#GHwhowhatwhere

[trailblczed]

c. // @mrch7th

Caelus notices the crack of her voice. Nice touch! Really selling it, March! Like hell the lad is gonna let his bestie down. A cough, underplayed as he covers his mouth with a free hand, staring down at it in mock horror as it, too, becomes painted with the same red liquid currently ingrained against his torso. What it a bit much? Probably. Did the silver regret it? Nope! It's all part of the drama. A fake guilty smile traces his lips, eyes half mast as he glazes over his friend ( again, a bit much? Yeah- and it's not like anyone BUT him is gonna know he blurred his vision- but it helps him play into a bit. ) before moving the hand not currently "holding his innards together" to weakly lay over the lass's hand covering his own. Caelus hopes March doesn't mind him sharing the stage blood- he can apologize after.

A pitiful chuckle shakes his frame, turning to stare skyward as he quickly comes up with the source of his injuries. Seems like he's really trying to play up his own "good guy ego"- but hey, audiences like a good hero, yeah? For extra effect, Caelus softens his voice, leaving a string of humbleness to weave through his words- even tossing in ragged breaths here and there for the fun of it.

❛ Oh you know me- trying.. to keep other's from.. getting hurt. But hey-- I managed to.. at least get that kid.. out of the way- before the debris.. hit them. I'd say that's.. a job.. well done.. Don't.. you? ❜

At the end of his little monologue, the Nameless finally, actually, looks at his stage partner- and is immediately hit with guilt. March... she looks genuinely terrified. Wow- she's so good at this that she's even fooling him! He'll have to ask her for pointers later- ( a tiny whisper, in a voice that's not his own- nor one that he recognizes- say's that it's not an act ). Right! He has a task he's supposed to accomplish.

Time to play ball!

Hand that was resting against the rose haired lass' drags said hand up to his face, affectionately pressing it against his cheek- a tiny nuzzle adding a cherry on top of the action. An unspoken desire burning in his eyes, a regret of not being able to overcome cowardice- until there is nothing left of you.. but ashes. He feels himself choking up a bit even at the thought of what he's about to do- damn it's gonna be so good if he's getting himself worked up!

❛ M..March-- I.. I know this.. probably.. isn't the best time- for this.. But I-- I have something.. I need.. to say.. to you.

Will you listen.. to an old friend's secret..? ❜

The silver originally wanted to say "an old friend's dying words" or "last words"- but something about how freezing March's hands are ( colder than he's used to- but he's also a walking flaming star so that's not a fair comparison if he's being honest- ) stops him from going that far.

[mrch7th]

{ Who, What, Where - Scene Two }

Caelus shouldn't be entirely surprised that he got paired with his best friend, considering they did both join the class together- but it's still nice that they randomly got partnered. What he doesn't like, however, is what was written on his prompt card. Well- only because he worries a bit as to how March would react to his character's specific motivations. He remembers how concerned her and Dan Heng ( and Seele and Bronya ) looked at him after he gained the Preservation's Blessing. Maybe that will work in the duo's favor in creating a good scene- since it will be a bit too natural of a reaction from the both of them- well, mostly from March ( unfortunately ).

Enter stage. Spotlight active. And- Action!

Chaos surrounds the environment- debris everywhere, a low level of "smoke" caressing their ankles, distant roar of collapsed buildings disappearing in fires- enters a single man, holding his side where a noticeable red ( not the real color he'd "bleed" [gold].. but the audience doesn't need to know that ) stain soaks the entire area under his fingertips.

❛ This.. This isn't looking good.. I'm.. running out.. of time...! ❜

The lad looks beaten up ( the makeup artists did a real good job! ), and the visible limp of his takes tiny steps forward, scanning the area around him- snappy jolts back and forth of his head showing how desperate the silver was searching.. What was he searching for? A person. Specifically, a head of pink hair with iced tips. A friend. And Caelus doesn't have to "search" long before he finds his target. A shaky exhale of relief, and the Nameless stumbles forward, excitement and solace mixing to paint his face as clumsy feet take him to at least meet the lass half way-- before he can no longer stand, crashing to his knees. Caelus makes his voice as scratchy and out of breathe as he can- making sure to emphasize the exhaustion and comfort he gets just from seeing March surviving the "End of the World". He still has a chance to do what he set out to do- before it's too late for him.. for the two of them.

❛ There... There you are..! Hah... Thank.. Thank goodness- you're alive.. ❜

march 7th hates this before it’s even begun.

she’d been giddy to see caelus’ name listed down as her partner. she always delights in the opportunity to do things with her friends. but then she kept reading. and reading. and then he walks onto the set and—

it’s like all of her worst nightmares have come to life before her eyes. her stomach twists at the sight of him. and it’s stupid, so stupid. she knows it’s not real. it’s not even remotely close to right—red, so red, in place of sparkling gold. but her expression crumples anyway, delight turned to dread in an instant. how many times has this happened already? he hasn’t even been with them that long, but how many times has he almost died? actually died?

what is she supposed to do if, one day, he actually does? and doesn’t come back?

anyone, she thinks now. please, they could have given her anyone except caelus. she’s not going around calling herself the world’s greatest actress by any means, but if she could have had a stranger here instead, at least she would actually be able to find the words instead of standing and staring at him like an idiot.

