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 Posted: Mon Sep 21, 2009 11:37 am
H i k a r u - G a l i a n d e r-O t h e l l o Being found was something Othello was trying to avoid to a point. He wanted to run away but where would he run to? If he ran what would be do? All he had right now was this job was all he had. He frowned as he let out a small sigh and folded his hands against his stomach as he continued to lay like a dead beat better then he liked doing anything else. He sighed as he looked up towards the sky with a rather depressed look on his face. He didn't know what to do beside lay there like a lump in the road. He looked up at the sky his large blue eyes shined like a diamond as he looked up at the clouds and watched as they moved weakly along the pale blue sky. He trembled slightly as he felt a small cold breeze rush through his skin. He sighed as he leaned back against the grass and entwined his fingers slightly. He paused for a minute as his eyes turned upwards as he pushed himself up. He didn't think he was hearing things but he thought he heard his name. He looked around as he tilted his head.
There it was again, he knew for sure someone was calling his name now. He frowned as he laid back down on the grass and looked towards the sky again. He made no motion to find out who was looking for him. Heard someone finally notice him but he didn't move to run. There was no point really. He looked up once he heard the movement of the grass and such till the man finally reached his side. He looked over and his heart rate increased. It was a client. He knew this one, he came rather often. Hersey was his name. He watched as the man flopped beside him. He didn't want to put on a front and slip into host mode but at the same time he knew if he didn't then the madam would be rather displeased....What did he care....The madam obviously had no favor towards him see as Sonnen always got the spotlight and Othello was pushed into the closet till a client was willing to take him. Everyone wanted Sonnen and Levant. No one really ever asked for Othello. He paused as he looked down at the floor and sighed slightly.
When the man was finally beside him Othello sat up and bowed his head slightly. "I am sorry your forced to see me when I am least presentable Mr. Hersey." Othello said as he looked down at the man's hand and reached out placing the back of the boy's hand to his lips. He was doing his best to slip into host mode but it was difficult. He noticed the smooth tone the man used and felt like he could drop his guard. His shoulder dropped almost instantly. His blue eyes lost their glint as he looked down at the grass ahead of him. He heard the question and a weak smile slipped onto his lips. He let out a shaky sigh and flopped down and laid down.
Looking up at Mr. Hersey, Othello sighed as he looked down at the grass once more, "I am not as good as Sonnen and Levant...I don't have the talents that those two do." he confessed as he gripped the grass in his fingers slightly. "I don't belong here...I don't have what it takes to be like Sonnen." he mumbled as he looked down and away from the man. He forced a smile as he looked over at Mr.Hersey, "I am sorry this is very rude of me..." he pushed himself up and held his hand out to Mr. Hersey, "Let me escort you to the globe. That will be much more enjoyable then watching me wallow in my own insecurities." Othello said as he looked down with a rather discouraged look on his face.
Othello was a very deep thinker and when it came to how to improve himself. He didn't like being stuck behind a wall for what seemed like and impossible battle to find himself. He frowned as he looked down at his hands. He felt like he was of no use to the Madam. He inhaled slightly as he pulled out a cigarette. He placed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled his pale blue eyes dilating and undilating. He sighed as he let the smoke tingle in his nose and his lips. He blew the smoke from his lip and looked downwards at Mr. Hersey, "Come on Mr. Hersey, or you'll end up missing Sonnen preform. " he said his voice distant almost as he looked down at him. 
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Posted: Tue Sep 22, 2009 5:24 pm
~Lorentz | Лоренц.
You know, the kid never even noticed how short he really was until he was approached by the Madam. The thought that maybe she was wearing heels gave a simple reason fo- Oh, ******** it. He was short. The height aside, the hug was only more awkward by it being presented by a stranger. But, it didn't make Walenty feel as uncomfortable as it should have. Oddly enough, it made him.. happy? No.
Tranquil.
Well, it came as a relief. Feeling all tense was something he did not look forward to today. No, thanks. An inward sigh and a few noddings of the head at the right places was all that came from the boy while taking his seat. A glance to his side showed a well manicured man. Not much opinion was formed at that moment as the boy considered it rude to avert his attention to somebody other than his host. He quickly turned his eyes back to the lovely woman. When asked about the schooling, he felt as if the Madam was waiting for a reply. However, she continued on, telling of her old days, rather than waiting for Walenty to open his mouth. Haha, he didn't mind one bit. Besides, there was really nothing worth mentioning about his home schooling. It was all basically half-assed work and Mum never minded if he skipped a day of it. He always caught back up the next day and aced everything she attempted to throw at him with a breeze. And honestly? Making his brother proud? Well, he'd tried doing that his whole life and he had yet to even see a hint of success. Even the thought of it was virtually impossible.
Once the lady had excused herself to speak privately for a moment, Walenty made himself comfortable by removing his scarf, folding it crisply (No wrinkles there, yes? Good.), and centering it on his lap. He tried so terribly hard to ignore the one-sided conversation that was going on beside him. But, he missed hearing the language. None of the maids and butlers understood it and Mum always insisted on communicating in English. Was Dimitri listening in? He seemed way too interested in the front stage to not be eavesdropping.
