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The Marriage of Figaro
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Katarina Smith
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 10, 2008 10:52 am    Post subject: The Marriage of Figaro Reply with quote

“Oh, Lor’n Skies.” Katarina breathed as the lacing in the back of her bodice was pulled tighter. One person was working on her dress, one on her hair, and another on her face. She could not even twitch or breathe without disrupting anything. Showtime was within the next hour, and the backstage of the theatre showed the pressure. Too many bodies were running around with raised voices, making sure that all props and costumes were to be displayed in perfection.

“I need you to sew this, now!” Christine’s face was red as she held her navy ballet slipper that had a detached ribbon on its side. Though Katarina felt sorry for the woman that Christine yelled at, Katie could not help but smile brightly at her fellow dancer’s poor luck.

“Don’t move your face!” The young woman in front of her scolded and scowled.

“Sorray.” Katarina then winced as she did just as she was told not to do, and made matters worse. “Sorray!” She heard Andy, another dancer’s laughter next to her, and she set her face to remain still so that she did not cause further disruption.

Away from the backstage, the theatre appeared as elegant as ever. Candles of varying sizes brought illumination inside the theatre and down the aisles. Ushers in simple black and white tuxedos appeared polished and patient, waiting for the doors to open and guide people to their seats. The walls and ceiling were made of both dark wood and light marble; designs both simple and bold that naturally drew the viewer’s eyes to the stage.

The lobby was already filled with early guests who anticipated the several grand doors to open. Posters of the play were displayed on the walls next to large candles, and different themes and props were cleverly collaborated to give subtle clues to those that did not know the story. Waiters came around to several groups of people with complimentary champagne flutes and hor’dourves. There were also simple flyers passing around of invitations to the after party directly after the opera.

The exterior of the theatre was bright and alive. Set aglow to set a dramatic ambience, posters were displayed, and some stamped with “sold-out.” As more people drew towards the theatre, the workers could not contain their excitement about the first sold-out production in several months.

“Look, they’re opening the doors!” Christine cried and scurried to the secret viewing of the wall to see the inside of the theatre from backstage. Several performers gathered to these various places, in hopes of spotting friends and family. Katarina was no exception, and despite the irritation of the woman whom had been working on her face, her eyes eagerly sought out for the faces that she had invited, and others.

((Want to join in? See the OOC thread for details!))
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Jolyon Gardiner
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 10, 2008 3:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

“Hamish?” Jolyon called as he tried for the second time to tie the bowtie that went with his tuxedo. There being no reply, he went wandering the cold hallways in his bare feet searching out the man. “Hamish?”

To save expense on oil, they did not light many hall lamps, and only some rare ones about the property, so finding a bit of light was good indication someone was there. In the tired, water damaged wall of the family room, he found the man reading. When he entered, rheumy brown eyes looked up from a tatter-edged book. The man had the cheek to whistle and cat call. “What kinda straight jacket is that? Havin’ trouble with your noose, lad?”

Jolyon looked down at his clothes and back up, bow tie forgotten and hung loose about his neck. “It is the formal wear of going to an opening night opera. They don’t wear this around here?” He had not thought to ask Juliane or Katarina what the appropriate attire would be.

“Oh, yeah,” the man set aside his book and using both hands on the arms of the chair, got himself up to stand and mosey his way to Jolyon. “Some wear it. Others will be wearin’ the clothes they’re used to. Doubt you’ll stick out much, but you sure look uncomfortable.”

That did not make Jolyon feel any better. Uncomfortable was not what he was trying to present. “I don’t suppose you know how to tie this tie, do you?”

“I can give it a go,” Hamish muttered, reaching for the two ends and starting to reason out how to tie it and look like it should.

After a few moments of feeling like his windpipe was being crushed, a gag or two of being jabbed in the throat by a thick thumb, the tie was done – poorly. “There you go.” Hamish looked down at Jolyon’s feet, a little blue now for standing on the cold floor. “You should wear something on your feet. It’s cold out there.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jolyon smirked, touching the tie with care. “Thanks for the tie.” He could not feel it was rather clumsily done, but at least it felt straight. He dashed off to claim socks and shoes, top coat and overcoat, plus gloves not daring to be late to meet up with the Smith family. The slick shoes slid across the tile floor as he tried to stop his mad dash, and went running back to his room for the tickets.

He was out again, where the horse was hitched up to a small two seat carriage Hamish and Jolyon had restored the day before. They had come across it, plus other items for the vineyard, in a far shack on the opposite side of the fields. Sitting back in the fresh polished leather seat, he gave a flick to the reins and went off at a brisk trot to the meeting place.
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Sera
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PostPosted: Tue Mar 11, 2008 1:12 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sure enough there was Sera, several dozens of roses in her slender arms. She was dressed for the occasion and everything! All gussied up in a off the shoulder white silk gown. It wasn't really all that eye catching and very simple. Even the ribbon that worked it's way around her tiny waist was a simple thing of black. Her hair was pinned up though and she wasn't wearing her headdress. She was, however, wearing her shawl which matched very well with the dress.

Violet-tainted blues drift over the huge crowd, nervousness welling up in her stomach. Last time she had been around so many it was close to her ordination to be the keeper. And being there alone..well she was about as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Her eyes lift to the building and up..up..she spied people staring out the window and recognized Ms. Rini. She found that comforting. Smiling she raises a hand and waves. She didn't expect to be spotted in the huge crowd but it never hurt to wave and give support!
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Hudson Fraiser
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PostPosted: Wed Mar 12, 2008 3:05 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hudson stood in front of the small wardrobe in one corner of his bedroom, regarding its near-emptiness with a frown on his face. When he had come to RhyDin, he’d only been carrying a few changes of clothing in his pack, and none of them had been formal wear. Since arriving and finding Sianna, he hadn’t spared much time to look for more. Now as he lifted out the formal kilt, the shirt and vest and jacket to accompany it, he had to smile.

When he’d found Sianna had a bolt of the Fraiser plaid, he’d asked for eight yards of the fabric. She had given it to him without question; enough searching had turned up a tailor who knew what was required. He’d been planning to keep this for Sianna’s wedding – but it wouldn’t hurt to wear it now. From what Hudson knew of the opera, it would be hard to overdress.

He hadn’t donned formal wear in some time; not since the last wedding among his brothers. It felt strange, but not uncomfortable. When Hudson reached the kilt pin, he paused, turned the long steel pin over and over with net-scarred fingers. His thumb ran across the charging stag’s-head sigil on its head. Johnny had done good work, duplicating the seal from the brooch Hudson wore on his shoulder. Payment for the language lessons, Johnny had called it, despite that Hudson had asked for no such reward.

Thoughts turned and drifted back to an isolated stretch of moor, the solitary house there, and the old, old woman who lived alone. For a bowl of stew and a word of hope about his sister, Hudson had left his own kilt pin behind. The old woman hadn’t asked for that, either. But the great plaid didn’t need a kilt pin, and he hadn’t brought a lesser kilt with him. It had been an easy token to give, and a clearer way to mark his trail if any thought to follow him. For a while, he had thought Cailean might.

