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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 15, 2008 0:47:00 GMT -5
"Then I think I will rest well," he said with a sigh, not sure he would like getting a full day's sleep, but being up all night would not be a problem for him, as he already stated his distaste for the sun. It made him wonder if it was possible to go out during particularly dark and rainy weather.
"You will be back tomorrow?" he asked, giving Marlow a small, unintentional pout as he came back around with his pajamas on again.
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Marlow
- Ingenious Pilot -
No. No God.
Posts: 189
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Post by Marlow on Aug 15, 2008 0:51:41 GMT -5
"Perhaps not tomorrow." It wasn't that he had things to do, he just wanted to test their bonding, and a full day and night apart would certainly do that.
Marlow drew his human close for a moment, pressing his hand hard into the man's wounded back and bending over him to let his sharp tongue curl over Maleo's cheek where he'd been cut the night before, tasting the tang of the old wound.
"Get into your nest." he commanded.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Aug 15, 2008 0:55:51 GMT -5
"Yes, Father," he said obediently, laying out on the nest of dirt, reaching to extinguish the one lamp as he had the night before. He settled himself onto his back with his arms folded over his chest again, though did not yet close his eyes, watching Marlow through the darkness.
"I will miss you then," he murmured, turning his face toward the ceiling of his apartment. "Rest well, Father."
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Marlow
- Ingenious Pilot -
No. No God.
Posts: 189
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Post by Marlow on Aug 15, 2008 0:58:54 GMT -5
"Rest well, child."
And with that, he was gone.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Sept 16, 2008 19:11:28 GMT -5
***FROM THE FAUST AUDITIONS*** Maleo sat himself upon his old bed, staring at the roll of soil that had since dried and turned to fine powder with his laying upon it, night after night. The dirt that Marlow had offered him was no longer comforting, and though he had tried to keep it all together on the oilcloth, it was no use. The soil was nothing now, just regular dirt, mixed with the dust from his own floor and where ever he had walked. Now he had two shadows who spoke to him, one "Maestro," the other "Angel;" both were ghosts and faceless to him. Marlow had left the two of them separate for days, so that their bond would grow stronger, as Maleo assumed it had been doing. Otherwise, this suffering was as pointless fondling oneself in the bathtub. Castro's performance was not quite "mind-blowing" as perhaps some of the tenor's lessers may have been praising him, but there was a detectable pain in the way it was performed; it was something to keep an ear open for. Rolling up and moving the oilcloth away to wait its use again at dawn, Maleo flopped back against his own firm bed, looking up at the low ceiling, collecting his thoughts. Too comfortable just laying where he was, Maleo propped his legs against the wall and lay in a large L on his bed, still watching the ceiling. This restlessness was terribly out of his normal mood, but the opera he was trying to construct was terribly out of reach in his head, and just forcing it out made the words fall flat. Bored with himself, he started to sing again, starting with the Mad Aria from Lucia di Lammermoorr, going through Ave Maria, and even something that seemed to come from nowher e but made about as much sense of the rest of his thoughts. "Being alone does not always have its rewards," he grumbled to the ceiling, not expecting it, which always had the company of four walls and the floor, to agree. ((Author's note: Anyone reading this can follow him to his room. He just lives upstairs with a lot of the performers - not yet able to afford his own place.))
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Post by Erik on Sept 16, 2008 23:40:16 GMT -5
"But it can," a voice intoned from across the room. Erik was, in actuality, behind the wall--he'd ensured access to most of the rooms in the opera house, and this was no exception. "As when, for example, it leaves you free for... visitors. You sang well tonight, Senor." Erik paused for dramatic effect. "But I think you can do better."
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Sept 16, 2008 23:43:42 GMT -5
"Oh? You have come for a visit?" he said, a smile crossing his lips. He stayed where he was with his legs against the wall, wondering, for a moment, what other things the Angel might have heard. Then again, they had only met recently, so... his privacy, so far, seemed to have been kept.
"I can hear you speak, Angel. How much of me have you heard?" he asked teasingly, holding still for the answer. "And how far can you take me?"
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Post by Erik on Sept 16, 2008 23:55:06 GMT -5
"I have heard enough to know you need not live in fear that your particular talent will fall by the wayside," Erik said, watching Maleo's smile and wondering at it, for he was no ingenue waiting for his angel. "Surely you wish to expand your, shall we say, market share? Your niche is intriguing, certainly, and in the right hands no mere novelty. But the world is an uncertain place. And men may have enemies. It is well to have a secret weapon, is it not?"
