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Link to Student's image: HEY LOOK IT'S A JANICE
Role you're trying for: Princess Nia
Are you willing to accept another role other than the one you're trying out for?: ...I suppose I'll try anything once.
If not cast in a role, are you willing to work backstage?: See above.
If so, what job would you like?: I would probably do best in public relations... assistant choreographing, and I can also make a good coffee.


A somewhat tall, thin girl with murky purple hair and equally murky green eyes quickly appeared on the stage, zero hesitation present in her step or in her general demeanor. She looked confident. She had admittedly never tried anything quite like auditioning for a play - however, she did have a fair amount of experience presenting herself in front of an audience with musical performances, speeches, presentations and debates, and figured that connecting to viewers with the art of theatre wouldn't be much different. Her plan: combine her public speaking skills and the performance charisma she'd picked up in jazz band with that part of her who loved using cheap theatrics in conversation and board games to give herself a psychological edge.

Her gaze bore a hole into the lens of the camera as she flatly stated, "Janice Fitzpatrick, auditioning for the role of..."

And she glanced at her sheet,

"Nia the servant girl."

There was a pause, as she backed away from the camera a few feet and drank in the feed she'd been given for the part one last time, fingers drumming at the air at her side. Her eyes flicked over every last word at a lightning speed, intent on being sure she had them memorized before she had them started-- she knew it would cost her points if she had to look back at it in the middle of her audition, like a public speaker who paid too much attention to their cards. It just a long enough pause to start eating at one's patience, enough to make Ursula wonder if she was going to start, but at the very next nanosecond her gaze had snapped back to the camera, ablaze with the fire of drama.

"You..." she breathed, sulphurously.

"You foul... wicked, UGLY woman..." Her voice rose in volume and intensity with every insult that punctuated her speech, until it burned like a handful of hot coals when she demanded, "How DARE you imply such things?!" On this she took a quick step forward, hand raised and looking ready to be clenched into a fist.

But her posture faltered, the prospective 'Nia' seemingly overcome by her own frustration, and she lowered to a quiet but still smoldering murmur as she continued. "I did not... come this far... to be vanquished by some beastly creature who fails to know the emotions of the heart..."

And the almost-fist drew up again, but instead of somewhere threatening, this time it hung loosely at her chest, and with it came subtle touches of softness in her expression and her tone. "Who... has never loved, or known how it feels to be loved. I am here... on behalf of the one I love."

She allowed her hand to open, slowly, like a flower.

Her expression blossomed as well, as if even the most fleeting thought of her soulmate was like a kiss of precious sunlight in a cold, dark cavern.

"I am here on behalf of the one I love," she reaffirmed, the growing fire in 'Nia's' heart reflected in Janice's voice-- and, finally, her hand rose up before her in a firm, resolute fist: "and I will win over his affection and love by taking my rightful place on the throne YOU stole away from me, when I was but a mere child!"

And there was no true hatred in her face or voice anymore. The Power of Love had, according to Janice's interpretation, destroyed the pure and beautiful Nia's need for such emotions, foreshadowing her as the soon to be righteous queen of Badassia; her fist was grasping only air now, but one could easily imagine that those slender, pointy fingers would soon be wrapped around a scepter as pristine and perfect as her and her kingdom.

"Begone!" she cried, her slender legs gracefully carrying her towards the camera. "Begone, evil being, as my true love will triumph over you with vengeance!"

Her audition finished, Janice's demeanor flowed back into her normal, straight and slightly annoyed self, and after offering a curt bow she left the stage.

Link to Student's image: Serenade
What job are you interested in: Backstage; playing background music on the piano
Do you have previous experience in this job: Uh, I've done my fair share of concert recitals? Does that count? Never really done stuff for the theatre though, but I guess it would be more low-key? It's totally fine with me though.

Serenade had heard about the play Miss Johnson had put up, and while she wasn't terribly interested at first, a thought had struck her that made her go tot he auditions anyway. A theater production needed music right? And they would need musicians for that, didn't they? Immediately excited at this thought, she had rushed over immediately.

Sadly, Miss Johnson had seemed to overlook the importance of music in a theater production and Serenade had simply stared at the list of 'Available Backstage Positions', thinking that she should go home instead. Or maybe she could just approach Miss Johnson about it? The girl turned her pin gaze upon the orange-haired teacher, looking rather apprehensive. She had said 'turn in the form and just leave'. Should she, or should she not?

"Uh...Miss Johnson." She approached the teacher, giving her a sweet but shy smile. "Um...does backstage positions include music? If so, here." She handed over her form quickly then drew back, looking apprehensive. "If not, just...tear that up or something, it's okay with me!" With that, she left, thinking that she should have really not bothered with coming at all.

Unless Miss Johnson took her suggestion of course. She did hope so. It gave her something to practice for, a performance to strive towards!