A small, rueful smile turned his mouth upwards at the corner, and Hudson’s eyes drifted out the window, in the direction of the sea. Too far from the harbor, with too many houses in the way, there was no way to see the water. After a moment, he shook his head and thrust the kilt pin into place. The formal sporran was the last item, and he made sure to transfer the tickets and enough money for the night to it before he left the house.

The nearby church tower was striking six when he locked the door. He would be in good time to meet Sylvia at the Blue Angel. From there to the opera, and perhaps even on to the after-party Katarina had mentioned. It would be a good night.
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PostPosted: Wed Mar 12, 2008 8:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Peredhil absently fingered the two tickets that Katarina had given him last week so that Piper and he could attend her performance. Initially excited about the opportunity to enjoy a night of culture with Piper, Johnny and Sianna, and other friends, last Saturday night's disastrous conversation had put the skids on that plan.

He regretted missing Katarina's performance, as it would undoubtedly be the talk of the town for weeks to come. Besides, it was always fun to see Rhydin's citizens decked out in their finest attire and, at least for the first few minutes, on their best behavior.

Wes entered quietly, waiting patiently until Peredhil acknowledged his presence with a weak smile.

"Make sure she gets these," Peredhil instructed Wes, reluctantly offering his bearded friend the tickets. "I'm sure she'll be able to make use of both of them."

Wes frowned slightly, but he accepted the tickets wordlessly and quickly strode out of the room.

After a final wistful sigh, Peredhil pushed the issue out of his head. There were more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.
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Storm Divine
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PostPosted: Wed Mar 12, 2008 11:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It had been a number of years since Storm had attended an opera. The last time she had gone to the theatre was to see Much Ado About Nothing with Ewan, that was over six months ago. So, it was with great anticipation that she mulled over her appearance. All of Storm’s dresses were just tight enough around her middle to make her uncomfortable, and she did not want to sit and remain uncomfortable for the entire show.

Though his use of formal wear as himself was rare except for the occasional ball in Seansloe or the theatre, Ewan had several pieces for various personas he had to portray over the years. It was rather vexing that he had not brought more of those pieces with him, and in fact, when he had perused the limited selection, decided it best to stay with his own formal attire. It was comfortable, held very few bitter memories, and would not encourage him to start playing a role.

In her rather short notice, Storm had gone to her own realm in hopes that Anne would help assist her in finding something suitable. She was given something more than suitable, and was not going to wear it when she first put it on. The soft and full curves that currently accentuated her physique were showcased in the simple black cut of the dress. It was the simple, lined bead work that covered the bodice and moved to drape over her bare shoulders that had caught her eye. Finishing around her neck like a clever necklace, Storm had placed her crimps and curled up to display the bead work of her dress.

The black suede pants were given the smallest trim in leatherwork detail around the waist. It was mostly hidden by the hip length dark green doublet, the white linen shirt revealed beneath through decorative slashes in the sleeves. Along those lines of slashes the trace of golden ivy leaves embroidered. A simple short ribbon of green tied back his hair. With the polished black boots, concealing some weaponry there as well as beneath one sleeve, he felt himself complete and went to wait for his wife in the family room.

Ever eager to surprise her husband, Storm had even barricaded herself into the necessary room while she dressed and got ready. She was not sure where he was now, but she was certain he was waiting for her to finish so that they could be on her way. She purposely undid the latch that held the bead work that rested on the back of her neck, and opened the door to call out, “Beloved? Can you come here, please?”

At her call, he went to find what it was she needed, letting her know he was on his way by returning the call, “Yes?” There was not much of a statement to make beyond that at first when he met her at the opening of the room and saw the alluring cut of her gown. Brows rose quite high, and he stopped to take in the entire view before he came closer. “Something you need, beloved?” His hands trailed up her arms in tender caress. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She barely noticed his study as she performed one of her own. Her smile became more impish, “I must say you look rather dashing yourself.” Her eyes continue to stare, and it took her a moment to remember that this was supposed to be her time to make him breathless. A smile of inner irony, she motioned to the latch in her hand to held all the bead work together, “Can you latch this for me, please? I cannot seem to do it myself.”

“Aye, I think I can handle that…” and as he moved around to her back, he placed a kiss at the nape of her neck, “it will let me get familiar with the trick of it for later.” There was no mistaking his intentions for later.

She shivered slightly at the kiss to her neck, “Best we go now, before we end up being late. Very late.” It took every ounce of self-control that she had to gently usher him out of the small room. Her grin still impish, she leaned over to whisper to his ear, “Now you have time to think of all the different ways.” She purposely left her sentence vague to let his mind ponder her meanings. She was glad that the walk to the theare would be a cold one.

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SylviaNightshade
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 11:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

“It is the fashion, my lady, I assure you.” Miriam said once again as she tucked in the beaded pin into Sylvia’s hair.

“It just seems ostentatious.” Not only that, but it had been nearly six years since she had worn her hair up off her neck at a formal function. “My neck feels bare.”

A gentle, understanding hand rested on Sylvia’s shoulder a moment. There were no words, but the elder lady communicated much of sympathy in that touch and in the silence. Sylvia looked down at her white gloved fingers resting in her lap. It was such a confusing night. Excitement uppermost in anticipation of a fine night out mingled with the physical memories that swelled discomfort in her stomach.

“Mum,” Cian questioned come up behind her. She felt his hand against the back of her neck. “Why’s your hair up?”

Aidan just grinned over the edge of the table like a pick-a-boo Cheshire cat. “Pretty mommy.”

“Thank you, my little man.” Sylvia smiled and felt some of the hesitating conflict come anew. Naturally Cian would notice the change, though not really know why it was once one way and then another. It was simply different. “Miriam says that it is the way ladies wear their hair in Yransea now.” Not adding when they are widowed tradition allowed them to wear their hair up off the neck once again.

He inspected the work, the curls and pins that adorned her hair rather in the fashion he inspected Lucky-puppy for ticks. With a nod he said, “All right.”

She had to laugh. All right. Whenever in doubt, one of her children would always send the message that things were indeed all right. The queasy uncertainty flopped once more and rested its irritation. “Now,” she faced them, one hand of each in hers, “you be good boys. Avery is our guest, so be respectful of that.”

Whatever respectful meant to Aidan was unclear, but Cian was certain to get the message. She rose with kisses to their foreheads and went out of her room taking the wrap from Miriam’s hands. The carriage outside was the simple travel one, and her guard opened the door for her. When both were settled inside and the tantalizing lurch forward set the carriage in motion, the guard began, “Master Corinsson has arranged for me to wait at his home while you are at the opera.”

“Very good,” Sylvia was glad to hear she was not to be accompanied the entirety of the evening. It was, in her mind, poor use of the guard’s time when she was to be in company of so many others and traveling most of the long distances by carriage.

The rest of the journey was in silence. Sylvia watched the colors of evening and day mix and mingles, playing their exuberant dance along the sky. A self conscious touch of her hair, she cast a glance to the guard who did not look like he noticed. Drifting thoughts of the performance brought a peaceful smile, and in all company to share it with. Friends new and old would be there, and she could, even with her hair up off her neck, feel at ease in their company and just be who she was. Nothing hanging over her for the first time in a long while, the cool feel of breeze on her nape was not the illusionary ax of trouble kissing the skin.

