#which naturally turns into the most intense makeout scene of all time

[bookinit02]

honestly going to be a little brave even and say that the reason buck kissed tommy Like That at the hospital is because he was so pent up from the bachelor party and seeing eddie shirtless getting vodka poured down his throat that he was like . i need to make out with a man immediately or i will die.

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m staying (4)

Messes, and a small fire

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a VERY steamy scene, right at the beginning (I guess I now start every chapter with some people getting it on :D). This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 3,700 (Sorry for the absence of a Keep Reading option - I’m on mobile!)

Notes: This picks up where we left off, during Liv and Rashad’s date (pre-boeuf bourguignon), starting with Olivia’s POV. This chapter is slightly shorter than my usual ones, but I needed to have a shorter one to get myself back in the spirit of writing for pleasure. I’m sorry I’ve been MIA for a couple of weeks, my job is taking over, and writing is a big part of it, so opening a Word doc has been quite the scary experience. But I’m doing my best, and I intend to keep writing this series, because it makes me happy :) Thank you for sticking with me!!!

*****

Olivia’s lips find Rashad’s and capture them seamlessly. She feels him lean into her kiss, as he closes his eyes and lets out a quiet moan. Fuck, he’s sexy, she thinks. How had she never noticed before? Now she can’t get enough of him.

‘Fuck, Nevrakis,’ he sighs. ‘You’re so hot.’

She smirks and kisses him again, all the while unbuttoning his shirt. Rashad’s hands run down her spine, giving her chills as they do. They grab her ass firmly, and press her further against him. She can very clearly feel his hard cock under his pants. The mere thought of it makes her wet.

She can’t wait anymore. They had multiple makeout sessions, endless flirting, and a lukewarm sex session. She needs the real him, now, or else…

She grinds him more and more intensely, until they both can’t take it any longer. His right hand leaves her ass to find the spot under her dress, between her thighs, and he gently pulls her already wet panties onto the side. Breathlessly, she follows suit and unzips his pants, and quickly pulls down his boxers, finally freeing his big cock. He moans harder onto her kiss.

She can’t wait anymore. He teases her entrance with the tip of his cock, but she wants more, now.

Once he’s completely inside her, they both let out a low groan.

Finally, she thinks. That’s what she’s talking about.

*****

Liam can’t stop his eyelid from twitching. The collar of his white shirt is hurting his neck, suffocating him. He wishes he could just run away and never look back.

His encounter with Drake this afternoon did him a world of good. Finally someone listened to him, not in a fake way like Madeleine used to, when she was trying to seduce him with her pretend compassion.

He has his best friend back. They can count on each other again.

Madeleine is wearing a pre-bridal outfit — white everything. She looks so angelic, Liam himself has trouble believing that she really is a schemer, just from looking at her. But when he thinks back of their awkward, forced interactions… He shudders. No more thinking.

Leo pats him on the back. The two brothers smile at each other. They had a heart-to-heart earlier, and Leo perfectly understood that Liam can’t ask him to be best man, with the history that he and Madeleine share. It felt good to be supported, even by just two people.

Madeleine holds out her hand for Liam to take. Together, they walk onto the platform, surrounded by reporters and various representatives of the Cordonian press. King Constantine is already on the platform, and Liam can’t help but think that he hasn’t really seen his father in motion for a very, very long time. Can he even walk anymore? In any case, he’s good at concealing. If that’s what being a King means, well, Liam won’t be any good. He can feel the beads of sweat dangling over his brow.

His father gives him a curt nod. It’s time.

He clears his throat. ‘People of Cordonia. It is with great pleasure that I officially announce my engagement to Countess Madeleine of Fydelia.’ He turns to Madeleine and they offer each other their fakest smile. ‘We couldn’t be happier about the news, and we look forward to the upcoming festivities. In four days, this Friday, we will depart for our engagement tour, which will stop in Rome, then Paris, then London, finally culminating in a trip to New York City. With us, we will have the pleasure to welcome our wedding parties. Please, Lady Madeleine,’ he says as he turns to her.

