Théâtre De Populaire{Accepting}

[Call Me Nefret]

My lungs give out as I face the crowd
I think that keeping this up could be dangerous

"My father's judgement isn't exactly what I was thinking about." She muttered. She could still see his face when he recieved the news. His wife was murdered and his brother had fled. She shivered. She'd sworn she would never do anything to put that look on his face again. Way to fail, Harper. She thought with a frown. She followed the man, the one the manager called Puck. His performance, she had to admit, was inspiring. Again she wondered what this place really was. It couldn't be a normal theater, could it? She listened to his small speech about backstage workers. He made it sound like they were heroes. She managed a small smile. She glanced out to the stage. It seemed her performance would have to be contained to her mind and the small stage of her bedroom. Maybe it's better that way. She thought. Doesn't seem fair to perform with a voice that isn't human. It had taken a while, even growing up knowing what she was, to accept the fact that she wasn't your average, run-of-the-mill girl. "That important, huh?" She said absent-mindedly, still looking out toward the stage. Get used to it Harper. She told herself firmly. It's as close as you're gonna get.

 

[finniii]

Овёґои'$ Jє$тєґ | Иaтцґє $pґїтё | $нґёщd Єlf |

ЯоЬїи Gооdfєllош ~ Pцcк

"Yes! That important." Puck said, taking both of her hands in his. Though his hands were gloved, the fairy magic still was there, though faintly. His palms were warm and the leather was soft, the contact practically jolting her from her thoughts. He looked at her, his once again subdued soft sea-green eyes meeting her cyan eyes. "How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft; And wit depends on dilatory time." He said, quoting Othello from his superior memory. "The actor should be able to create the universe in the palm of his hand. I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being." He finished, a small smile playing upon his fine lips. "Each flame be borne by an ember, each life be borne with a breath, as each actor be borne from a worker." He said, his voice lowering to a smooth whisper. "You could be up there on stage." Seeing he caught her attention, he was back to theatrical. He bounded up to the upper beams again, boards creaking under his muscle. "Imagine! The spotlight on you! The crowd seeming so dim in contrast, just enough light to see the look of awe on their faces! Never have they *heard* such a voice! They stare in rapture, their faces all seeming to blur in one huge shadow as your pride swells in your chest!" He said, not at all ashamed of his boyish behavior. He strided between inch thick bars of metal, about 15 feet up in the air, jumping around in exuberance, caught up in his own tale. "The theatre packed, their eyes glued to you, you inhale, ready for the next amazing note to come bursting henceforth from your lungs! The floorboards creak as your shoes go onto your tip of your toes to deliver your message from your soul. You catch a glimpse of your fellow actors from backstage, each one watching you as if they your brethren! The fluttering in your bosom declares your greatness as you fearlessly preform!" With this message, he exhaled, all of this said in one breath. His eyes shone brightly, truly handsome even in the half-submerged darkness of backstage. His ribcage heaved from all the activity, the loosely tied lapel showing a bit of his chiseled chest. He bent, hands on his knees, catching his breath, a smile playing on his face.

 

[The Phantom of GO]

Ңαмʟεт Ңυвεятυs ɖαsнυяιε

Ҭнε Ҏяιиcε ϴғ ɖεимaяк Λиɗ Ҭнε Ɍιgнтғuʟ Ңειя Ҭo Ҭнε Ҭняσиε

A dying man needs to die
as a sleepy man needs to sleep.
And there comes a time when it is wrong,
as well as useless, to resist. - Stewart Alsop.

Hamlet blushed ever so slightly as she took to his surprising action kindly, calming her down back from her wave of mutinous madness as only he could summon in his power to do, and his heart fluttered as warmth flushed his cheeks, her slender and delicate fingers tracing the light pallor above his jawbone. As her lips connected with his, he openly welcomed the gesture by mirroring the motion back, though he had the slightest apprehension of wanting to deepen it, and his arms settled down at the curves of Ophelia's hips, holding the sides ever so precariously. As she pulled away, he almost immediately missed the momentary feel of the sharing of feelings, wanting to repeat such sweet actions once more, to say the least.

He smiled gently as he responded, "My heart is true as steel, Ophelia dearest, and it cannot be parted by any such sorrows between us." He felt momentarily annoyed by the presence of Puck and the female newcomer, Kadence, as they joined the stage, but ignored the young man's speech as his world was buffered out, with only the two lovers', their innocent gazes, and their wanton gestures to accompany each other. Just the feeling of their figures standing alone at center stage, completely unbarred by their usual lines and actions, was true bliss that cannot be missed or left alone, and for Ophelia to return his feelings was heaven to him.

