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Dec. 23rd, 2011 05:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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metem_logsCharacters: EVERYONE!
Date/Time: Yule
Location: La Theâtre Jeu Ancien
Rating: Probably nothing too bad... PG-13 at worst?
Warnings: Possibly language
Summary: The godlings give their performance!
The theatre was dark for now. Though it was a fairly good-sized audience chamber, only two figures were seated there, both in shadow. Their features could not be determined, but one seemed decidedly feminine, and the other decidedly masculine--with a certain aura of malevolence. Both watched the stage with interest, which was set to show the office of the counting house at the moment, the characters of Scrooge and Bob Cratchit already in place.
As the lights began to come up, Nigel's voice boomed over the theatre:
"Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.
The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot -- say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance -- literally to astonish his son's weak mind.
Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.
Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"
But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge."
Date/Time: Yule
Location: La Theâtre Jeu Ancien
Rating: Probably nothing too bad... PG-13 at worst?
Warnings: Possibly language
Summary: The godlings give their performance!
The theatre was dark for now. Though it was a fairly good-sized audience chamber, only two figures were seated there, both in shadow. Their features could not be determined, but one seemed decidedly feminine, and the other decidedly masculine--with a certain aura of malevolence. Both watched the stage with interest, which was set to show the office of the counting house at the moment, the characters of Scrooge and Bob Cratchit already in place.
As the lights began to come up, Nigel's voice boomed over the theatre:
"Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnised it with an undoubted bargain.
The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point I started from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot -- say Saint Paul's Churchyard for instance -- literally to astonish his son's weak mind.
Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: it was all the same to him.
Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.
External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge never did.
Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"
But what did Scrooge care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call "nuts" to Scrooge."
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Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:28 am (UTC)"That's a dirty trick, Aphrodite," he murmured in a low voice when she came close enough to hear him.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:33 am (UTC)Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:36 am (UTC)Yes... That's right... You can all feel that, can't you? Go ahead... give in... he urged wordlessly from where he sat.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:49 am (UTC)Melpomene did not like being manipulated. She held on to that, and tightened her hold on Erato's waist. Though she wasn't sure if it was to keep Erato in check, or herself.
"Something screwy is going on here." She whispered it for Erato and Urania's ears only, even though she felt she was stating the obvious.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:58 am (UTC)"It... it's him," she murmured breathlessly.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 12:09 pm (UTC)Something decidedly unfair
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 08:55 pm (UTC)But the show business man in him decided to use that fervor to his advantage. He took Sigyn's hand in his and bellowed cheerfully in character, "It appears everyone has assembled! Come now, let the merriment begin!" Turning to an invisible band of musicians, he shouted, "Fiddler!"
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 09:32 pm (UTC)Coming up behind Esther and Lilith, he handed them a party cracker, the sort that needed to be pulled apart by strings.
"For you two to share," he said in a low voice.
He gave another one to the three Egyptians as well, and then seemed to disappear into the crowd.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 10:00 pm (UTC)So when Nigel offered her and Esther the party cracker, she kept her hands to herself and let Esther take it. She fanned herself furiously, trying to cool her own blood down. "I don't feel right, Esther." She finally looked at her friend directly and her eyes latched onto Esther's mouth. It was such a lovely shape. Lilith wondered if Esther had ever been inclined towards girls. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Taking as deep a breath as she could manage. "For the love of everything, please tell me you are straighter than an arrow."
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:04 pm (UTC)She then looked at the cracker Nigel had given them.
"Well? Shall we see what this does?"
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:15 pm (UTC)"Okay, just don't touch me, and we should be good." She took one end of the cracker and was very careful not to touch Esther's hand.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:30 pm (UTC)"I'm... not completely sure who they all are," she admitted, not really knowing the characters, or the Greeks, very well, "But they must have abilities that work with yours. ...I suppose it's a good thing I'm only human."
Meanwhile, Esther carefully took the other string, and tugged. The cracker burst open with a cheerful pop!, emitting bits of confetti... and one small bit of rolled-up parchment. Frowning, Esther picked it up and unfurled it.
"What's this? 'Seek Paradise where it all began where living waters were said to flow.' What is that supposed to mean?" she wondered aloud, reading off the parchment.
Re: Stave 2
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Date: 2012-01-02 10:04 pm (UTC)He motioned to Triton and to Aphrodite to come toward him. "My children," he called out cheerfully, "come here."
He admired them with a commendable fatherly look. "Ebeneezer, I would like for you to meet Belle."
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:19 pm (UTC)Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-03 12:53 am (UTC)"Likewise, Miss Belle." He carefully, lightly ghosted a kiss over her hand, and swept her into a dance. He tried to not look directly at Aphrodite, fighting hard to remain in control of himself, despite her influence.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-03 05:04 am (UTC)However, he wasn't really watching where he was going--more concerned with avoiding her gaze and not running into the other people on the stage. Aphrodite, however, was, and ever so subtly steered their path. When he finally stopped, she smirked at him. Above their heads was a plump ball of mistletoe.
"You dance beautifully, Ebenezer," she cooed, "Though it seems perhaps you had more than dancing on your mind?"
Re: Stave 2
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Date: 2012-01-03 01:18 am (UTC)Tara flashed Seth a grin and pulled on the party cracker.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-03 03:35 am (UTC)"Let's see... 'Among the desert lights, Egypt will shine again.' How is that for obvious?"
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-03 03:38 am (UTC)Re: Stave 2
From:Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:17 pm (UTC)Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:39 pm (UTC)Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-02 11:48 pm (UTC)"Just stay with me. I'll keep you safe."
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-03 01:08 am (UTC)"Um, Mel... You're my sister, and I love you, but... I-I'm not so sure it's a good idea to be holding me like that," she said in a small voice, biting her lower lip.
Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-03 01:30 am (UTC)Re: Stave 2
Date: 2012-01-03 02:14 am (UTC)Re: Stave 2
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