“…i’m alive,” march echoes, her voice hollow. maybe it just seems like convincing acting to everyone else. that would be nice, she guesses. at least it would look good for the camera. she doesn’t really care. her body moves on autopilot as she meets him halfway—of course she does, because real or not, he’s her best friend. she will always try to catch him when he falls. she sinks to her knees next to him, her hands settling on his shoulders, sliding uselessly down his arms to settle over his hands. her skin chills automatically at the tide of emotion, ice forming at her fingertips like there’s a real wound to even be tended to. “and you’re…alive?” her voice cracks. she doesn’t mean for it to. it would be really stupid to cry here.

it’s not real. he’s fine. and yet quieter, but far more insistent, he’s not fine. he’s not. she swallows around the lump in her throat. “how did you…” her voice is scratchy, but unlike caelus, it is no act. “what happened…?”

the world is ending. it’s a funny question to ask.

[octoboltflash]

SCENE THREE!　❛　“now, hear me out before you say anything.” magician cradles the puppy gently in his arms as he enters the set, gaze flicking here and there until it finally lands on his partner for this scene. “i meant to propose getting a pet to you anyway, and this small fellow seems to be looking for a new home. if the archons were to give me a sign, this seems as good as one, no?” head dips slightly to the dog, a faint smile curling on his lips. “come on, now. isn't it cute? you know this apartment is far too lonely for two people.”

A... puppy?

This-- wait. There's no way that's just a puppy. Right...? A beat of silence passes before Acheron glances down at her script, completely confused as to what's happening. But... She's supposed to follow her lines. Anything less, and she'd be doing both her partner and the audience a disservice. And so, she chooses to go with the flow, and try hard to make any sense of the situation they're in now. "A pet? Surely you're not serious," Acheron speaks in a tone higher than usual, throwing a hand up as a gesture of incredulity. "This one... It's not normal. It..." Violet eyes narrow as she studies the creature's face, and something about it seems ... off. Its dark, beady little eyes hold a bloodlust unlike anything she's seen before, and part of it reminds her of some story she's read in the past. Perhaps it's a shapeshifter, or perhaps it's simply a being full of malice. "The fear that burns inside me will leave me hollow. When I am but a shell of myself, I will have to find something else to fill the void of nothing under my skin. This creation..." Her mouth twists into a grimace, eyes full of a rage that cannot be put into words. Perhaps, with enough prodding, Acheron can be convinced to divulge her persona's trauma with... animals. She thinks. "We're not keeping it. Get rid of that thing. It bears a striking resemblance to a creature that took my Father from me. We had the same eyes, and yet he saw his daughter in the wide black eyes of an animal behind our house. The animal that hurt me, while he did nothing... and when I hurt it, I became nothing."

What is she doing? For a brief moment, she wholeheartedly believes she's finally gone insane.

[aevitium]

from here w/ @threadsforewoven ... who what where, scene 2

Elysia fears she may well need a third chance.

Eyes are set intentionally wide as the sole of Black Swan's shoe sends her perfectly drawn circle into utter disarray. Hers is the face of a woman absolutely horrified at the failure of her half-baked protective measures, and it remains so as she stumbles back from the approaching woman.

Two passed tests would, to any normal person, generally be conclusive enough to drop such a silly allegation as this. As though to remind her that she is to be anything but, the spotlight drags across the mere space between them to shower her in gold.

"You would like me to come closer, wouldn't you?" Elysia turns up her nose, drawing arms closer around herself. "That's how it always is with the vampires in the novels-- preying on beautiful, helpless girls..."

( Were she only able to find a camera, she'd certainly flash it a wink. )

A dramatic turn of her head, sending petal pink hair flying over one shoulder. "What do you stand to gain from veiling such intentions?"

[voidrifter]

@fanfaire asked:

production : who, what, where scene : sitting in a park with a friend, playing chess. take : 1

AND IT CERTAINLY WOULD REQUIRE ONLY ONE TAKE——or else she was not furina de fontaine, the star everlasting. who else here was as qualified to step on the set and play their parts as herself? why, not too long ago, most directors would have had to consider if their script was even of enough caliber to bring her into its cast, for such a name in the leading dramatis personae was sure to make the production a hit whether on film or in theatre. warm up? she doesn't mean to be immodest, but: child's play. still, she's always very much enjoyed improvisation exercises here and there ; this one's no different. she's sitting in a park with a friend, one leg crossed elegantly over the other as she examines the board before her, playing chess. and, "you there!" brisk command calls out in a cool and strident voice, fingers snapping to call over a girl seated nearby on a separate bench, head hardly even peeking up. "come here a moment." (⠀mademoiselle crabaletta sits vis-à-vis her, playing the " friend ".⠀) when the girl comes over——for what else could she do, called so abruptly, and by a complete stranger, no less?——a bubbling gentilhomme usher is deposited without preamble into her arms, taking on placeholding role of a beloved pet. "yes, that will do. see to my little henri. i can't concentrate on this game with him wiggling around so." to crabaletta across: "i believe it's your move?"