This play was so ridiculous as to be baffling.

"This play is so ridiculous as to be baffling, Miss Thorne," she'd complained to Aurelia, the entire time -- it was a stupid play. It was terrible. It wasn't even something terrible that people knew -- couldn't they have gone with a normal pantomime or a Christmas play? But no, there was a new frivolous theater teacher with big boobs who wore gauzy shirts and was, in short, the kind of fey artistic person that Hero immediately gruffly distrusted. New ideas. Stupid, undignified ideas.

And yet she had to be part of it, even so.

Just not on stage. That was too much.

She marched up with her portfolio (already neatly printed out, in dignified colours -- Hero did not use clip art in her portfolios) and taped her form to it. Brochures. Already a partial budget. She would handle being gofer to the producer and the director if it possibly meant she could undercut the producer and become Miss Johnson's right hand -- ugh -- handed over the entire package to the theater teacher with little to no preamble.

"I think you'll find I'm the only person for the job," she said crisply. "Excuse me."

That was done: now to find Miss Thorne. Aurelia should have calculated how this play (and the PR role that Hero would INEVITABLY get -- possibly even associate producer if Miss Johnson knew anything about anything) would infringe on her time. Also it was possibly time to do reps while learning French verbs.

The poster on the bulletin board in the study area was all she needed to see.

Barren Pines would be putting on a production of Nia, Princess of Love, and Euphemia was determined to get in on that action. So what if she had never heard the name of the play before? That didn’t matter! The only thing that mattered was this: they would need people to work backstage. People with skills. And luckily, she just so happened to be that sort of person. The school production was the perfect opportunity for her to hone her makeup skills. Anyone could do regular make up, sure. That was kiddy stuff. But this? This was the big leagues. Stage makeup was a whole other story, and Effie was up for that challenge.

It didn’t take her long to fill out the paperwork that Miss Johnson for the students, about a half an hour or so at the most. As she filled it out, the potter had made sure to take her time. Black ballpoint pen in hand, she made sure to write as neatly, thorough and as clear as possible. She was here to make an impression, after all. A folded piece of paper that had scribbles on it where the responses to questions would be was unacceptable in her eyes. Nope – Euphemia only wanted to give the drama teacher her best, as she was sure Miss Johnson expected nothing less from her cast and stage crews.

A satisfied smirk tugged at her lips when she was finished.

There was only one more step to do now that the form was complete: turn it in.

Euphemia made her way over to the red-haired teacher without missing a beat. There was pride in her steps, and perhaps confidence in her ability to get the job. Surely, after looking over her credentials, Miss Johnson would have to pick her. Right? ‘Hmmm,’ the Greek teen thought to herself as she approached the drama instructor, ‘maybe I shouldn’t get my hopes up, after all.’ Well, there was no going back now. Euphemia now stood in front of Miss Johnson, paperwork in hand. Wordlessly, she handed it to her, and then turned to walk up the stairs and out of the theatre. It was only after Effie was halfway out of the theatre that she turned her head to look back at the teacher once more and said:

“Thank you for your time, and good luck in casting the production.”

Link to Student's image: Kirin Thompson
Role you're trying for: Nia
Are you willing to accept another role other than the one you're trying out for?: Yes. Especially Sir Igneous Blackglass (and his dress fetish).
If not cast in a role, are you willing to work backstage?: Yes.
If so, what job would you like?: Lighting, or music or special effects... anything that involves use of computers - so probably lighting or mixing of music / sound.


----


Kirin had debated long and hard over auditioning for the play. It had caught his interest firstly because the school hadn't done open auditions before (only drama-student productions), and secondly because the likelihood of it being a musical was high - well, if you want to a normal high school. Turns out it wasn't a musical, and wasn't anything Kirin had ever heard of before. That had turned him off the idea for a few days, before eventually he realised nothing else was going to come along. Besides, a successful play now could mean a proper musical in the future. In which case it was better to get his foot through the door now, because everyone knew that musicals (and even plays) required divas, not "serious" actors or singers.

So Kirin hung at the back of the hall and watched people get up on stage and try their hand at acting. Mostly, it evoked a lot of wincing out of the teen. The only problem with using teenagers to perform a drama was the sheer amount of DRAMA involved. Still, when there was a break in the auditions, Kirin walked up to Miss Johnson and handed over his form.

Leading role would normally have been a bit of a stretch. But it hadn't escaped his notice how much 'Princess Nea' resembled Miss Johnson (and the rumours of her unrequited love), and that Kirin shared some physical similarities with the drama teacher. Maybe he could play on that. Certainly the flowcharts he'd created regarding this scenario indicated flattery to "Nea" was likely to increase his chances.

Expression and voice in normal ice queen mode, Kirin walked up to centre stage. "My name is Kirin Thompson. I will be auditioning for the part of the lovely and heroic Princess Nea, may everyone who stands in the way of her pure love die a slow and painful death."