She smiles and says, ‘My maid of honor will be Lady Kiara of Castelsarreillan. In my wedding party, I will be delighted to count my fellow former contestants Lady Penelope of Portavira, Duchess Olivia Nevrakis of Lythikos, Lady Hana Lee, and—‘ she pauses and Liam could swear she let a slight smirk show. ‘Lady Amara Suarez.’

The crowd lets out a slight gasp. Liam hurries with his list. ‘And my best man will be my longtime friend Drake Walker. In my wedding party, I am welcoming my brother, former Prince Leo, Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford, Lord Maxwell Beaumont of Ramsford, and Lord Rashad Domvallier.’ He takes a long breath. ‘Thank you, dear people of Cordonia, for your well wishes. We both wish you all the happiness we are experiencing ourselves, and to all a good night.’

*****

‘Well, I guess it’s official,’ Drake says as he turns off the TV. ‘We gotta do this thing.’

Hana nods as she takes a sip of her wine. ‘Yep. Just the thought of pretending to be helpful to that bitch is giving me hives.’

Drake has to chuckle at Hana’s swearing - he might never get used to it. ‘And I have to be Liam’s freaking best man. Which, like… it’s fine, of course I want to be there for him, but—‘ He trails off. Amara meets his eye.

‘You’re nervous about being in the spotlight,’ she finishes his sentence. He nods. She continues, rubbing Drake’s hand in support. ‘I know, me too, babe. But think about it. It’s for the best. We’ll be on the frontline, ready to pounce if Madeleine shows her hand in the slightest.’

Maxwell nods. ‘Exactly. We’ll be there for each other, too. Oh and, after these drinks, let’s all write our acknowledgements to Liam and Madeleine. That way, tomorrow, we can go to the cabin without a care in the world.’

Drake smiles earnestly. ‘I can’t wait. We all need it. You’ll see, Mike, it’s as calm as what we’ve seen of the coast today, but even more remote.’

Michael smiles excitedly. ‘I’m excited! I’ll take loads of pictures for Callie, she’s been asking about where we are. She’ll love that.’

Drake looks to Amara, who is smiling quietly, a sneaky tear in her eye. Without saying a word, Drake takes her hand again, and squeezes it. He knows how much she’s missed her niece. How badly she wants to be a part of her life again. Drake can’t help but imagine Amara’s family visiting Cordonia, coming to the cabin, having long dinners on the patio, overlooking nature… He may not have much of a family —it’s broken, it spans over two continents and three countries, it’s riddled with lies and unspoken things— but Amara makes him want to fix things. With her folks, with his… He wants their ducks to be in a row.

‘Guys,’ Maxwell whispers dramatically, ‘has anyone heard from Liv?’

This takes Amara out of her daydream, and she replies, ‘Oh, not at all. Let’s hope she’s too busy to text.’ She performs a theatrical wiggling of her eyebrows.

Hana joins in, ‘Maybe she’s just too tied up at the moment.’

Michael nods, a cheeky smile on his face, ‘Maybe she needs to remain on top of things.’

Maxwell, a proud look on his face, chimes in: ‘Maybe she can’t talk because her mouth is full.’

Everyone looks on in horror, until a collective roaring laughter takes over the silence.

‘Holy shit Max,’ Amara says, crying with laughter, ‘too far, honey!’

Michael wipes off a tear, ‘Jeez Maxwell, we were trying to be subtle over here!’

Maxwell shrugs. ‘I just wanted to be a part of it, guys.’

*****

‘Please Michael, go to bed,’ Maxwell waves him off. ‘You don’t need to do all this.’

Michael continues to carry plates from the living room to the sink. ‘No, I want to help! Drake cooked, Amara made the after-dinner drinks, I want to do my part.’ He pauses and makes a charming face at Maxwell. ‘Please.’

Max sighs. Why must they always meet like this, in the kitchen? All Maxwell has ever done in here is messes, and a small fire once —Bertrand still won’t let him use the oven—, but these days, he finds himself drawn to this space. This is where he puts plates together for his friends. Even though he can’t cook, he loves to entertain, and while he happily leaves the roasting and chopping to Drake, Maxwell loves preparing snacks and apéritif trays.

Not to mention the late-night cleanups. Which Michael always joins in on.