Kiana recognizes Furina's name on her cue card, but not quite the girl she finds herself being called by. This far off the battlefield, she seems much more in her comfort zone. Unfortunately, the same cannot quite be said about herself, as she scrambles to stand as ordered. 

"Oh, uh-" Though whatever she thinks to say is lost to a moment's stunned silence as a... thing is handed off to her. Kiana peers incredulously down at the creature in her arms, brows sky high as it gurgles back up at her. "Sure thing."

At the other's next remark, however, her attention darts most eagerly to the game board. "Oh! I love this game, do you mind if I cut in?"

The creature opposite their evening's star, much like the one wriggling in Kiana's arms, makes an incomprehensible bubbling sound in response. Absently, she wonders if Furina knows how to translate ( and if she knows a good teacher, it seems like a great language to have handy ) or if these things just understand people enough for the both of them.

Evidently they do a little, as the crab scuttles from the chair and hops into the grass, leaving room for Kiana to plop right down it its place. The pieces on the board are already some handful of moves in, but she doesn't mind. Wrangling her charge with one arm, she reaches over the board with the other-

scene: you’re sitting in a park with a friend, playing checkers.

-and skips one of the tall, pointier pieces ( since when did checkers have all of these? oh well- ) right over her opponent's. A triumphant grin.

"Haven't lost my touch!"

[dustymetaltrail]

{ Who, What, Where? } - Scene 3

Penacony will forever haunt Caelus. So much suffering in the supposed Land of Dreams. And his prompt is a tad too uncomfortable a reminder. Oh well- might as well just get it over with. Might as well just get it over with-

And--- ACTION!

The scene is set- a calm atmosphere of a look-alike 'Dream Lounge' ( interesting choice, but he'll take the familiar setting over being lost ), extras here and there at some seats scattered around the space. He's not the bartender this time around, which is both a nice change of pace yet also a strange feeling. A quick glance and see spots his scene partner, easily identifiable by not only his height, but the big black cowboy hat. Nameless can already hear the tiny, barely noticeable voices begging for mercy, a ghostly cry for help-

A nervous shuffling of feet to reach his destination, an arm playfully placed over the seated man's shoulder. Caelus does another fast scan of the counter, taking note of all the glasses and bottles, both empty and not, spanning from end to end. Not all of these were from Boothill, obviously, but man there are a lot just.. left. Where was the fictional tender to clean up the mess left behind by "other patrons"? Stop. Thinking too much about it- the silver can't help it, when he's been on the other side of that counter.

❛ H-Hey there, lone Ranger! Haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to? ❜

Not the most original conversation starter, but lad's brain is going haywire as it is, so Caelus it just glad he was able to provide anything at all.

said lone ranger -- had been dealing with the scorching heat , even his metallic body was unable to handle the darned heat around here , you could cook an egg on his chest , that's how bad it was getting , he was overheating , panting -- sat at the bar .

in his hand ? a nice , cold , bubbly can of soda he'd yet to open , just when he finally got to sit down , ready to pop the can open .

" ah -- shucks , if it ain't the trailblazer . . . look -- man , i'll love ta chat , ya just gotta give me a darn second -- i need to cool down . "

he took a deep breath , getting ready to pop his soda can open once again .

[dewdrip]

//Who What Where

“Hello, hello! Single file line please!” Wearing a uniform not too much unlike what she wore day to day, Sedene waves a small flag as she gestures to a line of ensemble actors making their way across the stage. “Amenities may be enjoyed once you are on board. Please have your passes out and ready at the gate!”

Phew! Now where was her partner…?

The shuffle of shoes and bringing out of ship tickets marks the mechanical clockwork that makes the line move about. Each ensemble member moves forward at a pace of about a second, inching closer and closer towards the exit at stage right. Bailu follows the flow of the crowd too, but unlike the rest of them, she's not the only one standing in her place.

Swaddled in cloth and strapped to her chest, its scaly head pocking out from under the covers, is a baby crocodile. Was it real? Or was is simply a hyperrealistic meka prop? Either way, the Vidyadhara cuddles and coos over it, right about until they pass Sedene in the line. Bailu acknowledges the officer with a salute, before pointing to her beloved emotional support Bao Bao.

"Hello, madam!" Bailu chirps, "What crocodile-friendly activities do you guys have on board? My little Bao Bao needs as much stimulation as he can get."