Love was a worthless emotion, but Kirin wasn't about to say so, or let anything show on his face. Time to get into the role, then. It wasn't all that different from losing himself in music - just only words instead of lyrics, and no backing melody or vocals. "This would be so much better as a musical," he muttered. Realising he'd spoked aloud, Kirin quickly covered with, "Ah, because all the best princesses have lovely singing voices to show their purity of heart and the strength of their devotion to their prince, uh, King. And I could certainly do justice to the mesmerising singing voice Nea would have. If she were real. Which she isn't."

Moving along!

Adopting his best Ice Queen face, Kirin launched into the lines, injecting fire into his voice and anger instead of the usual frost. "You foul, wicked ugly woman," Kirin cried, putting extra emphasis on ugly, making it sound like the worst insult there could possibly be. A crime, even, to be so ugly! An accusatory finger shot out, lightning fast, to point at his imaginary foe on-stage. "How dare you imply such things! I did not come this far to be vanquished by some beastly creature," again, a sneer for the ugly creature, "who fails to know the emotions of the heart, who has never loved or known how it feels to be loved."

Kirin took a few steps forward, face turning out now to the audience. "I am here on the behalf of the one I love," it took all Kirin's willpower to avoid gagging and instead take on an expression of yearning, eyes raised to the Heavens. "I will win over his affection and love by taking my rightful place on the throne you stole away from me when I was but a mere child!"

Aaaand big finale time. Kirin struck a pose best suited to some kind of magical girl anime. "BE GONE, EVIL BEING! MY TRUE LOVE AND BEAUTIFUL HEART AND BODY WILL TRIUMPH OVER YOU WITH VENGEANCE!"

Thank god that was over. Dropping the pose, Kirin turned back to the camera. In icy tones, he added, "I also have no objection to the part of Sir Blackglass and his dress fetish. Uh, clearly the ladies here," he indicated his A-cups, "aren't up for either role. But they can be taped down for Blackglass, or helped out with a wonderbra to achieve the décolletage befitting a princess." Actually, just getting a larger cup-size bra and larger cup-size silicon padding, but no one else actually knew it was that easy.

Kirin finished up with an emotionless, "Thank you for your time," before leaving the stage. Oh dear god, clearly it was time for karaoke or some programming work or something that made sense. Not like cracked out plays where teachers wrote out their (not so) secret fantasies. Kirin shuddered. This was more than he ever needed to know about the love lives of his teachers.

It was, really, obvious from the start which role Mason would try out for - while the king didn't actually do much in the play, he got lots of dramatic soliloquies.

Also lead characters were totally Mason's thing.

He handed his form into Miss Johnson, smiling pleasantly at her. Oh, he was going to nail this.

He stepped up to the stage with some measure of confidence, before assuming immediately the pose of a man deep in thought. "Do I stay behind..." he began, "and rule my kingdom? Or..." he asked himself, treading back and forth on the stage with lengthy strides - the strides of a king. "Do I follow the woman I love in secret...?" He raised his fist, clenched it and stared at it, before dropping it back to his side with a sigh. "The woman who would go to such lengths..." He sighed again, melodramatically. "For me?" He was a king now, and no longer some teenaged actor - a king desperately in love with a servant that was completely out of his station.

"And yet could I do the same for her?" He turned his head swiftly, aiming a soulful stare at the camera. "To leave behind...an entire kingdom..." He stepped slowly towards the camera, arms spread imploringly. "For the sake of one woman, though?" He made a sudden turn, striding confidently juuust far enough from the audience that - yes. He turned again to face the camera. "No!" he shouted, and it was an anguished cry. "No," he whispered, staring at his hands. "I couldn't. My people - they need their King." He stared darkly at the stage's wooden floor, and whipped his head suddenly up to stare into the camera once more. "I have responsibilities to fulfill." His voice lowered at the end of the statement.

"OH, how conflicted I am!" Mason shouted, pressing his face into his hands. "To be torn," he cried, eyes glued to his feet once more. "Between emotion and duty?" He stamped his foot. "A King," he proclaimed, "Cannot possibly put his own desires before those he rules over, can he?" Mason turned so that three-quarters of his back showed up on the camera, and turned only his head to face it once more. "Oh," he moaned. "Oh, oh - if only." He paused, turning fully to face the audience (Mason liked dramatic turning!). He finished with a whisper. "If only I had been born a pauper, perhaps the world would be a simpler place!" His voice rose almost questioningly at the end. He held his pose for a few seconds, and then swept into a low bow.

Yes, he was going to get the part for sure.