He chuckles and busies himself with the dishes. He told everyone else to go to bed, that he’s got it. Truth is, he was kinda hoping this would happen. People going upstairs to pack for tomorrow’s trip, and, if we’re being realistic, Drake and Amara probably going upstairs to get it on. Bertrand went to bed a while ago, as soon as he came home, and that leaves him here, now.

Dammit, he thinks. Why did the girls have to put these ideas in his head?

Well, once again, if we’re being honest, the ideas were already in there, but Maxwell was simply burying them under piles and piles of insecurity, laced with unwavering friendliness.

Maxwell had never been the one in charge before —no one trusts him with anything usually, see the kitchen fire anecdote—, but ever since Michael turned up, it had been Max’s pleasure to show him around, make sure he’s okay, and, most importantly, help him and Amara fix their relationship.

He knows Amara trusts him, and considers him like a brother, which is of course reciprocal. From the moment he told her about Savannah, and instead of judging him for keeping that secret from Drake, she helped him come clean, he’s known that she is a true friend.

So, if she herself is telling him that she sees something between him and Michael, could there be some truth to it?

‘Hey Max,’ Michael says softly, interrupting his incessant internal questions. ‘Is your brother ok?’

Maxwell smiles. ‘Yeah, Bertrand’s fine. He’s just stressed out. He found out that he’s part of the wedding party and needs to come on the Tour, and he’s like Drake in a way. He doesn’t like the spotlight.’

Michael nods. ‘I see. It’s crazy how different you guys are.’ He pauses. ‘I don’t mean that you love the spotlight or anything, but you’re just more...comfortable. In any situation. It’s really admirable, actually.’

Maxwell chuckles and turns back to his dishwashing so Michael can’t see that he’s blushing. ‘Oh, thanks, but it’s nothing, really.’ He bites his lip, annoyed at himself for not finding the right words. It used to be so effortless between them, why did the girls have to fill his head with stupid fantasies?

But Michael doesn’t seem to mind. He sits at the kitchen island and starts putting cookies back in their tins, slowly, one by one, as if he wanted to drag this moment for longer. ‘I’m serious,’ he adds. ‘It takes a lot of guts, and a lot of adaptability, to be able to navigate any social situation without too much anxiety.’

Maxwell turns around to grab another dirty dish. He meets Michael’s eye. ‘Well thank you, but I don’t think I navigate that well. Plus, I was born into it, I guess, so I have no merit. Amara, on the other hand…’

Michael laughs. ‘Yeah, Amara has always been good with people. She’s analytic, too, you know. She figures people out really quickly.’ He pauses and absentmindedly plays with a cookie. ‘Like with Drake. You said he was basically the broody type, right?’

Max smiles. ‘Yeah. Not much of a social butterfly, our Drake.’

Michael chuckles. ‘Right. But I don’t know, around her, he seems to light up. Around us too, actually, when I went on the tour with him this afternoon, he was all friendly and talkative.’

Max puts down the last dish and put the kettle on, without even thinking about it. ‘Yeah. He and I have known each other forever. His sister is one of my closest friends. But before Amara showed up, I don’t know, he didn’t really open up. His dad died ten years ago and he really closed off afterwards.’ Maxwell stops himself. Shit, he thinks. That was a really sensitive topic to tackle, why did he have to talk about death right now?

Michael gets up and sets up two teacups on the island. Maxwell joins him while the kettle does its thing. ‘Well, Amara had closed off, too, as you know,’ Michael responds. ‘Just punished herself. Became a different person. Look, it’s really simple, I hadn’t seen my Amara for two years. But the minute I came here and saw her with you guys, with Drake, I knew. She’s back.’

Maxwell smiles brightly. ‘That’s really beautiful. I like that idea —they found each other and allowed each other to be open again.’

‘Right. But not just the two of them. Amara loves you, and Hana, and Olivia, and Bertrand, too. This isn’t just about Drake and Amara’s love, although that’s the obvious part. It’s more than that, it’s a group effort. You all support each other in ways I didn’t know were possible for people who’ve only been friends for a few months. It’s quite beautiful.’

Maxwell lets the silence wrap them both up, until the aggressive sound of the kettle draws them from their rêverie.

