La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 4, 2008 22:21:29 GMT -5
La Muta watched the small, anxious look that had loomed in his eyes dissipate with the other woman's introduction. Did they know each other? Her curious gaze flicked between the two, and even as the gentleman's charming smile burst into sunny bloom--enough to make any feminine heart flutter--she was still unsure due to the shy manner of the woman. Ah, well. She was in no position to know as much.
After pointing out the three colors, her dark eyes gleamed with anticipation. Ah, to understand a word that he said! A smile broke unrestrained onto her features, and she clapped her hands excitedly with nods of approval. Yes, Italian! Yes! She nodded again as he asked if she had a name. Of course. Most people did. She hadn't met anyone that didn't have one. Well... as far as France knew, she didn't have one. Yet she knew that she did, even if she was the only one that knew it. Her excitement dimmed a bit as he outstretched his palm. She couldn't read or write. She knew a few letters, and perhaps those would help her.
With her doe-eyed shyness returning, she took a step forward and cupped her larger hand with her little, dainty one underneath. With a few moment's hesitation, she placed the tip of her finger on his palm and drew a 'C'. She knew that much because whenever she signed anything she swirled in her initials, 'CC' in elaborate loops to disguise the fact that she could not write her full name.
Her mind raced over ways that she might convey her name to him. She had an idea, but it would take some knowledge of her profession and the commedia dell'arte. She couldn't think straight, however. She stood close enough she imagined she could feel his breath, and the warmth of his hand was seeping comfortingly into her own cold, pinpricked hand beneath it. Her finger lay poised on his palm, a place she knew to be very sensitive. She distinctly recalled the seduction tactics of one notorious older brother involving clever caresses of the hand. Standing here, like this, however innocent it was seemed almost a intimate.
With sudden clarity she swept away from him with one finger held up to signal him to wait, and in her hurry a strand of dark hair came undone from her coif to hang limply on one side of her face. She knelt at the little bag that she used to carry materials and paints and pulled out a beautiful Italian mask out, carrying it to him with unconcealed pride. It was a half-mask that rounded down nicely at the cheeks, extended half-way down the bridge of the nose, and then swept up slightly toward the ears to points. The eye holes had a particular shape, tilted up into points at the outer edges, that would give the wearer an exotic look. The plaster had been manipulated to show raised swirls and decoration, and had been painted to look like silvery metal. The edges were adorned in sparkling silver. This was a recent project of hers, not so good as many others, but lovely nonetheless.
She held it up to him with a clever smile on her face, indicating it with one hand as she displayed it with the other. Her hand swept over the edges, and then indicated the eye-holes, tracing the shape. Her brows raised, hoping that he would understand. Running back quickly with yet another motion to wait, she placed the mask back and returned, brow knit in deep thought. How to show him? Her eyes alight, she suddenly put her hands together and fluttered them about, weaving and stepping a little with it, as if to demonstrate the movements of a bird.
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Post by oscuroangelo on Jun 5, 2008 8:44:54 GMT -5
Raine felt at ease as the monsieur could speak English. That was the language she learned in the orphanage and hardly anyone in France knew it! As La Muta signed that she was Italian she looked on with awe as she began signaling her name. Not very good with the Italian language or hand signals Raine tried to concentrate on was La Muta was showing the monsieur.
Raine smiled as La Muta pulled out an elaborate mask. It was beautiful! She wondered if La Muta made it herself. Again Raine didn't understand what the shape of the eyes had to do with La Muta's name. And then La Muta was signing a bird. Raine didn't understand that either so she started daydreaming about birds. They were so lovely. Raine always wanted a bird to pet and take care of.
Raine realized that she had a big smile on her face and quickly took it off. The orphanage had always discouraged smiling and Raine learned to hardly smile. Smiling showed happiness, and yes Raine was happy here at the Opera Populaire, but she did not feel comfortable yet to leave her shell that she created so many years ago as a child. Quickly looking back at the Monsieur, Raine wondered if he understood was La Muta was saying. She hoped so.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Jul 2, 2008 19:55:50 GMT -5
Angel gave his most welcoming smile he could muster up. He was still thinking that if he made any sudden move that the two might flint off into some hiding space. At least the mute was brave enough to put her hand in his, well actually his hand in hers. He only considered it a brave move for her because some would see this as a wolf luring in a lamb. It was actually that it wasn’t that situation.
The texture on her hand actually surprised him a little. It had the delicateness of a womans hand but with a bit of roughness from working. He wasn’t sure if he liked the feel or not. Most women that he had touched hands with had kept their hands soft, but he liked change and pin pricked hands definitely were different. He hadn’t realized how much he had been wrapped up in how her hand felt until he felt her finger trace two letters on his hand. CC. Her initials? Why didn’t she write her whole name? Could she? Having a very sheltered life it baffled him that someone couldn’t write their name.