Maneuvering its way through the streets, the carriage came to a halt a short walk from the Blue Angel. The guard exited, took a look around and turned about to offer her help down. A smile bourn of delighted ease moved to whisper her thanks and she turned for the restaurant the beginning of a grand evening.
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Izira Nyte
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 11:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Izira moved about the inn, dressed in a soft charcoal grey dress that was fitted with a black ribbon about the waist and a line of small black buttons up the center of the torso. Her black heels softly sounding against the hard wooden floors of the inn’s main room. Upon the bar was a small stack of mail, each item having found its way here in one form or another—the various bits gathered to be sorted through when she had the time. Her hair was collected into a bun, the usual rebellious wisps curling to fall against her face and neck. A pen stuck into the bun for safe keeping. She moved easily behind the bar, getting a cup a tea readied then adding in a bit of cream and honey. Silver spoon stirred the contents together then lifted to the lady’s lips to sample. Perfect. Spoon returned to rest against the saucer, tea lifted and sipped with a quiet smile of enjoyment—Izira turned towards looking through her mail.

There was almost nothing of note within the pile, several forms for placing orders and a few letters from people seeking a certain item from her stock and requesting permission to visit the inn along with a number of daily papers from various locations that would be perused later in the day. It was a small blank envelope that caught the lady’s attention, pulling it from the pile carefully. Outwardly it was inspected but revealed nothing of who had sent it or what it contained. Danger was momentarily considered before curiosity won the moment and Izira slid the flap of the envelope open to reveal—a ticket to the opera.

It was an unexpected treat and, it seemed, fairly short notice as the opera was to be performed that very night. Still, Izira smiled widely at the thought of a night at the opera. It would be good for her to go out and with the lights low for the show the lady would not have to be nervous about catching anyone’s attention. Now all she would have to do is decide what to wear.


Last edited by Izira Nyte on Mon Jun 09, 2008 2:26 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Luna Eva
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 12:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Marriage of Figaro. Eva paused in front of one of the many posters around the Marketplace announcing opening night. The mid-day sun was finally starting to feel warm again, but it had done nothing to improve her mood. Eva scrunched her nose, and raised a hand to push a strand of hair back from her face. The Marriage of Figaro was a comedy, right? She could use a comedy.

Eva adjusted her course and headed in the direction of the theater. The box office was open, but a young boy was just stamping the words "sold-out" on the posters out front. Eva frowned. It was worth a try, and if she hurried, she'd have enough time to get dressed up and come back in time for opening curtain. She could wear the same dress she wore to the Masquerade Ball. It was appropriate enough. It didn't really matter that she would be wearing the same dress, did it?

The man on the other side of the box office window had bushy white eyebrows, and smiled as she approached. "Can I help you?"

"Are there any tickets available for tonight's opening?"

The man sucked in a breath and grimaced. "Not too much left, I'm afraid. How many do you need?"

"Just one."

"Just one? Then you are in luck."

Eva looked at him, then reached into her pocket for payment. "Yeah. Lucky me."
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Locke DVestavio
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 2:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Locke came upon his tickets to the opera the way he came upon many of the things in his possession: by winning them in a game of high stakes poker. More specifically, a game of poker that was played in one of the many smoky and blue-fluorescent-lit back rooms of the Star's End Bar. He was able to pass himself off as an alien briefly visiting RhyDin by speaking in broken Common, grinning constantly, and otherwise behaving strangely. He refused to shake the hands of his fellow players, wore a balaclava over his face and insisted no one ask him to remove it, and performed back flips after each hand he won (which was a substantial number). By the end of the evening, he had cleaned up, and one of the other players at the table, a starship captain needing the money he'd lost to make payroll for his crew, had offered him the pair of tickets in exchange for some of his winnings. The ice elf managed to finagle the money for a tuxedo from the man in addition to the tickets, and Locke was on his way to a night at the opera.

Of course, he had made the mistake of waiting until the last minute to head to New Haven and visit one of the higher-end tuxedo rental stores in that district. By the time he had arrived, most of the normal tuxedo styles and colors had been rented out; what remained were coats, pants, and vests in colors ranging from powder blue to lavender to pink, with styles that most men wouldn't have been caught dead wearing a decade ago. Most men weren't Locke though, and although he wasn't planning on wearing something quite as garish as the powder-blue, high-collared outfit he'd worn for the Masquerade, he did want to stand out. So naturally, he tried on just about every tuxedo he thought he might like to wear (and some that he just liked).

One of Locke's favorite things to do was try on clothes. He loved comparing the cuts of different shirts and pants, the weight of fabrics used, the way different colors complimented or contrasted with his pale blue skin. He pranced and preened in front of the three way mirrors, tossed unwanted items back at the sales staff with an air of casual disdain, and clapped his hands giddily at particularly striking outfits. Finally, though, after about 45 minutes of measuring and fitting and trying on countless outfits, the salespeople had had enough. After Locke tried on a champagne-colored, two-button jacket and pants combination and dismissed it (though he thought it'd be aces for another event), they put their feet down, in their polite yet supercilious way. “Sir, perhaps we should go back to something you tried on earlier, and see if you have changed your mind about it.” Locke just pouted at those words.

“But...but I want to try on more!” Their faces were blank, haughty, but there was a gleam in their eyes that suggested what they might do to the ice elf if forced to pick out one more garishly colored vest for him.

“Sir, we insist.” Locke's lower lip jutted out, eyes wide as saucers, but he finally nodded his assent.

“Oh, all right.” Locke practically sashayed over to where one of the earlier outfits he had tried on was still hanging, waiting to be put back on display. The coat was a five-button, non-vented banded collar in black. He paired it with a black vest and a white tuxedo shirt with a laydown collar. In place of a bow tie, he wore a skinny, shimmery, silken tie in a crimson hue. Black wool pleated pants and equally ebony-shaded round-toed dress shoes completed the ensemble. He grinned impishly, as he watched one of the salesmen, a short, portly, balding gentleman, realize how long Locke had been stringing them along, trying out wardrobes that he had no intention of renting. His left eye seemed to twitch a little, and his head, from the bottom of his chin to the top of his skull, was a vibrant shade of red. Mirthful cobalt eyes watched the other salesperson, an overly skinny and tall man in a suit fitted too baggy and short for his frame, as he manhandled the various items of his tuxedo into a garment bag. Before he left, he cast one last, longing glance back at the champagne-colored suit. He would have to remember that for some other time. But for now, he remembered something else. She always loved it when he dressed in black...



((Tuxedo description paraphrased from menswearhouse.com))
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Natalia Smith
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 3:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

3 days before the show:

It wasn't every day that Tali got to stay up late and go to fancy parties. While dressing up wasn't her favorite thing in the world, she guessed she could make an exception for Cousin Kat. But she wasn't going to wear any of the baby dresses Mamma and the Sisters kept trying to persuade her to wear. Fifteen years old was way to old for pastels and lace in her opinion.

Miss Wisper over at Delight's agreed with Tali. She wasn't much older than the girl, and could se where being treated constantly like an infant could be bothersome. So Tali and Wisper went shopping together, and in what seemed to Tali to be the oddest of places. They went to a warehouse owned by the Falconne's where a tiny room had been set up in the back of a larger room full of bolts of material. A little old lady and her two helpers had set up shop back there, making dresses from the fabrics imported by the Falconne's.