[crowfeatherd]

Fingers drum upon the corners of a clipboard, carmine eyes scanning down a list of crossed out names. Lips purse with displeasure. Dire circumstances have befallen the illustrious Chioriya Boutique, with a new replacement for staff being a quite the necessity. Now this was a predicament. Today alone, nine interviews already that had resulting in nothing. This man would mark the final interview, and considering the upcoming projects coming, perhaps she should just hire him, use him for whatever he's good for, then fire him.

No, she wasn't that bad of an employer.

Still, about as far as standards go, they're in the dirt.

Gaze meets the cloaked man as he enters the room. So far, not impressive. But it takes a real bold individual to try and rock chaps in this day and age. Even if it was a miss, it's that boldness that really sets him apart. The cloak is... also odd. A sleeve with buttons on only one side. Feathers on the other to off set the imbalance. It's a shame he's a man; probably doesn't understand symmetry and asymmetry. A male model could still be useful, though.

"Well, welcome. You're here for the job interview, correct? At the Chioriya Boutique? I'm Chiori, nice to meet you. Why don't you take a seat and tell me about yourself? Some of your past experiences?" An open hand, motioning to the empty chair across from her. The office was fairly small, a backroom to the actual boutique, in theory.

Moze has never had to interview for a job in his entire life, and it shows in the way he comes through the door dressed in the clothes he'd just washed fresh blood out of yesterday, how his hair looks like he'd just woken up, or the way one hand hovers constantly near the hilt of the knife sheathed at his waist - a warning or simply some kind of personal comfort. From under the shadow of his hood, he eyes the woman - Chiori, as she's introduced herself - warily. Those robes she wears are layered such that any manner of thin weapon could be concealed within them, and the exasperated look on her face says she might not even think twice about pulling one out if this doesn't go her way. Which means he needs to sit himself in that offered chair immediately.

He introduces himself with a muttered version of his name as he takes his seat stiffly, back straight and at attention, hands set impatiently on his knees. A moment passes in silence as Moze gathers his thoughts, reminding himself alongside the answers to the questions that he's playing a role, and that he's trying to be hired for a job.

"I clean up... messes," he starts with a grimace. He hates talking about himself. "General Feixiao leaves behind no shortage of them."

Should he have said her name? He doesn't know anymore, but he presses on anyway:

"Blood, or dirt, or anything else, I'll take care of it. I also know dozens of ways to hide my presence. You won't see me unless I want you to."

What else... At this point, Moze had been staring intently at Chiori's face as he rattled off his abilities, but now his eyes lower to the floor to think. Many of the other things he was good at weren't intended to be spoken out loud. And he doesn't have a note from Jiaoqiu to help him this time.

"And... I'm good with... weapons?"

[spicehill]

SCENE THREE!　❛　“good morning everyone, welcome aboard! please have your tickets ready and proceed right this way!” geez, how many extras did they get for this scene? march 7th hasn't even caught a glimpse of her scene partner yet and she's already getting tired. she waves the person in front of her through with a bright smile, raising up on her tiptoes to see if she can find her partner. “good morning,” she begins automatically to welcome the next person, gaze shifting back to them, “welcome, mr. jiao—?” a sharp cough as she cuts herself off, furiously shaking her head, “i mean, um, welcome aboard, mister! please have your ticket ready and you can proceed right this way. if you need anything, feel free to let any of the crew know.”

who, what, where? scene 3!

now, this scene was perhaps the most peculiar of them all. how exactly was he supposed to picture enjoying a... luxury cruise? it sounded like the kind of thing that only a lunatic with an emotional support baby crocodile in his arms would think is a good idea.

oh.

right, the prop in his hands.... he is that exact lunatic.

hearing the bubbly voice of miss march 7th though adds another layer to this... may as well start with the needs for this creature he's bringing along. "thank you, miss, for your kind hospitality. I do have several questions, mostly pertaining to fluffy here -- " he lifts the prop baby crocodile to show her -- "first, I need to know where the proper facilities are on board for fluffy to relieve herself. second, is the pool heated? she needs water of around eighty-five degrees fahrenheit for at least fourteen hours a day, preferably in direct sunlight... and for when she doesn't have that, I will need a heat lamp in my room that has the adequate wattage to keep her body temperature regulated. and... some fish, though I'd imagine that won't be too hard to come by. chicken or quail or flamingo also suffice."

