fandomhigh | MSND [slowplay]

Entry tags:

play

MSND [slowplay]

The sets are up, the house lights are dimmed, and the play is ready to begin.

[Actual production will be SP'd here. There will be an audience post tomorrow night, so the audience can react to what's going on onstage then. Have fun, go nuts, guys. Chat room is: MSND, but I have school and won't be on until tonight or so. Outline. Please use the scripts you were emailed. Important: ~~DO NOT SKIP AHEAD IN THE PRODUCTION. THERE ARE EVENTS PLANNED~~ OKAY I LIED. Please just post Acts I-III for right now, as there is something planned to happen at the end of Act III. Please just check in on this post to check for a cue.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Scratch my head, Peaseblossom." He tilted it so that it rested still against his lady's skirts, but lay within reach of the fairy girl's fingers. "Where's M'sieur Cobweb?"

Cobweb came forward looking disgruntled and unhappily rubbing a sensitive portion of her anatomy. She shot a glare at Peaseblossom and deliberately shoved her on her way to Bottom.

"Ready," she said, pouting. Honestly, did she *look* like a male? She checked herself out. No, no reason for him to refer to her as M'sieur. She pouted some more.

Peaseblossom scratched Bottom's head dutifully and smirked at Cobweb rubbing herself. Her expression turned to a glare when Cobweb shoved her however. She stuck her tongue out at Cobweb when the other fairy wasn't looking.

"M'sieur Cobweb, good m'sieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle."

If his fingers traced lightly up his lady's skirts and rounded over a soft hip clad in hues more stygian than red, it was merely by way of illustration, of course.

"And, good m'sieur," he drawled, "bring me the honey-bag."

Oh god... came a tiny groan from the boy. I knew it was meant to be dirty.

Niall laughed inwardly, though kept his visage straight. "Do not fret yourself too much in the action, m'sieur," he said both aloud and to his host.

Though if he lowered his head to her lap again, and the feathers of his ass-ears tickled his queen in places Nick Bottom was far too obtuse to see had been open to his invitation, well, that too was just by way of a grand theatrical gesture, was it not?

OH. MY. GOD. THAT IS PARKER. STOP THAT!

At this Niall could not contain a bubble of laughter, though he smothered it quick enough. "Good m'sieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior."

OVERFLOWN? I AM GOING TO DIE!

Titania's breath caught in surprise and arousal, then she expelled it in amusement, and some anger. She combed her finger's through Niall's hair, applying her nails on the downstroke, but did not remove him from her lap. And knowing Niall, he would take that as more invitation, not rejection.

She owed him consideration for promises made, but there was royal dignity to be considered.

Fear not your death of this, boy, Niall chuckled in his mind. Your friend will know the actions were not yours.

You don't know Parker. Fear is always necessary. ~~And kind of a turn-on.~~

Niall snorted, ass-like, and shook his head. What the feathers did was their own business.

"Where's M'sieur Mustardseed?"

Quinn eeps.

"PRINCESS VIOLET BUTTERCUP you skank," she says. "Ready."

Skank?

You don't wanna know.

"Ah yes. Give me your neaf, Princess Buttercup. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good...flower. "

"What's your will?" Quinn recites, and since they can't hear her offstage, she mutters, "Not that I really want to know at this point, but whatever..."

"Nothing, good... princess... but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch." He tilted his head up again, presenting his cheek.

"I must to the barber's, Princess Violet; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch."

Xander was apparently over his fear of death, as all Niall could hear from the depths of his borrowed brain was inane giggling.

Parker was snickering too.

Titania was less amused, the longer this lasted. Because placement of limbs and lips being what they were, this was becoming less seemly by the moment. She glanced downstage, and smiled again, though. Threaten her, would he? Let the boy watch this.

"Oh say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat," spoken in a throaty purr.

Parker was going 'ballistic.' God, make me into a slut-bomb, will you? Jesus! I don't care about your damn husband, cut it out!

"Truly, a peck of provender: I could--"

Oh god. Totally meant to be dirty. Yup. Yet somehow Xander hadn't stopped giggling.

"--munch your good dry oats." Niall lay his cheek flat against his Lady's skirts, and with one hand, lightly stroked her knee. "Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. "

Titania leaned down, and cooed, twirling a finger down the length of his neck, "I have a venturous fairy that shall seek the squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts." And Parker in her mind was both cackling in evil threat, and remembering her love again.

Niall was ever bold, but he would give her cause to punish him soon, did he not restrain wandering hands. Parker's body responded too well to touch, and he would no doubt notice, if this kept on.

"I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas."

If you take a handful of Parker, came the boy's voice to him of a sudden, all laughter gone missing, I will HURT you. And not because I'm scared for my life. Leave her alone.

One of his stolen eyebrows rose, though he gave the child no more response. This was no threat to bow to, but Niall had planned to stop his antics where they stood, already, for there was trying the patience of one's liege, and there was failing it.

"But, I pray you," he merely said mildly as he rested his head again, and stilled his hands, "let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me."

And Xander's eyes closed, or closed to slits at least, as he feigned slumber.

"Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms." The Queen drew Niall up to the couch with her, and ran her hands up his chest, leaning over him, pushing him backward.

Funny, that the girl in her mind was raging at that as well. He is not some fairy gigolo, damn you!

Do you fear what your lover would say?

Jarod's not my lover. Oh, bitterness there. And keep your hands above the waist, damnit!

To still the shrieking, Titania merely stretched herself along Niall's body, but kept her arms looped around his neck, not seeking out other, more congenial locations.

