by Pirateaba
What did she have? She had a perfect recall of the play Romeo and Juliet. That was a plus. And she had three willing people who wanted to experience a play. Another big plus. And they even had a place to practice. All of this should theoretically translate into a play
But they’d hit upon a problem. And it was a rather big one. Wesle sighed as he pointed his sword at Grev from the center of the room. Grev held the scabbard in his hands, pretending it was a sword of his own. Both looked awkward, and were visibly hesitating.
“Don’t hesitate! Just say your lines!”
Erin called out to them from her director’s seat. She’d pushed back all the tables to the walls to give them room to perform in, and she was sitting with Jasi at a table. But the two actors still looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know if I understand how it should go.”
“I explained it to you. Just give it a shot!”
Erin called out encouragingly to Wesle as he hesitated. He frowned, nodding and mouthing his lines silently. Grev held his scabbard up, doing the same thing.
They were reenacting a fight scene between Romeo and Paris, because Grev had wanted to try acting as well. Of course, Paris wasn’t supposed to be a little boy, but it was as close as Erin could do. And it was a dramatic scene! They were fighting right before Paris was slain and Romeo killed himself. It should have been a powerful moment that needed no direction.
But—
But Erin had begun to realize the error in using Romeo and Juliet as her introduction to plays. It hadn’t seemed like a mistake before, but it was becoming more and more obvious to her as time wore on.
At first glance, Shakesphere made sense. He was a famous guy—his works were classic! And yet—Erin had to admit, the language the famous Bard of Avalon used was…difficult at best.
“Go for it, Grev!”
“Okay!”
The boy spoke awkwardly, trying to force the lines of iambic pentameter into natural cadence.
“Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.”
He pointed his scabbard at Wesle. The man took a step back and took a deep breath. Wesle cleared his throat and began reciting Romeo’s lines.
“I must indeed, and therefore came I hither.
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man.
Fly hence and leave me. Think upon these gone.
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth—I say, isn’t this rather long?”
Erin groaned and beside her, Jasi covered her face.
“Even if it’s long, say the lines! You’re supposed to!”
“I’m afraid I can’t remember them all!”
Grev sighed and lowered his tired arm as Wesle walked over to consult with Erin. She sighed too. This wasn’t working.
Romeo and Juliet. A timeless play, or so the critics said. Except that time was dragging on here and everyone was clearly growing more and more tired of the play as they fumbled on.
Erin blamed Shakespeare, or more accurately, his dialogue. It was impressive, yes. A woven script filled with a craftman’s trickery with words. Even more impressive, it was in iambic pentameter, making each meter and verse doubly significant.
And that was the problem. It was dense. Now that Erin was recalling the full script, she realized how complex it was! Soliloquies, monologues, clever asides and tricks of dialogue…not to mention all the side characters!
For an audience who liked wit and humor, for an audience of Shakespeare’s time, it was great stuff, Erin had no doubt. But it wasn’t a story that captivated her heart—or her reluctant actor’s.
“Try again. You’re supposed to be enraged, in the middle of passion!”
“I can barely remember what to say.”
Wesle groaned. He tried again.
“Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man!”
Erin shook her head.
“No, no. It’s too awkward. You sound like you’re just reciting the words, not acting.”
“Well—”
Wesle threw up his hands, out of words. He stalked over to Grev and snatched his scabbard back. Erin ruffled her hair.
“Argh. Maybe—let’s try a Romeo and Juliet scene. I went over the play with you guys—you know how important their meeting on the balcony is. Let’s do that.”
Jasi nodded and stood up. Reluctantly, Wesle walked over to the other side of the room, and bowed his head.
He wasn’t liking this. That made Erin concerned. She went over to him.
“Hey. Are you not enjoying it?”
“I—don’t know, Miss Solstice. I don’t.”
Wesle just shrugged, looking both annoyed and disheartened.
“When you spoke the lines of the play I got chills, I truly did. But trying to make it into an actual play, to act it out—it’s a different thing entirely.”
Erin nodded. Her audience had listened to her go quickly through the entire play of Romeo and Juliet, drinking in the story like sponges. They’d even memorized entire lines of the play by rote—something Erin had thought was impossible! Apparently when you didn’t have a computer or iPhone handy, your ability to remember things you’d heard was a lot better.
They’d liked the play. But they didn’t like acting. Or rather, Wesle didn’t. Grev liked the mock swordfight and he’d hit Wesle several times with the scabbard, and Jasi had liked playing Juliet. But it was just play-acting, not the real thing.
Erin thought Wesle was trying for the real thing, but he couldn’t figure it out. She’d tried to show him, but acting wasn’t something he’d ever witnessed. All she could give him was her advice, and she had very little of that.
“Just do your best.”
“I am.”
Wesle clenched his fists as Jasi murmured her lines and practiced looking elegant. She really did seem to love the idea of the role.
“What’s wrong? Is it that you can’t figure out how to move?”
“No, it’s—I know it sounds silly, Erin, but I’m just not Romeo. I can’t be this grand hero in love. I’m just—Wesle. Just a [Guardsman], not a young [Lord].”
