|
Post by Mercutio on Oct 5, 2008 22:41:26 GMT -5
Remarkably, there was no one here. Not at this moment, precisely, no one on stage and no one behind it either. Mercutio had wandered in on a whim- it was easier than he'd thought, getting into the Opera house, but then big grand places like this always had a dingy little door propped open around back, through a mess of alleys and pipe and trash.
Well, not precisely a whim. Finding the back door and then making his way here, to this dark and musty pace, had taken a tinsy bit of effort on Mecutio's part. He couldn't help it; Alex had planted the idea of getting a job here in his mind and now he couldn't stop wondering at it. What would it be like, to work here? Ropes and curtains and other misc. opera-y things Mercutio knew nothing about trailed up into the dusty, warm darkness. In the distance Mercutio could hear faint clutterings, the sound of voices, occasionally a riff of song abruptly cut off.
He felt oddly closed in and wide open at the same time. It was if the empty air demanded something of him, pulled at him to fill it, but he couldn't help but feel that if he burst into song or yelled for help the air would swallow it whole and nothing would be changed.
He felt suddenly, ridiculously, like the Opera house was a very hungry place.
But only an idiot would do something like burst into song, alone backstage, and Mercutio wasn't inclined to yell for help yet either. It wasn't like he was lost or anything- but the backstage had no rightful reason to be this big.
Well. Maybe he'd get lucky and run into one of those luscious little dancers he'd heard so much about. Not that that was the real reason he wanted a job here or anything. Heavens, no.
|
|
|
Post by Christine on Oct 5, 2008 22:47:09 GMT -5
*Looking about for a prop she had left backstage, Christine bumped into Mercutio*
"Oh, I'm so sorry!"
|
|
|
Post by Mercutio on Oct 5, 2008 22:57:59 GMT -5
Mercutio heard Christine's footsteps and turned toward the sound, but he hadn't expected to be bumped into. A woman, yes, from the sound of the voice and the soft curve of the shoulder Mercutio brushed when his hands flew up to steady the both of them. Apparently she'd thought she was alone back here too.
Mercutio broke into a relieved smile. He took a smart step back, letting go of Christine quickly. "Ahhh, no ill, you're fine."
Thank all the gods I have ever ignored.
|
|
|
Post by Christine on Oct 5, 2008 23:06:00 GMT -5
*She smiled at thegentleman, though she wondered what he was doing in such an area*
"Forgive me...are you lost?"
|
|
|
Post by Mercutio on Oct 6, 2008 16:30:56 GMT -5
"Yes, actually. I'd liken you to an angel- I will liken you to an angel- if only you could point me the way, er, out. I'm wilting in this dusty darkness- aren't there usually more people here? Lights? Sounds? Ballerinas, tip-toeing daintily about the place? I was intending to enquire about a job, but then as it happened there was a lack of people for me to cajole for directions."
|
|
|
Post by Ghislain on Mar 9, 2009 13:43:03 GMT -5
**NEW DAY**
As a large rehearsal had just ended - and there were plenty of people involved in the Opera who would not be leaving the stage just because everyone else had stopped practicing, being divas or some such and desperately haughty about getting it perfect - this area of the Opera House was absolutely teeming with people, and Ghislain fancied he could feel the heat from so many bodies gathered in one place over his skin.
A bit of uncomfortable-making chitchat with another violinist - that violinist being the one uncomfortable, not Ghislain himself - Ghislain put his violin away, shoved it and his coat under one of the auditorium chairs with the intention to rescue it later, and hopped on stage to inspect the dancers. Namely a pair of girls he knew more than well by now, and whom he knew would not object to his commentary.
At least, not idly.
"Oh, Heloise," he said, seating himself on a piece of scenery in a catlike pose, head propped up against the palm of his hand, "that was a saucy thrust, wasn't it? Do that again - " in response to whatever movement she'd made. Or to the other, "Jeannine, your hair looks rather wild, if I hadn't known you'd just been passionately rehearsing..."
It was a low-key day, and Ghislain was content with that for the moment, in a wonderfully good mood, and with no greater ambitions than to take advantage of that mood and put it to use with one or both of these splendidly easy ballerinas.
((I love Mercutio's tendency to talk in paragraphs of text. XD))
|
|
|
Post by Nicolas de Lenfent on Mar 9, 2009 19:09:11 GMT -5
((I was, actually.))
|
|
|
Post by Erik on Mar 9, 2009 22:12:12 GMT -5
((No, I should have asked. Deleted!))
|
|
|
Post by Mercutio on Mar 15, 2009 16:27:37 GMT -5
The stage was swarming with ballet girls and distracted singers, painters ducking in and out, workers trying to set up the scenery while the over-achievers still rehearsed. Mercutio, for one, had been working quite diligently during the practice, save a few moments of idleness spent "admiring" the closest dancers- but once the sharp eye of the stage manager was off him, off to another part of the opera house to look for lumber, Mercutio was off, dropping the length of rope he'd been holding to give himself some credability.