*****

‘Guys, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!’ Drake yells out from the front door. He’s been ready to go for a while, but Amara is carefully reviewing her bags to make sure she didn’t forget anything. They woke up very early and had a nice breakfast all together—Hana made a frittata—, and now Drake is loading up his Jeep.

‘One second babe,’ Amara responds, ‘Maxwell and Hana are still upstairs.’

Bertrand comes out of his study, and unsnaps his reading glasses. ‘Well, Amara, I wish you a pleasant stay, and I shall see you on Thursday.’

Amara wonders how someone who is under 35 years old has reading glasses that snap in the front. And are tied by a string that goes around his neck. Even her dad wouldn’t wear that. ‘Bertrand,’ she says as she pats his shoulder, ‘are you sure you don’t want to come? We can take two cars, we’d love to have you come with us.’

He blushes. ‘No no, thank you very much for the invitation, Drake insisted too, but I shall get my affairs in order before the tour commences on Thursday. I didn’t expect to be a part of it, you see.’

Amara smiles. ‘If you’re sure. But please, if you change your mind, call us and join us, ok?’

He nods. ‘Will do. Enjoy yourself, please.’

She squeezes his shoulder and heads outside. ‘Drake, relax,’ she says as she rolls her eyes, ‘they’ll be right out.’ She smiles upon seeing Michael outside, already loading his duffle bag into Drake’s Jeep. ‘Well someone else is eager,’ she teases.

Michael smiles, his blue eyes sparkling. ‘I gotta say, this is super exciting. Living in the city doesn’t give you too many opportunities like this one.’ He hops into the backseat.

Amara throws her luggage in the back and settles into the front seat. ‘You know,’ she says to Michael, looking at him in the rearview mirror, ‘you don’t HAVE to live in the city. From what Dad tells me, you have plenty of offers in Philly, you could comfortably live in the suburbs.’

Michael’s smile falters a bit as he nods along. ‘Yeah. I know Callie would love to get closer to Grampie and Grammie. But--’ he interrupts himself and shakes his head. ‘I can’t bring myself to sell the apartment before I find a place that I can really feel at home in. That’s the only home Callie has ever known. I can’t uproot her unless I’m sure.’

Amara nods and stretches her hand towards the backseat, reaching Michael’s knee. ‘You’re right. Sorry. You know best, it’s not my place.’

He grabs her hand. ‘It’s ok. I know it sounds silly, but nothing has clicked yet. Jorge and I visited this beautiful townhouse in Bryn Mawr, which is perfect on paper. I don’t know, it just didn’t work for me, for some reason.’

‘Listen to yourself. To your gut,’ she says. ‘It’ll happen.’

‘Wooooo here we come!’ Maxwell yells out from the front door. ‘Hana, give me your bag!’

He throws both bags in the back and opens the door for Hana, who makes quick eye contact with Amara before saying ‘Oh Max, would you mind getting in the middle? If I’m not near a window I’m gonna get nauseous.’

Amara has to fight the urge to roll her eyes and giggle. Maxwell isn’t wrong --acting must be the one thing Hana sucks at.

‘Sure thing babe,’ Max responds. He gets in right next to Michael, who smiles at him softly.

‘Alright guys,’ Drake says excitedly. ‘Let’s gooooooo!’

*****

‘Father, is everything alright?’ Liam asks, his fingers still rattling the door to ask for permission to enter.

He is met with a faint sound, emanating from his father, who is lying down on his bed, eyes half closed.

He gets closer, his hands shaky. He’s never seen him like this. He knew he had gotten worse, he knew his cancer was terminal, but he didn’t know just how bad it was.

‘Father?’ he asks hesitantly.

‘Li--Liam, you shouldn’t be here, I asked for no one to disturb me today.’ He swallows, but it’s obvious that he’s in pain. ‘Please go.’

Liam gets closer to his father. He feels like crying, but he can’t. Firstly, because it would make his father feel badly. Secondly, because Constantine has never been one to encourage displays of emotion.

‘Father,’ he whispers without making eye contact. ‘Bastien sent for me. He said you told your nurse to leave, and that you refused to take your medicine. Leo and I are concerned. Tell me what happened.’