While picking some foreign lint (or dust, maybe?) from the sleeve of his dark parka, the overhead lights silenty adjusted to illuminate the stage before the modest audience. Had Madam's delayed entertainment arrived? He could only assume this by listening in on her Russian talk. The form of entertainment showed himeself with a very pristine looking violin in hand. 'Oh, an instrument player? Does he perhaps play piano as well?' A sudden urge to challenge him to a piano battle made the boy excited.
The wish was blown away as fast as it came around. The irony of this song choice was just ridiculous. Was this seemingly elegant man actually playing a song such as this? Walenty could practically taste his disfavour. Surely this was a joke. Any minute now, he'll stop and play something more... pleasant. By the time the deep solo of the Devil's part was heard, Walenty had already pursed his lips.
This was no joke.
But, the serious ongoing feeling that the performer showed was enough to make the blond giggle. He had to cover his mouth just to hide the grin. Not to say the player was doing a terrible job. However, that was just it. He was performing this hick song so wonderfully! And there was obviously so much skill going on there. Walenty had trouble comprehending why he couldn't have chosen a more sophisticated song on such a level. Oh, well. Respect was given on his bravery to perform such a song.
Upon the violinist's exit, the auditorium was ripped apart by more than just the scattered applause. Apparently, his brother had to put on a show of his own. Was Dimitri making fun of him? 'He plays better than you do, anyway, brother.' If only he were sitting closer to him. Yanking that man back down into his seat would have helped to lower the embarrassment that he felt towards the older one. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his slender nose, one last final thought crossed his mind. 'Some people just do not change.'(( I find this a bit hilarious. I live in Georgia. I hear this song so much on the radio that it's a little laughable. .. wonderful choice. xD Also. I have no excuse for not posting. Other than procrastination. I apologize. -Shifty eyes.- )).В. Киева | W. Kieva~
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 5:14 am
(( Ahaha. I live in Texas and my parents always listened to funny country songs. I actually heard this song the first time when I was a young lad in middle school and I watched Coyote Ugly with my sister. We were obsessed with that song for like, years. xD I think we even made a dance to it. Also, is it strange that I commiserate with Walenty? xD I'm a 5'3'' guy, too, only I'm redheaded so people call me leprechaun. ))
Mister Heresy: Braedin
The fact that Othello didn't immediately become a ball of sunshine when Braedin found him worried him. This kid was like the energizer bunny! Where had all the energy gone! Had he been left on overnight? he pondered amusedly. He immediately felt like a dipshit for thinking funny thoughts during an obviously serious situation. The guy was even trying to be hospitable, when he was obviously upset over something. After Othello had kissed his hand, as was expected of a host, Brae used the hand to gently, briefly stroke the redhead's hair. He wasn't like Sonnen who had no idea what to do with a distraught person. Man, Sonnen was such an awkward guy sometimes. He shook his head to rid those thoughts; this wasn't about the royal douche bag — it was about Othello.
...Okay, so maybe it was kind of about the royal douche bag. That's what this was all about? Well, he could understand his angst over it. Performing arts were hard to compete with sometimes (especially if they've been musicians since they were like, five years old), but he'd never thought Othello fell short. True, some people might prefer a fancy ten-minute piano solo over a tarot reading, but that didn't make it better — just different. When Othello stood as if to lead Braedin away, he shook his head, a smirk on his face. He took Othello's hand, but used it to drag him back down, making sure he didn't break his tail bone or anything. Then, he plucked the cigarette from his fingers.
"This is bad for you," he stated matter-of-factly, then proceeded to take a puff of it. He wasn't usually smoker, but would partake in one if he was out with his buds and they were partaking as well. "The Madam would not approve." To punctuate this, he handed the cigarette back to him, with an implied 'so I won't tell her' look in his eye. "And you ain't gettin' rid of me that easy." Okay, time to start sounding like a self-help book. "For one thing, you cain't compare yourself to Levant," he over-pronounced with a fake French accent, "and The Royal Douche Bag. I mean Sonnen." He pretended to correct himself, even though he fully meant to use the phrase. "It's like trying to compare a science fiction book to a vampire romance. You cain't do it, cause they're two completely different genres. They have completely different content and audience, so it's impossible to say which is better. Now, one may be more suited to someone, like a vampire romance to a twelve-year-old girl, but that don't make the other no better or worse, ya feel me?" God, he hoped he was making sense. "...Is this makin any sense?" he checked, unsure of himself. 'Don't dwell, just move on!'
"An-anyway, you see my point. I mean, I guess you cain't play the violin with your eyes closed, but Sonnen cain't do what you do either. And on that note, he never will be able to! Anyone can learn to play an instrument. It's not easy, but it's a process that anyone can go through. Having a third eye—" he poked Othello right in the forehead, where he suspected a third eye might be, "—is somethin' you're born with. I guess you could learn to fake it, but it ain't the same." Alright, now he'd kind of run out of steam. He wasn't sure where to go now. And Othello still didn't seem very convinced. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.