And now he was doing much the same thing as Ghislain, only so much more subtle- new to the opera, and his leers were downplayed until after he'd actually gotten anywhere with any of the lithe little dancers, although the younger ones did blush so prettily. (Of course, those leers, well, if the ballet girl looked like she could handle it...)
The most he'd gotten so far, being there barely a week, was a quick grope under the giant swan cut-out. Mercutio was working on that, though. That he'd shed his jacket long ago to some dusty corner and had been working the entire hour through- well, some girls especially liked the strong sweaty men.
|
|
|
Post by Ghislain on Mar 15, 2009 16:42:18 GMT -5
Ghislain took note of Mercutio without realizing what he was seeing at first, only recognizing with the vaguest expression of inappropriate intent the fine build of the man a few seconds before the nerves between brain and eye put together the correct memory. Oh, he knew this fellow, didn't he - Mercury of the hallway-crashing. Apparently he was very new to the place. Ghislain did not usually forget a slight, but he had not felt specifically slightest by the man at their first meeting, and was in too good a mood to feel anything but comraderie at the slightly lecherous expression on the man's face.
Ah, the dancers. All very good, except that Ghislain knew some of the girls in the group he was admiring would not take too well to it if they'd noticed, being as it included the resident Good Catholic, a wallflower, and some girl so hopelessly besotted with a cellist in the orchestra that she wailed at anyone else who dared look at her, and so Ghislain stood and slipped his arms behind his back, folding them, and walked carefully around a group of people - not likely to be noticed under the circumstances, as there were so many - until he had stepped up to him from behind him.
"Fleet-footed Mercury again," said Ghislain, leaning back slightly, hands still folded narrowly at the small of his back, like a Pierrot in wide white trousers - he could imagine the black paint upon his eyes, and his hair certainly was straight and clipped enough to flip as he tilted his head in a Pierrot-like manner. "Divert your eyes. There are women in the - ba dum, ah, the fourth row who would prefer you were looking at them."
He was referring to Heloise and Jeannine, and had no qualms whatsoever about sharing them - the more the merrier, in fact. And Ghislain did like it so merry.
|
|
|
Post by Mercutio on Mar 15, 2009 17:02:22 GMT -5
Under his breath- "Ohhh?" Without the slightest clue as to who his kind benefactor was, being as Ghislain was behind him, Mercutio's eyes lowered then darted to the left. He hadn't the slightest idea of what the other man's little greeting meant- and it was a man, that much he could tell from the nigglingly familiar voice- and it wasn't until after he made his swift one-lined exit from the current group of reluctant charmees that he could see. Whirling he found himself gazing upon the same fellow whom he'd met rather abruptly in the hallway the other day. The encounter had involved something unpleasant about donkeys and running from Rosalind, who'd supplied the handsome cap in Mercutio's room, and Mercutio didn't remember much of the details of the thing for he'd declined to retain any interest in it.
"Oh, hallo," he said, without undue enthusiasm but neither with any amount of distaste or animousity. "What a hospitable chap you are." A tilt of both his head and eyes towards the girls Ghislain had pointed out, voice lowering to a distracted purr- "Many thanks for the suggestion."
|
|
|
Post by Ghislain on Mar 15, 2009 17:12:57 GMT -5
"You're welcome for the suggestion," said Ghislain with a vaguely-suggestive lift of the eyebrows and a twitch of the lips into a smile, this latter expression coming from the way his eyes followed the girls he'd mentioned. (Ghislain was so proud of them, trashy little angels that they were - all grown up and getting recommended by him to other gentlemen callers. Oh, yes, so proud.) "But I am afraid, fine stranger, that I can neither grant you my famed hospitality nor accept any showing of your gratitude, being as I have sworn off men for Lent and am clearly the epitome of a good Catholic."
Despite the words, which were spoken, while at a reasonable pace, swiftly, being rather open to interpretation and ambiguous by nature, Ghislain spoke with his usual calm, voice lowered such that it was clearly a private conversation between the two of them. That was Ghislain's manner - not the modest absence of showiness, but not showy, either.
|
|
|
Post by Mercutio on Mar 15, 2009 18:41:38 GMT -5
"What a shame," Mercutio said casually, eyes flicking over to the girls again, head tilted thoughtfully. "What a shame, shame, shame, I will weep into my pillow tonight unless my pillow is some consoling woman's chest."
|
|
|
Post by Ghislain on Mar 15, 2009 18:46:16 GMT -5
"Oh, but if you weep with a woman she's likely to think she's the cause, and a woman who thinks she has caused you to weep is very likely to be made a pillow tomorrow night, too," said Ghislain, tapping his temple as though encouraging him to think, although not in a way that suggested he doubted that he was thinking, and there was something of a nearly-sly expression on his face, clowning though he was.
|
|
|
Post by Mercutio on Mar 15, 2009 18:55:09 GMT -5
Mercutio gave an easy shrug. "And a second night is something to be scorned? Why, if you're giving up men for Lent, one would think you'd be a little less picky."
|
|