"Pick a fabric you like little one, and I'll make you something special from it." The little old woman had seen the light in Tali's eyes when she passed a particular rack of satins. She was already thinking of styles that might suit the girl in the rich fabric.

Tali selected satin the green of summer grass and laid it carefully in front of the woman, who then took some mesurements and told the girl to come back the morning of the opening.

The morning of the show:

Tali and Wisper came back to the shop behind the warehouse the morning of the opening, to find a fairytale masterpeice sitting on a dressmakers form in the center of the room. Yards and yards of the green satin had been draped and gathered in a dress a princess would envy. A sleaveless top fitted like a dream drapped and gathered at the stomach with a mesh of tiny crystals and pearls.

When she tried it on, it fitted perfectly, and made her feel so grown up. Wisper added a tiny emerald and diamond locket, shaped like a sea shell, and tiny emerald clips for her hair completing the look.

Permission had been given for Tali to arrive at the opera with Wisper instead of the family, so that she didn't have to hurry home from work to get ready. It had been hard keeping the dress secret this long, and even harder packing the frilly pink thing Mamma had picked in her overnight case.

Wouldn't Mamma and The Sister's be shocked when they saw how grown up she looked tonight?
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Jolyon Gardiner
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 3:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

“No, that one,” Jolyon motioned to the bouquet of delicate flowers. The mixture of violets, whites, and a few red roses was not overly large, but suitable for a gesture of appreciation to a dancer. The other item he purchased from the florist he was less certain. The combination of exotic lavender roses with hints of baby’s breath were kept together by a delicate ribbon of white silk. Its pin meant to attach to a lady’s dress without too much damage to the garment. Only problem was, Jolyon did not know if there would be a place to pin it.

On his drive up, some couples dressed for the opera and on their way to dine had been seen. Some ladies had nothing on their shoulders at all, and he wondered of Juliane had chosen something similar. If so, there would be no place to pin the flowers. He looked at it and tried to think of a solution that did not mean turning it into something that went on the wrist. He found those things to be troublesome for ladies and unattractive hanging on the arm like an errant bit of garden.

“Something wrong, sir?” the florist questioned.

“No,” he smiled. It was not her fault after all that he was overthinking things once again. “This will be fine, thank you.” He had sold a few of his old books to a local merchant in order to be able to splurge some money tonight, and be a proper escort to the opera for Juliane. Should any costs come up, he wanted to be sure to take care of them. The flowers were the first of it. With them in hand, he returned to the curricle and went on to the Smith house just off the Marketplace. He reined in and approached the door, a glance to his pocket watch, and saw he was right on time. A few raps of his knuckles on the door frame, the small corsage in hand, he listened for sounds that he had not missed them.
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 7:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Juliane sat curled in the corner of the window seat, clad in her dressing robe. Feeling rather guilty at having avoided the Studio for another day, a sketchbook and pencil rested in her lap. Endless waves of blonde hair rested damply against her shoulders, drying in the warmth of the sun pouring through the windows. She had taken extra care with her grooming, fearing the stray splatter of paint or ink to mar her appearance and prove to be an embarasment. And not just to herself, but to her family and to Katarina... and to Jolyon. It had been kind of him to offer her his extra ticket and she did not wish to make him somehow regret having to spend the evening with her. The level at which he dressed casually had intimidated her in lieu of such a formal event.

But it was useless to even try and sketch. Her mind was wandering in a most counterproductive pattern. Sighing softly, she dropped the book to the floor, pencil caught between the pages. Crossing the room, she gathered up a bag and returned to her seat. Fingers running through the cool locks indicated that they were still to damp to set. The shopping excursion had yielded a bit more than just a dress, regardless of the fact that the salesgirls fell over backwards with compliments in hopes of increasing the sale that much more. A long arm reached into the bag bearing the shop's moniker and withdrew a pair of simple shoes. "Ballet flats" the salesgirl had called them. Appropriate in name as well as stature, they were a soft shade of twilight grey, much in keeping with her dress. "Good thin' I didn't let Katie talk me into those high shoes..." she mused aloud. "I'd have been a head taller than everyone else there." The observations were accurate. Having always been tall for her age, there was no sense in exaggerating the obvious when in public.

Again her arm dipped into the bag, this time retrieving a smaller box. Lifting the lid, she tugged lightly on the silver chain to free it and held it aloft, the pendant twisting and turning in the light. It was a square cushion-cut jewel that had the appearance of a smoky grey topaz. It had had a name and she furrowed her brow in thought. "A black diamond, yeah?" A nod to self. That was what it had been called. It was just costume, nothing of inherent value really, but it had been pretty and seemed to suit the dress. Matching earrings twinkled from the box as if to remind her of their presence.

Glimpsing into the bag, all that remained were the unmentionables, a cashmere evening wrap, and a long pair of opera gloves. No need to pull those out just yet, they remained as they were. Her mind turned excitedly towards what was to come tonight. Her heart swelled with familial pride over her own cousin dancing in such a grand event that had the whole town talking. Katie and the opera were the cake to Juliane's icing. She was more than pleased with what had been found, and the thought of wearing such a fine garment put a lift in her chin. It was, to date, the most feminine and flattering garment she had ever thought to call her own. She hoped it would not be her last. On Hope, practicality had far outweighed peacockery. And as Katie had reminded her last night, they weren't in Hope anymore.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------

Juliane crossed the room for the thousandth time, double checking that she hadn't forgotten anything. Well, she had forgotten something -- a suitable bag for the evening. Lucky indeed that Marian, her mother, had managed to unearth a beaded bag in a soft pearl gray that had been Grandmother Smith's. It was the right size to hold handkerchief, compact, and lipgloss and she mustered herself to make do with the fact that the clasp would not stay shut. Seemed rather fitting that she'd have to keep tight hold of a "clutch" as it had been called. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she paused.

She didn't recognize herself. It looked as if the dress had been meant for her. A dreamy dove grey satin with a lace bodice that did what every good bodice should do - lift and separate without the help of straps. The empire waist was set off by a silk ribbon in a darker shade of grey and gave her figure a genteel elegance. Turning slowly, the floor-length dress moved like a stream of moonlight with its accordian pleat giving the satin an extra shine in motion.

The knock at the door startled her out of her reverie and she was quick to gather up her wrap, gloves and bag. Coming to a full halt at the door, she turned and placed her hand on the box with Katarina's gift in it. Smiling softly in anticipation of her reaction, Juliane slipped over the threshold and down the stairs.
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 7:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

As soon as tickets had gone on sale, Seliandre had purchased the best seat he could, up in the balcony which would offer a perfect view of the stage below. Perhaps some would have been surprised to learn that the elf had only acquired one ticket, considering how the gossip had painted him recently (not that he minded; sometimes, it more seemed that he'd be offended if he wasn't being talked about). Oh, it would have been easy enough to come by some arm candy for the event, and he certainly could have afforded another ticket, but it would be all the more difficult to mingle at the after party if he came attached. Every decision was always carefully calculated for appearance's sake and for how it would benefit him. And, if he wanted to make the most of the opera, well, he would have to go without a date. He could handle being sans the company of the fairer sex for a few hours.