Link to Student's image:



Fallon click-clack'd down the aisle of the audition room, hair pinned tightly back from her face. It had been a last minute decision to be a part of the school play. She had no desire to be on stage -- too many things could go wrong -- but it had occurred to her somewhere between starching her pants and reorganizing her closet that there was one thing that all good productions had: craft services. It would be good experience to slap down on a resume later in life, she reasoned, and it could be easily fit into her schedule if she just moved a few things around. Before filling out the form, Fallon had projected several different versions of her schedule in which the play was given a window of time. Yes, it worked nicely.

Slipping up beside Miss Johnson, Fallon smiled warmly. Miss Johnson was beautiful. Very beautiful. Even if Fallon had more couth than Andeon, she felt approximately the same as he did. "Hello, Miss Johnson. I would like to participate in the play. I can organize craft services," she said, nodding politely. There hadn't really been any advertisment for craft services, but Fallon felt Miss Johnson would understand the importance of a well-fed cast to the overall success of the play. Miss Johnson seemed so classy for a younger teacher, so poised. It made Fallon's heart give a little pitter-patter. Did she like assembling massive picture puzzles too? One could only hope. "If you would like, I can prepare dinner for you as part of my try out," she added, maintaining her smile with the skill of a robot. A kind of cute robot. Was she asking her on a date? Perhaps. But it probably didn't seem like it. Fallon was certain that Miss Johnson was a very interesting person. At the very least, she would be a very pretty thing to look at while Fallon cooked.

Regardless of an answer, she slipped her portfolio application into the intended slot, offered one more smile, and then disappeared up the aisle in the same even steps that had brought her there.

No matter where he went, Khaldun had a knack for looking out of place. Time and a distinct lack of fighting worked wonders for healing the mess of cuts, bruises, and other injuries that had been plaguing the student since his scuffle with Castor and Astraea. The only major indicators left that Khal was the type to get into fights were a piece of gauze taped firmly over the bridge of his nose, and the ever-present pair of scars that deep cuts in his cheek and a diagonal cleft through his lips. The Barren Pines uniform seemed to mix with Khaldun like oil and water, and already he was stalking around with the jacket unbuttoned, tie loosened, and his hands shoved in the pockets. A pair of headphones ringed the back of his neck, the tiny sound of raging drumbeats and guitars serenading anyone who got too close to him. His hair looked radically different, temporarily loosed from its ponytail and simply crawling down his back instead. But, and this was the strangest part, one could almost dare to say he looked happy.

The student ever so slowly pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it over lazily. The crinkling could well have gone on for a minute. A grin played on Khaldun's scarred features as he gave the lines one more glance for good luck. Then it was time to face the camera, and the drama teacher as well. Try out for the play, she said. That was a demand not a request, she said. Whatever. "My name is Benjamin Dover, and I'm auditioning for the part of Nia."

A pause. The rest was like watching a train wreck in a teenage boy's parody of Ursula's voice.

"You foul, wicked ugly woman." Dramatic sigh. Despite the seriousness of the lines he still had a small smile and humor creeping into his voice. He wasn't pointing in Ursula's direction... was he? No, that had to be purely accidental stage direction. He began to pace in a slow, small arc while he called up the next set of lines. His voice remained a parody of Ursula's, curt and not particularly emotional aside from masking the laughter Khaldun himself wanted to burst out with. "How dare you imply such things."

"I did not come this far-" a downward point during his pacing- "to be vanquished by some beastly creature who fails to know the emotions of the heart-" and at this point he lightly pointed both hands at a spot on his chest where his ought to have been- "who has never loved or known how it feels to be loved."

Khaldun finally stopped walking around, and made a dramatic show of placing his hand on his hip and striking an 'Ursula' pose. Just in case it wasn't obvious enough, one hand reached over to flip some stray dreadlocks out of the way of his face.

"I am here on the behalf of the one I love." He tried to twirl a dreadlock in one finger to maximize the girliness, but it turned out to be more difficult than it looked. "And I will win over his affection and love by taking my rightful place on the throne you stole away from me when I was but a mere child."

Khaldun reached a hand inside his jacket pocket, and hit a few buttons on his CD player. There would probably never be a reasonable explanation as to how it had come into his possession, but what now blasted at high volume from the headphones was pretty unmistakable.

"CAAAAAN YOU FEEEEEEEL THE LOOOOVE TONIIIIIGHT..."

Now he actually had to yell, in that fake voice, to be heard over the musical accompaniment. "BE GONE, EVIL BEING, AS MY TRUE LOVE WILL TRIUMPH OVER YOU WITH VENGEANCE!"

Click. Silence, still ringing with The Lion King soundtrack. The teen didn't wait around. He was already headed down the stage steps, tying back his hair into a semi-ponytail again as he walked.

"'Kevin'?" he spoke quietly, incredulously, and for once in his own voice, before slapping his rickroll-laden audition form down on Ursula's table. He didn't wait to hear any explanations - he wasn't going to give her any more of his time in this auditorium. She wanted an audition? She got one. He'd deal with the Kevin thing later.