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Post by mintedstar/fur on Feb 19, 2022 23:54:47 GMT -5
Myrnin looked at the audience and then at the stage, but found himself focusing on Orpheus the most. It was a bit like watching someone with knives in their back walk. And he found himself hurrying forward, hesitating, and then lightly letting his hand fall to Orpheus’ shoulder.
Then, almost to make it seem like a natural gesture, he pointed to an empty space high up in the seats.
“What about that?” he asked. “That looks like a good spot.”
It would at least give them space.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Mar 20, 2022 19:17:23 GMT -5
This was true. But Myrnin wasn’t inclined to switch just yet. It seemed like it was good enough. He settled down and then glanced at Orpheus to see if that was what he would do as well. Then he looked out at the place where the show would begin, patiently waiting to maybe have something return to his life.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Mar 29, 2022 1:21:18 GMT -5
The lights dimmed after a long moment, the candles that had been lighting the theatre extinguished with a dramatic flourish of the narrator’s hand. He stepped forward, a mask obscuring his features as he began to tell the tale. The actors moved across the stage with an almost otherworldly grace. They were weaving a story, as they always did, and it was an art they were skilled with. Orpheus couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that flooded through him - he missed the ability to make music, even though it had only been a few weeks at most since he had last allowed music to flow through his mind.
The play was… strange. Stranger than most things Orpheus had seen, though he hadn’t paid much attention to plays before.
“What’s… a TARDIS?” he asked Myrnin under his breath, frowning at the unfamiliar term the narrator spoke. It was hard to tell with the mask, but he seemed to be speaking directly at the two of them.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Apr 30, 2022 1:45:13 GMT -5
Myrnin was bristling. Bristling and half standing up. "Master?" he half called. There were a couple grumbles from the crowd and no reaction from the stage. Myrnin looked at it though like the play put on was one made by ghosts.
"What's going on?" he asked Orpheus. He couldn't work it out, he could only tell it was wrong.
It was just that ... why was it saying things that related to him?
"It's ... it's how I got here," he said, still standing partway standing up.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Jul 12, 2022 15:44:47 GMT -5
“No, no,” said Myrnin, his voice growing worryingly distant. He brought his hand close to his mouth and started to bite at his own fingernails. If this was a message from the gods, he did not know what to think about these gods. Only that he wished they would tell him himself.
Now he looked at Orpheus again, mouthing, “Do you know any of this?” He had to, didn’t he? Some of this had to make sense, didn’t it? Why else would this be what was being said? Surely someone would know.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Sept 29, 2022 20:48:58 GMT -5
(Bump.)
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