[fanfaire]

if lynette found more difficulty in this prompt than she had her last two, she does not express as much, but a poker face like lynette's is steely enough as it is.

you are watching a painter paint a portrait of your friend. that much is fine. lynette stands before the two people in front of her, one being lady furina herself—no pressure or anything, right?—while lynette strikes a contemplative pose, the one she uses to discourage chatty strangers in public for how deep in thought it makes her look.

the painter is doing an absolutely miserable job. miserable is a bit mean, but it sounds about right.

it’s so hard not to laugh. and this is where her role gets dicey. laughter is not something she would imagine herself doing in any situation with lady furina, but moreover, they ask her to do the opposite of everything she's been conditioned to know.

but you’re trying not to distract your friend—if they start moving, the portrait will be even more ruined. it's already beyond salvation, but lynette doesn't get to say that aloud. all that's left is to do her best, really.

the gloved hand at her chin stirs, moving over her mouth instead. she clears her throat once, twice.

"it's looking... good," she remarks, as unconvincingly as possible.

prompt : you are sitting for a portrait being painted of you, wondering why your friend is making a bunch of weird faces. are they trying to distract you?

AND FROM THE JAWS OF THE LION, she leaps into flame. this one's name is. . . lyney is her brother, yes, lynette. the twin never at the forefront of such indispellable shows of magic, rather powering the engine behind it, her brother's trusted assistant and partner.

she has never interfaced with her directly, nor seen her much off stage.

she supposes the same could be said for the other.

how easy it must have been, then, to agree to playing a hand in her grandest magic to date——that of deceiving and luring her own sovereign. it is far easier to tear down an image of something than a person, so what is the image she had seen? like much of fontaine, perhaps: a flagrant idol ; a burlesque that could not be permitted to go on? none of them knew ; she could not blame them. and yet——and yet.

"is it?"

regardless, it is a disservice in this moment to think of the other only in the ripples she'd made of the past. and furina is, after all, only this epoch's finest actress ; blue-altered blues that flick to the other girl's face betray nothing of these misgivings, vibrant wells only curiosity. in truth, she has sat for enough portraits, seen enough twists and turns of the face to suspect what this prompt is suggesting. but her character has not.⠀(⠀and lynette's " weird faces " are not so weird, nor such exaggerated faces regardless.⠀)

in half exasperation, half tease, she finally sighs heftily, making sure not to let it move her own face so much ; this is already well-practiced.

"if you need to use a restroom, please do so. you are starting to make me uncomfortable."

[cisoriaseams]

SCENE ONE!　❛　it's not quite the kind of performance lyney is used to, but he's never been cowed by a stage. yet where the magician is all grand gestures and loud tricks, the man who steps up is small, frantic. he casts his gaze around, slightly wide with panic, as a hand reaches out for some invisible person strolling by. “excuse me!” and again, “i'm sorry—”

by fourth or fifth time, he's crumpled into himself, steps dragging just a little as he searches for another person. and there, miss chiori in the flesh, who must be his scene partner—

“miss, excuse me!” a hand catches her by the sleeve, smile automatically fixed onto his expression. “you don't seem to be from fontaine. could i interest you in some of our specialty products? our clockwork is second to none in the court of fontaine—no, second to none in all of teyvat! they would make an excellent souvenir.”

A distant mutter from across the distant. "What do you mean I have to resist? If my character needs it then—" she starts, before more hushed whispers. "What do you mean I'm perfect for this role?" A gentle shove, glaring back over her shoulder. A huff as seemingly faceless individuals stroll past, no direction or aim as they walk on stage, then off, then back on again. Much acting would not be necessary considering the instructions.

As Lyney approaches, a devastating side-eye, one that could make even the most stalwart banners snap free from their posts. There's almost regret, even the most merciless of soldiers would relent and give this young man an easier time.

The pitch comes, and... it actually sounds pretty useful. Yet even so, the pads of her fingers press to palm, gazing leaving the pitiful magician and finding more interest in painted nails. "Maybe, but what makes yours so special? Also, a souvenir? I live here. What would I need a souvenir for? I've been needing something as a gift, but why should I buy yours?" A rather brutal shrug. "You mean to tell me I can't find your products anywhere else? I find that hard to believe."

[trailblczed]

[ Who, What, Where — Scene 1 ]  @threadsforewoven With a few knocks echoing throughout the opera, light slowly began to illuminate the stage, revealing Black Swan as she stepped forward to the doorframe set at center stage, her movements deliberately unhurried, as though she would rather not answer the incessant knocking. She placed her hand on the door’s edge, drawing in a breath before opening the door with a soft, polite smile, her expression calm and controlled. She looked Caelus over, head purposefully tilting up, then down, as she eyed him from head to toe. “ Oh, dearest… ” She greeted, voice lilting sweetly, almost as if welcoming an old friend rather than someone who had left her stranded the night before. She does not invite him in, nor does she step aside, simply content with standing in the doorway with an airy chuckle leaving her as she tilted her head. From the side, a faint, shadowy spotlight illuminated her partner, casting his expression in partial light. A heartbeat, then two, and as if on cue, she stepped forward, a hand to the man’s chest as she hummed in the tone of someone carefully masking their irritation. “ I wasn’t sure I’d be seeing you again. After all, last night was… well, let’s just say it was quite the amusing surprise you’ve left me with. ” She said with yet another step forward, her free hand reaching back to close the door behind her. “ Not even a text, or a call… Tell me, was it something urgent that kept you away? Or perhaps… you thought I wouldn’t mind waiting? For hours? ” There was another dramatic pause between them, allowing for the audience to take in the tension of the scene, then, with a shift of her weight to the tip of her toes, she leaned towards the Caelus’ ears, the lights around the stage turning off with a mere, single spotlight shining down from above then. She had initially thought of acting as a huffy, angry girlfriend at first but, well... Perhaps being the eerily sweet one would unnerve Caelus more and oh, how fun would that be? With her voice dipping just a bit, she finally whispered against his ear, “ I am not nearly as patient as I might appear, you know. ”

