, it was worth it.

[Leander]

Not really one for large crowds and… revels, Leander was surprised to find himself out and celebrating in Rharne. People were everywhere - but it was most busy in the theatre, where Leo found himself. On any other given trial, he would have locked himself away in his shiny new Shadow Quarter supplied laboratory. But something brought him out of his solitary life in favour of joining in.

Maybe it was the sheer joy and fun that vibrated off of near everyone. ‘Excitement’, that was a good word to describe it. Something big was happening, and Leo just had to be a part of it.

He had, of course, pre-empted the busyness of the event, and bought himself a ticket a few trials before. It wasn’t an expensive ticket by any stretch, he could not afford one of those nice little boxes, even on his new, slightly higher, income with the Shadow Quarter. But he liked a good show, and appreciated that he would not freeze to death in this one like he might have done in Viden. His seat, he was pleased to find, was only a few rows back from the stage. And there was a young child sitting directly in front of him, it turned out, so his view was not to be obscured by some hulking beast of a man, luckily.

Sitting down, Leander had a few minutes to kill, where he twiddled his thumbs and looked at the other members of the audience, listening into the conversations around him. Soon, the stage had some action. A beautiful woman with a shock of blonde hair walked out on stage and the audience quieted, ready and waiting in anticipation for what had been promised to be a good show. She spoke and, as she did, the crowd murmured and grumbled at the appropriate moments in response to what she was saying.

For his part, Leander didn’t engage. He came from a culture where following the laws of the land was absolute. At the mention that they were breaking curfew (which he knew but had tried to ignore), he felt momentarily uncomfortable. This was wrong - the curfew was there for a reason, even if Leander didn’t completely understand why. He gut reaction was to get up and leave, truth be told. Yet he stayed - he was promised a night of revelry and a good show, and he wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

The lights on the stage changed and the blonde performer disappeared from the stage, light guiding her exit. Leander shifted in his seat, trying to watch her leave but lights and shadows had an almost magical effect on the way performers could almost disappear from the audience’s view. More of the troupe appeared on stage, moving their bodies in a way that the uncoordinated chemist could never truly understand but would always appreciate. The show had started, and Leo found himself glad to be a part of it.

[Azrael]

122 Ashan 723 | Azrael Blackfire

All Azrael wanted was to go and see a show while he was back in Rharne. All he wanted was a little fun. It was only one night. It was only one show. It was just a curfew. Nobody was getting hurt. He would have argued that if he had anyone left in Rharne to argue with. Tali and Thorn were on a small trip elsewhere. Consequently he had the night free to explore and no reason to explain himself. He enjoyed the freedom to explore Rharne. It was a wonderful place. Not wonderful like Melrath but a different sort. Things could all have different types of wonder, couldn't they? They could all be full of wonder. But Rharne had shows he could enjoy and drinks he could not find easily elsewhere. The diri of thirst, AnonaA series of vines that wind their way around Azrael's non-dominant hand., had nothing to say to try and deter him from the show. If he went to a show, he'd probably drink. When he drank, she would feel better. Why stop him?

He felt he had dressed nicely for the show but he always thought he looked good.Ever Alluring I - The bearer has an enhanced constitution, staying strong and healthy in conditions where others would wilt and fall ill. Scars never remain, disease rarely seems to visibly touch the bearer, and he/she recovers from injuries much faster than the average member of their race. The bearer seems to age more slowly, though the effect is superficial rather than biological. In addition, everyone encountered is subconsciously attracted to the bearer, even those of incompatible sexual orientation. Those of alternate tastes may not feel compelled to flirt or pursue the marked, but the spark of incomprehensible arousal, however slight, is there all the same. He wore comfortable boots because he was concerned he'd be standing for a while while waiting to be seated. His ticket wasn't an expensive one. He could have spent a little more money on a better spot but he'd have been farther from the show. He wanted to be closer, even if it meant craning his neck a little. He wore clean pants but not a new pair just in case someone spilled something on him. A simple shirt that was a little long with a belt around the waist that had a small pouch on the side for his flask. He didn't have anything great in the flask, just some mead he'd found in the Earth Quarter. He'd never tried it before and was curious how it would taste, but saved it for the show. He had leather vambraces on his forearms to secure the sleeves more than anything else.

