melodiesofeternity | [Player Plot] The Masque of Nusquam, Part I

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[Player Plot] The Masque of Nusquam, Part I

Who: Open to all.
When: December 3-9th, 10:00 AM-4:00 PM
Where: The Lady of Bliss, Sparks Golsaucia
What: Kuja is conducting open auditions for his upcoming tragedy, The Masque of Nusquam. If nothing else, the event is catered.
Warnings/Notes: Monsters, Sword fights, Revenge, True Love, Miracles...

The main lobby of the Lady of Bliss is a fantastic sight. At the moment, it’s dressed in lights and tinsel and wreaths in honor of the holiday season, and there’s a certain amount of bustle around the place. Kuja, of course, stands at the far end, dressed in festive-and-eye-catching silver and green, tapping one finger on the banister. At his side hovers a moogle, dressed simply with a bow tie and sunglasses.

He greets the assembled group with a critical eye, holding his slate and a stylus poised to write. “Good morning all, and welcome to the Lady of Bliss. Firstly, I’d like to thank you all for coming, of course, and we’ll direct you to Rehearsal Room Three, wherein you can find complementary sandwiches and refreshments if you wish to partake. Now!” He turns smartly, leading the way through a side door and into a corridor, before holding another door leading into a large room with a mirror on one wall.

“All aspiring actors of course will be auditioning, whereas any prospective stage-hands, electricians, special effects artists, engineers, carpenters, et cetera, will have a slightly less-involved process, but you’re all of course welcome to take in the atmosphere and mingle. We're going to have a brief bit of question-and-answer before I depart to conduct auditions, and after that if you require anything, Mojito will certainly be able to accommodate you."

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Corrin steps through the door and smiles pleasantly at Kuja. She's seen him around, but this is the first time she's interacted with him face to face. And she never turns down a good cup of tea. "Tea would be lovely, thank you."

She settles herself into the chair, and thinks about the question a little. "I think...tragic." She decides, finally. "Or antagonistic." She's not the first to go in, and who doesn't want to play the hero? But there's been enough tragedy in her life that she's gotten pretty good at it, not to mention the mask she had to learn to wear of the cold, imperious Second Princess of Nohr that she needed to survive King Garon's scrutiny of her. Play to your strengths, right? At least this time it's entirely for fun, and she's honestly not expecting with her lack of any sort of theatrical experience that she'll get any sort of role, but it's a good experience to have if nothing else. But those experiences could serve her well in the right role.

Kuja nods. "It can be entertaining, in theater, to play the part of a villain, I suppose. After all, villains frequently are what makes the story. Conflict is at the core of a good plot, after all." He taps his chin experimentally, considering.

"To put your mind at ease, I think, I'm not going to hand you a script and ask you to read lines. What matters in most cases is not the specifics of the line, but rather that the emotion behind the performance be believable. Memorization of lines, conquering of performance anxiety, correct choreography- all that is just frippery, and it can be corrected in rehearsal. So, shall we?"

Corrin takes a sip of her tea, places her cup down, and then nods. "That sounds good, so yes, let's. How do we proceed, Mr. Kuja?"

Kuja raises an eyebrow at the honorific, but inclines his head. “Mister Tribal, if you please, or simply Kuja. Now, Corrin. I want you to recall the time your brother was murdered in front of your eyes. The details are not important, but the story and delivery is. The event happened many years ago, now, but the wounds are still fresh in your mind. Tell me how it feels to have no proof, and to be forced to serve the man who slit his throat.”

He gazes over the top of his mug impassively, following such a statement. “The line you are responding to is, ‘You speak high praises of your brother. I should like to meet him, someday.’”

The moment Corrin hears Kuja asking her to recall her brother's death, her eyes go wide in shock. "I...how did you-" She stumbles over herself, but then realizes he is describing a hypothetical situation. This isn't about Ryoma.

