#i was thinking about how jily is kinda like hadestown in that we all know they die but we keep coming back

[bougainvilea]

wait for me (part two)

a/n: hello i got excited about my hadestown au and there are a couple songs that i kept relating back to jily so I wrote more. i hope you like it! i used the live version's lyrics - sue me, i like it better lmao. also i don't know the stage direction so i made it up. HOPE U LIKE IT

part 1 here / song here

HERMES: (A deep sigh. A moment of emptiness - the world has stopped to watch the tragedy end.) (Spoken: ) Alright… Alright. (Somber silence, a moment to allow the shock to set in.) (Sung: )It’s an old song.

Lily’s eyes make contact with James’ as she sits in the wings. She can’t fault him - he’s a good actor. He has Orpheus all over him now - the self hatred of a man whose doubts led to his undoing, mixed in with the optimism of a poet who sang his way to hell.

HERMES: It’s an old tale from way back when. It’s an old song. (Pause) And we’re gonna sing it again and again.

The tragedy of the play always hits her in this moment - she always takes stock of herself, always feels a little vulnerable when this moment hits. There’s a real sadness in Orpheus’ failure - you see it coming from a mile away, it’s a sad song, it’s in the first song. But you keep coming back to it, as if… well, as if he succeeds this time. She always feels it in her lungs, taking up the space of air. She mourns for both of their loss.

HERMES: There was a railroad line on the road to hell, there was a young man down on a bended knee.

James is so right for this role. He sits there, still, looking at his mistakes, a mockery of the earlier proposal scene. His emotion shines out of him - for whatever else she can say about him, he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve, and he augments it well for Orpheus. His loneliness is reflected in the desolate set, even with the workers slowly coming onto the stage.

HERMES: And that is the ending of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. It’s a sad song, It’s a sad tale, it’s a tragedy. It’s a sad song, but we sing it anyway.

She imagines the world the cast and crew so desperately wish to present - the possibilities of real change. She feels an ache in her belly - it feels like a gut punch, every night, the idea that maybe there is real ache that reflects this one, that continues forever in this never-ending cycle, just like their show.

HERMES: (A sigh, spoken: ) Cause here’s the thing: to know how it ends, and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time. I learned that from a friend of mine.

The chorus has come in, and James looks up, and again they make brief eye contact before he turns to the audience. It’s these moments, towards the end of the show, that she feels the most kinship with him, like maybe they’re on the same page. She feels the hope in the voices of the chorus, in his walk across the stage, his guitar slung across his back, and she thinks maybe she could like this man. He is this figure on stage, more steadfast yet uncertain than he has been in the whole play. She sees past his performance, sees the bits that he puts on and the bits that he believes. She knows he puts as much into this as she does, and there’s a level of understanding there. His Orpheus is… well, dazzling.

HERMES: (spoken: ) Can you see it? Can you hear it? Can you feel it like a train?

She steps out on stage now, her mask falling into place as she once again becomes the hardened and hungry Eurydice, with a softer shell. She stays in the background, revolving around him as he takes centre stage. It feels… magnetic, being around him. She can feel a thread connecting them on stage, like they circle each other with intention and pull. As she circles, he makes eye contact with her, and there’s a moment, shared. She doesn’t know what it is yet.

HERMES: On a sunny day there was a railroad car and a lady stepping off a train. Everybody looked and everybody saw that spring had come again with a love song, with a tale of a love that never dies. With a love song for anyone who tries.

The song ends here, and she holds eye contact with James, and imagines a world where she could love him, not Orpheus. She imagines a little cottage with a fireplace, a warm lounge where they could read together. Maybe a backyard, where they can lay in the field like they do on stage, with different promises and different cares and different stars, but that same explicit, direct love that exists for Orpheus and Eurydice. Suddenly, the words of the song ring true, in a new way. Anyone who tries.