Constantine rolls his eyes and sits up with tremendous effort. ‘Liam, this is none of your business. If you must know, this medicine is not helping, my pain is unmanageable. Please keep this to yourself, we’re not here for a pity party. The monarchy is strong, don’t let anyone think otherwise.’ He looks his son up and down. ‘How are things with your betrothed?’

Liam feels a pang in his heart. That’s the only thing his father cares about, visibly, and he’s not about to make the situation worse by opening up. ‘Things are fine. I’m hesitant to go on the tour, though, and to leave you alone here.’

Constantine lets a rare smile show on his face. ‘Don’t stay here on my behalf. Go, do your duty. You will come back here after London and attend the Engagement Ball. I’ll be here.’ He nods decisively.

Liam lets out a long sigh. ‘Alright, Father, as you wish.’

*****

‘Welcome, everyone!’ Drake yells out with a smile, as he opens the front door.

Michael takes in the gorgeousness of the scenery, before grabbing his bag from the Jeep. He shouldn’t feel so relaxed and happy without his daughter around, right? But something feels right around here. No stress, obviously, since he has zero responsibilities, and loving, supportive people surrounding him.

A pang of guilt goes through his chest. He should call Callie. Ever since Sergio passed, it’s been the two of them, always together, getting each other through life. Of course, his parents and in-laws are awesome and always around, but at the end of the day, it’s the two of them, the Hansen-Suarezes.

Drake distributes the rooms. Amara stays with him in his original bedroom, Max and Hana share Drake’s younger sister’s, and Michael is allotted the master bedroom.

‘Make yourself at home, Mike,’ Drake says to him softly. ‘I’ll let you get situated, if you need anything, let me know.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Michael replies gratefully. ‘This is amazing. I’ll be down soon, I wanna check in with my daughter really quickly.’

Drake nods. ‘Of course. Amara and I will be downstairs preparing drinks and snacks.’

Michael puts his bag down and opens it. Most of the clothes inside are too formal, too lawyery, but he notices that Maxwell snuck a couple of outfits in there for him. A note is pinned to a pair of jeans.

They suit you better than they suit me. All yours! :)

Michael smiles warmly. Maxwell never ceases to be thoughtful. He’d have to remember to buy him something as a thank you. Drake could help him sneak out and pick something.

He picks up his phone and dials Jorge’s number. His father-in-law’s warm voice picks up.

‘Hi sweetheart. Is everything ok?’

‘Hi Jorge, I’m doing great, how are you?’

‘Great,’ he says, ‘we’re in the countryside at Drake’s cabin for a couple of days.’

‘Wonderful, dear, is Amara ok too?’

Michael smiles. ‘Doing great, Jorge. You can rest assured, she is very happy here.’

Jorge’s voice lights up. ‘That’s so good to hear.’ He pauses. ‘Callie, sweetie, it’s your daddy. Come chat with him for a bit.’

Michael feels himself regenerate as he talks to his daughter. The conversation is short, it basically revolves around how much she loved going to Dilworth Park with Grampie and Grammy, and how fun it was playing in the fountain. Michael hangs up with a light heart.

He was silly to feel like a bad dad, just because he felt relaxed without her. Ever since Callie was born, he has been a reliable and loving father, who managed to maintain as stable a life for Callie as he could, after Sergio’s death. He juggled all the grueling paperwork, the grief, and the parenting duties, making sure she had enough love, hugs, support, tenderness in her life.

If anyone was good at being a widower, it was Michael. It fucking ruined his life, but he handled it like a champ. Stable in the face of adversity. Always even, only letting his feelings overflow when it came to his sister-in-law, whose grief he could not handle too well.

He had been stable. But not happy.

Of course, Callie makes him happy. She’s the light of his life, and always will be.

But he’d been on autopilot.

Seeing Amara actually thrive as her life got ridiculous and out of control had been eye opening. Maybe he needed that, too. Just for a while.

