Is there any Essek scene in particular you’re hoping is included in the show?
Oh man oh god oh fuck. This list could go on SO long.
To be fair, the thing with Essek is that there are a lot of very small and fun but not narratively load-bearing scenes, and then a few major scenes that have a decent amount of narrative weight to them. For instance, the first study scene (the second is important but could be combined into it if that the pace required it), the Scourger incident, the dinner, and most of episode 97 have a lot of narrative impact, either for Caleb's arc or for the plot as a whole. I've already suggested I need to see the ninth floor tower conversation animated like a fish needs water to breathe, and I'd love both the times Essek physically pulls Caleb out of danger, of course.
There's also a lot of wiggle room in how you pace the Nein and break up their arcs (which I think was more rigid translating campaign 1 to LoVM—even when arcs are shifted around, the sequences of events are kept somewhat orderly) which means that speculation is pretty hard, particularly when it comes to Essek, who meets the Nein so far into the campaign. Basically, any of these things might not be as narratively necessary by then, depending on what they choose to cut or focus in on. I could speculate on that, and I'm sure I will extensively, but at a certain point I might as well just write a series worth of scripts as a fun side project.
That being said, I do really hope the Scourger scene remains, because it is so cinematically interesting, and I do consider it a major turning point between the wizards, regardless of either of them realizing it at the time or not.
And I also really want to watch him have a panic attack over whiskey cocoa. It is in no way load-bearing, but nonetheless, I would like to see it, and I think I deserve it.
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ALICE IN TWO PARTS — ✧ app.
ahmhmm.
she clears her throat. adjusts her collar.
with a lift of her lashes, the stunning array beneath is revealed — a curtain rising on scintillating blues, on glittering mismatched irises. her smile is emphatic, a swell of confidence buoyed on wide wings. and indeed, the grand flourish of one arm is worthy of a stage.
"now, i understand that you'd be curious as to what would bring me of all citizens knocking on the doors of the adventurer's guild!
after all — though i may be hydro archon no longer — how could one such as myself lack in means, or want for the mundane adventure of ordinary commissions?"
... maybe not. she doesn't want to leave the impression that the kinds of requests they are have no worth or meaning.
"... how would one such as myself lack in means when, should i but extend my hand to take them, no derth of opportunity awaits me! that i was once fontaine's brightest star hasn't changed, though my position in the sky has moved" — oh, yes, that was good! — "and a north star is a north star still."
she clears her throat again. now where to go from here?
hands upon her knees, she drops into the seat behind her and lifts her face. from the mirror, two-toned eyes stare back at her, set in a roundish face five-hundred years young. framed in plush, bouncing ivory. she twirls the end of one alabaster curl idly about a gloved finger, as she'd done countless, innumerable times before.
furina before the interview, printed and pastelled.
furina backstage, spinning through roles like underwater currents.
furina alone in her bedchamber, taking off the smile. furina crying when she can't.
as if it might tell her which she was today, she rises just as suddenly as she'd sat and presses gloved palm to the mirror. white touches black, and for a moment her heart stops, caught between horror and hope; that liminal space. mirror-me? you're—?
white touches white.
... silly me. there was no more mirror-her. sometimes she wonders if there had ever been. had it truly happened, five hundred years ago in what felt more and more like a dream as she remembered and unremembered? or had it always just been her, fooling herself to fool herself into thinking she could do something at all? she has posed this refrain to herself this so many times that she has lost track of the soliloquy and its numbers, and in the end none of it had mattered — the prophecy had been wrong.
the prophecy had been wrong.
"if a north star only hangs on high, what good is it to anyone?"
"the truth is, i'd like to leave this place and see the real stories, and maybe they'll tell me what i'm supposed to do with freedom."
"the truth is, i am supposed to be happier now. will this make me happier now?"
these are all good lines, she thinks. great lines, even; she can hear them easily resonating through generations of playbooks, refashioned and recreated, dusted off for the next century's audience that would get to their feet and clap and clap and clap, cheering under the lights, throwing bouquets under the lights, calling for encores under the lights; she can hear herself saying them; she can hear herself clapping to them too, even though she's heard them so many times, cheering herself too for the next generation of stagecraft.
furina before the interview, furina alone in her bedchamber, furina backstage, and furina lost within the halls of her own house all smile to themselves before the mirror.
the playbook is a lovely thing. it has a wonderful way of being something even when everything else in the world is not.
/ /
"... and a north star is a north star still!" she declares, drawing the curious glances of a few roaming passersby. "and that being so, i declare that the brightest stars need no high throne to shine. so i am here, not as furina de fontaine, nor the heart and waters of this nation, but as furina herself — an ordinary human, with no great powers. it is my hope that the adventurer's guild will give me the chance to reach not high but far, where the purest of waters can flow. there, i should like to expand my horizons, to see what new sights await me."
the guildmaster puts his hands together to clap as he nods, approval warm and happy on his face.
so, phew, in the end she has done it again. subtly at her side, fingertips touch the vision at her hip.
this must be what it is, she thinks — to be free?
furina in pursuit of self, exit stage left.
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There's just something about dark songs that sound happy.
I Can't Decide (I can't decide/Whether you should live or die/Oh, you'll probably go to heaven/Please don't hang your head and cry/No wonder why/My heart feels dead inside/It's cold and hard and petrified/Lock the doors and close the blinds/We're going for a ride)
Artificial Flowers (Alone in the world/Was poor little Anne/As sweet a young child as you'd find./Her parents had gone/To their final rewards/Leaving their baby behind... and it gets worse)
Clementine (The old bridge trembled/And disassembled/Dumped her in/To that foamy brine and on and on it goes)
Maxwell's Silver Hammer (Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer/Came down upon her head/Clang! Clang! Maxwell's silver hammer/Made sure that she was dead)
Bad Moon Rising (I see the bad moon a-risin'/I see trouble on the way/I see earthquakes and lightnin'/I see bad times today)
Goodbye Earl (Wanda looked all around this town and all she found was Earl... and then, there's MURDER!)
You Are My Sunshine (idk, this one isn't really in the lyrics... it's just really depressing. And yet little single-digit-in-age me thought it was the happiest li'l song.)
Half of the Les Miserables soundtrack (Master of the House, Lovely Ladies, etc.)
Then there's Threepenny Opera (Mack the Knife, Pirate Jenny, etc.)
There are more.
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