Post by Alora on Oct 19, 2008 9:07:25 GMT -8
The World was but a stage.
All of england had read their reviews in the papers, all of England knew who they were, but none of them knew what to expect from any of their Live performances.
Ginger-headed Lucy, who’s family had come from Ireland but two generations ago, wasn’t surprised by their rave reviews in the papers that summer of 1901.
“We are brilliant!” She exclaimed as the five of them rode in their cramped black carriage, drawn by an old grey mule with black speckles, “Read here- They call us ‘Something to be feared’- See that? The other theatre groups have some fierce competition! Eh, Luke?” She grinned, her freckles being pushed closer to her wide sapphire-blue eyes. She handed the paper over to the boy with unkept sandy brown hair staring out the window.
Although Luke did not speak often, one could tell a lot about his character from his eyes. They were green about the iris but brown outside of that ring, with heavy eyelids and curled lashes. He wore a simple black peasants cap and wrinkled dark grey slacks, held by a belt made of leather at his thin waist. His shirt was stained with speckles of that morning’s breakfast. As the afternoon was surprisingly warm and sunny by english standards, his jacket lay across his lap.
Luke took the paper from Lucy and read the small print of the seven-line article quickly. “Scandalous...” He said in a lowly tone, that single word escaping his lips.
“How so?” Inquired Motley, the boy facing him on the other bench of the carriage. His natural bleach-blond hair was combed in the back and not in the front as oft was the case. He took the paper from Luke and his eyes skittered across the page. “Lucy you have the worst interpretation skills I have yet to see in a broad such as yourself.” He told the enthusiastic ginger with a shake of the head. He pushed his large glasses up further along his nose.
“‘Something to be feared’ was an insult- Not directed at the competition but at the people! They are telling the commoners not to watch our performances! Away with the audience!” He waved his hands in the air dramatically, frowning with disapproval.
Lucy jumped up to defend herself, standing up in the cramped space and hitting her head off the ceiling and nearly falling forward in the moving carriage, “I Object! I am no broad!” She declared as she wobbled.
“Sit down! Before you hurt yourself.” said a voice owned by a tall boy in the opposite corner. He had jet black hair and a deathly pale complexion. His eyes were dark and his suit was tidy. He seemed the most dignified of all the men in the wagon, and it was well known he had the most wealth. He was the troop’s lead actor, Peter.
“It doesn’t matter whether the critics give us a bad name or not. Those who have seen us would have different opinions. Don’t let the press get you down, I always say. And besides... It isn’t as if we would let them stop us from putting on a good show. Is it?” Peter argued, the words leaving Lucy speechless and uncomfortable.
Motley laughed a bit and turned to the girl sitting between himself and Peter, “Peter’s right, but what say you in the issue of the press, Jacqueline?” He inquired in a conversationalist manner.
Jacqueline’s prized possession was her long chestnut brown hair. She hadn’t cut it once in her seventeen years. It was done up in a bun at the back of her head. It was beautiful and well kept, brushed three times a day and washed every other evening. When let down it was curled in waves and was long enough to touch the side of her hip. It was the envy of all who saw her, and she prized it above all else.
“I feel that the Press hasn’t done us justice in the past few years, but as it stands, I feel we could turn their view around... What is our next show, Lucy? Luke?” Jacqueline wondered, her voice was shy and unassuming. For the lead Actress, she wasn’t as boisterous as one would expect from her characters.
Lucy flattened out her cream dress with her pale gloves, and turned to Luke for support, “Well. I was thinking of putting on a deviant from a shakespearean. Perhaps Hamlet, or King Lear. Only we would make it a bit more modern, eh?”
Luke had his eyes turned towards the window, and didn’t look as if he would be much help in the situation. Outside, they could see the train travel rapidly past, parallel to them. The town they approached was booming with industry, and the smoke rose from the work-houses, fueled only by the austere heat.
For a few moments they all sat there in the carriage, listening to the rumble of the wheels traveling over bumps and potholes, the mule quietly going at a moderately slow pace. It allowed them all to think for a while, to see the next town in their minds eye.
“Conspiracy.” Luke said finally, breaking the silence.
Lucy perked up immediately, “Brilliant, Luke, simply Brilliant!” She clapped her hands together, “We will be officials from a foreign government, on our way to london on a strictly top-secret mission! Perhaps there will be spies, and suspicions of Heresy! The town will talk about us for months!”
“Lucy, that is far too brash!” Peter remarked, “We have no documents to convince, and I am not forging them on your behalf. We would be convicted!”
“Surely you mustn’t see it the same way I do. It is a prop Peter, a simple Prop!” Lucy argued.
“Are we near Durham yet?” Interrupted Jacqueline purposefully, looking around the group for an answer.
Motley smiled, “I’d say we are quite near...” He replied, pushing his glasses upwards again, and turning his head to look out the window. “Not more than another four to five minutes on my watch...”