Wesle’s shoulders slumped. Erin looked at him, and understood a bit. She touched his shoulder and pulled him around.
“I know you’re not Romeo. But no one’s Romeo when they play him, Wesle. They become him.”
He looked at her, frustrated, helpless.
“How?”
Erin hesitated. She looked at Jasi, who was watching her anxiously, and at Grev. How could she explain acting to people who lived such small lives? Who didn’t have dreams? Who were beaten down by this stupid world and system they lived under?
Well…how else? Erin suddenly knew what to say. She looked back as Wesle, looked him right in the eyes.
“Haven’t you ever—ever wanted to be someone else? To be someone you’re not?”
Wesle hesitated, opened his mouth. Closed it. Grimaced.
“Of course.”
“Then that’s what you do. You don’t want to be someone else. For a little while, but a few moments—you become them. This is you, on stage, living out your dream.”
She pointed at Jasi, pointed at the stage, the empty bit of ground they’d cleared.
“This is your one chance. Forget about me, forget about the people watching you—you’re Romeo right now, a young nobleman who only has eyes for Juliet. You’re not Wesle. Wesle has a fuzzy mustache and he’s just a [Guardsman]. You’re Romeo. And you’re in love.”
Wesle stared at Erin, and she wondered if she’d failed. But then without a word he walked towards Jasi. The Drake was ready, and she called out even as Wesle strode towards her, back straight.
“What man art thou that thus bescreen’d in night so stumblest on my counsel?”
Wesle walked towards Jasi, and then knelt before her. Erin had thought that was appropriate for Romeo. He looked only a bit awkward as he stared up at Jasi imploringly. Still fake. But he was trying.
�
�By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am—”
Wesle stumbled over his words and bit his tongue. Erin winced. The language was just too hard! She was about to jump in, to tell him it was alright, when she saw something change.
The [Guardsman] kneeling in front of Jasi as the Drake tried to pretend she had a dress suddenly paused. He stopped, hesitated as he thought of his next lines, and then tossed away the script he had memorized. He rose, and took Jasi’s hand in his own. Startled, the Drake looked at him, but Wesle’s face was serious, his eyes intent on hers.
“My name, my very nature, dear [Lady], I hate myself—because it is an enemy to you. Had I my name and race written down, I would tear up like parchment.”
That wasn’t what Romeo was supposed to say! And yet—it was exactly what he was supposed to say! Erin held her breath delighted, as Jasi paused. She was thinking too, and suddenly there was a glint in her eyes. She pulled her hand free, staring haughtily at Wesle.
“You’ve not spoken a hundred words, but I already know that you are no Drake. Art thou not Romeo, a Human?”
He looked ashamed, and retreated a step before he bowed his head.
“I would be neither of those things, fair [Lady], if you dislike them. For you—I would be anything.”
Suddenly, he advanced on her, trying to put an arm around her waist. Jasi pulled back, but then stepped forwards. She grabbed Wesle’s shirt, and he yelped a bit in surprise.
Romeo and Juliet stood together, youthful, full of passion. Juliet, tail thrashing the ground, pulled Romeo closer to her, her eyes alight with passion.
“Tempt not a desperate Drake, Human.”
Erin covered her mouth, whispering the words to herself in shocked glee.
“That’s not in the script!”
But this was more than the script. Erin watched Wesle pull back, full of—of condescending hauteur, but also deep interest. They exchanged more lines, and then Romeo knelt, catching at Juliet’s hand again.
“I fear your hand is too noble for mine to ever touch. But I have two blushing balms to offer you, my lips—to smooth your rough scales with a tender kiss.”
Juliet laughed, pulling back and mocking him with her own words.
“I feel you do your hands too much discredit, sir. For after all, balms touch even [Queens] and [Ladies] – and if two hands should touch, well that too is like a kiss.”
Filled with consternation, Romeo stood up again, gesturing helplessly at Juliet’s face.
“Do not [Queens] and [Ladies] have lips to kiss with?”
“Of course they do. But balm is not meant for lips.”
She laughed at him, but Romeo was too caught up. He approached, and caught hold of her shoulders, speaking urgently.
“Then let us have lips do what hands do! Please, grant me this—answer my request, or let my hope become despair.”
Even as close as they were, Juliet found the wherewithal to turn her head away and up. Her tail twined about a chair leg, gripping it tightly.
“I’m afraid [Ladies] have no hopes to give. Only laws to make.”
“Then do not move as I act out my hope—”
The audience’s jaws dropped as Romeo kissed Juliet once in passion. He whispered the words as she stared at him in shock and something more.
“Now then, the crime of my assaulting a [Lady] rests on your lips, not mine.”
She smiled, tremulously, still holding on to a [Lady]’s dignity even in this moment.
“Oh? My lips bear your crimes now, do they?”
Romeo’s voice was rough.
“Your lips would turn an honest man to crime with their sweetness. Give me my crime back.”
They kissed again. Only this time, Juliet met Romeo halfway. It was a passionate kiss—and frankly, one that Erin thought Grev should not be watching.
On stage, Erin watched as Wesle and Jasi locked lips, and then continued the scene, slightly breathless but still in character. She had no idea if this was an act or if they’d be jumping each other soon.