The few hours before the show were spent in meticulous preparation. His suit had been selected well in advance and custom tailored to fit him like a glove. In a way, it was oddly simple for the rather over-the-top wizard who had a penchant for lace and unorthodox colors (and color pairings). The tuxedo was of all one color, without any pattern, and presented a rather streamlined appearance. The collar of the five-button jacket was shorter than on a standard tuxedo, and he wore a thick tie instead of the customary bow. A pair of diamond and sapphire cuff links brought a touch of polish to his wardrobe. Oh, and there was the fact that his tuxedo was completely white.

Not many men could pull off a white tuxedo, but Seliandre liked to think he was one of the few who could. Of course, he carefully styled his silver hair into something more befitting a black-tie affair, though it was still a bit mussed. Slightly disheveled hair suited him, and it certainly complemented his roguish grin. White shoes were polished to a high gloss.

He twisted and turned in the mirror, checking himself from every angle, posing this way and that, practicing ways to show off those rather striking cuff links of his. Once he was satisfied, he gave his hair a final tousle and pocketed his room key before heading out and down the stairs of the Red Dragon Inn, on his way to the show.


Last edited by Seliandre Valdalerion on Thu Mar 13, 2008 9:26 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 8:14 pm    Post subject: Every Bit the Modern Gentleman Reply with quote

It had been a long while, to put it conservatively, since Connar had been to any formal gathering, aside from the occasional gala in the Great Hall. Even then, he usually had no idea that anything special was going on, so his attire was rarely, if ever, planned. This night, however, would be different.

Katarina had graciously given him one ticket to the performance, a performance that he had teasingly mocked for the most part, threatening to bring a keg or two of ale as gifts for the groom-to-be. And as the ticket seemed to place him very near front and center, he decided that he would be rather conspicuous were he to attend in his normal warrior-gone-Rhydin-tourist attire. This was soon remedied by several visits to the marketplace and several more visits to the taylor.

As the carriage slowed to a halt before the theatre, Connar stepped from the platform, white dinner jacket over a crisp white-collared shirt. He had abandoned any hope of figuring out how to make the ribbon of black fabric into anything resembling a bow, so the collar was worn open. He wore black trousers with the hint of black satin striping along the outer edges. Black boots polished to a high shine completed the ensemble.

He looked every bit the modern gentleman. And as he walked up the steps and presented his ticket at the door, he could only hope to live up to the part. As he moved through the grand entryway, Connar handed one of the doorman a bouquet of flowers and asked that they be delivered to one performer in particular. Then he set about trying to find something to eat.
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PostPosted: Thu Mar 13, 2008 11:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jolyon rocked from heel to toe and back again. He thought he heard some giggles beyond the doorway, and even the shadows of shapes near windows. If he was under surveillance, he realized, it might be best not to fidget. So, he stood still and waited for the door to open, holding the corsage in one hand.

A sigh of relief was offered up to the heavens when her mother stepped in to stop Gabby from flinging the door wide. Alone in the hallway, she took a breath before opening the door, a soft smile on her face. "Good evening." She spoke lightly, but with concentration, polishing every syllable properly.

At the sight of her, backlit by the lights behind her, she very nearly looked like she had a halo and was the manifestation of an angel. He did have the good sense not to gape, but the smile was wide in appreciation of her elegant form. "Good evening, Juliane. You look beautiful." He offered up the corsage, though, upon further review of her gown, was uncertain where she might pin it.

She blushed softly, lowering her head and dipping in a quick curtsey. "Thank you." Movement sent the skirt to moving, moonlight clinging in the pleats as they moved. Eyes were lifted to his as she reached out for the gift, pausing a moment to inhale the delicious scent of the roses. "The gift is very sweet of ya, Jolyon."

"I hope you like roses." He looked past her to see what lay beyond, and then back. One hand played with a cuff link. "Do you need to get anything before we go?" He looked past her again. He felt he should meet her mother before he took the daughter to the opera, but he did not know what the traditions were and did not want to presume.

A nod then, the smile growing. "I do like 'em. Jus' haven't had anyone give me some before." Voices behind her were muffled and she looked over her shoulder and then back to where the curricle awaited. "No, I have everythin'.." Lifting her things from the hall table. "Johnny and Si are bringin' a carriage, but they're runnin' late." She was just as lost at the protocol as he was.

Daring on the side of a faux pas, he leaned in a bit to speak in a whisper. "Perhaps I should meet your mother before I take her daughter off in a carriage?" His blue eyes met with her green with an inquisitive raise of his brows.

She leaned in as well, her own voice dipping low while her eyes sparked with mischief. "Yeah, but if ya meet her, ya have ta meet Gabby and then ya might not want th' daughter ta use th' extra ticket much less ride wi' ya." A flashing wink as she straightened slightly. "But it's yer choice."

He laughed, "I have a little sister. I think I might know what you mean. Come, let your mother meet me. She may take one look and demand my tickets, having you sit with her and me with your brother." It was a bit nerve racking, but he hoped the last statement remained a joke and did not come true. "Just a quick hello, and then we will be on our way."

Holding up her hands, she stepped to the side and let him enter the house. "Very well. I'd reccomend keepin' yer fingers crossed." Grinning broadly, she called into the kitchen "Mama? Gabby? Would ya like ta meet Jolyon?"

He lifted one hand briefly to show crossed fingers and gave her a cheeky grin. It did, however, puzzle him that she did not want him to meet her mother. He wondered if it was something about him. A subtle glance over his clothes that he could see and all seemed in order. The shoes were even on the correct feet. Being careful not to reveal the frown of thought as he contemplated the reasons, the smile remained.

Marian Smith was a kind woman, the personification of motherly. Her eyes a pale green swept Jolyon from top to bottom as she bustled out of the kitchen and into the hall. "Ahhh, Mr... Jolyon. A pleasure ta meet ya." She held out her hand as her daughter Gabby followed her forward. The girl's greeting much more pared down. "Hiya."

Taking the hand, he gave a friendly, mild shake in greeting. "Likewise, Mrs. Smith." A grin to Gabby, "Hello." Sharing the grin between the two, "I hope you are looking forward to the opera as much as I am." Directing his words to Mrs. Smith, "I wanted to let you know if Juliane has not as yet, we will be in box seven, if for any reasons you need to get in touch with her." Polite introductions done, the mother having seen him and informed as to where her daughter could be found, he offered his arm to Juliane. "We will see you all there then, yes?"

Gabby shrugged a bit and headed back up the stairs, but Marian brushed things over smoothly. "Ah yes, yes. We'll be along soon enough. Jus' waitin' for Johnny and Sianna." Juliane giggled softly as she linked her arm through his, her own fingers crossed. "Bye Mama, see you at th' theater."

He lead her to the door, opened it for her. The method repeated as the approached the curricle, offering a helping hand up and being sure her dress was in no danger of the wheel. "See, that was harmless. Your sister did not seem like she was at all eager to be there." He went around to the other side, claiming the reins.

