Post by Sayvahn on Jul 26, 2016 3:32:19 GMT
Takes place shortly after the end of Slow Days, before the lifting of the Martial Law
Open to Edgar Anapello
Perhaps it was ill fate, or poor judgment, that Aida tried out as a dancer for the opera that she had derived her name from. The large Verdi piece had finally been released to Lodan, and due to its size, it called upon a much larger cast than normal. The competition for it was great— auditions lasted for weeks until at last, decisions were made. The dancer was on the fence about it, overall. In the first place, it was unlikely she would get a part. Her voice was not meant for singing, especially the cords meant to be struck in the opera, but hopefully, she could get a minor, non singing role. An opera this big (and this long) would surely earn quite a bit of money, let alone prestige. It would be a great break for the feline dancer, and well, a lot was riding on this.
For a long time now, Sayvahn was staying in the dance studio, resting before his classes on a couch, tucked away in the back. Relying on friends for accommodation had gone south rather quickly, after all, very few wanted a fugitive, let alone one that found it so easy to switch between the personas of a man and a woman. They could stand certain levels of “debauchery” but not the level that Sayvahn was relaying, it seemed. Thus, the blonde needed to participate in this play, if not to gain further roles, but to hopefully earn enough money to get some sort of living arrangement.
Luckily, fate enabled the dancer some relief. The older woman was hired to be one of the ceremonial dancers during one of the main group dancing scenes, and although it was not a large roll, it still would help monetary wise, especially when not even after a week of the tickets being open, they had sold out.
“It’s no wonder.” People would say. The play was supposedly already being labeled a classic— a piece that would long outlive its time, especially since it was done by the renowned Verdi. Tickets were expensive, and much sought out for and well, it was the opera of the decade. Even a minor role like the feline’s could easily score a fair amount of money with each showing.
Yet, something plucked at the edges of Aida’s brain— it was a face, a voice, a smile, that she had often seen in the crowd, that, after the show, would talk to her, ever so sweetly, even if only for a moment. Perhaps, he would like to come see this show? But again, the show was sold out, and to expect him to be able to afford, or well, be willing to spend so much money on a ticket was, well, too far fetched.
But, perhaps, if they were offered free of charge, the poet would accept them?
Finding tickets was not hard. There were always some left for reserve— for some extra guest not called for. Yet, purchasing them was a different issue all together.
“They’re how much?” Sayvahn stuttered, and again, the number was given. Frowning, Sayvahn debated if the purchase would be worth it after all. But, well, maybe it was. Again, the weight of Edgar’s smile relieved Sayvahn’s heart a bit, and, with a weak smile, offered up the sum.
As the date of the show neared, Sayvahn slipped the ticket underneath Edgar’s shop door, knowing faintly by now that his apartment was on the upper story of it. It would be too much to ask to see the man in person— but well, hopefully he would get the message:
On this upcoming night, I will be a dancer in the Verdi piece. Please, come, and when the night is over, my dear poet, come visit me.
Sincerely,
Aida
And with that, only time would tell if the younger feline would.
Open to Edgar Anapello
Perhaps it was ill fate, or poor judgment, that Aida tried out as a dancer for the opera that she had derived her name from. The large Verdi piece had finally been released to Lodan, and due to its size, it called upon a much larger cast than normal. The competition for it was great— auditions lasted for weeks until at last, decisions were made. The dancer was on the fence about it, overall. In the first place, it was unlikely she would get a part. Her voice was not meant for singing, especially the cords meant to be struck in the opera, but hopefully, she could get a minor, non singing role. An opera this big (and this long) would surely earn quite a bit of money, let alone prestige. It would be a great break for the feline dancer, and well, a lot was riding on this.
For a long time now, Sayvahn was staying in the dance studio, resting before his classes on a couch, tucked away in the back. Relying on friends for accommodation had gone south rather quickly, after all, very few wanted a fugitive, let alone one that found it so easy to switch between the personas of a man and a woman. They could stand certain levels of “debauchery” but not the level that Sayvahn was relaying, it seemed. Thus, the blonde needed to participate in this play, if not to gain further roles, but to hopefully earn enough money to get some sort of living arrangement.
Luckily, fate enabled the dancer some relief. The older woman was hired to be one of the ceremonial dancers during one of the main group dancing scenes, and although it was not a large roll, it still would help monetary wise, especially when not even after a week of the tickets being open, they had sold out.
“It’s no wonder.” People would say. The play was supposedly already being labeled a classic— a piece that would long outlive its time, especially since it was done by the renowned Verdi. Tickets were expensive, and much sought out for and well, it was the opera of the decade. Even a minor role like the feline’s could easily score a fair amount of money with each showing.
Yet, something plucked at the edges of Aida’s brain— it was a face, a voice, a smile, that she had often seen in the crowd, that, after the show, would talk to her, ever so sweetly, even if only for a moment. Perhaps, he would like to come see this show? But again, the show was sold out, and to expect him to be able to afford, or well, be willing to spend so much money on a ticket was, well, too far fetched.
But, perhaps, if they were offered free of charge, the poet would accept them?
Finding tickets was not hard. There were always some left for reserve— for some extra guest not called for. Yet, purchasing them was a different issue all together.
“They’re how much?” Sayvahn stuttered, and again, the number was given. Frowning, Sayvahn debated if the purchase would be worth it after all. But, well, maybe it was. Again, the weight of Edgar’s smile relieved Sayvahn’s heart a bit, and, with a weak smile, offered up the sum.
As the date of the show neared, Sayvahn slipped the ticket underneath Edgar’s shop door, knowing faintly by now that his apartment was on the upper story of it. It would be too much to ask to see the man in person— but well, hopefully he would get the message:
On this upcoming night, I will be a dancer in the Verdi piece. Please, come, and when the night is over, my dear poet, come visit me.
Sincerely,
Aida
And with that, only time would tell if the younger feline would.