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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 3:32 pm
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![User Image](https://i169.photobucket.com/albums/u203/carlosjuanderbread/foxtheatre-1.jpg)
"My playground was the theatre. I'd sit and watch my mother pretend for a living. As a young girl, that's pretty seductive."
Welcome to the Théâtre De Populaire, the most well-known theatre in Paris. It is here, on this stage and the hallways that burrow around and underneath this theatre, where stories come to life. Here is where every character that has ever been written into a play lives and resides. Fairies dance through the halls and pirates eat lunch together. The Théâtre is timeless. Any thing that exists currently, has, or will is in the Théâtre. It's ruled by Samantha, the Theater Manager, and she rules with a kind albeit strict fist. She takes in people that need a home, and welcomes them into the Theatre, assigning them to a job or a task. The set changes itself, the actors already know there lines, and there's mischief all around. Will you come and see the Théâtre De Populaire yourself?
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 3:35 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 3:37 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 3:39 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 3:47 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 3:54 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 3:56 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 4:27 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 9:57 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 14, 2011 9:39 pm
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Ophelia wandered through the halls of the Théâtre, one of the hundred or so Players that were able to wander freely whenever the whim struck them. People usually avoided her and she was content with silence and loneliness. The sound of water had drifted to her ears, carried about the cement corridors. Her cotton robes rustled as she entered through a trap door to emerge underneath the stage. It took a moment of searching but she found a platform that lifted her to the world above in a flurry of fabrics. She stared down at the torn dress, a slight pout taking hold of her cupid's bow mouth. The Wardrobes Manager was going to be disappointed. Then again, everyone was kind to Ophelia, or at least didn't gossip rudely in front of her. If they thought she was crazy, they would never dare say anything to her face. She stay still, staring down at her dress for several long minutes, during which the Little Mermaid set was cleared and she was left alone on stage. Finally she blinked quickly and widely, as though awoken from a dream, and stared out at the House. "Oh, hello there." She spoke to no one in particular. "Hamlet, dearest, wherefore art thou?" Ophelia called, her head cocked to the side. Juliet, though cross whenever Ophy used her lines to her own enjoyment, didn't appear and shake her. Ophelia poked fun at the young girl, but couldn't help but assume that Romeo and the Montagues disliked her for it. She heaved a heavy sigh and turned about in a circle. "Oh, woe is me."
XXX XXX![User Image](https://i169.photobucket.com/albums/u203/carlosjuanderbread/Ophelia2.jpg)
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Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2011 2:27 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2011 5:08 pm
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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.
A small happy smirk appeared from the darkness of the audience area in the stage, towards the back. There, a tall, fairly golden-haired male figure had been napping lazily, a thick book on classic medieval fairy tales in his lap, his hair down just so that it barely covered over his shoulder blades, a hand holding gently upon a certain page about the story of "Sleeping Beauty". He had heard a most familiar voice and, within his sleepy haze had, at first, thought it to be an angel of some sort but, when the fog cleared up, he soon realized it was the dear Ophelia, reciting lines and such out of "Romeo And Juliet". 'Oh, how sweet she sounds...' his normal voice crooned within.
'Ugh, not this again,' another voice sighed and could almost be imagined rolling its eyes.
A third in his mind savagely thought, 'Why haven't you claimed thy maiden yours, young Prince? You could have anything in the world, and, yet, you cannot give enough commitment to one with your whole heart?'
'Oh, if you only knew how hard it was to be myself,' his normal tone thought softly, as if he were fading. He took it upon himself to stand up and say in his bold, strong, and brave voice that was usually only for on-stage, wanting to make a move, "Shall I hear more? ... Or shall I speak at this?" He, just a bit playfully, tucked his hair into his jacket, then put the hood over his head to better hide his appearance.
Ɍσɢεя ɖευɗʟιиɗε ɖαvιs
Λ Ҏяσғιcιeит Ҏeяғσямεя Шнσ Ȋs Лαтuяαʟʟч Ӻяεε-Spιяιтεɗ Λиɗ Ӻяαcтισυs
'Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol, morphine... Or even idealism.' - Carl Jung.
Roger was backstage, his hair down normally instead of all gelled up, though it was still naturally a bit spiky in nature, his somewhat fair-toned bare chest showing form under his unbuttoned jacket. He was standing up, his foot precariously over a carry-around amp that was currently connected to his electric guitar as he was quietly tuning it. When he heard voices on stage, he muttered quietly, "Goddammit, not again with Medieval stuff... Why did that playwright create so many characters and stories?!"
Though he admired Shakespeare for his impressive amount of work, hearing it almost all the time was frustrating at times to hear since he would hear it so often from a majority of the performers here. There just needed to be more non-Shakespearean plays out in the world that are quite popular. Like, about now. 'What can one man do...'
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Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2011 7:56 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2011 9:26 pm
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{Hey guys, I'm on my iPod, so my format will be like this until I can get on a computer again. It also might be difficult for memto do extremely long posts. Just saying.}
Ophelia spun, her torn robes flowering around her like clouds drifting through the sky. Her golden ringlets, released from their usual prison of a braid or a Greek bun danced upon her shoulders and made her creamy skin appear an almost deathly palor. Her eyes shown as her rejected suitor interjected just as she expected from him. The scene change after The Little Mermaid was to a balcony in a garden, the moon reaching out her shimmering tendrils; and was what had made Juilet's familiar lines samba throughout her scattered mind. "Me thinks we have a visitor, my faire Hamlet. Shall we investigate?" She chimed as she plucked an exotic flower from a vine nearby. Ophelia hummed a song to herself that really wasn't a song, instead a jumble of random notes slammed together into some strange being. Like her. "Hamlet, dearest love, I'll have you know that I bite my thumb; but not at you, sir." Ophelia turned to him as she dropped the petaless flower to the stage floor. She smiled as she strolled to him and circled him slowly. A soft sigh, like a whisper of air over the skin, purred from her lips and she turned towards the House. Her searing gaze immediately went to Kadence and a smile, though not meant to be harmful, would send a shiver down even a brave man's spine.
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Posted: Tue Mar 15, 2011 10:10 pm
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My lungs give out as I face the crowd I think that keeping this up could be dangerous
Kadie's eyes widened when the woman's gaze locked right on her. Busted. She thought. Fight or flee? She wasn't much of a fighter. Besides, she was supposed to be keeping a low profile. Four years of hiding and I still suck at it. She thought, leaving the box. Would they stop her? Probably. She quickened her step. She was to the box office doors when she heard footsteps extremely close behind her. "Damn." She cursed under her breath, turning around to face her pursuer. What kind of punishment did sneaking into a theater earn? Like in all times of trouble, she unlocked the special siren part of her mind. The part that she kept locked most of the time because it drove her crazy. Just like that, a dozen different, lyric-less songs floated through her head. The loudest, she assumed, belonged to the person in front of her. She focused in, trying to make sense of it. If all else failed, she had her voice.
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