A chuckle escaped her as she tried to situate the wrap around her and tug on the gloves, only to realize how they complicated attaching the corsage. "She's never eager ta be anywhere but th' farm. But no sense in stayin' out there while the heavy freeze was on." Fingers fumbling to work the corsage pin into the knit cashmere.

"Here, let me help you." He looped the reins again so the horse would not go anywhere and reached to help with the pin. Having no gloves and with years of working on excavations he had a delicate and precise touch when needed, he made easy work of the corsage pinning. "There," he smiled. "You are quite the vision, Juliane. Thank you for accepting my invitation." He took up the reins again, gave a soft flick and urging click of his tongue, and the horse lead on with the guiding turn towards the theatre.

She chuckled again, softly. Cheeks were flushed again but she hoped he wrote it off to just the excitement of the evening. "Thanks ta ya for inviting me ta use the ticket." Settling back in the leather seat and letting her eyes travel to the other vehicles bearing passengers in the same direction.

[[ Adapted from live play. ]]
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 1:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The royal carriage of Westridge rode up to the Opera House, pulled by four white horses. The coachman stepped off the back of the carriage and opened the door. Gavilean Starfare stepped out of the carriage and stood at the door and then helped his beautiful wife as she regally exited the coach.

The King and Queen of Westridge were dressed not in their customary regalia of Westridge, but in more modern fashion; Gav in a full and modern tux and Tera in a one-of-a-kind outfit made with gold and silver threads woven into the elaborate pattern. Around her neck she wore pearls set displayed in a lovely pattern with small rubies, sapphires and emeralds that gave it a unique pattern that matched the top. Diamond earrings hung from her ear and her hair was worn long and styled in the way Gavilean loved it the most. Gavilean and Tera never missed a formal affair, and tonight they were anything but the bartenders and reporters that they often volunteered their time for the sake of the city.

Gavilean offer her his arm and they walked to the door and inside the Opera House. “I’ve been so looking forward to this, m’love. The Marriage of Figaro is one of my favorite operas. I just love the way it starts with the room be measured off for the marriage bed. Mozart is pure genius. I never tire of his music.”

They continued to speak in whispers and greeted those whom they met in the lobby. When it was time to enter they walked to the door and Gavilean took the tickets from the inner pocket of the tux and gave it to the gentleman at the door.

“Good eve, Your Majesties,” said the man taking the tickets. “You are patrons of the arts and a benefactor of the opera, I feel foolish taking your tickets.”

Gavilean smiled, “If we had no tickets, I’m afraid our seats would be fully occupied when we arrived.” He took the stub and let the usher take them to their seats.

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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 1:25 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

“Five minutes, places everyone!”

Katarina lifted her leg slightly to put the arch of her navy ballet slippers under the running water. Since it was the female dancers that opened the show, they all waited in line for the last minute details.

“Hey, Rini,” Andy came up beside her, and even as she moved on to the next station to powder the tops of her shoes, he followed, “I think someone put something on your chair. It looks like-“

“Yanno, now is nah a good time.” A quick glance down to make sure her outfit was in working order, before all the women were ushered onto the stage.

“Yeah, but-“

Her smile pasted on her lips, she sent him a last glance and said through her teeth in a whisper, “Nah now!” She practically ran to the middle of the stage and had only moments to compose before several candles were blown out and the curtains parted.

Programs were given to each and every viewer with synopsis of the opera, particularly for those whom did not understand italian. It also listened every member in the opera, down to every musician, singer, and dancer.

“Act I

Figaro is measuring a space for his nuptial bed while his fiancée, Susanna, tries on her bridal hat. She doesn't like their new bedroom and when Figaro doesn't understand why, Susanna warns Figaro that it's too convenient for the Count who is plotting with another to sleep with her. Susanna goes off when the Countess rings for her. Alone, Figaro vows revenge and storms off in a cold rage.

Dr. Bartolo enters with his housekeeper, Marcellina. Figaro once promised to marry her, and Bartolo promises to find a way to make him do it. Bartolo goes off to put his scheme into effect. Susanna returns, and Marcellina jealously spars with her, making Marcellina go off in a huff. The teenaged page Cherubino (played by a young woman) now enters. He tells Susanna that he is in love with the Countess, but the Count has caught him with young Barbarina (Susanna's cousin and the gardener Antonio's daughter). Cherubino can't contain his romantic desires.

Cherubino hides behind a chair when the Count arrives to beg Susanna for a tryst before he goes to London with Figaro on diplomatic business. But his wooing is interrupted by the arrival of Don Basilio, and it's the Count's turn to hide. He heads for the same chair where Cherubino is hiding, forcing the boy to jump into the seat. Susanna hastily covers him with a cloth. Hearing Basilio's insinuating gossip about Cherubino and the Countess, the jealous Count reveals himself. Basilio of course concludes that the Count and Susanna are an item. This is all too much for Susanna, who begins to faint. The Count and Basilio rush to her aid and try to get her into the chair, but she revives just in time and orders them away. The Count vows to make Cherubino leave the castle. When Susanna expresses sympathy for the boy, the Count tells her that it's not the first time Cherubino has been caught with a female. Recalling how he found the page hiding under a tablecloth in Barbarina's room, he lifts the cloth concealing Cherubino. The Count now accuses Susanna of dallying with the boy.

But their argument is interrupted by the arrival of Figaro and a group of peasants, who, at Figaro's instigation, are singing the Count's praises for having abolished the feudal right of the lord of the manor to sleep with his servant's bride. Figaro invites the Count to place the bridal veil on Susanna as a symbol of his blessing on their marriage, which is to take place later that day. The Count is forced to agree, but privately vows to help Marcellina marry Figaro instead. He also gets Cherubino out of the way by drafting him into his regiment. Figaro teases the boy, for he'll have to sacrifice his love-making and enjoy instead the "glories" of war.”

Within this first act, the dancers are used sparingly, and most often to help ease the arrangement of characters. While Figaro returns to the scene with the peasants, the chorus sang it’s praises, while the dancer did a wide array of leaps and poses for the celebration. Katarina was perhaps the most visible, performing tour jete leaps from one side of the stage to another, making a half turn while air-bound to land on the opposing foot. Once Figaro finishes the last song of the act, the stage momentarily clears to prepare for the next portion of the opera.

((Running late? No worries! Please feel free to continue adding your characters to the scene!))
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 1:38 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

“Act II

In her boudoir, the Countess bemoans the Count's infidelity . Susanna has told her about the Count's plans to seduce her. Figaro arrives. He knows that the Count is plotting to help Marcellina. He has his own plan: through Basilio, he will send the Count an anonymous note about the Countess's "lover.". Meanwhile, Susanna is to agree to meet the Count in the garden, only it will be Cherubino, disguised as Susanna, he will be wooing. Figaro goes off to get the boy.

Cherubino arrives and, at Susanna's urging, sings the Countess a love song that he wrote for her. He shows the Countess his regimental commission, which he had just gotten from Basilio. She and Susanna realize that it has no seal on it. Figaro has told Cherubino of the plan, and Susanna begins to dress the uncomfortable boy as a woman. When she goes into another room to get a ribbon, he takes advantage of her absence to declare his love for the Countess. At that moment, the suspicious Count bangs on the door, and Cherubino dives into the closet.