Knock. Knock.

The stage is set. The lights are blinding. The audience- silent.

The only think Caelus could hear was his heartbeat going wild in his chest. Something about how instead of just being an Actor with a set dialogue and actions, but being Impromptu was making him buzz with nerves. He doesn't like being caught off his rocker, especially if the point is for him to be entertaining to those watching. Who knows how they'd react to any simple or silly thing he did? Well, guess that really is not his problem. He is just here to play a role, and he might as well do it right-- well, do the best he can, at least.

Mistake number one- thinking Black Swan would go easy on him. Mistake number two, having one's shoulders tighten at a term of endearment. Not that it's being used in reality, but it is still, by technicality, being used to address him. If Caelus' starting words are a smidge fumbled, he will kindly ask you not bring it up- at least spare him that embarrassment.

❛ M-My apolog-gies, Milad-dy. If I could have stayed with you til the morning's dawn, I would have. Alas, fate was out of my control, and I had to go. ❜

Poor silver lad honestly can't think of a reason why his character would have had to be absent, without making it something outrageous like a "life-or-death" or a standard "loved-one in danger", so he opts to just ignore the question entirely. Curious but wide eyes watch as lavender locks close in on her prey, before the firm feeling of the door taps against his back. "Ah- that's what she was doing." Mental sigh of relief goes un-portrayed, a hand moves to grasp the one playfully against his chest, holding the other's palm with the gentlest touch, as if holding it any tighter would break it ( not entirely an impossibility-- ). Caelus wants to go further with it, so he shall- if Swan was comfortable enough to touch him during their scene, he will give her the same open familiarity. Not that any of this really bothers him- but he knows that his boundaries are not the same as others, even if this is just for a silly play.

So the silver does, taking the same hand entwined with his own to bring her knuckles to meet his lips, ghostly caresses of a lover's devotion etched onto each digit. He won't deny that having someone talk so softly against his ear didn't send a chill all the way down his spine into the soles of his feet, Caelus is a tad surprised by the action. Wouldn't the audience be unable to hear her? Well there could be some sort of microphone on her person or on the set itself, he supposes.

❛ I truly did not expect for you to wait for me, but I am honored that you have. Or, that you may be so kind as to consider forgiving my distasteful plight. Your charm has me so enraptured, that I returned to your side as soon as I possibly could. ❜

Still feeling a tad emboldened, the Nameless even goes so far as to loop an arm around Black Swan's back, a light tug to bring their bodies closer together. Defeated, and weak- vulnerable, and guilty- pleading, and hopeful- the lad's tone of voice continues.

❛ I have made my way back to you, haven't I? Surely there's no need to be so displeased with me- is there? ❜

[mrch7th]

Your scene is: You are watching a painter paint a portrait of your friend. The painter is doing an absolutely miserable job, and it’s so hard not to laugh, but you’re trying not to distract your friend - if they start moving, it will be even more ruined.

It was a ridiculous premise, but the Wanderer was up to the task. The scene was set: outdoors in a park, his fellow actor had been approached by a painter. He stood off to the side, patiently waiting for the artist, arms folded. He was glancing off to the side, per acting directions.

(The girl seemed too chipper for his liking, but perhaps that's why she was chosen for this role?)

He had an idea of how to make this realistic: he'd simply recall moments of his past that elicited such genuine laughter. There had been plenty of humorous misery in the Fatui, and plenty of times when he egged it on himself. Ha, Childe had been downright miserable after that stint in Liyue…

He grinned from ear to ear as he stifled laughter from under his hat's brim. Now was the moment he was to look back at the painting--discovering that this mysterious Director had something prepared in advance to reveal to the audience.

Maybe the Wanderer didn't need his imagination.

"Pfft--"

there's no way they seriously gave her a scene that needs her to just sit still, right? her? march 7th? certified nameless that travels the galaxy and can barely sit still for longer than a minute? her leg shakes restlessly as she tries to hold her smile, even as her gaze darts restlessly here and there around the set.

and there's her scene partner. seconds away from breaking into laughter.

seriously. no fair.

her face contorts first, lips twitching into a frown. but she holds it in for one second, two seconds. by the third, though, she's ready to burst. “oh, come on,” she complains loudly. the artist shoots her a look but march ignores it. seriously, how is she supposed to act if she can't move or talk? they have to let her have something. “what is it? what's your problem?”