Ryoma kneels on the ground before her, defeated, but she can save him, there must be a way out of this, she promised Hinoka, she PROMISED. But then Raijinto is in his hands, why did she not kick it away, why did she not take it from him? "I cannot fall into the hands of an enemy. So I..." Ryoma stabs himself with Raijinto through the belly, snarling with pain as he does so. "...fulfill a samurai's final duty!" Sweat drops off his face as he gasps out the words. Then after only a moment's hesitation, he cuts sideways to finish the bloody work. Lightning surges from Raijinto, the blade covered in his blood as he begins to slump forward. "I'm counting on you..." he whispers to her with his final breath, low enough so that no one else but them can hear.

And then he's gone.

She shakes the image out of her mind, or tries to. "R-Right." She says, but her voice is shaky now. She reaches for the cup of tea and first takes a ragged sip to try and calm herself. "T-Thank you, m-my lord, he-"

Her hand reaches for the body, and she's forced to stop herself before anyone can notice, less her sorrow be taken for treason by the monster wearing her father's body and she join the brother who just sacrificed himself so that she could live and wondering if that would truly be so terrible.

"...Apologies. I just need a...moment." Corrin rubs the bridge of her nose, trying to shove the images from her mind. She takes a deep, ragged breath. "My b-brother-"

King Garon's exultant laughter over the victory he has done nothing to earn, the crushing of a country and its people for no reason than simple megalomania, and she's aided him every step of the way, whatever her reasons she is the only reason he's made it this far. He does not even notice Corrin as she stumbles from the room, fighting back the hot tears in her eyes, trying so hard not to collapse in front of them all. This is her fault, this is all her fault, she promised Hinoka she'd save him and they'd all be together again SHE PROMISED.

She failed.

Corrin bursts into tears. She can't help herself. It's not Kuja's fault, there's no way he could have known what he was asking, but once he spoke there was no way she couldn't picture Ryoma lying slumped over on the ground, dead by his own hand and then it all just came rushing back. That she was successful in stopping Garon and ending the war and that she's truly happy with her adopted family in Nohr (gods she misses them so much), Ryoma and Takumi, her blood brothers are dead, solely because of her. That's a wound in her heart that can never, ever be healed.

Kuja very nearly looks intrigued when she starts sobbing. He hadn't expected this. It's surprising and raw and so real that he-

Oh.

Not acting.

"Ah. I, eh. That is to say, well I mean-" Kuja tries to find the words. He is a man of many talents. Comforting crying women is not among them.

This is quite possibly the most awkward single experience of his life. And that includes the ball where a drunken aristocrat had asked him if he was courting Brahne. How does he even approach this?

There's a girl, crying her eyes out on your desk. Probably because her brother was actually murdered in front of her and it still hurts. Say something! Anything!"

"Well. Perhaps Aelwyn isn't the best fit."
kuja no

Edited 2018-12-04 23:49 (UTC)

"Oh gods, I am s-so sorry." Corrin manages as she starts to get herself under control. "I shouldn't have just...dumped all this on you. This isn't...I mean, you couldn't have known." She did say tragedy, after all. She just wasn't expecting the tragedy to be one that hit so very close to home.

Corrin takes a deep breath. "I am so, so sorry." She apologizes again. She thinks Kuja has an inkling of what went wrong there, so she decides to clarify, just a little. "The scenario you described, is...well, I lived it, or at least something very similar, not long before I came here. It just caught me by surprise." Which is putting it mildly, to say the least. Corrin manages a small smile. "But I think you're right about this Aelwyn part."

Maybe if it had been years since Ryoma's death she might have been able to hold it together after her initial surprise. But he's only been dead a few months, at least from her perspective. Wounds are still far too fresh.

Kuja clears his throat oh thank the gods she's calming down he doesn't have to try and comfort her. "My sincerest apologies. Obviously I had no idea- let's, ah. Let's see. Let's try a different approach. You consider yourself a hardworking, self-made woman, and have worked on the same ship since you were a girl. However, on a recent campaign, the captain of your ship was struck by grapeshot and died. Instead of giving you the ship, as you feel is your right, the late captain has gifted the vessel to a young prince by the name of Marcus, who saved the crew from sahagin a mere two months ago."