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Ҁσи∂σя Ҁαsεч Ҁσиυи∂яυмαs ⇋ Ϯɧє Ӎαиαɢεяs' Λssιsтαит / Ҭнε Лιɢнт ɠυαя∂
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Condor couldn't help but feel a pang of concern as Artemus placed one of her ever-so-caring hands upon the breast of her chest, just above her own beating heart. 'How curious of a gesture...' his thoughts feebly had, and his careful eyes watched as his mentor and, partially, loving crush left his side. Though he knew she was many, many, many years older than himself, he felt a most unnatural and lust-less attraction to the woman who was his master of sorts, which was a similar feeling he also felt around Alexandre. Though he, alas, ungraciously knew was not received so much from either persons in return as of yet except that like family... His eyes stared piteously at himself and around the theater for a few moments until it met with the look of Hamlet and Ophelia at center stage, embracing each other. He felt the apprehension of green envy for a few moments, but shoved the feeling away as he sighed, "Oh, what cruel fate it is to see my children have much better luck in finding star-crossed lovers than I can for myself... I was born a romantic and, I suppose, I shall die one as well."

His eyes darted to the figures of Puck and Kadence and, remembering his duties clearly once more without his own personal concerns clouding him at the moment, his figure stiffened. 'Ah, yes, I seem to be forgetting about those two... I must keep an eye on them both.' His figure slipped into darkness and, just barely a few seconds later, his body emerged from the shadows of the backstage area as he observed with the keenest of gazes at the two. His glasses reflected a stray ray of light, flashing daringly and, for a mere second, showing the ruby glow of his eyes.

Ɍσмεσ Ɍεεcε Ӎσитαɢυε

Ҭнε Ϩσи ϴғ Ƚσяɗ Ӎσитαɢυε Λиɗ Λи Ȋʟʟ-Ӻαтεɗ Ȋиαмσяαтα

'I believe in the compelling power of love,
though I don't understand it. I believe it to be
one of the most fragrant blossoms in all of this
terrible and thorny existence.' - Theodore Dreiser.

A lone figure sat, his ebony-haired head laying upon the railing of the main staircase of the grand lobby and ballroom, wearing a pretty blue masquerade mask and a black-and-white suit with the same shade of blue for a neck tie. He sighed contentedly, "Oh, Juliet... It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear..." He was half asleep upon the steps, his body idly being supported by the bottom staircase post as his eyes remained closed. He was talking in his sleep, having wanted to take another nap after eating breakfast. He took a fancy in wearing his mask frequently, loving the feeling of being in a dance or party...

 

[finniii]

Juliet Capulet

Juliet hummed quietly to herself, the soft melody vibrating off of her lush pink lips. She was in her victorian-ball-gown costume. She distractedly ran her lace-gloved hand along the banister, feeling the polished wood. Her amber curls cascaded loosely down her fine back, the movement of her dainty feet in the ballet flats caused them to spring a bit. Suddenly, she felt something block the tip of her foot, and she was in the air. For a few seconds she felt the G-force floating feeling, but then hit the floor with a weak thd, sprawling on the carpeted tile. Surprised, she sat up, a few stray curls flung over her shoulder. Her seafoam green eyes were brimming with anxiety, did she just kick someone? She saw a slouched figure and ran over to it, her flats softly clicking on the carpet. A small frown showed on her delicate lips, her elegant, slender fingers brushing a strand of hair away from his face to see if this figure was slumbering or unconsious, her caramel curls framing her face as she looked down, her fine eyebrows furrowed and precious eyes worried.  

[The Phantom of GO]

Ɍσмεσ Ɍεεcε Ӎσитαɢυε

Ҭнε Ϩσи ϴғ Ƚσяɗ Ӎσитαɢυε Λиɗ Λи Ȋʟʟ-Ӻαтεɗ Ȋиαмσяαтα

'I believe in the compelling power of love,
though I don't understand it. I believe it to be
one of the most fragrant blossoms in all of this
terrible and thorny existence.' - Theodore Dreiser.

The sleeping form of the young man woke with a confused lull as he looked about in his sleep-hazed vision. He had felt a dull sensation strike against one of his slender legs, but was too delayed in his reaction... He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his thin but calloused hands and, as his vision cleared, he saw the fogged image of a young lady in a beautiful ball gown and, unknowing of whom it exactly could be at the moment, he called out, "Who is there? Dost thou greet like fair friend or foul foe... ?"