[octoboltflash]

✦ WHO WHAT WHERE ⸻ SCENE I.

& SCENE. the floating fairy is shuffled onto the vacant set, lost as she's offered a prompt card and a thumbs up. midnight eyes swell to the size of teacup saucers as they dart from expectant onlookers to the partner in front of her⸻she swears she's seen that sword, that shade of violet hair, but where?⸻before finally landing on the white notecard clutched between shaking fingers. ‎ she's no stranger to the stage; far from it, but her place remains on the sidelines, expertly wielding a clapperboard or standing behind whoever's manning the camera. floating here, she's suddenly aware of the million-billion eyes pinned on her, those assembled in this one small room to watch the improv game unfold, to judge and sentence her for the slightest mistake. she'll open her mouth and hear a chorus of guilty guilty guilty! throw the book at her! throw tomatoes at her! boooooo⸻! ‎ ( actually, she can bolt out the door right now, can't she? there's never any shame in running! if she shrieks and cries into the traveler's arms then they'll both take the first aquabus ticket out of here, no questions asked. ) ‎ ( but she does not. ) the troubled pixie stands firm and rolls her shoulders, clearing her throat and craning her small head up. for the next excruciatingly slow minutes of her life, she is a proud ruler of a mighty kingdom.‎

‎ ❝ WUHAHAHAHA! ❞ ‎ a pitched, haughty laugh cuts through the hushed silence as the fairy suddenly cackles behind a shaky hand.‎ ‎ ❝ it would seem fate bears a wicked sense of humor, wouldn't you agree? when paimon⸻uh, i⸻ the queen of … ah … clockwork, threw down my gauntlet and proclaimed we'd duel the next time our eyes locked, i had not anticipated a mere children's game to be our battleground. ❞

‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ but, of course, ❞ ‎ paimon continued, her round, cherubic cheeks turning a vivid cherry red, disguising embarrassed giggles with the act of a snooty, refined fontainian woman. ‎ ‎ ❝ a lady always keeps her word. if our decisive battle is to be one of cards, dice, and um, wits, then i intend to win. ❞ ‎ she makes a show of placing her hands under her chin, looking all too primly at the other party, before she coos:‎

‎ ❝ however, benevolent a ruler as i, shall grace you with my mercy. i shall offer you one chance and one chance alone to recognize your betters. if not⸻then prepare to duel! ❞ ‎

ooc. ( hehe sorry for the wait! please take all the time you need to respond ♡ )

She honestly had no idea how she ended up in a situation like this. One moment, the Self-Annihilator had simply been enjoying the unfamiliar scenery of a place as ornate and architecturally splendid as Fontaine-- the next, a man had approached her with something that sounded oddly close to a jumbled sales pitch. Of course, she had been warned by plenty around her not to give in to such lavish words and tempting offers... But unfortunately, Acheron didn't get much say in the matter before she was whisked away into participating in this... this game show? This improv? She wasn't an actress. She didn't even LOOK like an actress. Why the hell was she here?! The roaring of her heartbeat was louder now than it had been in what felt like eons, and her eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to block out the cacophony of noises that assaulted her senses inside this studio. At least... The fairy? Pixie? Across from her seemed to have a hint of nerves as well, judging by the way her tiny hands trembled as they desperately clutched to the notecard. This... was a creature she had never seen anything like before-- Actually, that wasn't entirely true. PomPom had a similar size and stature, but... He certainly appeared to be far more animalistic than this girl(?) did. Acheron's head tilted to the side slightly as she opened her eyes, piercing gaze settling on the person to which she had been paired with. It seemed as if she could merely follow the cues of the other, and try her best at such a silly little task. "Betters?" Her tone remained cool, striding forward to approach a small table paired with two chairs that had been strategically placed in the center of their stage-- holding their 'game' of choice. One that Acheron certainly didn't recognize, and she briefly prayed to any Aeon listening that she wouldn't be expected to actually play it. "You've yet to show me any inclination that you're my superior. Give me a reason to respect you... and I will." A single, fluid motion is all it takes for Acheron to pull one of the chairs out and take her seat. One leg remained crossed over the other in a pose that's a bit too regal for her tastes, but... She wasn't portraying herself. Right? Clawed fingers tapped on the surface of the table before her, violet eyes narrowing to survey the cards strewn across it. Despite the fact that Acheron didn't understand any of the symbols, she could at least look the part-- carefully, the swordswoman picked one of them up to rest between her index and middle finger, toying with it as she cast a darkened look over the top of it. Were anyone to believe that she was being serious... perhaps a few of them would be afraid. "Come, then, oh mightiest ruler of ... Clockwork? Show me your resolve. A king settles for nothing but the best-- and I intend to have that."