It didn't take as long to get seated as he thought it would but he was still happy that he was wearing his comfortable boots. He didn't recognize any faces in the crowd but he didn't look very hard. The show would start soon and that was what he'd come to see. He found that he did two things without thinking while he waited. He shifted his weight in his seat and the fingers of his non-dominant hand traced the vines wound around it. He didn't think about it often but he didn't wait often.

When the blonde woman with the cold eyes and false demon wings took to the stage, a smile quickly spread over the moralborn's face. It seemed bold to fashion yourself the demon wings in this city. Azrael worked to ensure the tattoo on his back wasn't seen but this woman- bold. He liked it. She was beautiful. She wasn't cute. She was something else. Yet it was her outfit choice he admired most before she began to speak. She addressed the curfew and thanked the audience, moving quickly through what felt like a practiced speech before moving offstage. As the lights lowered in the Gallery, Azrael took a quick drink from his flask (holding it in his non-dominant hand) before putting it back in its pouch.

Then he watched as the show began.

[Pig Boy]

Freedom of Expression: Inside

The tableau on display on the stage unfolded and proceeded in an impressive ballet routine by the dancers on stage. The scene would seem to

some of the theater goers

to be a representation of the founding of Rharne, and Ilaren's initial arrival and discovery of a tribe of mortals there. A representative version of Ilaren was on stage, her messy red hair a tangle as she drunkenly but expertly enough at that, danced her way through the scene, in and around the movements of the other dancers. The height of drunken portrayal combined with an absolute stunning choreography by the dancer depicting Ilaren made for an interesting juxtaposition for the theater viewers.

Perdita was busy blushing and trying to navigate a social interaction with Elijah, when her gaze inevitably was cast downwards. She'd find a small conch shell, with a lovely angel-wing pattern upon it. If she looked closely at it, she'd notice writing on it. Say what you want to say. If Elijah's glance crossed to the same shell, he'd find it looked just as Perdita saw it, only the writing was different for him if he read it. Tell me what you want to hear.

Leander felt a crick in his back as he adjusted in his seat, and tried to look for the platinum blond who'd disappeared into the backstage. As he shifted, he'd feel an uncomfortable sting. Reaching toward the source of the pain in his seat, he'd find a small jagged figurine of a demon dog, it's eyes glowing with ruby gleam. On it's underside, he'd notice the writing, if he examined it further, Do as you wish.

Azrael as he continued to watch the show, was taken by how talkative everyone in the theater was, although their voices didn't distract from the performance at all. Particular among these, was a man in a neat suit next to him, perfectly tailored with a slick hair-cut. He looked very out of place among the common seating, surely someone of his caliber would've preferred a sky box. But here he was, seated next to Azrael. "So, what do you think?" He asked Azrael. "I'd really like to know."

As all of this was occurring, Ilaren's drunken dance through the line of dancers concluded with her exit to the left of the stage. Where the demon-winged lady had gone. The dancers all followed her, some, others merely laid down prostrate on the floor of the stage, apparently in some imitation of drunken slumber. The lights shifted from them, down onto a very young woman in a white gown, whose hair was bright red. She looked the spitting image of Ilaren. Some among the gallery would

recognize

her as Liviana, the daughter of Ilaren if they knew their Rharnean history.

In any event, she didn't wait to introduce herself, but launched into a mournful soliloquy about the brevity of childhood, of missing home and family. She expressed her concern for her mother, in song as her voice lifted into a brilliant operatic. Thus the show continued.

