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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 12, 2008 21:11:38 GMT -5
He had yet to receive any fanfare as the other singers in the Opera Populare had, but, he also had not made a name, or rather, a voice for himself in this country. On the stage, a tall, darkly handsome man of almost devilish features stood, awaiting the small solo he had been awarded. At first, it seemed that he was merely a part of the show - a good actor, melding with the rest of the performers at most - but that was the difference between performers and actors. He had both capabilities under his belt, but would the people of Paris accept his voice as well as his ability to act? Changing enough to show the emotional side of his character, Maleo sang with as much force as he could afford, deciding mid-solo to improvise some of his character's actions, collapsing to his knees at the end. He had totally lost himself in the solo, and transitioned back to the rest of the show without once realizing he had received warm applause when he was done. The praise perhaps came from the unusual quality of his voice. Despite his stature and appearance, the man's voice was that of a soprano, and had a haunting quality to it unlike many men might have. Heading backstage, he isolated himself from the drunks and the brightly painted ladies, heading to a dressing room to... undress. Unlike his expression before the show, he seemed a bit more satisfied with himself, though he was not vocal about it, there was a glint in his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror, washing away the makeup.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 26, 2008 22:27:04 GMT -5
***DAYS LATER***
He had been without Marlow... he could not even remember how long. His skin had faded from a healthy tan to a shaded ivory tone, with his eyes getting darker. His teeth had started to sharpen painfully, but without a complete transformation, he saw no point in weaning them on a young thing's neck.
While one to adore pain, the overcoming illness of being separated from his Uram had made Maleo feel dizzy, and he had even fainted during rehearsal.
Tonight, however, his singing had actually meant something. His character's distress felt real, and his focus had gone from singing just for the opera, to singing for Marlow. With actual tears running down his face, Maleo gave the performance of his life, all while struggling to stand - yet he did not feel the strength of Marlow, even as he left the stage after his solo.
In a wonderful depression, Maleo sank into a folding chair backstage, hiding away in a shared dressing room while the rest of the cast received their accolades.
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Post by Erik Destler on Aug 26, 2008 22:57:05 GMT -5
Only a day or so after getting the mask from Julian (a plain leather thing, comfortable and static), Erik had found himself some better fitting clothing, something more inline with the elaborate costumes he used to wear before he fell in with Carlos.
He had ignored the Opera and its goings-on for far too long, and so had taken his old place in the flies to attend the latest performance--something specially imported from Spain and performed specifically to highlight the voice of the Opera's guest. Something which, previously, had not terribly interested Destler. Zarzuela.
But the beauty of the young man's voice...he was a countertenor, and Erik could tell by the tonal quality of his voice that he was a true male soprano and not castrato. Furthermore, his tone was modal and not falsetto...and his acting...brilliant...
Before he could stop himself, Destler was down the flies and in the shadows behind the ashy young man. Damning himself for lack of his violin. At the very least, he allowed his presence to be felt.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 26, 2008 23:08:43 GMT -5
Feeling someone behind him, Maleo was to his feet as soon as he had the strength of his legs to stand - he could not be caught just sitting around if...
"Ura..." He stopped himself, seeing that he was not greeted by the hulking form of his master, but a... smaller man in a mask. "Er... Good evening, Monsieur..." he said, looking a little crestfallen now. He leaned against the makeshift vanity, his back still burning from Marlow's vicious claw marks. "I am Maleo Basilio Addams," he greeted, doing his best to bow before a patron.
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Post by Erik Destler on Aug 26, 2008 23:26:53 GMT -5
"I am aware of who you are." There was the sure and commanding tone Carlos had been seeking from him earlier. Without the spell of his violin, he would have to make his natural instrument more alluring.
What could he say to the boy? He didn't need any training...his voice was already perfection. At least, the upper range. It couldn't have been more than a novelty, a temporary draw from city to city.
"You are the newest guest of the Opera Populaire, in import from Spain by your accent. Unless it is more practiced than, well, the accents of others."
