The stands of the DC Community Centre's large gymnasium were full of chatter, mostly light-hearted, but certain pockets of intensity could be found here and there. Part of the gym was curtained off, and everything five or ten minutes, a number would be called and the next would-be local actor would slip past the curtain to stand in front of production's director, writer, and primary sponsor.
The one auditioning would not be given a script, but rather asked to act out a scene from a play, book or even music video that they felt passionate about. If they weren't prepared for such, they were asked to act out a moment from the play that was their own life.
Quote:
JAWS: The Musical is auditioning locals of all acting, singing, and dancing experience! Feel free to interact waiting in the stands, but the audition is primarily meant as a prompt for a solo! The director, writer, and sponsor can be considered free-to-use npcs to write how you wish.
Bhazz Lightner: a local director who has recently returned from NYC with big ideas on how to bring the DC scene to the forefront of theatre culture. Tends to speak very rapidly, fall in love with his own idea, and go off onto tangents. His assistant, Meredith, often acts as a concise interpreter and is rather helpful.
Florence Tinnier: a soft spoken older woman who's rather intense about her vision. But can easily be softened with compliments, snacks, and gardening chat.
Kirk MacGrubin: well-known local salesman, best known for organizing the monthly Night Market, as well as commercials featuring exotic animals inside his furniture store. Very jovial, very likely to try and sell you something.
There were more people than Ilian expected. He didn’t mind. Stage fright wasn’t an issue for him after years of performances, even if those performances had only ever been on the piano. He’d never auditioned for anything that required singing, much less dancing; he’d certainly never had formal dance training, but Ilian figured it would be fun to try anyway.
Besides, he was a faster learner.
Singing, on the other hand...
Ilian remembered the lessons he and his brother once took with their mother. He couldn’t recall the color of her eyes anymore, and most of her face was a blur in his memory, but he’d know her smile anywhere. He remembered her laughter, how light and joyful her voice was as she sang, accompanied by his father on the piano. They would sing duets, then have Ilian and Sorin take it in turns to do the same. In his earliest memories, Ilian was too small to reach the floor pedals. He would sit on his parents’ laps, or Sorin would help him.
A bittersweet smile pulled at Ilian’s lips, but he shook himself out of his memories. There were only fragments left. It had been so long since he’d made any effort to think about his parents. Less time had passed since Sorin’s death. Though the physical scars from it were gone, the mental and emotional pain remained. Sometimes, when the stress of General Sovereignty melted away and he could relax, Ilian would look at the dagger on display in his office and remember his brother fondly, rather than with the heartache and rage that consumed him when Sorin was newly gone.
Would they be proud of him? Sorin, or his parents? Sixteen years changed a lot in a person. He was young when his parents died, young when Sorin was taken from him years after. He knew about the horrors of the world now, had learned about the things that were worse than death.
Next summer, Sorin will have been gone for a decade. What would he think of Ilian now? How would he feel about who Ilian had become? Sometimes, Ilian wished he could know the answers. Other times, he was afraid of what those answers might be. But he tried, always, to live his life in a way that his brother would admire, that his parents would be pleased with. If he could make a difference in the world, somewhere, anywhere, he thought it might be enough to honor their memory.
Ilian peeked around the curtains as he waited in the wings. He couldn’t see Lovely, but Ilian knew he was out in the audience, probably disguising some sort of illicit beverage in a fancy water thermos. Lovely had laughed when Ilian had told him about the musical. He’d laughed harder when Ilian said he might audition, but for all his amusement, Lovely was there to support him—eternally loyal.
Whether Ilian got a role or not didn’t matter. There was fun to be had in trying. If he succeeded, it might be amusing to dress up as a shark, to do something ridiculous, to prove to himself that he could, that becoming a General King hadn’t changed him so much that he could no longer laugh at his own expense. Maybe he would convince Justice to come out of his office long enough to watch the show.
When his number was called, Ilian began his performance before he’d even officially taken his place. He used one hand to carry the stool. With the other, he lifted one end of a keyboard and, purposefully obnoxious, dragged it noisily across the floor.
If the commotion didn’t draw attention, he hoped his outfit would. Ilian had searched the wares of local thirst shops until he’d found a bright purple comforter. A long, white feather boa lined the edge, shedding feathers and glitter as he went. He wore a tuxedo jacket beneath, with a purple cumberbund to match the makeshift cape.
On his carefully brushed and lovingly styled mop of curls, Ilian wore a crown from Burger King—made more opulent with cheap plastic gems from the craft store, stuck into place with globs of hot glue.
He set the stool and keyboard down once he stood before the director, writer, and sponsor, letting it come to rest with a clatter. It was an old instrument, a bit beat up over time, with scuff marks from cheaply painted walls in a dingy hovel of an apartment, covered here and there with faded stickers. (“Peace was never an option,” declares a squat duck with a knife. “Here, you dropped this,” says a stick figure holding a brain.)
Ilian flicked his “cape” out behind him as he sat. He looked out over an audience, offered an impish smile, and began to play.
The irony of him singing this particular song was not lost on him. While there weren’t many people who knew who he was as a civilian, he hoped the ones who did would learn that he liked having fun and living a normal life, too.