*****

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[zutsuitriot]

Genderbending Robin Hood Adventure Marian Flies True

While Robin Hood tales have run the gamut from swashbuckling adventure to serious romantic drama to winking parody to dancing foxes, a few constants remain as true as Robin’s shaft-splitting arrow: Robin Hood, master of both archery and disguise, leads his band of Merry Men to rob from the rich and give to the poor. But what if the real treasure that Robin loots from the privileged (that is, men) is opportunity and agency for everyone else (women and gender-nonconforming people)?

Oh, and Robin Hood was Maid Marian the entire time. It’s the kind of delightful twist that could have been the climax of another tale, but playwright Adam Szymkowicz makes it nearly the opening line of Marian, or the True Tale of Robin Hood. And suddenly, just like the anthropomorphic residents of Disney’s Sherwood Forest or the bellowing refrains of “Men in Tights” from Mel Brooks, a new lens is put into place, through which to reevaluate the familiar trappings of this archetypal tale.

Not that Flux Theatre Ensemble’s charming production disregards those familiar trappings: Will Lowry’s set places the audience in the middle of the action as if they had wandered into a Renaissance faire or made a reservation at Medieval Times; the pennants extending into the intimate seating at the New Ohio Theatre has a positively transporting effect. With Lowry having set the stage, Kelly O’Donnell’s excellent direction populates it with the players, their revolving door of entrances and exits the stuff of French farce.

Truth be told, the Robin Hood story is pretty formulaic: rob from the rich and give to the poor, win the archery contest, free the girl, humiliate Prince John. However, Marian brings new dimension to these beats: When lady archer Alanna Dale (Jessica Angleskahn) discovers Robin’s (Becky Byers) true identity as Marian, the rogue invites the lady to stuff her hair under a hat, dress in men’s clothes, and join the Merry Men hiding out in Sherwood Forest… where she promptly falls in love with Will Scarlett (T. Thompson) somewhere between their first sparring and first sentry shift.

Alanna’s initiation into the Merry Men is the tipping point to reveal that most of the Merry Men aren’t actually men, and that there are more than a few arrow-crossed lovers in the ranks. Maid Marian’s capture later in the play is almost secondary to all of the romantic dramas and identity conflicts unfolding; even the guards have affairs! With all of these secretive trysts and constant donning and doffing of disguises, Marian is less Robin Hood retelling than medieval sex farce, with couples snatching brief tête-à-têtes, on constant alert for a guard or Prince John or another Merry Man to walk in on them.

Which is not to say that makeouts are the only action: Marian boasts a number of balletic fight scenes (choreographed by Rocío Mendez) that highlight the bulk or grace of the respective fighters. In addition to these personal touches, there are some truly creative choices with regard to perspective, especially one sequence that involves scaling the castle wall. And I gasped every time an arrow came out of nowhere—that little detail really made me feel as if I were in a Robin Hood adventure.

An amusing aspect that this version retains is the famous romance between Robin and Marian, made even more hilarious by the fact that this “power couple” can never actually be seen in the same room together. Now that’s the kind of Noises Off shenanigans it would have been great to see. Though it’s worth pointing out that the double-casting of Mike Mihm as both Friar Tuck and the Sheriff of Nottingham achieves some of that winking humor: Both are lovers to lady-in-waiting Shirley (Nandita Shenoy), though it’s clear that she’s more smitten with the good Friar. The latter’s pillow talk is one of the play’s surprisingly deep moments, as they discuss the relative sinfulness of greed when it’s not coveting someone else’s possessions but simply wanting better for your own life.

It’s the kind of existential dilemma that Marian could weigh in on, but strangely, we never find out the why behind this genderbending plot twist: Did Marian dream up the Robin Hood persona, or was it bequeathed upon her, à la the Dread Pirate Roberts? How does she account for feminine inconveniences such as her period or the need for hair upkeep? Surely the Merry Men would notice if there were soiled sanitary napkins piling up around camp every month, or extra hairpins and chest bindings lying around. Did she decide to lead a double life because of shortcomings in her life as Marian; if so, why live half of her time as a noblewoman courting Prince John’s affections? Access, most likely, though we only get to see the tail end of one heist that she’s masterminded.