As he stared down at her staring at her finger poised in the middle of his palm he wondered at how intriguing this girl was becoming. Sure he’d met women of lower class but this one had something unique about her, besides her being mute, that he couldn’t put his finger on.
Just then she sprinted to her bag and pulled out a mask. Angel tried to comprehend what she was trying to show him. Something about masks, eyes, theater? He was lost. When she started signing a bird flying he was even more lost. Angel glanced and Raine to see if she had an idea but she looked about as lost as he did. His brow furrowed trying to rack his brain for Italian names that were assorted with what she showed.
“Non capisco..?”
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jul 2, 2008 23:00:02 GMT -5
Muta watched him wrack his brain and then when he uttered the words of no understanding, she ceased her pantomime with a voiceless grunting sigh of frustration. Her eyes grew wide immediately and a very humorous look came over her face, one of chagrin, embarrassment, and perhaps some discomfort. Her head lowered slightly like a turtle attempting to hide within a shell and she had bitten both of her lips inside of her mouth. She fluttered her eyelashes a bit in an appeal for mercy. How rude she had been! He had tried, really!
With an apologetic curtsy and eyes to the ground she grabbed up the skirt and pointed to the white within it, then folding it over her elbow, again fluttering her hands like a bird. Honestly, what other bird did one think of that was white? Was there any?
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Jul 3, 2008 2:00:31 GMT -5
Angel had actually felt kind of bad that he wasn’t able to guess her name after she had put all the energy into her charade. All he got was mask, a certain look of the eyes, bird, and it began with a C. Actually that was a lot of clues. Maybe it was because he wasn’t Italian? Did he know any Italian he could ask? Maybe one of his sister’s friends. He gave the girl an apologetic smile and was about to shrug his shoulders when the most humorous expression came over the mutes face.
Was she mocking him or was this the way she showed her emotions? Most likely the latter. It was obvious she was apologizing, for what he didn’t know but he had to cover his mouth in case he would insult her with his extremely amused smile. When she curtsied he was about to say there was no reason for her to apologize to him until she started her charade again.
White and bird again. White bird? Dove?
“Swan!”
That was it! It had to be! Swans were white, birds, had black rather than white feathers around there eyes, and the Italian name was…starts with a C. There was evidence that he was thinking really hard to remember his Italian lessons. When it hit him he nearly had as much as an animated face as the mute did. Angel would look like a complete fool if he got this wrong.
“Cigno?”
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jul 3, 2008 18:43:10 GMT -5
Muta bit her bottom lip and shook her head coyly, a slight smile on her face. He thought that she was talking about a swan? Well... it was white, admittedly, and she wouldn't mind him likening her to swan, but she was definitely referring to a different white bird. She repeated the gesture again, pointing to the white and then fluttering her hands. She stopped afterward and watched him with that same slightly amused smile on her face, but nodding in encouragement. Surely he would get it now?
She had no idea how she would try to portray the rest of her name to him even if he did manage to discover the meaning of this section of the mime. Honestly, these were theatre people! One would think that they would know about the characters of the commedia dell'arte. It was practically the mother of the opera! At least, she thought so. She was no expert on history.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Jul 4, 2008 18:59:05 GMT -5
No? Not Cigno? Well he really did feel quit foolish for his enthusiasm. He would have sworn that the swan fit what she was described. Angel glanced over at Raine looking for a little justification that his guess had been a rationale one. This was quit difficult! Having to communicate with a mute and having to think as if an Italian was something that he had never had to do before. Problem solving was something he loved doing though. So even though he was taken a bit back that he was wrong he wouldn’t let it get to him.
Glancing back at the girl who mimed the bird and giving and encouraging smile. Angel gave a faint smile in return and continued thinking. A white bird. What other white bird started with a C in Italian? Wait the one he said before, dove, started with a C.
“Colomba?”
But that wasn’t all of it he supposed. Where did the mask come in? Doves didn’t have anything special around their eyes…so maybe theater? Italian theater. What did he know about their theater? Not much. Really he hadn’t known much about theater until he became a patron. What was that well know genre? Commedia dell’arte, if he remembered right it was a very popular improvisational theater. Wasn’t one of the characters called something close to Colomba?
“Colombina?”
He asked with a lot less enthusiasm then before. Angel wasn’t even sure if he had his facts straight. If this wasn’t her name then he doubted he’d be able to figure out. Maybe if he went home and did some research he might be able to figure it out. Actually he was surprised by that thought. Never had he tried so hard as to intellectually figure out some ones name.