The Count demands to know to whom the Countess was speaking, and she tells him it was Susanna, who has gone into another room. He shows her the anonymous letter that Figaro had written about her "lover." A noise from the closet obliges the Countess to say that Susanna is in there, not in the other room. Susanna re-enters the room, unseen by the Count and Countess, and realizes that there's some kind of problem, so she hides behind a screen. As Cherubino cowers, terrified, in the closet, the Count orders "Susanna" out, but the Countess forbids it. As they argue, they warn each other not to go too far and create a scandal. Susanna remains behind her screen, horrified by the situation. The Countess absolutely refuses to open the closet, so the Count brings her with him to get something to break the closet open, locking the door behind him. Susanna lets Cherubino out of the closet. In a panic, he escapes through the window, and Susanna hides in the closet.

When the Count and Countess return, she finally admits that Cherubino is in the closet, claiming that it was just a joke. He doesn't believe her protestations of innocence and threatens to kill Cherubino. Drawing his sword, he flings open the closet door. They are both astonished to find Susanna. The Count, abashed, is forced to beg his wife's forgiveness. She and Susanna explain that the episode with the closet, and the anonymous note, were all a prank. Figaro arrives to announce that the wedding is about to begin. Questioned by the Count, he denies writing the anonymous note, to the consternation of Susanna and the Countess

Now Antonio the gardener barges in, complaining that someone jumped from the Countess's balcony onto his flower garden. Susanna and the Countess warn Figaro, who had already seen Cherubino jump. He claims that he himself leapt from the balcony. But Antonio claims he saw a boy. The Count immediately realizes that it was Cherubino. Figaro, sticking to his story, claims that Cherubino was on his way to Seville. He explains that he was hiding in the closet waiting for Susanna. After overhearing the Count shouting, he decided to escape by jumping, and injured his foot. He suddenly develops a limp in order to prove his story. But Antonio produces Cherubino's military commission, which he found in the garden. Figaro, confounded, throws the gardener out. Prompted by the women, Figaro triumphantly explains that the page gave it to him because it lacks a seal. Marcellina, Bartolo, and Basilio now come to demand justice, claiming that Figaro entered into a contract to marry Marcellina in exchange for a loan. The Count agrees to judge the case, to the joy of Marcellina and the consternation of Figaro.”

Once again, the dancers and the chorus eased transitions, and added comical humor. When Cherubino sang his song of love to the Countess, Katarina along with two other dancers were off to a corner of a stage, as if they were eavesdropping onto the conversation, and they all swooned. Later, when Cherubino jumped through the window, the same three dancers rose on the hard tops of their slippers, and fluttered after him.

When the act ended, the curtains closed and candles were lit once more. A brief intermission was given to both performers and viewers alike, before the final half of the story would be untold.

((Please feel free to post anything done within the intermission!))
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 3:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

They had managed to slip in just as the lights flickered in the lobby to indicate that the attendees claim their seats. Tickets handed over in a rush, Johnny and Sianna along with Marian and Gabby took the steps with a quick pace and dropped into their seats just as the overature started to play. Adrenaline seemed to come off of them in waves -- the excitement of seeing Katarina's name in print not to mention the thrill of watching her dance, the throng of the orchestra, and the minor snafus had all contributed mightily. Perhaps if they had intended to be fashionably late it would not have been so bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day had been an easy one at the Silver Lark as few patrons were ambling into the shop for much beyond trinkets or gifts for friends and family in the company and all music lessons had been canceled to encourage attendance. When the sign was finally flipped, Johnny's grin urged Sianna upstairs. "I'll give ya a head star', m'own. So's not ta have ta wait on ya when th' carriage gets here." A cheeky smirk preceded her laughter. "For that, ye wily rogue, I'll use up all th' hot water and giggle when ye let out a skelloch at how cold your bath is."

For the next several hours they seemed to cross and weave in and around the other as they got ready. While they said not a word, looks and glances expressed everything from approval in the others appearance to frustration as little things unraveled. Only one clean black sock could be located. An exhaustive search was fruitless until Sianna pulled out a slip from a dresser drawer and found it folded within. Long curls were stubborn and the hairbrush snarled them . It took an extra dousing of the rose water to smooth and shine them into cascading tresses that were tied loosely at the nape of her neck.

"If I dinna ken better, I'd think th' brownie sprites have been amok th' house while I was awa'." Murmured quietly as Johnny's nimble fingers guided the zipper of her gown. A little overlay went a long way, transforming the floor-length ivory gown into an edgier look courtesy of the lace and satin stripes on black mesh placed over it. The surplice neckline was trimmed with sawtooth lace which accentuated her smooth luminous skin in comparison to the lace's jagged edges.

Inspecting him in his tux, the formal cut of the suit accentuating his broad shoulders, she brushed an invisible mar from the material. Smiling softly, she tugged at the formal bow tie. "Ye look grand, leannan... but I dinna think ye look verra comfortable wi' this thing cutting ye at th' next, aye?" A kiss to his chin as she pulled it free. "Besides, I like ye better wi' out it." The look she gave him spoke volumes and she bounced on her tiptoes as his gaze darkened ever so slightly. A step to the jewelry box atop the vanity soon produced a long strand of pearls that she wrapped about her wrist several times before clasping it with a thin black velvet ribbon and pearl drop earrings.

Halfway down the steps, she remembered her wrap and bag and turned around to get them. Out the door and chiding the coachman of the hired carriage on the benefits of being on time, he remembered the tickets and took the stairs three at a time to retrieve them. Feeling all unsettled, yet finally confident they had everything, all that remained was for them to head to the Smith home off the Marketplace and pick up mother and sister.
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 5:36 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

“They’re amazing!” she whispered excitedly to her date for the evening, green eyes all aglitter and still spinning from the leaps and songs that had just occurred. Her smile spilled over to him, fingers curling around his forearm. “Ta’. For bringing me.”

This being her first opera—and really, her first professionally crafted theatrical production—intermission snuck up on her. As the people around them began to get up from their seats, she looked perplexed. Where were they going? Why were the lights on again? The program she’d been studying so faithfully (and quickly, so as not to miss the performances) was consulted again. “Ahhhh…” she exhaled, nodding as she understood now. It was a break! “Will you excuse me while I freshen up?” was her question for Locke, paired with a lift of her brow, as she tried to tip her nose up regally in her attempts to fit the part of a lady. Before he was able to get a response in, however, 'Lanta had already stood and was smoothing out the chocolate, satin dress she’d scrounged up last minute. She was particularly proud of it, having spent a little more of her measly savings than her normal weekly allowance to buy it and some simple jewelry to go with; she’d even sprung to get her hair done! It was all worth it, though. Atalanta looked and felt like she fit in with the elegant audience, this time. Her bigger satisfaction was managing to appear put-together next to the dashing blue elf. She forgot her unease in her high heels, for the time being, able to pull of a graceful step into a small crowd exiting, confidently prancing away with them to find a washroom.