Oh, this was SO corny. She could already feel the tiniest hint of a blush creeping up the length of her neck, and she desperately fought the urge to stutter through her words. This was going to be so much longer than she thought....

@entwinefates

[starlitpaths]

[who, what, where — scene 1]

Bailu enters the scene with eyes squinted narrow. She scours the stage, waving to townsfolk that aren't there and looking to a sky that is naught but lights. She does this for some time, creating a panorama with little more than her wordless (over)acting. Then, once she feels she is ready, she dramatically gasps.

"Oh madam! Oh madam!"

Bailu chirps, cape flying behind her as she sprints to stage right. Though she misses her blocking by quite a few paces, and the stage lights that descend upon her don't fall quite right. Half of her body remains in shadow. But, no matter—the protagonist shall always be triumphant. According to the cliche ingenia that pollute the Luofu mediascape, anyways. That aside, what's important is that she is able to see her partner and throw out her lines. Theater amateur she may be, she at least manages that.

There, atop the small raised platform that is set upon the stage, is the Express' very own conductor, Himeko. Bailu places her hands on her hips.

"You seem to be in need of assistance, madam! Allow me to help, madam! Wee?" her eyes widen for a spell, and she quickly corrects herself, "Oui?"

[ Who, What, Where — Scene 1 ] 

Himeko watched with a weary expression as she stood on her platform, awaiting for her cue, raising her eyebrow as Bailu squinted at imaginary townsfolk, then charged across the stage in a dramatic but wildly off-kilter fashion. When the little lady finally arrived (overextended) on her designated mark, Himeko closed her eyes for a beat, as though in silent contemplation out of her character’s suffering.

The lighting around the stage dimmed then, the spotlight falling onto her as she spoke, her voice echoing to imitate that of a thought only the audience could hear.

“ Every morning, she comes hurtling over from… Wherever it is she resides, and each time… ” She took a deep breath in, making it a point to rise her shoulders enough that their viewers could see before dropping them with a sigh. “ I’ve already tried denying her twice, and oh, the look she gives me when I do, but every time she comes to help me, I only end up further from finishing than before. ”

Himeko paused, gesturing with a flick of her wrist toward the imaginary lawn stretching beyond the stage lights. Her garden, composed of plastic flowers and grass painted upon wood, appeared wholly untended and a mess. As she dropped her head in apparent “defeat,” the lighting around the stage brightened up. Her smile forced as she turned to the helpful missy once more, hands on her knees so she could crouch down to her height.

“ Oh! Young lady, every day you come to help me and I couldn’t be more grateful! But perhaps… Perhaps today, you might let me handle it myself, hm? ”

[voidrifter]

@everlastingeccentric asked:

Your scene is: You have received clear instructions to dispose of the resources that just arrived. A little strange, but orders are orders. Maybe they just ordered too much. It’s not your place to think.

The Wanderer appears awfully distracted before this scene begins. Isn't this the girl that died to a slime? The strange coincidence nags at his mind even after getting into character. He and his companion stood in a set meant to resemble a dock lit like nighttime, the tub of water they were elevated above containing a mechanism to make it appear as though there were choppy waves lapping at the shore. Holding up a lantern, the vagrant youth--sparing Kiana a glance--looks confusedly at a cargo shipment that came with very specific instructions. "Well, orders have changed. They need three of these crates to go." Why'd they bother to send them over, then? he chides the script. Whatever. Just push them out at sea, or immolate them, or both for thoroughness… The Wanderer's persistent, frustrated curiosity begins to overtake his thoughts. This girl's casual reappearance, the unknown purpose of this event, and his own fixation on finding use for the useless all converge to create an out-of-character question: "…Shouldn't hurt to sneak a peek at what's inside then, right?" What if it's something more sinister than expected? Wouldn't that be interesting?

Kiana waits as instructed, hands in her jacket pockets and whistling an idle tune. She recognizes her company, rather unfortunately considering the circumstances of their last meeting. Really, she was kind of just hoping that had been a dream.

Oh well, she's got a part to play.

White brows raise, then furrow. "Send them over?" She echoes, confused, then shakes her head. "No, no no, that can't be right. These are like, super important." Not a really compelling act, this one.

But her partner, she's quickly realized, has disrupted their little script. That is kind of the game, after all, and she's got no choice but to follow along. Sidling over to him, she peers down at the prop crates with narrowed eyes.

"Why would anyone want to dispose of really important supplies so suddenly?" Shit, think Kiana! "Unless..."

She knows full well the crates aren't full of anything that matters, because this is all a game and the sets were put together by volunteers that are probably half her age, but she's committed to it now. A huff to free the nearest crate of its lid, for the grand reveal of a bunch of packing peanuts and a few odds and ends to give them a little bit of weight. Kiana bends down, rifles around a moment, and emerges once more with a shovel.

"A murder weapon..."