No—this was part of the act. They were lost in the characters. And even as Erin watched, Romeo and Juliet came to life before her eyes, not Capulet and Montague, but Human and Drake, caught in forbidden interspecies love.
Erin held her breath as the two continued to act. Her eyes were locked on the performance, trying to capture every second of it before it slipped away. This wasn’t an [Immortal Moment]. Time didn’t stop here; because this wasn’t her scene. She was only part of the audience, a witness to the drama.
How could people act like this so naturally? Maybe it was because they had nothing to cling to. There was no ego in the way they held each other, only two lost lovers daring fate to be together.
The two who stood on the small stage in the inn were playing out roles bigger than themselves. For a little while, they were not Wesle the low-level [Guardsman] and Jasi the impoverished Drake working as a [Washer]. They were Romeo and Juliet, and their story was legend.
So Erin sat and watched the play continue. Grev jumped in, all faulty lines and overenthusiastic acting, and she had to fill in multiple roles herself. It was far from a good play, but for those living each scene, it was special in itself. It was new. It was unique. It was…
A bit of culture. A timeless story, travelling from one world to the other. It wasn’t perfect—it wasn’t accurate to the script and it certainly wasn’t in iambic pentameter. But the spirit was there. It was in every line of dialogue, delivered with clumsy passion and all of each actor’s heart.
It was the stage. And it had come to Celum.
—-
Several hours later, Erin realized the play had to be performed. Even after Wesle and Jasi had collapsed tiredly into the chairs—that was just the start.
They needed actors, a set, and audience! When Erin suggested a live performance both man and Drake froze, but they said yes. She had a feeling they would have said yes even if it meant playing all the parts themselves.
But they wouldn’t be alone. Erin was sure of that. Grev had applauded the play—Grev, the boy who could barely sit in one place for long. And the story was compelling; it was a story for this world, especially given the real and pressing animosity between Drakes and Humans.
And it would be told. Erin was certain of that. She would make it happen.
The first thing they needed was a place to practice. And happily, they had the inn. They just needed to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted, namely by Miss Agnes, who had come back full of affronted pride to help manage the lunch crowd.
“Lunch? Who has time for lunch!?”
Erin closed the door in Agnes’ face, only opening it again when the woman hammered on the door.
“You can’t just close the inn! Think of all the coin we’d lose!”
“Too bad! Today the inn’s closed! You said you had things to do, right? Well—do them!”
“How dare you! This is my inn and I—”
Erin opened the door and grabbed Miss Agnes’ hand. She pulled Agnes nose-to-nose with her. The woman stared into Erin’s intense, almost magic gaze.
“Get lost! We’re making art here!”
She ran. Erin had no time for her. She was too busy coordinating the play with the others.
“Who would want to act? We need male actors and female ones. And costumes! And a set! I mean, we can do without, but it looks better that way.”
“There aren’t any Drakes in the city, are there? We’d need some to play the Capulets…”
“No wait—there is one! The [Baker], Mister Hess who lives on Springbottom street! I could see him—explain—”
“What about other actors?”
Wesle was stroking his mustache furiously, on an adrenaline high from the performance.
“I’ll go to the Watch House. I’m sure there are plenty of men and women who’d love to try this. But how can I explain it to them?”
“Go together!”
Erin was practically bouncing with excitement
. She’d grabbed her bag of coins and she was excitedly pushing gold ones into Grev’s hands.
“You two can do a scene from the play for them. And tell people we’ll perform it here! Tonight! Admission is free, and they can buy food and drink!”
She gave up on counting coins and dumped a handful of them in to Grev’s hands. The young boy stared at the glittering pile, poleaxed.
“I want costumes, Grev! Clothing for rich people, [Lords] and [Ladies]! And swords!”
“I think I can borrow weapons from the Watch House.”
“Okay, no swords! But get me clothing! And curtains! I want big, red ones! Doesn’t matter if you have to get them to sew it together—it’s going to hang up there and we’ll pull them aside for each scene!”
“What about ah, what did you call them? Props?”
“Props!”
Erin pulled Grev back as he eagerly ran for the door.
“Get me…yeah, get a [Carpenter] and a [Painter] to make some backgrounds! No, wait, I’ll do it! They can draw a city, and a garden and—!”
The girl ran out of the inn. Grev led her to a [Painter]’s store—a man who decorated houses and created art for the nobility. She kicked down the door when he refused to open it. He screamed for the Watch, but they were all busy. Busy auditioning for a play.
And when Erin dragged the poor man to meet the best [Carpenter] in town, news was spreading. How could it not? Here was something interesting, and people were talking about it in the streets. Not too many people of course—word could only spread so fast by word of mouth, and Celum was a big city. There was always something happening.
And yet, the word ‘play’ had a magic of its own. It spread from person to person, from the Watch House to the bakery where the [Baker] suddenly took a day off for some strange reason. It attracted attention—especially when they saw that new, young [Innkeeper] ran into Stitchworks, and dragged the shopkeeper out, kicking and screaming.
Something was clearly happening. People began asking questions. What was a play? Was it like a street performance? No? Then what was it? How did it go? Would it cost anything? When was it happening?