Then, as the final bits of his sight cleared up, he saw that, as a matter of fact, it was his Juliet Capulet. A smile set his face alight, playing charmingly over his fine lips as he slowly stood up and straightened his suit. His light blue eyes twinkled as his earlier, cautious voice changed into a more warm and loving tone as he said, "Oh, thank the stars. 'Tis only my sweet~"

 

[Call Me Nefret]

My lungs give out as I face the crowd
I think that keeping this up could be dangerous

Kadence attention was brought to the present by Puck grabbing her hands. Before she had time to say anything, however, he continued speaking. It's like he's always acting. She thought. Always in a role. She realized the name the manager had given him was a character name. What was his real name? When he spoke about her on the stage, for a few moments she could almost see it. Her heart sped up at the thought. She almost walked out onto the stage at the moment, when she noticed Ophelia and Hamlet. She froze. They were the actors. She was more of a behind-the-scenes. At least, that's what she was now. The stage wasn't meant for her, as much as she wanted it. Her life depended on anonymity. On blending in, becoming normal. "Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." It was one of the few Shakespearean quotes she knew. She turned away from the stage, hugging her arms to her chest. "It's a pretty picture." She told Puck. "But the picture's not mine." She thought about what he said referring to her voice. He couldn't possibly know of her abilities...could he? It seemed she would have to be on her guard from now on.

 

[CintaDanTechno]

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Artemus had floated from the room as quickly as she had appeared and as soon as she arrived in the nearest bathroom and was out of sight of anyone that might watch her she slumped to the ground with a thud as her breath came in short rasps. Her chest was throbbing horrible and her eyes were squeezed shut as she tried to cope with the pain. Dammit, she hadn't hurt this badly since...Well, a very long time. Her nostrils flared as she pushed to her feet and she exhaled slowly and rubbed at her chest for a moment longer. What was going on? Maybe one of the Players was trying to leave? No....Condor would have caught them. Something else was happening. She gave an irritated sigh and walked from the bathroom. "Condor, please come here for a moment." She spoke aloud as she rolled her shoulders. The color had drained from her face and her expression was taut. She needed to figure out what exactly was going on. Maybe it just had to do with the girl. She was throwing the theater out of wack and of course it was going to be a bit testy. "Condor, I would like you to stay by my side, or at least close for the next few days, please."


XXXXXX


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[CintaDanTechno]

"Oh, but Hamlet, my love, I am afeared. I know that our feelings mirror eachother, but my mind is in difference. I cannot tell you, or even myself for that matter, who I will be tomorrow, or the next day. Clarity eludes me. It's like a silver fish swimming through water. I catch it sometimes, but others...It seems to disappear." Ophelia turned back to face him. "Hamlet, I'm afraid that you might be in for more than you bargained for. My father will not be happy at all." She collapsed on the edge of the stage, her legs dangling. A sigh was tugged from her lips and a basket of flowers appeared beside her. She sorted through it quickly and began braiding her hair briskly and expertly, weaving white flowers among the golden locks.

XXXXXX

 

[The Phantom of GO]

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Ҁσи∂σя Ҁαsεч Ҁσиυи∂яυмαs ⇋ Ϯɧє Ӎαиαɢεяs' Λssιsтαит / Ҭнε Лιɢнт ɠυαя∂
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Condor almost immediately waded through the shadowy backstage area to Artemus and noticed the change in her pallor and expression. A wave of serious concern showed on his usually more laid-back features as he put an arm around her as to support her stance, which wavered as unsteadily as a ship out at sea in comparison to his own. He smiled weakly in sympathy as he replied softly, "Yes... Of course, m'lady. Anything that will put you at ease~"

Just simply from the position he was in, with his larger and warm hand wrapping around her just below the shoulder blades, he felt the uneasy and quickly ever-changing heartbeat under her actively shaping flesh and muscles, through the bone to the great vital organ that was caged in. His brow furrowed even deeper as he remarked, "It cannot decide whether to beat as fast as a hummingbird's wings or as slow as a tortoise's saunter... What 'tis ailing you, darling? I fear for the worse.'

Ңαмʟεт Ңυвεятυs ɖαsнυяιε

Ҭнε Ҏяιиcε ϴғ ɖεимaяк Λиɗ Ҭнε Ɍιgнтғuʟ Ңειя Ҭo Ҭнε Ҭняσиε

A dying man needs to die
as a sleepy man needs to sleep.
And there comes a time when it is wrong,
as well as useless, to resist. - Stewart Alsop.

Hamlet smiled weakly and came to her side, exclaiming, "Oh, but, my Ophelia, you must take into reminder that my condition is just about the same. I shall not know how I will be until the very day passes along and, even then, I dare not want to think about what ever could come my way to sway my emotions in a completely new direction..." He knelt down on both knees beside her, though a few inches away behind, and put his left hand a bit absently through her hair and down to her waist as his right went to her lap and, enticingly once more, he whispered carefully, "So let our madness embrace and take us along to wherever it shall lead."