"You know, I knew Sonnen the day he walked into Guilty Pleasures," he started, hoping this caught the boy's interest. "He was tall, long hair, kind of talked with an accent. Eet sounded somezing like dis," he mimicked, trying to sound Russian. Okay, so Sonnen's accent hadn't been that bad, but it was apparent he was from another country. It got better, though. "And he was much like you. After a few months, he'd still had only one Client, and that was me. But nowadays people don't think I 'count' because I take each Companion at least once. So, Sonnen didn't really think I made much difference. But anyway, I even walked in on him sulking. Can you imagine that dude sulking? I'm pretty sure he had his tear ducts surgically removed, so there weren't any waterworks (sadly), but he looked about ready to fling himself off the roof! He didn't, obviously, but it was apparent that he was less than happy. And, ah... lemme tell you a little secret." He motioned for Othello to come closer.
"You ain't heard this from me, but Royal Douche's dad absolutely did not approve of him working here. Thought he was turning into some kind of prostitute. So if Sonnen left Guilty Pleasures, he'd pretty much have nowhere to go. Pretty sure that's the only reason he stayed even though he was miserable." He shook his head again. "But that's not important. Point is, ya just gotta stick with it till you find a Client that's interested! Well, aside from me, because apparently I don't count anymore. But you've only been here like, ten weeks or some'm. Ya gotta stay a little longer than that." Aaaand that's all she wrote! Well, almost. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Count Sneersalot would be sad if you left." If that didn't convince the boy to stay, then nothing would. Why couldn't Sonnen see that Othello looked at him as if the sun shone out of his a**? He'd have to ruffle the musician's hair later just to piss him off.
"So, I shan't let you escort me to the Globe to watch Sonnen perform. Unlesssss... you wanted to watch him. I've got videos of him on Youtube when he was sixteen rockin' out with an electric guitar and guyliner, but I think a live performance would be more appeasing, da?" Then, he did stand up, pulling Othello up with him. Taking the boy to the Globe seemed a bit counterproductive to the insecurity he felt, but Braedin had a plan. A scheme. Ohh, he liked thinking of it as a scheme. He would guide them into the Globe, have them stationed at the back, then had a plan for directly after the performance was over. It would definitely bring the Client's attention to Othello, and hopefully a friend. Once he was sure of his plan, he grasped the smaller boy's wrist and pulled him inside. He sure as hell hoped this worked.
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 3:25 pm
(( A dance? Did it resemble anything like an Irish jig? xDD
And, nah. I don't think that's strange at all. Tel is also 5'3", if I recall correctly.
Don't worry about being short. You're taller than I am. So. xD; People call me a midget. ))
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 3:32 pm
Sound the horn and call the cry!
. . .
(( LEPRECHAUN AND MIDGET. SUPERHERO TEAM OF AWESOME. Ahaha nooo. It was kind of random jigs mixed with some cheerleader stuff (cause we were both cheerleaders at that time). And it's cute when girls are short. It's just kind of awkward when dudes are short. xD I kept hoping in high school that I'd hit some kind of growth spurt, seeing as my brother's 5'7'' and my dad's 5'10''. Nice in dance class, though, since I'm about everyone else's height. ))
. . .
H ow many of them can we make die!
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 4:59 pm
(( AHAHA, YES.
I can vaguely imagine that. xD "Give me a G! Give me an E!" -Shot.-
Short dudes are awesome! Lawl. Freakin' adorable. My brother is a foot taller than me and four years younger. |: I don't understand this.
I remember taking ballet! : D NOBODYSAWTHATCOMING,RIGHT?
Oh, god, I have to tell you a story.
I went to Quiznos a few days ago to see a friend. Two workers from Best Buy walk in to order food. My friend gives me two cups to fill with ice and drink. Basically, she thought it was hilarious that I have to stand on my tiptoes to see the inside of the cup.
However! One of the workers noticed this and proclaimed, "At least us short people can find shoes that fit us easier!"
I laffed. ))
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 7:14 pm
H i k a r u - G a l i a n d e r-O t h e l l o Maybe Othello had been left on longer then he should of been but at the same time it was what he did. He always ran himself short of passing out every day. But it never seemed to pay off, and all Sonnen had to do was open his pretty little lips and sing a pretty tune and hoards of people would flock to the man's side. Even when Othello first started out with his profession, as he called it, people looked at him funny and kept walking. He knew he wasn't funny looking, and he knew his third eye wasn't showing so he didn't know what it was about him that seemed to turn people off before they even gave him a chance. Of course after the years he got used to the few people who took interest in what he did and moved forward with his life, but it was one of those things that left a rather large scar. A scar that no matter how much makeup he put over it, it didn't leave him. When Braedin shook his head Othello looked confused for a minute. The tug startled him causing him to brace himself and stumble forwards landing beside the man. He chuckled slightly softening up as he dusted off his slacks and looked over at the man. He didn't care what the other hosts thought of the man, Othello was very fond of Braedin. He felt like a person instead of a pin up doll made for entertainment.