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jul 6, 2008 2:02:00 GMT -5
So quickly! She was amazed. Her first reaction at the sound of her name was to grin and shower him with praising gestures. The grin faded from her face quickly, though. He sounded so much less enthusiastic! Did he like the name Cigno? It was rather masculine, but... what if he didn't like the name Colombina? She bit her bottom lip and stared at him with her large brown eyes, shining with anticipated rejection. Perhaps she should have let him believe that her name was Cigno.
She averted her eyes to the ground and nodded a bit with a hesitant smile, deciding not to lie. After all, he had worked so hard to find it out. He deserved to at least get the honest answer. Why did she care so much if he liked her name or not, anyway? She wasn't the type to cohort with the aristocracy. She wasn't the type to cohort with anyone.
She gave him a rather pitiful sad look, unable to conceal the helpless emotion that she felt. Did he really dislike her name...? She began to wring her hands, and then with another dramatic curtsy rushed to gather up her things, stuffing the offending skirt that had started the whole affair into her bag. She began to rush off, curtsying a few times in his direction as she went, and then a few times in Raine's.
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Post by Angel Marcellinus on Jul 11, 2008 19:24:05 GMT -5
Angel waited for her to give him her curiously winsome and amusing apologetic smile. The Commedia dell’arte was something that he didn’t know too much about, and didn’t speak Italian fluently. So he was actually surprised that the mute was even putting up with slaughter of her a beautiful language. There was a bit of a bruise on his ego from this. Being excited about figuring out a name, and being sure of everything he was thinking. However he didn’t feel embarrassed as much as he would if he was with his normal circle. Maybe it was because the three of them where all sort of in the same boat.
Wait a grin! Did he guess right? Her grin was different from last smile so maybe he did. Angel’s excitement that he might have got was quickly extinguished though when the grin went away quick enough to where he wondered if he hadn’t just imagined it. Did he get it wrong again? He had been looking down at her doe brown eyes with the same anticipation. When she lowered her eyes from his and nodded her head yes. So wait! But…! Angel was obviously utterly confused. He had guessed right, and she didn’t like it? Didn’t she want him to guess though?
Staring down at the top of her dark head he franticly replayed the last few minutes searching for what in the world bad her become so somber all of a sudden. When she looked back up at him the perplexity went to unnerved. The crestfallen look she was giving him gave him a feeling like someone just pinched his heart. Angel for once in his life was speechless with confusion. It wasn’t until she had darted away to her things and was curtsying her way toward the door did he come out of his stupor. Angel glanced at Raine for a split second before taking a few quick long strides toward the mute.
“Colombina! At…attesa!? I...do…something…bad? I…upset…Colombina?”
There was a genuine concern in his voice, and he hoped that she would stop. A very rare look was on his face, one that was troubled. He’d upset a girl before; when he’d broken their heart or some other silly thing, but this time he felt baffled and even…pained? this time. Maybe it because of that look. That…charming face with sulking frown on those lips and her big doe eyes so woeful. There was a strange unfamiliar twist in his chest.
“I no understand why?”
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jul 13, 2008 17:00:58 GMT -5
Footsteps followed after her as she raced away, the long strides of a tall man. Colombina skidded to a halt as his voice rang out over the rooftop, and she almost thought for a moment that all of Paris would here him from up here. She turned and stared at him, shock written on her face. She hadn't expected that in the least. Her eyes drifted slowly over his expression, the eyebrows drawn slightly together, his deeper breathing, the desperate look in his eyes. She had never seen a man of noble birth this way. Well, no, that wasn't true--she had seen them this way, but never so close up. Never because of her. She was perplexed. Her eyes dropped to her bag for the briefest of moments. Had she accidentally carried off one of his belongings?
Her eyes lifted back to his and then slowly, very slowly, a smile and a blush crept upon her features. Her eyes lowered abruptly in embarrassment, but she still shook her head; a little too enthusiastically, for more hair fell from its coif. Then she smiled coyly up at him again and bit her lower lip, taking in his features one more time. Sweet Mary in Heaven, he was handsome. A prince! Her smile widened and then she quickly covered for herself by pointing to the sinking sun, and then fishing out a little apron from her bag and showing him the patch upon it, which read "Costumes and Masks". The apron had been gifted to her as costuming personnel at the opera. Now she shrugged her shoulder apologetically and gestured back toward the door.
She waited there, not knowing why, just looking at him. She didn't want to rush off just yet--she wanted his permission, almost.
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