 

[CintaDanTechno]

☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨


Artemus's own arm slid up and her elegant fingers gripped his arm so tightly it was almost painful. Trembles danced over her frame; her eyes watered and burned at the same time. She close them tightly and let out several quick, pained breaths. She was having a hard time staying conscious, much less on her feet. "The theater is changing. I'm not sure how, as of yet, but I know it is. And I, being part of the theater, am changing also. I can only pray that it will resolve quickly and without any fatal losses." She shook herself and turned to the only man that knew her actual first name and gave him a quaky smile. Everything about her seemed to shiver and tremble, from her smile to her hands to even her hair.
Aspasia turned to Condor, a weak smile shaping her beautiful lips. "You remember, old friend. What happened the last time the Theater changed." It had been after Erebos had left. She had become sick and stayed that way for several weeks, growing weaker and weaker until finally her ailment seemed to disappear. It was what had caused her fire engine hair to lose color and turn white. Condor, being the gentleman he is, had assured her that it was befitting of her, and she had stopped fretting over it. This time, however, whatever was happening seemed more drastic. More severe. Now would definitely be a bad time for her to be out of commission, so she would have to deal with it the best she could. If it got to bad, she would have Condor take her to her room, where she would stay until recovered. He, along with Alexandre, would take good care of the theater, no matter how chaotic it might grow.


XXXXXX


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[finniii]

Овёґои'$ Jє$тєґ | Иaтцґє $pґїтё | $нґёщd Єlf |

ЯоЬїи Gооdfєllош ~ Pцcк

Puck stood there, a dumbstruck look dancing over his beautiful green eyes. He was often on gaurd no matter how open he seemed, but that line had actually suprised her. His usually masked face was open for a moment, the usually composed face looked practically amazed. His thin lips were opened a bit, revealing the tips of his perfectly white teeth, surprised. He quickly went back to his composed theatrical stance, but he had a feeling she saw him. That quote.... he thought. He brushed a slender fragment out of his face, his hair seemingly blown by an unseen wind. He felt his heart give a little jump, the feel one gets when jumping down from a 16 foot drop. But this time, it was a bit stronger. With his fine blonde eyebrows furrowed, he went to follow her but something stopped him. His eyes shone thoughtfully, and he flicked his wrist and a bronze rose seemed to be pulled from the floor, as if growing in a garden. He tried to distract himself, as his eyes were seemingly magnetic to hers. His fairy heart was confused, as he usually just flirted, nothing serious. "Shall we continue the tour?" He asked, his silky-smooth voice gliding over the air. His mind, usually overflowing with Shakespeare quotes now seemed empty. He studied the bronze rose, though his heart lurched to glance up at her again.

 

[CintaDanTechno]

Ophelia reached out tenderly, a rose clasped between her pale fingers, and let the fragrant petals drift over his lips, nose, and cheek, before she tucked it behind his ear. "Hamlet, my love, you are a double-edged sword. On Monday you praise me and send me your love and embrace me close, but on Tuesday you curse me and demand a woman that doesn't need to be medicated. You change from day to day and hour to hour, and though I always will love you, even in raving madness, you change and shift, and I'm afraid I might not be able to keep pace. In short, my dearest Hamlet, I am poured full of fear that you will tire of me, or grow to dislike me on a moments whim."

XXXXXX

 

[Call Me Nefret]

My lungs give out as I face the crowd
I think that keeping this up could be dangerous

The tour? Oh, right. There was a method to all this madness. She looked back to him. He seemed different somehow. She studied his face for a moment. But rather than seeing any sign of growing illness, she realized rather the silkiness of his hair, the depth of his eyes. Oh get a hold of yourself. The logical part of her mind snapped at her. That kind of thing isn't even an option. He knows nothing about you. And if he did know about her? She shuddered at the thought. It was a miracle her mother found a man to marry her, knowing full well what she was. Kadi didn't expect it to happen again. "Of course." She said quietly, walking back over to him.

 

[finniii]

Овёґои'$ Jє$тєґ | Иaтцґє $pґїтё | $нґёщd Єlf |

ЯоЬїи Gооdfєllош ~ Pцcк

Puck quickly cleared his mind. It was fortunate he was a fairy, as they could control what they remembered and what they did not. "Alright." He said, as he paraded onward through the theatre. The rest of the tour was short, though with equal bravado. After the tour, he led her to the Exit of the theatre. He bowed, pretending to tip a hat off of his wild blonde hair. He kept his cool as she exited, a small smirk playing on his face. The moment he closed the double doors behind her though, he raced to Romeo. Puck's padded shoes echoed in the eerily quiet halls, his breathing not speeding up at all. His hair flew back behind him, the silky strands twisting behind his quick pace. Puck ran to Romeo, and placed a glove on Romeo's shoulder. "I pay thee a visit, though you seem a bit busy, I apologize. 'Tis on the matter of love, sir." Puck said, his eyes as usual, laid back and seemingly careless, as he was in the presence of a lady still. The magic was already trickling through his glove, so he removed his hand from Romeo's shoulder.