When Othello's cigarette was stolen he pouted for a second as he watched the man take a drag. He watched as his lips folded over the paper in a small pucker and inhaled the smoke the embers shone for a minute before they died down and he watched as the cigarette was pulled from the man's lips. Othello wasn't a big smoker; he only did when he was stressed of upset about something. Hearing the comment about the madam he laughed and nodded his head, "I know, I don't smoke often..." Othello mumbled as he smiled and the bright nature of his face was returning slightly. Braedin had the ability to make Othello feel a little better when he was just about to stab himself in the chest and call it quits. Taking the cigarette back he looked down at the end of a second before it slipped back into his lips again and he took a drag. He knew Braedin wouldn't tattle on him, the man was just as much of a joker as himself sometimes.
Othello expected nothing less of Braedin when he was told the man wasn't leaving. He smiled and nodded his head a she leaned back on his hands ignoring the oddly shaped grass marks the seemed to imprint on his palms. He looked up at the sky for a minute his eyes falling on the small area of the globe he could see. He loved when he would sneak listens to Sonnen practicing, of course Sonnen didn't know Othello would never tell! He did have to admit he was slightly surprised when he had Braedin start talking. He looked over his ears perked to listen, much like a small child waiting for a story. He listened to the words of advise taking everything in for what it was. He laughed at how Braedin pronounced Levant's name and listened. His smile dropped slightly as the man continued. He knew he was different then Sonnen and Levant but as the same time he wasn't getting the people like those two seemed to have no issue doing. Hearing the progress check Othello nodded. He didn't feel a need to say anything.
Hearing Sonnen being dragged into the conversation he winced slightly at the male's talent with the violin and when he heard the comment about his third eye he looked over and chuckled slightly as he was poked in the forehead. His third and four eyes laid in his palms. They gave the power to his cards but he knew what the man meant. He sighed slightly but he nodded, he knew what he did was special but was it special enough? He didn't think so. It wasn't something hundreds of clients flocked in, maybe not hundreds but lots, but it was different for Sonnen. The man had guests who took no one but him. He sighed as he looked away, he didn't see what Braedin was getting at. Maybe he didn't want too; maybe he wanted to feel depressed. It would make quitting easier. Part of him didn't want to quit, his eyes turned downwards slightly as he sighed and inhaled slightly with a very confused look on his face.
A story about LITTLE SONNEN! Othello perked slightly as he looked over, this was almost as good as baby pictures...What was he thinking? He scolded himself slightly. He listened as the man talked about Sonnen. He tired to picture the man pouting and looking miserable but for some reason he couldn’t see that on the stoic faced male. It discouraged him slightly but he was also glad all the same he didn’t need to see Sonnen upset. He looked rather surprised when he heard about the objection that his father had. His parents were happy he found a place that he felt he belonged. He knew they’d never come visit him but that was okay. He knew he would be able to see them when they were on leave from the military. He did laugh rather loud when the man said that Sonnen would miss him, ”He wouldn’t miss me. He’d be happy I was out of his hair.” Othello snapped catching himself and mumbling a small sorry. He looked ashamed for a minute as he heard the comment.
Blushing a bright pink the smaller boy looked to the side slightly. He didn’t want to admit he wanted to hear Sonnen sing so he put on a sour face and shrugged slightly. , ”Whatever you want to do Mr. Hersey. I mean you’re the guest.” Othello had forgotten for a minute that he was hosting. He was glad he could use that as an excuse now. Feeling the tug on his wrist he stumbled up and allowed the man to “drag” him towards the globe to listen to Sonnen. He blushed slightly as they neared the doors and looked down rather awkward. He’d never listened to Sonnen in concert before. He pushed open the door and the man’s sweet voice reached his years. He tensed slightly knowing that it was near the end of the song from the pace he looked rather sad. He looked towards Braedin and then glanced back towards the stage. His heart on his sleeve as he started as he stared at the long haired Russian male before him, he wanted to be on that stage with Sonnen singing his little lungs out. If Othello sang he knew he’d broke more ear drums than anyone else in the world. That was not a record the man wanted to complete. So he stayed silent and watched his hand limp in Braedin’s hand.
[( I am barely five foot one so I think I win in the shortness parade! )]
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Posted: Wed Sep 23, 2009 8:28 pm
(( I've already mentioned this to Miss Wonderland, but I'm 5' .5". xD
So.
We can make a parade of short people.
Tall people are not invited. ))
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Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 4:12 am
Sound the horn and call the cry!
. . .
(( Hehehe it would be like a Hobbit parade. :B ))
. . .
H ow many of them can we make die!