Off Topic

Hey guys, I'm gonna post again in about a week, please have your posts in before then![/mod]

[Perdita Westcott]

Freedom of Expression

When he asked if she'd rented a box, Perdita merely nodded. But, it caused a thought process - as most things did - and she spoke softly. "My parents bought theirs," she considered. "Should we buy one?" It wasn't really something she'd ever paid attention to, truth be told and so it was something to consider. She accepted the cinnamon pastry and nodded as he said they should learn to make them. "Maybe after eggs?" They often commented on not really being able to cook an egg between them.

When he returned the squeeze of her hand, Perdita's blush deepened, but she smiled. "You've thought about it?" She had to admit to being pleased about that, that he'd thought about her - about them - and whether this was a date or what it might be. She was never entirely sure what was going on in his mind and, often, she thought he must consider her to be dreadfully dull. That he'd wanted this to be a date gave her cause to smile and she leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.

As they watched the play, Perdita whispered to Eli as she thought she recognised things. "I think this is the founding of Rharne," she said, pointing out the people and the events. History, after all, was very much of interest to her and Perdita paid attention to the skill level of the performers on the stage . She tried to pick out details of the costumes, so that she could recreate them in a piece of art later but they were too far away for her to see the kind of detail she wanted.

Holding on to Eli's hand, she watched the scenes unfold and she found herself being very aware of how it was dark and they were, essentially, alone in a crowded place. Of course, as soon as she had that thought Perdita blushed and she lowered her head as she did. Looking down at their hands together, she frowned slightly and leaned forward. Then, she held out her hand and showed him the small but very beautiful shell. She gently nudged her arm against Eli's and whispered. "Look," she showed him the shell, tracing the angel-wing pattern with her finger and then, tapping said digit against the shell itself. "What does that mean, do you think? 'Say what you want to say' is a strange thing to put on a shell." Her voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Of the person now on stage, the white-dressed lady, Perdita glanced at Eli to see if he knew who she was. She ascertained that he didn't, so she whispered. "That's Liviana, Ilaren's daughter." It would help him to enjoy it, she thought, if he had the first notion of what was going on and so she told him. Then, she put the shell in his hand, with a smile. "For you," she whispered. She was still a bit confused by what a shell was doing in a box in a theatre, but life was a wonderful and hard-to-explain thing at times, so she just went with it.

[Leander]

Ah, refreshments, Leander almost said aloud, as drinks aplenty were carted up and down the aisles and sold to the audience. Leander was soon in a queue to acquire some mead. He liked a good drink, and would be on something stronger, but there was something about the elicit nature of being out after dark tonight that had Leander choosing something weaker. He wanted to keep his wits about him… though knowing him that might change with time. He even splurged out on a sweetroll, which he thought was slightly overpriced, but demands allowed them to charge whatever they wanted, he mused.

The show was just fine, but Leander found he could not fully enjoy it because of the looming awareness that there was curfew in place constantly in the back of his mind. The interpretive dancing of Ilaren’s story was magnificent, and it had clearly been rehearsed for trials. But he could not settle. Hopefully more mead out chill him out a little and he could enjoy the performance as it should be enjoyed.

Shifting in his seat, he felt a sharp pain in his lower back. He hissed and his neighbour glanced his way. Changing his grimace to a smile, the pair locked eyes for a second before his neighbour turned back to watch the performance. Surreptitiously, the chemist reached with his free hand behind him to gingerly pad at the seat in search of whatever had caused the pain.

Marvelling at how he didn’t notice it when he first sat down, Leander leaned forward to place his flagon of mead on the floor at his feet and rotated the strange jagged demon dog figurine in his hands, examining it with care. There, inscribed on it, were four small words, almost too difficult to read in the low light of the theatre. But he read them: do as you wish. He stared at it, then glanced to his right. His neighbour was paying no attention to him.

Tucking the demon dog figurine into a pocket, he picked up his mead again (because that was what he wished to do in this moment). He took a long swig of the sweet nectar and returned his attention to what he was supposed to be watching. The dancers vacated the stage and a single woman in a white gown was left. Leander didn’t know who she was, but from the general hushed murmuring of the audience, he guessed she had to be someone of importance. She began a softly spoken soliloquy and it was through that that Leander realised who she must be. He listened with interest, though he was truly only paying half attention, as a part of his mind was still on the dog burning a proverbial hole in his pocket. He didn’t know what it meant.