Perhaps my favorite facet of Marian’s character is her reverse-psychology utilization of “feminine wiles”: Whenever Prince John starts getting too handsy, she starts sweetly talking about her period, which has him twisting in revulsion even before she’s gotten into the nitty-gritty. All she has to do is remind this germaphobe prince about the not-so-fun parts of her genitals, and he’s lost any boner. As Prince John, Kevin R. Free is an absolute delight. Yes, he embodies the bumbling ruler through campy sashays and ridiculous cooing to a fake carrier pigeon. But for every shrill order there’s the converse, as he shifts into menacing by dropping an octave and pulling himself up to his full height, reminding you—oh shit, this is the man in charge, we’re in trouble.

Our own lack of access to Marian is somewhat mollified by Alanna frequently stepping outside of the narrative to deliver a running commentary on the action—a framing device that I found at times charming (“I don’t know this yet”) and other times excessive (considering the frequency with which she interrupted the action). As we’ve just learned that Robin isn’t who we thought he was, taking another step away from the archetypal character naturally loses some of the intimacy I was craving. Yet at the same time, it’s wonderful to see that Marian is the rule rather than the exception, to meet other women who possess the same pluck and spine. But Alanna is no mere audience insert; as a(nother!) slyly genderbent take on the minstrel Alan-a-Dale, who pops up in many a classic Robin Hood tale, she ably fulfills the duties of her predecessor.

Further, Alanna’s perspective—bookending moments with “This is my [concerned/in love/etc.] face”—taps into one of the play’s central themes: the duality of self. Prince John allows no one but concubines access to him in his most private moments. Shirley has the same “define the relationship” conversation with both of her paramours, down to the word, but the inflection couldn’t be more different. Just as he hides his sensitivity with brashness, Will Scarlett has a very specific persona he wants the world to see, genitals be damned. Little John (played to perfect sweet dumbness by Jack Horton Gilbert) reconciles his crush on Marian with his love and loyalty for his best friend Robin. Alanna knows that the face she turns toward the world is not reflective of what’s going on inside her head.

It’s a credit to Szymkowicz that Marian isn’t the only character struggling with two selves, but Becky Byers embodies that push-and-pull with aplomb. I’ve seen her age ten years in a day (in Mac Rogers’ The Honeycomb Trilogy), so I was delighted by the perfect casting. Though her chipper Robin, dressed in all green, sometimes leans more Peter Pan, further consideration has made me realize that it’s just a new take on the famous Robin Hood aloofness that makes him so inspiring but also so frustrating. Even when he’s giving so much in terms of riches, he gives away little of himself. Unfortunately, Marian is drawn less clearly; she invokes the same cheery deflection with Prince John, but we know little of her private self… except for one telling line, in a moment of somber self-analysis: “Some of us have to have less so all of us can have more.”

What Marian lacks in nuance, she makes up for as Robin Hood the figurehead, granting permission to everyone else to express their truest desires. The casting of mostly female and trans actors in the Merry Men brings to mind Jaclyn Backhaus’ Men On Boats, but in this case, the play explicitly addresses the queering of traditional notions of gender. The most touching example is that of Much the Miller’s Son (C. Bain), who confesses to the rest of the Merry Men that they don’t feel much like a man—or a woman, for that matter. They request that the name of the group be adjusted to account for not just cisgender men or women in drag (though, hilariously, no one actually knows about the women in their midst), and though no one actually understands why Much made this request, they don’t deny it. Bain’s part is small, but he imbues it with such gravity and earnestness that Much’s desires become intensely relatable.

With a 90-minute running time, Marian both moves too quickly in parts and drags in others, as the story seems designed to fit the timing instead of the other way around. We cover so much ground, with an ending that felt far too rushed in its attempts to both achieve closure but keep the myth going, that the overall effect of this particular story is lessened. In truth, Marian would make an amazing pilot of sorts, the first volume in an ongoing saga. I would love to see it live on as an ongoing series, like The Brick’s monthly soap opera It’s Getting Tired, Mildred or The Flea’s weekly #serials. That way, we could take on the role of Robin Hood’s audience night after night and week after week—right where he wants us.

Marian, or the True Tale of Robin Hood runs through Saturday, February 11 at the New Ohio Theatre. Click here to purchase a Living Ticket!