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Posted: Fri Sep 25, 2009 4:44 pm
(( ... only you, Drakie. xDD ))
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 6:51 am
Voltaire: Sonnen
Sonnen could have died. Really, he hadn’t thought that many times in his life, but right now, he would be content to fall through a chasm in the floor and dance with the devil (who he’d just sang about and oh god he just SANG about the DEVIL) than face the Madam after that. The comments he heard one of the audience members yell after him only made him groan and bury his face in his arms. Jackass. The only other time he could honestly say he wanted to die was when that douche bag Braedin — oh, sorry, Mister Heresy — found a video on Youtube of him when he was sixteen with his high school-assigned band, performing a Russian rap/hard rock song. It had been one of the downsides of going to performing arts school. It wasn’t his fault they’d assigned them to cover that particular song, AND they had to make a music video to it, too. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that the other singer and bass player, Anya, who was also one of his friends, had posted it on Youtube just to make him freak out. He sighed. Thinking about his past humiliation wasn’t making him feel any better, but that wasn’t surprising. He sighed again.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the back entrance open again. He briefly heard a voice he recognized, Levant’s, and swiveled his chair around. But there was only a boy there, one he didn’t… no, wait, he remembered this guy. He was the raggedy-looking one the Madam took in earlier. He shamelessly ran his eyes up and down the boy’s body, taking in the tight unitard. Well. This was certainly a change. However, he simply arched an eyebrow, distracted from his abashment for a moment. Then his gaze zeroed in on those unnaturally red eyes, causing his eyebrows to furrow. Surely those were just contacts? No one could really have eyes that red. He knew persons born with albinism sometimes had light pinkish or reddish eyes because of the lack of melanin, but this was demonic red. Or blood red or just… okay, he had been staring into the boy’s eyes for far too long. They were slightly unsettling. However, he had no doubt that this was to whom the Madam was referring as ‘his partner.’ A pre-pubescent boy. In a unitard. This guy had better have some pretty impressive skills.
And now it was time to appear unaffected and stoic, lest this boy think him some kind of friend or comrade. He wasn’t sure he liked his boy yet, and didn’t want him getting any funny ideas. Sonnen stood and nodded to the short blond boy and— damn was this boy skinny. Like, pathetically skinny. Did he never eat? He was practically a skeleton! The urge to send him directly to the kitchen was strong, but then he wondered why he cared. The tight unitard made the boy’s body look that much more emaciated, and he wondered if he was anorexic or something. Still, this wasn’t important. As long as he put on a good show, that was all that mattered. But he wished he knew the boy’s name. He hadn’t introduced himself, and the Madam hadn’t let him know. Oh well. But he was digressing again. He doubted this boy would stay long, anyway. He didn’t exactly look like a fountain of talent.
“Zdravstuvuite,” he answered in Russian, to make himself appear more distanced. A language barrier had always served him well. He pointed to himself and said, “Sonnen.” Then he pointed to the stage behind them, hidden by the curtains, and said, “Pryahl.” Translated, he said ‘hello,’ his name, and then ‘piano,’ which was what he’d decided to play. He felt a bit betrayed by his violin, even though he knew it was his own fault for his playing and not the violin. But blaming something else made him feel better. Oh, the piano. He glanced about, looking at all the instruments stacked in the wings, and then eyes laid on the grand piano. In a corner. And not on the stage. He sighed. Quickly, Sonnen strode to an electrical box and pressed a button, making the curtains in front of the stage draw closed. Then he tapped his headset, calling for a servant. Once he got a reply, he said in broken English, "Piano. Stage. Now." He got an affirmation, and then the line closed. Soon after, a group of men came through the back entrance, nearly knocking the young blond boy over. Out of instinct, Sonnen grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the way so he wouldn't be run over, causing their proximity to become much closer than he'd thought.
Once the men hefted the piano onto a movable, wheeled platform, they needed to move again. Mechanically, Sonnen backed out of the way, still taking the other boy along with him. Once he'd realized he'd succeeded in practically hugging the new guy against his chest, Sonnen flushed and stepped away, slapping himself mentally. 'Great way to be aloof, Voltaire, you idiot,' he thought, shaking his head. Still, it was probably time for them to go back out on stage, so he did. The curtains were still closed, but he knew the sound of his playing would carry through. Once again, he spoke to the boy, but this time in broken English like he did on the headset. "I go first. After few seconds, you are coming next, da?" He didn't exactly wait for an answer, but expected the boy to fail anyway, so it didn't really matter. Before he left the wings completely, he had the sense to make the curtains rise on a timer. It gave him ten seconds to get to his seat at the piano, which was stationed at the far edge of the stage so the young boy could have the rest of it for whatever he was going to do. Once the curtains started to part, he began a song.
What he'd tried to communicate to the boy was that he would go out first and play for half a minute or so. He wanted to boy to get a feeling for how the music sounded, just for a fair chance. Once he was done with his sample for the blond boy, whose name he still didn't know, he began what he would really be playing. It was a song he had actually written himself when he was in college. He remembered it by heart, forgoing using the sheet music, and fell into the rhythm almost immediately. It had words, too, which he sung under his breath. There wasn't a microphone mounted on this particular piano, and he didn't want to upstage the other boy; after all, it was his performance, not Sonnen's. He was just a musical accompaniment this time, which was all right with him. The song was much more sophisticated than what he'd played earlier, which he hoped showed that he didn't have some weird penchant for country music. Hopefully it portrayed that he could play a wide variety of music, which was always attractive to Clients. Still, the words he sung were too low for the audience to hear, and the song lasted about three and a half minutes. He made sure he had his long hair brushed over the shoulder facing the audience so they couldn't look at his face, which he was sure was still red from remembrance. The Madam had always teased him when he played, saying he did this thing where he swayed front and back slightly with the rhythm of the music, like he was really getting into it. Well, so what if he did? He doubted the movement was great enough for the audience to see anyway, and it helped him stay in the melody. Sort of like when he tapped his foot when he played guitar, like a human metronome. It just helped.