[Elijah Lamoreaux]

Between him and Perdie, there was a difference in perspectives, about most things related to money and society, that was nigh on impossible to deny. She thought nothing of occupying expensive sky boxes, not because she was blind to, or insensitive to the plight of the poor. But because it was hard to imagine how she could truly have related on a deep and personal level, having never lived it herself. Eli's was the same challenge in reverse. What he knew of people who lived, in honesty, much like he and Perdie were now, had been informed by what he'd seen through different eyes, perspectives gained only by being on the outside looking in.

But what he knew was that it was an adjustment for them both. Eli's feelings for Perdie, even though he hadn't managed to say it aloud just went, were beyond simple fondness. Which made it worth every bit of it. So his answer to her earlier question came belatedly, but after settling himself in and acknowledging the fine view of stage that they had from this vantage, he remarked. "If we're to see more shows, it might be worth considering purchasing one of our own, rather than imposing on your parents." They didn't mind, he knew. But being self-sufficient and non reliance on others to get by was a matter of pride he'd probably never be able or willing to shake.

"Seems like it," he said when she offered her take on the story playing out on the stage. He knew of a bit of the history, even if this telling was being rolled out in the form of dance. His mother, for all of her struggles, had always doubled down on the importance of education. In her mind, and Eli figured she'd be absolutely right, education was the only true way out of poverty and into a life of security and respect. Some of her children...or at least those who'd survived to adulthood, including him, had taken that sentiment to heart. Others had not. This sort of dancing wasn't usually Eli's preference, to be honest, but he was enjoying it immensely even if the greater part of his focus was on Perdie instead.

"Where did you find it?" he asked quietly when she showed him the shell. It was an interesting looking thing and he wondered how the message had been inscribed there. 'I don't know what it means," he whispered back when she asked, but still he frowned curiously once she placed it into his hand and he took a closer look at the script. "Is that what you're seeing it says?" he asked, still whispering. Maybe she was just phrasing things differently was all. But it struck him as something worth asking. "Tell me what you want to hear, that's what I see when I look at it," he insisted.

[Azrael]

122 Ashan 723 | Azrael Blackfire

It really was an entertaining show. Azrael thought so at least. There hadn't been grand playhouses to visit in Melrath. Nor were there any in Yaralon when he was traveling around those villages. That was arcs ago though. Perhaps they had playhouses now? Perhaps Melrath did? How long would it take to really build one? Not as long as it would take to organize the rest of the play. Construction was construction. Plays were art. Plays were never really done. They changed every time that you watched them due to small things that the actors did or said differently. Construction, if they didn't stall to get paid more, was done within a set schedule. Naturally this was not what Azrael was thinking about. He was quietly allowing himself to become infatuated with the actors he saw who he liked- either because he felt their performance or because they were attractive.

He found himself particularly enjoying the actress portraying Ilaren. It was something about how she had mastered her drunken act. She moved fluidly like many who drank a little too much, but her movements looked great with the choreography.

He didn't find himself surprised by how talkative the others in the cheap seats were but he was taken by it all the same. It felt like the theater was alive with a fun spirit, both on the stage and in the crowd. He liked it. It was as entertaining as it should have been. Eventually a well dressed and slick haired figure asked a question beside Azrael and the mortalborn turned to glance at the man. With a once over he felt the man was dressed too nicely to be seated where they were. He didn't know for sure, he wasn't a great appraiser of fabric and fashion, but the man seemed well-dressed. It helped that Azrael could compare him to the others around them.

"I think you look much too nice to be sitting down here." Azrael said with a dumb grin on his face and a small gesture to the man's clothing. "I like it though. It works for you." Azrael gave a small shrug and turned his gaze back to the stage for a few trills. "I'm Azrael. What brings you to the show?"