He remained in the shadows, only the shine from the black dye of the new leather mask was really visible, apart from a vague outline which appeared almost frail.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 26, 2008 23:35:15 GMT -5
"Accents of others? No, Monsieur, I assure you, this is my native accent. I have heard what people put on for show, but I suppose it is the nature of Paris to call in all sorts." He mentioned no one specific, as being surrounded by actors and singers, everyone had their ill-conceived notions of acting.
"But I thank you for coming to see me personally..." He winced in pain, then groaned softly in his throat, trying to turn his face away. What remained of his blood seemed to be in his cheeks, as he felt a wound open again after he made the mistake of bowing. And, without Marlow, at least someone to talk to would distract him from his increasing pain.
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Post by Erik Destler on Aug 26, 2008 23:39:39 GMT -5
The mask tilted a bit, its expression eerily static (it was Julian made the thing, after all).
"Are you injured, Senor?"
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 26, 2008 23:45:13 GMT -5
Smiling, albeit forced, Maleo shook his head. "Mm, not injured, Monsieur, merely... enjoying something new..." he said, straightening his back again.
"May I have the name of my shadowed patron of the arts?"
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Post by Erik Destler on Aug 27, 2008 1:22:46 GMT -5
"Names are terribly unimportant. You may call me composer, Maestro."
The shadows shifted around him, concealing him yet more.
"How have you come by your unique voice?"
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 27, 2008 16:31:01 GMT -5
Leaning against his vanity again, Maleo puffed up his aching chest, smiling weakly. "The Addams line comes with many a unique talent, Monsieur. I was gifted with my voice." He pushed off the vanity and staggered toward the shadowed man, intrigued by his desire to remain in the dark.
"You are not like my other patrons, Maestro... who are you?"
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Post by Erik Destler on Aug 27, 2008 16:38:06 GMT -5
Destler sunk back into the umbra and evaporated, it seemed, but his voice remained behind.
"Do not dare to come near me, Senor, unless I invite it. What training have you received? What...deals have you made to secure the range of a Castrato?"
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 27, 2008 16:47:10 GMT -5
"I'm made no deals..." he said, lingering back on his feet, watching the shadows he had seen the man melt into. "I wish I had! I would have a complete range then, from highest Soprano to deepest Bass!" He sighed and shifted from one foot to another, wanting the man to come out. Shadows were for children's games.
He pushed a strand of hair out of his face and folded his arms across his chest, leaning forward a bit to peer into that patch of darkness, trying to find his shape. "I was tutored at home, as are many Addamses." Stopping a moment, he gave it some thought, then added, "El Senor Apetoso was my tutor for voice."
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Post by Erik Destler on Aug 27, 2008 16:53:07 GMT -5
"What is your full range now? Clearly by your speaking voice, you must be at least a middle tenor."
Destler's voice moved from in front of Maleo to just behind him.
"Run a scale of your range."
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 27, 2008 17:17:48 GMT -5
Gasping, he was tempted to turn himself around, then thought better of it. Correcting his posture, Maleo placed a hand on his stomach, adjusted his breathing, and began to present his range. He started at a middle tenor, then moved all the way to his highest pitch, causing the mirror nearest him to rattle in its frame. He reached his highest pitch rather quickly, but slowly brought himself down to his lowest octave, then relaxed.
"See? It is natural."
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Post by Erik Destler on Aug 27, 2008 17:23:30 GMT -5
"Of course it is!" Destler hissed in the man's ear.
"You don't need a lower range, you need music to showcase what you already have--though some work may allow you a full tenor range at least..."
Of course, he couldn't take two students...could he? Maleo seemed to need very little instruction, compared to Carlos (not that he didn't find Carlos' voice the more pleasant of the two anyway) at least as far as range and emotion went. It was a technically less-perfect voice, but held a bit more passion. Perhaps a bit wild for standard opera...
"How long are you expected to remain in Paris?"
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