Still, the piece finally ended, and he hoped the audience was more impressed with this than his last piece, even if this performance wasn't about him. He looked up from his piano to bravely gaze at the audience: the Madam was smiling approvingly, which was reassuring; that one fellow who didn't speak much... he couldn't exactly read him; and the blonds— wait. Sonnen's eyes were distracted for a second as he heard clapping from the back of the theater? He focused on the sound, and finally saw two figures in the back. One with a distinctive stripe of purple in his hair. He was clapping and obnoxiously yelling things like, "Whoo, yeah! That's what I'm talkin about!" Sonnen sighed. Braedin. And who was that with him? Shorter, redheaded, and— Othello?! What on Earth was he doing here? Still, Sonnen felt a little flattered that he'd come to watch, even if it hadn't been specifically to see him. Anyway, he wondered what everyone thought of the other's performance. So focused on his music was he that he didn't notice what the blond boy had done.
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 7:16 pm
**Theodore**Tel** Tel was a bit surprised at Sonnen's broken english, but nodded his understanding and added a quiet, "Thank you." The very tall and elegant man became oddly flustered with their dodging about the men moving the piano. Tel was accustomed to such proximity in negligible attire from both the circus he was briefly a part of and the dressing rooms at the various strip joints he had worked at. Obviously Sonnen was used to a larger personal bubble. Tel had almost remembered to give his name in return when Sonnen crossed to the far side of the stage to start his piece. Ah, well, later hopefully. Tel was quiet, but not rude.
Luckily he spotted his mannequin waiting on the opposite side of the stage from the piano. The music rang out clearly and Tel took several deep breaths as he counted the beats and measures of the piece. It was a good composition, not one he was familiar with, but of a medium tempo that he could easily hold his poses to or step up into double time for the flourishes. His velvet pouch held tightly in his fist, Tel waited two more measures before striding out from behind the curtain to center stage.
To Tel there was no audience, only bright lights, the piano, and his own blood thrumming through his veins. Long, slow, graceful strides brought Tel to center stage where he used a low bow to acknowledge his audience and also unfurl the knife pouch with a flick of his wrist so it lay open at his feet. He stood quietly for just moment before exploding into great circle of jetes done with ballon alternating with no handed cartwheels. As Tel made the circuit and returned to center he turned his leaps into a tight spin. In place he spun faster and faster on pointes regulating his varying speeds by gracefully changing the poses of his arms and legs. Out of nowhere his foot flashed out and lifted a red tassel with a gleaming knife dangling from it and flung the weapon into the chest of the mannequin across stage.
The knife hit home with a solid thunk and by the time the surprised audience would have looked back at Tel he was posed serenely standing on one foot with the other pulled up behind his back and pointed over his head. He ever so slowly used his hands to stretch the foot ever higher over himself, pulling his body taut like a bow, before suddenly releasing his grasp, whipping his upper body downwards, grabbing another tasseled knife with his hand, and flinging it into the head of the mannequin as his torso completed the full rotation of the flip. Still in profile to the audience, Tel bent over backwards and walked his hands forwards across the floor between his legs. His body sank to the ground as his head came to rest between his feet. Tel held the pose for a moment before letting one leg stretch out straight into a full split, then rolling over so he was now seated upright on the stage in the split. He lay backwards onto his own leg then whipped a hand out to fling another knife into the mannequin which was now behind him.
Tel rolled sideways and lifted himself into a handstand. From this position he performed a few more splits and back arches as he slowly turned in place so the audience could see multiple angles. Then he changed to holding himself up with only one hand while producing several more contortionist poses. Coming fully upright once more, Tel broke out into a series of two, one, and no handed back flips done exactly in place. As he spun he collected each of his last three knives on separate passes and began to juggle them as he continued to flip. Tel began to alternate spins and kicks with his flips as his knives danced with him in the air. With a final flourish he used both his hands and feet to send the knives flying into the body and neck of the mannequin.
Tel struck an elegant pose as the last notes of Sonnen's music died in the vast theater. He gave a deep bow to the audience and only now really looked at who was out there as he stood up straight again. The madam and three male guests were seated fairly close to the stage and there appeared to be two other men at the back of the theater. Tel wouldn't allow himself to take a closer look as that would have been too obvious, and instead turned to Sonnen. He raised his hands and clapped his appreciation for the pianist, while praying inside that the audience had been properly impressed. Tel could only hope that he would be able to stay and show his other talents with firearms and bows.