A trio of women broke off from the gathering she’d joined, leading her to the door she was seeking. After entering behind them, she went and stood by a mirror, dabbing on a bit of lip color as she observed the handful of others swirling about. She smiled as they moved around her, admiring them in between checking the bit of make-up she'd worn, which, coincidentally, was the same amount she trusted herself to put on correctly. The trip was not just useful for people-watching, though. One female, able to actually understand the dialogue, was translating lines she found amusing and important to her non-fluent friend. The woman also put some of the love song into terms 'Lanta could better comprehend; though, the performer had done a splendid job capturing the mood well enough to be understood in spite of the language barrier. Ecstatic for this bit of insight, Atalanta listened in and learned, frowning once the pair was out of earshot.

The frown lingered a moment longer as she wondered: would she be able to find her seat, again?
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Izira Nyte
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 11:24 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Once reaching the opera house, Izira was pleasantly pleased to find that the ticket she held was nor merely for any seat in the house but for a private balcony box. That being the case, however, it left the seat beside her empty as she had no date with her this evening not a ticket she could have provided for one. This fact did nothing to dissuade her enjoyment as the lights went low and the opera played out below. Leaning forward with hands upon the balcony’s railing, her facial expressions changing with the mood of the opera. At times her light laughter sounded with others of the audience, other times frowning along with the consternation of the main protagonist, Figaro. When the lights came back on for the intermission, Izira found herself slightly saddened at the pause. Even so, she rose from her seat to stretch her legs and perhaps have a drink downstairs with the others at there that night—still eager to return to her seat for the rest of the show.

Last edited by Izira Nyte on Mon Jun 09, 2008 2:28 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 2:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

To say that the Marriage of Figaro was not what Eva expected was an understatement. She knew it wouldn't be in English, but goodness it was all rather complicated. Halfway through the first act she had given up trying to follow the story in her program by the dim stage light, and just sat back to watch the music and the dancing.

That's not to say she wasn't enjoying herself. Once she stopped trying to figure out what was happening, she found she could take it in much more fully. There was a spirit and energy to the show that Eva couldn't help but admire. In some ways the performance felt more alive and vibrant than real life.

After the lights came up for intermission, Eva rose with her small handbag and moved into the aisle to let out the elderly couple that was sitting beside her. From her position towards the back of the theater, she could see a lot of familiar faces from the Inn, some she knew and some she didn't. She nodded over to Locke, catching him alone, having missed Atalanta's move to the powder room, and a moment later raised her hand to wave over to Gav and Des.

The sudden movement of people, up and down the aisle, in and out of her row, made Eva a little self-conscious. She reached a hand to the back of her backless dress to make sure it hadn't slipped down too low, and smoothed it out to make sure it was falling properly. Then her hand drifted up towards her neck. She was wearing the locket Tucker had given her for Christmas. It didn't really go with the dress, but she had wanted to wear it anyhow. Now she felt a little foolish.

"Why that's lovely, dear." The old lady who had been sitting next to her was paused beside her before re-entering the row, and was looking up at the white gold locket between Eva's fingers.

Eva released the locket and blushed. "Thank you."

"I used to have one just like it, but it got lost some time ago. My husband's been promising to buy me a new one." With that the old lady shot a dirty look towards her husband who was waiting rather impatiently behind her to return to his seat.

"Darling, you're causing a jam-up. Leave the poor girl alone and go to your seat."

"Oh no, that's alright - " Eva smiled.

"Oh, shut it, Gerry." The woman rolled her eyes, and then sent an apologetic look to Eva before moving past her to take her seat.

Once the husband had seated himself as well, Eva sat back down in her own seat and leaned over, her voice low to the old lady as she confided. "I didn't think the locket really went with the dress."

The old woman patted Eva's hand gently. "Something meaningful is beautiful with any outfit."
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 3:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Count Talomar Longden sat in the dark recesses of a private box overlooking the stage. He was dressed impeccably in a black tuxedo; a “walking stick” with a silver handle was propped up along side his chair. Before the opera had begun he had perused the program and then took note of who was seated and where. He had expected to see some who were in attendance; however, others who were seated in the audience left him with no little surprise. He was most pleased that culture was actually coming to the city, and would therefore support the Opera House in every way possible. Perhaps there was hope for the city after all.

He looked for Governor Matthew Simon and did not see him. He frowned and made a mental note. He would have to have a little talk with the fellow.

There was someone sitting next to Count Longden. Those with better eyes might make out that it was a female companion, but the shadows of the private box would hide her identity – for now.

When the second act was over and intermission had just begun, Count Longden rose and applauded, having thus far enjoyed the opera tremendously and experiencing no problem whatsoever with the language in which it was written and performed. A moment later that private box was empty. One might wonder if he and his companion would be seen in the lobby during intermission.
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PostPosted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 3:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wes had passed by Piper's workshop to drop off the ballet tickets as Peredhil had requested. When no one answered his knock, he was on the verge of pushing both tickets beneath the door when he caught sight of a trio of beautiful ladies dressed in strapless evening gowns, chatting excitedly about tonight's performance as they scurried down the street.

A smile blossomed as he rapidly slipped one of the tickets into his pocket. If Peredhil was going to use him as a lackey, the very least he could do was enjoy himself. The ballet itself did not interest him much, although personal experience had taught him that female dancers tended to be pretty and fit. That did interest him.

Ticket in hand, the only obstacle was suitable clothing. As he rode through town, the streets were mostly deserted. The clock on the watchtower signaled that the show was set to begin any minute and there was nary a soul who could provide him with directions nor a store that remained open.

He was beginning to think that this was a hopeless pursuit when a small store attracted his attention, lamplight flooding out through the open door. Drawn like a moth to flame, Wes dismounted and strode through the door. A slight, elderly man peered at him through thick glasses when he entered.

"Good evening, sir," Wes began, twirling his cloak in the grandiose manner that was his fashion. "Might you have any tuxedos left that will impress the ladies of this fine town?"

"All sold out," the man responded in a clipped tone. "Big show tonight."

"What a shame," Wes responded, not believing the man for a second. So the shopkeeper wanted to play hardball? "I was prepared to pay a good sum of money to rent a tuxedo for the night."

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed as he studied Wes, then he said, "Do have one left." As he disappeared into the back, Wes chuckled. The power of money was truly incredible.

His smugness was short-lived, however, when he saw the tuxedo the man had returned with. "Not for rent," the man said. "Only for sale."

Wes blanched, his face going pale. Not only was the lime green suit one of the most hideous things he had ever seen, but it was probably four sizes too small. Wes was already shaking his head when he remembered the ladies he had seen before. There would be lots of classy females at the performance, and artsy events like this one seemed to bring out the romantic in everyone. There might even be an after-party. Maybe the suit would give him the look of a bohemian, a bit eccentric but intriguing all the same.

Swallowing his pride, he paid the shopkeeper and asked for a dressing room. Hurriedly changing, he stepped out and studiously ignored the grin that formed on the shopkeeper's face. With buttons nearly bursting and pants stretched to the limit, he waddled towards the theater hall, his stallion in tow.

"You look good, Wes," he told himself through gritted teeth. "You always look good."

The attendant received his ticket with an amused smirk and showed him to his seat. As he lowered himself slowly into the chair, the sound of his jacket ripping was the first indication that this might be a big mistake. At least it hadn't been his pants.
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