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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Having successfully escorted the crowd into the rehearsal room, Kuja looks around at the assemblage. “Now, are there any questions before we begin?”

Edited 2018-12-04 01:14 (UTC)

Kuja nods, as the last question is asked. "Right. Any more? No? Well then, take your numbers if you please, and I'll be calling you one at a time to come to my office. Please don't leave until everyone's been seen, as some of you I will be calling back further. Until then, enjoy, try to relax, and ask Mojito if you require assistance."

The lone door marked ‘AUDITIONS’ is a foreboding one. A slow but steady line of people go in, and over time, the line waiting to go in grows thin, and before long, the moogle at the door calls your number, ushering you inside. Kuja looks up as you enter, setting his papers aside.

“Afternoon. Tea? Coffee? I don’t know if you’ve ever auditioned for a theatrical production before, but we’re going to be breaking from protocol a bit. Let’s open up with a simple question: what sort of role do you see yourself playing? Heroic? Antagonistic? Tragic? Comedic?”

Frisk opens the door to Kuja's office with an absolutely shit-eating grin. Half the reason they came here was to see Kuja and apologize, and the other forty-five per cent was to actually audition for the play. The last twentieth was to see his reaction.

They sit down in the chair, waving off the snacks. "Thanks, I'm good. And... well, I like to imagine myself in a heroic role, but let's face it: I'm comedy at best. But the best comedic relief characters always think that they're the protagonist, soooo it breaks even."

Really, Red didn't have his hopes up-- if anything, he hopped in for a quick grab at the snack tray-- but once Mojito pushed him in through the door, well... in for a roll, in for the role, right?

Still, it was a task he'd greet with his... usual degree of professionalism. Plus an added sip of coffee.

"What, you don't think I have 'Hero' written all over me?"

Kuja finds himself smiling, at least. "I'm not so certain of that. Often, the hero seldom thinks they are."

He pours himself some tea even if Frisk is refusing it. "It's good to see you again, Frisk. That said, I'm not one to promote nepotism, so I hope you don't mind if I do my best to put you through your paces."

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 snorts quietly. "I think I have to agree that you've certainly got hints of the heroic archetype. In fact, in certain ways you remind me of... well. Someone from home, anyway." He takes a drink of tea, eyeing the caninu appraisingly. "I confess, I didn't take you for a patron of the theatre, but that hardly matters now, I should think. What I had intended to do, here, was to pose a hypothetical exchange to you, and see how well you carry yourself through it. How does that sound?"

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?"

Klonoa steps inside, shaking his head as he sits down on the chair in front of the desk.

"I don't know, what do you think?" He asks, tilting his head at Kuja.

"I've never acted before!"

After politely agreeing to some coffee, Azusa sits in Kuja's 'office', arms folded neatly in her lap. She hardly seems nervous—she's seen more rejections as an idol than there are people currently auditioning, than there are Heroes of Light. Her career hasn't been an easy one.

"Let's see...I think my best acting is always the serious kind. My previous producer was pushing to have me pursue more dramatic work like that. I have experience with comedy and action, too, but I'm told I'm best at playing a tragic lover or older sister."

She takes a sip of her coffee before setting it back down on the coaster, smiling.

"I've been acting professionally for some time...almost three, four years now. I'm excited to audition for a play cast with Heroes~."

Edited 2018-12-04 15:52 (UTC)

"Any specific pieces you want me to play during the auditions?"

Though he already worked at Lady of Bliss and didn't have to help with the performance exactly, Adrien still wanted to. Maybe Kuja didn't want him playing any pieces to help set up the scenes during the auditions at all...

Richard sauntered through the door. He'd been casing the joint for a while. Poking at it. Let's see if this pays off. He sticks his hands in his coat, smiles, and looks at Kuja.

"Afternoon. I wanna work lights and costuming."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Frisk says, winking (okay, a definite plus of the glasses was the ability to properly wink without seeming weird). "I was a bit of a theatre geek back home, so I'll be able to take it." They voice trails off, and they grimace, remembering part of the reason they came here.

Frisk opens their mouth, then close it, then open it again, suddenly feeling awkward. They needed to get this over with, but... it was gonna be hard to say. "But, um. Before we start, I'd... like to apologize. For. A lot of things, really, all related to everything that happened back in the Territories. I had no right to risk everybody's lives going with me in that stupid expedition, and... yeah. So, um, I understand if you're kind of. Angry."

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.’”

Kuja snorts. “I’d likely be a terrible hypocrite if I held it against you, after my own little foray into the Cloud. We’ll call it even and say no more about it, hm? I understand you’ve also thrown in your hat as a stage hand. Out of curiosity, why? Do you feel, perhaps, that you may not ‘make the cut’?”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Kuja shrugs. “Perhaps you have a talent as-of-yet untapped. Have you ever pretended to be something you are not, or perhaps even taken part in a game of make-believe as a child? The skillset is similar.”

Frisk can't help but to breathe a sigh of relief at that. Despite their many, many differences, Kuja was among their best friends on Vaikuntha, and it was a relief knowing he wasn't holding a grudge.

"Yeah, that's part of it. But I'm," there's a blur of motion, and suddenly Frisk's sipping on a half-empty glass of tea to prove a point, "ridiculously fast, prooooobably fast enough to do both if I do get a part. I can definitely hotswap between tech blacks and costume in just a few seconds thanks to my slate," Frisk rapidly switches between their urban outfit and their survival gear a few times, "and I'll be able to help you clear the stage a lot quicker than you would be able to normally. So basically I want, and will be able, to do both if I do land a part."

“A professional actress; well, this should be old hat for you. The good news is that this play is a tragedy in the Avonian style- which is to say, of a more classical bent. There may well be a role well-suited to your experience, if that is what you’re looking for.” He makes a few notes, tapping his chin with a pen. “What I’d like to do today, rather than the usual of handing you a script and asking you to read from it, I’m going to give you a little light direction and see how you respond- organically, as it were. This is largely an amateur production, so what I’m looking for is primarily the ability to deliver emotion convincingly. How does that sound to you?”

Kuja considers this. "Well, Adrien, while I don't forsee you would need to audition, unless you would like an acting role in addition to working in the orchestra pit, I'm quite familiar with your skills, however- Outside ideas are always important and if you have something you feel would be appropriate, then by all means: Hit me with your best shot."

"Costuming, Conway? Shall I conclude this interview early, or are you going to actually present me with a reason to dress my actors in shabby hats and unwashed coats?"
He hardly looks up, finishing up a batch of notes on his Slate. "Do sit down, Conway. Coffee? Not pumpkin spice, this time."

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.

"Please. Black, two sugars." He takes a seat, and almost by cue, the lights go out.

"Oh, uh. Sorry. Let me get that." He lifts some sort of device, smiles, and then walks up to a reading lamp on Kuja's desk and pulls the chain.

The entire room lights back up.

"Right, so, my job experience is that I was a professional spy and electrician. I know exactly when somebody is in sight. I know exactly when somebody would be out of sight."

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)

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[Player Plot] The Masque of Nusquam, Part I

QUESTIONS

MINGLING

AUDITIONS

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