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Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 8:38 pm
H i k a r u - G a l i a n d e r-O t h e l l o When they reached the globe Sonnen had already left the stage to get Tel. Othello for a split second looked miserable but it was gone faster then someone would think he looked sad. He looked towards stage once more as he glanced towards Braedin and watched as the man seemed rather excited about this. It made Othello slightly embarrassed for him. He sighed slightly as he looked down at the floor of the theater. He watched as the audience seemed to peek as the curtains slowly started opening again. He heard the piano playing and the song stuck something familiar in him. He had heard Sonnen singing it before. He felt his breath seep swiftly into his throat as he waited for the man's voice which didn't come. He frowned as the piano replaced his pretty voice. He watched as the man was joined by another man. He felt his heart ache.
Othello wanted to be up there…Othello wanted to be complimenting Sonnen’s abilities in a place where he shined his best. He frowned as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. He didn’t feel like being here anymore. His heart was aching and he felt more useless then he normally did. He sighed as he looked towards the door. Glancing towards Braedin the man frowned as he looked towards the stage once more. He felt his heart shatter a little more as the fantastic playing of the man echoed. He felt like he didn’t belong here and that his beliefs had been confirmed. He felt like running away and never coming back. What was the point of being here? Was it so he could wallow in his lack of superiority? He was in awed by the flexible nature of the male as well as his accurate ability to throw. He winced almost every time the knifes hit the mannequin. Their sync was fantastic, how the boy seemed to blend and move almost dancing with the notes that Sonnen played. It was almost mind blowing how a person could bend their bodies in such ways. He looked down at himself, he had no flexible nature. There was no need for it. He was a mere fortune teller who sat behind a table and remind and predicted the futures of his clients. He looked toward Braedin and frowned.
”I don’t want to see anymore Mr. Hersey…” Othello mumbled as he leaned closer to the man. He sighed as he looked down at floor once more before his eyes turned towards the stage as the two continued to complement each other. He did have to admit that he didn’t look half bad either. He was rather attractive and the stage seemed to be his place of serenity. Him and Sonnen were the same. Othello was in another world. He inhaled his breath staggered as if he was fighting tears, maybe he was but he knew that he was being a weakling and needed to snap out of it. He just didn’t know how. With all the talent the seemed to thrive around him it seemed almost impossible to catch up. Now with this new person who he hadn't even met yet showing him up what did that leave him? A single table for a single man. He didn't want to change who he was, and he had no other talent so he would just have to get used to sitting in the shadows wouldn't he...Yeah he would.
As the song ended Othello turned and pushed the door open and walked out. He stood outside the doors of the theater his back against the wall a little ways outside the theater but still within a good distance of the theater. He could still hear the music Sonnen was playing. He didn't bother to clap nor did he bother to look back at Mr. Hersey. He leaned back against the wall and pulled out another cigarette and inhaled as he lit the cigarette up and inhaled again. Smoking inside probably wasn't one of his smartest ideas but he'd had worse. He was back in Othello host mode in a matter of seconds but that didn't mean the sting was gone. It was far from gone. Running sounded nice...So did jumping off a bridge but at the same time he was a host and his emotions didn't matter. The emotions o his clients where what mattered.
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 6:14 pm
lauren Malone ††Emerald††
Lauren heard two others walk in, turning to see them sit down in the back. One boy looked rather distraught, the other being the man madame had talked to earlier. He shrugged it off and looked ahead, watching as the boy was on the stage performing again, playing a new piece on the piano. The boy's musical skills were admittedly rather impressive, and obviously ranging from any genre or instrument. Still, he knew he would not be asking for the boy.
Then, a new one came out in a unitard. He was small, incredibly skinny, and seemed to know what it felt like to be onstage. He watched with polite interest as he walked out, bowing. His expression turned to true captivation as the boy began, using the barest movement to open the pouch. Lauren was entranced as this performer began doing a plethora of acrobatics in perfect harmony of the music.
As the knives struck the mannequin during the most impossible poses. Lauren had no doubt whatsoever, this was the one. He was perfect. Once the song had ended, he shook himself out of his trance, clapping with the others. "I want him." he said, his eyes never leaving the boy on stage. "He's perfect."
Once the two had gone offstage, he contemplated going back there himself to fully give his compliments for the performance, but decided it would be bad for him to leave so rudely without properly talking to Madame Usagi. She was, after all, the one who had hired the boy he wanted. "a very impressive performance from the both of them, Madame. I can see your standards must be very high."
((woohoo! 4 paragraphs! It still about as much as a shorrt post from everyone else... when they have writers block... but it's better than just two paragraphs ^^))
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 2:22 am
(( I still remember when 4 paragraphs was a lot for me. xD So long as you make progress it's great. =D )) SoleraAfter what seemed like a few minutes of boredly staring off into space pondering the exact contents of Teddy's graphic novel, there was finally some noise coming from the stage. What was actually a few minutes of silence to some seemed more like a few hours for the ever impatient Dimitri. The moment he had heard the scuffling sounds, he sat to attention, eagerly awaiting more amusing performances such as Sonnen's last one. It wasn't often that he had the chance to truly laugh. The last time he'd been this happy was when Gervas had been clumsy enough to set his mother's couch on fire. How she freaked! Ah, those were good times. Good times indeed.