He smiles a little. Yes, this might work. "A man in a hooded cowl approaches you in the tavern and invites you to join him in a private room, after showing you a small bag containing a small fortune in jewels. The line you are responding to is, 'Tell me what you think about Marcus Armond'."

Oh, well then. Corrin had already figured she'd blown the audition when she broke down crying, but Kuja's giving her another shot. Wonderful! And this is definitely something she can work with. Corrin closes her eyes for a moment, her expression still, quickly forming a picture of what she imagines this woman to be based on the admittedly scant information Kuja has given her. Then she opens her eyes and slumps back in the chair, stretching her legs out, and resting one hand on the armrest, chin in hand, regards Kuja with a critical eye for a moment.

"You want to know about Prince Marcus, do you?" She asks, her tone noticeably rougher (thank you for being you, Kid). "Well, I've always considered myself a plain-spoken woman, so fine. I'll tell you what I think of the lad. He's young. Barely knows 'is way around the ship, which figures considerin' how recent he came to us. He's cocksure, certainly, good with a blade, but what young noble isn't? Handy in a fight, I'll give'im that. We had ourselves a bit'o what you might call issues with a sahagin tribe month or two back. Things got bad, well, with sahagin what d'you expect? Never been the friendliest sort. Not the first time we've had unruly guests tryin' to climb aboard, you see that fairly often this line of work, so I imagine we could've handled ourselves well enough..." And though, grudingly, she finally admits "But when the fishies were driven back the worst we 'ad to have the ol' sawbones patch up were some cuts. Some bad ones, but the lads all pulled through, and with some fine scars to show off to the ladies, well, we both know how young ladies are about that sort of thing, don't we? We didn't lose anyone and I can't say as that would have happened if Marcus hadn't been there. So the lad's good in a fight, and well-meaning, certainly. Honest to a fault, and mind when I say that's not exactly a compliment in this line of work."

Corrin shifts, crossing her arms over her chest, chewing her lip as she thinks. "Do I think he deserved the ship over it? No, 'course I don't. Sure, he bled for us, well we've all bled, long before the good little prince ever showed up. Takes more than a good sword-arm to captain an airship. I was practically raised on that ship, you know? Of course you do, or you wouldn't be showin' me all them shiny little stones to hear what I think about him, would'ya? The old Cap'n, he was more a papa to me than my real one, and he was a mean old sky-dog. He worked the trade routes 'is whole life and he was never afraid to get down in the trenches with the rest of us and get 'is hands dirty to keep the old girl flying. 'Course if you slacked off, well that was a fine way to find yourself "forcibly disembarked" at our next stop. No room for dead weight on a ship a mile up, y'see? He was hard, and he'd drive you hard, but that's what it takes, and if you proved yourself capable, well, you could count on the Cap'n to have your back, clear skies and stormy alike."

She pauses, and again, some of the earlier sadness seems to creep into her expression. "'Least that's what I thought. But then he took that grapeshot and suddenly the Reaper 'imself was knocking at the windows. I loved that man, hard a bastard as 'e was. If anyone on that ship 'ad proved 'imself-proved 'erself-it was me. But when his time came, who does he pass the ship onto? Me? Who'd served under 'im, learned from 'im, fought and bled for 'im and the rest of the sodding crew? No, it's the noble young Lord Armond with 'is shiny sword and armour and fancy ways. Didn't understand it then, don't understand it now."

Corrin looks away for a moment, then suddenly back at Kuja, her expression suddenly hard. "But I don't 'ave to understand it, do I? I told you the Cap'n knew 'is business. We all trusted him, and he never saw us wrong. I don't trust the little lord, and you can tell 'im I said so. But I trusted the Cap'n and he trusted Marcus. And that means something to me, to every mother's son what sailed with him. And he has not yet given me any reason to doubt that the trust was misplaced. He might not have bled as long as us, but when the time came, 'e didn't hesitate. So I'll do what I've always done; keep the ship flyin', and keep the crew-my family-together. He might not be a proper sky dog yet, but I'll see to it he becomes one. And if he can't...well, then I might have to revisit that opinion. But that day ain't come yet."