All of england had read their reviews in the papers, all of England knew who they were, but none of them knew what to expect from any of their Live performances.
Ginger-headed Lucy, who’s family had come from Ireland but two generations ago, wasn’t surprised by their rave reviews in the papers that summer of 1901.
“We are brilliant!” She exclaimed as the five of them rode in their cramped black carriage, drawn by an old grey mule with black speckles, “Read here- They call us ‘Something to be feared’- See that? The other theatre groups have some fierce competition! Eh, Luke?” She grinned, her freckles being pushed closer to her wide sapphire-blue eyes. She handed the paper over to the boy with unkept sandy brown hair staring out the window.
Although Luke did not speak often, one could tell a lot about his character from his eyes. They were green about the iris but brown outside of that ring, with heavy eyelids and curled lashes. He wore a simple black peasants cap and wrinkled dark grey slacks, held by a belt made of leather at his thin waist. His shirt was stained with speckles of that morning’s breakfast. As the afternoon was surprisingly warm and sunny by english standards, his jacket lay across his lap.
Luke took the paper from Lucy and read the small print of the seven-line article quickly. “Scandalous...” He said in a lowly tone, that single word escaping his lips.
“How so?” Inquired Motley, the boy facing him on the other bench of the carriage. His natural bleach-blond hair was combed in the back and not in the front as oft was the case. He took the paper from Luke and his eyes skittered across the page. “Lucy you have the worst interpretation skills I have yet to see in a broad such as yourself.” He told the enthusiastic ginger with a shake of the head. He pushed his large glasses up further along his nose.
“‘Something to be feared’ was an insult- Not directed at the competition but at the people! They are telling the commoners not to watch our performances! Away with the audience!” He waved his hands in the air dramatically, frowning with disapproval.
Lucy jumped up to defend herself, standing up in the cramped space and hitting her head off the ceiling and nearly falling forward in the moving carriage, “I Object! I am no broad!” She declared as she wobbled.
“Sit down! Before you hurt yourself.” said a voice owned by a tall boy in the opposite corner. He had jet black hair and a deathly pale complexion. His eyes were dark and his suit was tidy. He seemed the most dignified of all the men in the wagon, and it was well known he had the most wealth. He was the troop’s lead actor, Peter.
“It doesn’t matter whether the critics give us a bad name or not. Those who have seen us would have different opinions. Don’t let the press get you down, I always say. And besides... It isn’t as if we would let them stop us from putting on a good show. Is it?” Peter argued, the words leaving Lucy speechless and uncomfortable.
Motley laughed a bit and turned to the girl sitting between himself and Peter, “Peter’s right, but what say you in the issue of the press, Jacqueline?” He inquired in a conversationalist manner.
Jacqueline’s prized possession was her long chestnut brown hair. She hadn’t cut it once in her seventeen years. It was done up in a bun at the back of her head. It was beautiful and well kept, brushed three times a day and washed every other evening. When let down it was curled in waves and was long enough to touch the side of her hip. It was the envy of all who saw her, and she prized it above all else.
“I feel that the Press hasn’t done us justice in the past few years, but as it stands, I feel we could turn their view around... What is our next show, Lucy? Luke?” Jacqueline wondered, her voice was shy and unassuming. For the lead Actress, she wasn’t as boisterous as one would expect from her characters.
Lucy flattened out her cream dress with her pale gloves, and turned to Luke for support, “Well. I was thinking of putting on a deviant from a shakespearean. Perhaps Hamlet, or King Lear. Only we would make it a bit more modern, eh?”
Luke had his eyes turned towards the window, and didn’t look as if he would be much help in the situation. Outside, they could see the train travel rapidly past, parallel to them. The town they approached was booming with industry, and the smoke rose from the work-houses, fueled only by the austere heat.
For a few moments they all sat there in the carriage, listening to the rumble of the wheels traveling over bumps and potholes, the mule quietly going at a moderately slow pace. It allowed them all to think for a while, to see the next town in their minds eye.
“Conspiracy.” Luke said finally, breaking the silence.
Lucy perked up immediately, “Brilliant, Luke, simply Brilliant!” She clapped her hands together, “We will be officials from a foreign government, on our way to london on a strictly top-secret mission! Perhaps there will be spies, and suspicions of Heresy! The town will talk about us for months!”
“Lucy, that is far too brash!” Peter remarked, “We have no documents to convince, and I am not forging them on your behalf. We would be convicted!”
“Surely you mustn’t see it the same way I do. It is a prop Peter, a simple Prop!” Lucy argued.
“Are we near Durham yet?” Interrupted Jacqueline purposefully, looking around the group for an answer.
Motley smiled, “I’d say we are quite near...” He replied, pushing his glasses upwards again, and turning his head to look out the window. “Not more than another four to five minutes on my watch...”