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Post by Wanizame on Sept 29, 2008 17:00:07 GMT -5
The creature gave what might have been--to someone imaginative and observant--a bit of a frown, but knew Erik's stubborn will well enough not to argue and thought Erik was a perfectly fine model.
"Yes. Should try now? Erik would like-see?"
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Post by Erik on Sept 29, 2008 17:01:03 GMT -5
Erik let himself listen for a moment, and decided they were removed enough.
"Yes," he said. "Show Erik what you can do."
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Post by Wanizame on Sept 29, 2008 17:22:47 GMT -5
It clicked and slipped off Erik's lap, giving a mindless replay in its cello voice to someone practicing in a far-off room before tilting its head, black eyes swiveling here and there in thought.
"Take time, okay? Last time, not f' purpose, take three-sleeps with Julian f' Mortimer change to ugly monster. Lots hurt, apples not good sometime...okay." it rambled, making sense to itself, at least, and took half a step back into shadow.
For the first time in its long, strange memory it actively concentrated on specific changes--all at once was too much, it couldn't picture the person it wanted to be a whole thing. All that happened was that some of its more requine features shrank a bit. Its snout became stubbier, fins less pronounced, tail nearly gone, and its eyes went from near-solid black to near-solid aqua green.
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Post by Erik on Sept 29, 2008 17:42:15 GMT -5
For his part, Erik found this quite impressive enough, and more than enough proof that the creature could do as it promised.
"Mortimer!" he exclaimed, sotto voce. "That's extraordinary."
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Post by Wanizame on Sept 29, 2008 17:46:22 GMT -5
"Is hard..." it panted a bit and slunk back over to the man, crawling back up into his lap and latching onto his coat again with slimmer, longer fingers (though still only three).
"Tired now, okay? ...apple, chocolate?"
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Post by Erik on Sept 29, 2008 17:52:30 GMT -5
"I imagine so," Erik said, petting Mortimer profusely. He felt bad, vaguely, about leaving him alone, though he could not remember for how long. "But I haven't any chocolate with me; we shall have to go home. You did very well, Mortimer. Erik is very impressed."
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Post by Wanizame on Sept 29, 2008 17:57:06 GMT -5
"Not go home yet...pretty noise will start soon. Is not as good as apple, but is good. Very pretty, many voices, all different. Mortimer likes best this--" and again it imitated its seemed favorite instrument, a throaty, melancholy cello.
"Shark like f' voices all together make story, pretty clothes, movements. Not know story, voices say in not-know tongues."
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Post by Erik on Sept 29, 2008 18:09:35 GMT -5
Erik chuckled, delighted by the noises Mortimer made and the weight of the creature on his lap. He curled his cloak around them, leaving their faces free but protecting the rest against prying eyes.
"I am glad," he said softly. "Erik likes it too, very much. The story doesn't matter as much; but Erik can tell you, if you like, as we listen."
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Post by Wanizame on Sept 29, 2008 18:14:38 GMT -5
"Yes, please." it trilled excitedly and settled in to watch the chorus for Faust rehearse ((since I assume Erik would be in B5 for the actual rehearsal.))
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Post by Erik on Sept 29, 2008 18:19:58 GMT -5
The chorus were mostly seasoned professionals, and rehearsals began smoothly without the ego-laden principals present. Erik drifted happily into the music, his voice lilting softly over Wanizame to explain, in brief, the plot of the opera.
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Post by Wanizame on Sept 29, 2008 18:26:35 GMT -5
Talk of souls and bargains and afterlife sent little sparks of thought into the creature's rusty brain, though it yet recognized no conscious thoughts on the matters, merely enjoyed the blending sounds of the music and Erik's soothing, patient voice and seemed pleased to now know the story.
When the rehearsal finished and the cast dispersed off to their dressing rooms, Mortimer scrambled down from Erik's lap after giving him an affectionate nuzzle under the chin, and wiggled its now-blunt toes for a moment before padding off into the dark to sneak around in passages and ducts near the dorms where it could continue to observe the action.
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Post by Erik on Sept 29, 2008 18:29:31 GMT -5
Erik followed him for a moment, until it became clear the creature had intent.
"Mortimer," he called softly. "You will... return home?"
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Post by Wanizame on Sept 29, 2008 18:33:53 GMT -5
It chirped and turned around for a moment, offering a broad grin.
"Yes! Care care buy apples, okay? Fish--no fish long long time, would be good. Okay, Mortimer very tired after watch people, can sleep sleep Julian, Erik." Though that didn't seem to be a question or request so much as a statement of fact and it turned again and padded off to continue its observations.
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Post by Erik on Sept 30, 2008 11:24:46 GMT -5
"I shall," Erik promised, his tone solemn but his mouth smiling slightly beneath the mask. "Fish, and apples." He did not know if there was food in the house.
He accepted Wanizame's statement as fact, as well, for it seemed natural enough, the way he put it. And he did not even think to object to the creature's voyeuristic plans. It seemed, on the contrary, highly productive.
Erik turned and made his way to the market, drawing out his pasteboard nose and drawing his cloak even closer around his face.
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Simon Destler
- Ingenious Pilot -
A lost boy. Not a Lost Boy.
Posts: 222
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Post by Simon Destler on Oct 13, 2008 0:23:37 GMT -5
***ANOTHER DAY***
Simon found it awfully easy to sneak around the Opera house, since no one seemed to pay attention to the youths in the place. After stowing his case in a safe spot, Simon had raided the costume storage for some clothing in his size (making him look like a little nobleman on occasion), and stole food out of the kitchens in between meal times.
Right now, he was making his way around the backstage, sweeping up the floors and otherwise making use of himself while he was there. The last thing he wanted to hear out of someone was that he lived there like a freeloading tramp.
He had learned about the Christine who performed in the opera, but had yet to find time to track the young lady down and question her about his possible father.
Working his way to the orchestra pit, he discovered a couple instruments that had been left behind by their owners to be picked up for early morning rehearsal. Finding a large bass that sat leaning against the player's chair. Gently plucking a thick string, he listened to the deep thrum that came from the instrument, making him smile at the sound.
"If only I could play..." he muttered to himself, finding it hard to drag himself from the pit.
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