Corrin mimes taking a small sack of jewels and then dropping it on the table in front of Kuja. "So there you go then. You wanted to know what I think and there you have it. You can keep those stones. Tellin' the truth is never something that should 'ave to be rewarded." She leans forward, puts her elbow on the table and points at Kuja with a steely (or what she hopes is steely) look in her eyes. "And you tell the little lord next time 'e wants my opinion on something he can bloody well ask me himself and I'll tell HIM the same, got it?"

A pause, and then Corrin leans back, smiling brightly. "So, what did you think?" She asks, her voice normal again.

Edited 2018-12-05 06:37 (UTC)

Kuja blinks. That’s very nearly a complete reversal of what he’d seen before. “Well-spoken. And yet, I can’t help but think that such a gift is… undeserved. He’s a prince, yes? Surely he can have any ship he likes, why’s he got to have yours?”

Oh, blast, they're not done. Corrin blinks then quickly gets back into character. She waves her hand dismissively. "Aye, 'e's a prince, but so what? Princes don't normally run around with a crew of sky-traders, do they? Maybe there was some trouble back 'ome and 'e's found himself temporarily disowned or what have you. Maybe the king decided he needed some time away from all of that fancy living to really make a man out of 'im. Maybe he stuck his royal prerogative where it was not appreciated one too many times. 'E hasn't said, and I've not cared to ask him."

"Anyway, 'e's got the ship because the Cap'n gave it to him, like I said. And he is no prince amongst us, let me tell you. We kept him on because he pulled 'is weight, and if he didn't, we'd have let him off at the next port, no question. He's with us because 'e wants to be and because we're willin' ta have him. Maybe it ain't fair but hell, that's life. No sense cryin' over it when there's work to be done."

Then Corrin's eyes narrow and she leans forward. "Now you tell me something, since we're sharin'; why is it you're so interested in what you feel I "deserve", exactly?"

The accent is uneven, and Corrin knows it, but that's the sort of thing that can be ironed out later. For the moment she's trying to pay more attention to the physical mannerisms and the character of the woman she's portraying (or at least that she imagines to be portraying) which are the far more important elements than how she sounds. For the moment, at least.

Kuja's head tilts slightly, as though considering the situation. More notes are taken, and he sighs. "Well, if you feel so strongly about his deserving the position, I suppose we have nothing more to talk about. Unless- unless, perhaps, you feel as I do, Captain Villiers, that the Princeling would perhaps be better suited... elsewhere."

Corrin leans back in her chair. "No." She says finally. "I won't be bribed. I made that clear earlier, didn't I?" She motions to where the imaginary bag of gems sits on the table.

"You're right, I do want to be captain of the ship. I'd be a pretty damn good one, and I'm not afraid to say that. But I'll not be handed it, and not for turnin' on my own crew, no matter who the crewman in question is."

She suddenly pushes her chair back and stands up. Her look is one of barely contained anger. "I don't like the little lord, but I like you a hell of a lot less, and you're not part of the crew. I think that's what you're failing to grasp here, sir...when the chips are down you support the crew because that's the only way you stay flying. If I only got my captaincy because I sold out the captain and the crew? I wouldn't deserve it, and the crew would never trust me. That's not how I operate. Find yourself another patsy, if you can, but I'll be keeping my eyes out. And that's all I'm going to say on the matter."

"Consider me warned, Miss Villiers."

On reflection, a few moments later, he remarks. "Yes, I do think that's enough to be getting on with. Not what I'd envisioned, perhaps, but you did quite well. I'll be calling you back at the end of the week, if you're amenable to doing such."

Corrin's face breaks into a wide grin. "Oh, seriously? That's great! I am VERY amenable! Thank you so much!"

Kuja nods. "My apologies for the, ah... Well, it doesn't matter. I'll be seeing you at the callbacks."

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[Player Plot] The Masque of Nusquam, Part I

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