The delicate sound of the piano caught his attention before the moody pianist or the small scantily clad boy did. The very notes themselves caused mixed emotions. The first was naturally amusement, then annoyance, then nostalgia, back to annoyance, and finally a strange sense of appreciation. The cause of such a varied reaction was that other blonde not seated too far from him. Walenty. He couldn't help but peak at his younger sibling now, looking far more grown up from the last time he'd seen him. Maybe gained half an inch in height. Again, he felt he wanted to say something. Unfortunately, he decided to returned his attention back to the stage. Sonnen's playing was just as good as Walenty's. The song seemed a little personal judging by the way he appeared to be mouthing the lyrics. And of course, the subtle swaying. Most people probably wouldn't notice something so small, but Dimitri was a very odd perfectionist. Small details always caught his eye. For some reason the movement put a little smile on his face. It was a cute quirk and at the same time he couldn't help but want to smack it out of the musician. Not that he would act upon such a violent thought.
Now something else was finally noticed. The near naked boy was doing flips and twirls. Dimitri cocked his head to side to try to make sense of it. Was he supposed to be a ballerina? No, no ballerinas didn't do flips. This was more like cheer-leading than anything else he'd seen. Maybe some weird--weirder form of interpretive dance? More actiony... then something small flashed across the air. "Wait..." the blonde breathed out with wide eyes. They were ... knives. Little flying sharp metal pieces firmly molded for the purpose of penetrating skin. Thunk! The sound would have caused him to wince he if hadn't felt so suddenly numb. Something was clearly wrong here. A little piece of Dimitri seemed to have snapped away. Another thunk! Why? Why in the name of God did he not realize this? There was a mannequin on stage. Apparent knives by the boy's foot. And yet, nothing clicked. A dull pain spread from the middle of his forehead to his eyes. As they began to water, he seemed to regain the ability to close them. That, he did with pure anguish. Again, thunk! His brow furrowed as he covered his eyes with a trembling hand. The final series of thunks caused the shaken man to force down the bile that had risen in his throat. On some level he supposed he deserved this. Curse that b***h called Karma.
Applause seemed to abound at whatever else the semi-naked boy did with those knives and the whole dancing thing. All Dimitri really heard was his cue to get the ******** out of there. Mustering all the force of his will and pride, he stood up on his defiantly weak legs. "Excuse me for a moment. I have to ... use the little boy's room." Sharp but clouded eyes stared ahead at his goal as he stoically made his way through the small audience. Immediately, Gervas and Teddy were at his side. Perhaps they had sensed something was amiss or they also needed to use the little boy's room. Either way, Dimitri failed to notice. Just a few... hundred more ...feet. Color seemed to drain out his face with each passing step. Finally, God finally! The side passage with the blue bathroom signs was reached. Like any high class place they had a few couches around the corner. This was where his will finally collapsed along with his unsteady legs. The pathetic looking man was hauled over a soft but firm sepia floral patterned sofa, his knees on the carpeting and hands firmly covering that foul mouth of his. The worse wasn't the nausea, the dull throb in his cranium, or the loss of proper leg function. It was the horrid burning sensation coming from his crudely drawn tattoo. And all he could do was blink at his left arm through the black fabric of his overcoat.
They say that you usually remember the act rather than the pain of it all. But at this very moment, Dimitri was feeling both. The searing yet somehow dulling agony of a knife carefully ripping apart soft tendons, spilling a small child's innocent blood. The sadistic and hateful glares. His own silent screams and pleas to stop. He'd been powerless. And so very very innocent. But flying knives? How could that...? Another wave of nausea hit the man as the suppressed memory returned, clear as day. They had enjoyed playing what the assholes had called "Makeshift Russian Roulette." Blind-folded men had taken turns throwing knives at an extremely frightened miniature Dimitri who happened to be going 20 miles an hour on a mechanical wheel. And the best part? They were gambling with their pay and his life. What fun. Hollow laughter came up this time instead of any form of stomach liquid. Somehow, he'd gotten himself properly on the sofa and was lying face up, looking at a very pretty ceiling and two very worried looking men. He arched a shapely brow as if questioning their presence. Surely, they hadn't seen him in such a horrible and degrading state. Then he noticed something wet on his forehead. Paper.
"Ma--Dimitri, sir. I'm really glad to see you're feeling like your old self again," commented Gervas who was bearing a hopeful smile. Almost daintily, he picked the paper off his Master's hands and promptly went to dispose of it. Naturally, with the Master's usually unusual behavior, the nervous and relieved Gervas was unsure of the health of his job. Seeing Dimitri in such a helpless state could mean termination for all he knew.
Teddy popped up next, looking for some odd reason rather sheepish. The lanky man held the bondage yaoi manga, miraculously closed. Without a word he pressed the dirty book into the blonde's hands and followed Gervas into the men's room.
Huh. All Dimitri did was stare off at them until they were out of sight. With a shrug, he opened the book from page one and began to read. Surely, the rest of the group wouldn't miss him too much. He couldn't have been out for more than five, ten minutes tops. A trip to the bathroom with upper classed people could last up to a full hour, and on average twenty minutes. Yes, even for men. Who knew what anyone could do for a whole twenty minutes in a public restroom. D. A. Kieva
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