His voice had drifted about the room, as if pacing idly. Now it crept up close, to speak in dulcet tones in Maleo's ear.
"I can take you wherever you wish to be, senor. I can mold your voice into a perfection you never dreamed of."
I can give you Castro on a silver platter, served up with a side of humility the fake Spaniard will be choking down his entire life.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Sept 17, 2008 0:06:45 GMT -5
Maleo closed his eyes and relaxed more into the firm mattress, hearing the breathless voice in his ear.
"I wish to take my voice as farther than I have reached on my own. My tutor himself only said I would be held between tenor and true soprano, but I wish to go deeper than I can." He kept his eyes closed, imagining the keeper of the voice leaning over him; he grinned now, at the illusion in his mind. It was better than having his eyes open to an empty room, and the repetitive depression that came with it. Even an Addams needed company once in a while.
"Have you a price, Angel? The Maestro demanded undivided attention for his tutoring, but seemed to withhold a settlement of our bargain. So he has kept me waiting."
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Post by Erik on Sept 17, 2008 9:11:20 GMT -5
"Has he?" Erik mused. Distracted, no doubt, by that petulant tenor. "In any event, he is wrong; I can train your range to far greater versatility. In return I, too, demand your devotion to your art, and something else that will hardly be a burden--a challenge, when you are ready, to El Castro!"
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Sept 17, 2008 17:32:09 GMT -5
The way the phantom delivered his proposal made Maleo grin broadly, sharp little "baby vampire" fangs present up until they stopped just short of his eyeteeth, preventing his mouth from looking entirely like a shark's maw.
"You have my devotion, Angel," replied Maleo, opening his widely dark eyes, looking up at the ceiling again before he rolled to his side and from there, onto his knees. He sat on his heels, hands kneading the thin bed covers beneath him. "But I do not seek to merely replace him - he would not be able to feel it if he was not there."
With those words out of his mouth, he teetered on the edge of his own reasoning. Should he tell the Angel about his plans for a cooperative score with himself and Castro? No, now was too soon, and the ghost was known for handling things his own way.
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Post by Erik on Sept 17, 2008 17:40:56 GMT -5
((I think I've been listening to too many Shadow episodes.))
Erik considered this. Petty revenge was not strictly within the bounds of devotion to one's art. But Erik rather liked it, when it was aptly directed.
"Hatred is not a very artistic motive," he warned. "But in this case, it will do."
After all, he had little interest in this man beyond the service he could provide--and the pleasure of an interesting voice in his Opera. Mindless devotion had not particularly worked out for him, in the past.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Sept 17, 2008 17:50:33 GMT -5
"Oh, I do not even hate El Castro, though he does tend to speak with... shall we say, 'el mierrda del Toro' dialect. I like playing with him," he admitted, turning about on his bed, still on knuckles and knees, trying to pinpoint which wall the voice really came from.
"I do wish to improve my range personally - my need, however, suddenly called for expedience."
Sitting on the edge of his bed with a bounce, some of Maleo's slicked back hair fell out of place and across his eyes. "Teach me, Angel. I am your student."
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Post by Erik on Sept 17, 2008 18:04:24 GMT -5
Erik found nothing to like about Castro but his recent absence from the company, which looked to be at an end. But this was not his concern. Either way, an ally as peculiar and willing as Addams would be useful, no matter how disconcerting the man's teeth happened to be.
"Not here," Erik said. "Someone may return, and hear. Meet me where we met first, tomorrow at 11. You will find music on the bureau; study it."
The music was, indeed, already there.
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Post by Maleo Basilio Addams on Sept 17, 2008 18:11:40 GMT -5
"Wonderful!" he said, bouncing to his feet to pick up the music. Either he had not realized it was there when he entered, or the ghost had slipped it in while he wasn't looking. In any event, Angel was already living up to his reputation.
"I will practice all night!" he said gleefully, looking over the sheets in excitement. His sluggish blood seemed to warm now, and he sank onto his vanity seat, looking over the notes, following them with his fingers.
"Thank you, Angel. I hope that I will not disappoint you. I would not want to waste your time." At this, he was truely sincere, and looked up to about the middle of his room, speaking to all the walls the phantom might be hiding in.
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