She waved to her courtiers, sparing another glare for the strange Violet.
"Fairies, begone, and be all ways away."

And Oberon must see this, by now. How would he take this? And did she still want his anger, after all that had occurred?

Almost her last lines in this pantomime, and did she have what she wanted?

Perhaps this boy, as consolation--

snarrrrrrlll

Or perhaps not.

"So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle gently entwist." One leg between his, her head on his chest, fingers idly caressing the stud in his ear. "The female ivy so enrings the barky fingers of the elm." Titania closed her eyes, ignoring her host's discomfort with the position, and turning her face away from Niall's, but smiling all the while.

"O, how I love thee! How I dote on thee!"

Oh, Oberon. What fools immortals be.

Oberon walked out of the darkness and looked genuinely moved to pity. Titania usually chose her lovers well but it was time to assert his right.

Or at least appear to as the script demanded.

Puck arrived at his arm and he smiled kindly at the sprite. "Welcome, good Robin," and he ruffled her hair before advancing upon the couple entwined on the stage.

"See'st thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity: For, meeting her of late behind the wood, seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her; For she his hairy temples then had rounded with a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes like tears that did their own disgrace bewail."

He spoke the poetry in even tones, watching the form of his queen's host and seeing her true form in his mind's eye, reveling yet again in her beauty and perfection.

"When I had at my pleasure taunted her and she in mild terms begg'd my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child; which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent to bear him to my bower in fairy land."

The boy grew to be one of his best generals, he thought. Dead now, these three centuries. But well mourned.

"And now I have the boy, I will undo this hateful imperfection of her eyes." He said the words softly, gaze lingering on the slightly parted lips of his lady.

He turned his attention to Puck -- "And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp from off the head of this Athenian swain; that, he awaking when the other do, may all to Athens back again repair and think no more of this night's accidents but as the fierce vexation of a dream," he said dreamily, reveling in the poetic magic of the scene.

"But first," he continued, "I will release the fairy queen."

Leaning over her, he tilted her face up, her closed eyes facing the rafters in the ceiling above. And in that sing song voice of the sweetest of spells, he intoned, "Be as thou wast wont to be; see as thou wast wont to see: Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen." And he lowered his face to lightly kiss her lips.

Titania opened her eyes, clear and calm, and smiled at her husband.

"My Oberon! What visions have I seen!" Truer than she would like, with the news she had to tell. She mimed a yawn, and stretched her hand out to him to be assisted up. "Methought I was enamour'd of an ass." The wicked smile she gave him might lead one to believe she referred to himself, if you were paying attention.

He gave her a sardonic smirk as he took her meaning and then gestured to the ass-headed creature still wrapped in her arms. "There lies your love," he replied prettily, a small ounce of joy in his tone.

She feigned a shudder, and turned her head away."How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!" And Niall would have to forgive her this. No doubt she would make it up to him much later on, but for now, she and Oberon needed to have speech. She squeezed his fingers, and tried to put into her smile some ounce of urgency, that he might take her meaning here on the dark and electric torch-lit stage.

He laughed for a moment before quietly ordering, "Silence awhile," while he helped her up and away from the sleeping Bottom. Puck busily removed his ass head and brought him back to his true form.

With his Titania back on her feet, he twirled her once and then smoothed her dress for her, adjusting her hair in gentle caresses and leaving a kiss on her eyelid, the corner of her mouth and the nape of her neck.

The 'flashlight' she held was directed upward, and then quickly away. Affectionate now, when not before? You must have done enough mischief to satisfy you, for now. And while it would be repaid, she was willing to let this go. The pool of light at her feet would not be enough for the audience to see by, as she raised her arms to encircle his shoulders.

Through the human hosts, Oberon kissed his wife, his queen, his most essential friend and enemy. Her lips were shockingly warm in human form and he felt like he was melting into her embrace. Gripping her tightly in his arms, he felt an age go by as they kissed, a simple and neverending passion.

Awareness of old grief so recently made new, inspired her to kiss her husband more fiercely than was her wont. If Dream might die, Titania could too. Oberon might fade-- no. She dropped her flashlight, hearing it roll away in the dark, and cupped his face between both her hands, opening her mouth under his, feeling his pulse along his jaw, and her own host's body still and then melt.

I don't want--

You do, child. Let this occur. You shall not suffer for it. No lasting harm. I did promise...

Lee--

You can do nothing for him, and he must want this too, or does not know. You want this. Let your Jarod see what you can feel. He said to do whatever you must....

And there was a spark, there, and Titania felt limbs loosen, and fire start to burn.

He had the great urge to take matters into his own hands at this point but he remembered the audience, remembered the play and calmed his disquiet and need for union.

"Come, my queen, take hands with me," he cooed, taking both of her hands and kissing each palm. "And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be."

Pulling her back into his arms and facing the audience now, he continued, "Now thou and I are new in amity. Then, my queen, in silence sad, trip we after the night's shade: We the globe can compass soon, swifter than the wandering moon."

She let the girl have these last lines, sardonic as they were, leaning into him in the shadowy light from the mis-aimed torches.

"Come, my lord, and in our flight, tell me how it came this night-- that I sleeping here was found, with these mortals on the ground." Another kiss, fast along his jaw, and then she took his hand to lead him into the wings (http://community.livejournal.com/fandomhigh/722255.html?thread=34884943#t34884943).

Re: ACT IV, Scene I

soldtoarmenians - 2006-03-19 23:34 (UTC) - Expand

Re: ACT IV, Scene I

ihatedenmark.livejournal.com - 2006-03-20 00:11 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only