La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on May 26, 2008 16:20:39 GMT -5
La Muta lifted her filthy skirt daintily as she stepped down from the last step onto the equally filthy floor of the prop room. As she had gathered from some wild gesturing and a picking of Italian words, several old costumes were stored down below in the musty old prop room, which as she could now see served more of the purpose of a large trash bin than that of a room for recyclable materials.
She had half a mind now, looking around, to turn back. This was surely a prank. Taking in a deep breath and then coughing as dust invaded her lungs, she pushed the thought aside and went to her duty of locating, dusting off, organizing, and at times making small repairs on various costumes. The dark and dust pressed in on her, and if not for the way that she had sunk deeply and singularly into her work she might have succumbed to the chills that crept up her spine and then flew away into the dank air like bats.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 1, 2008 5:01:11 GMT -5
There had to be a way to learn one's way around this opera house without a map. So many people did it in one day. Hundreds, maybe thousands had managed at some point or another to navigate the maze of the backstage areas without getting lost. Surely after a year one could assume they knew the way to one place from another, surely from the costumers area to the dormitories would be easy enough, but no. Liana had to be the one girl in the Populaire who could be there for a good year or two and still get lost. She had to be the one girl who had no sense of direction, merely just a head for getting lost. She didn't even have a book in front of her today and she was lost. She almost felt like crying at her own hopelessness, but she merely just walked down the halls of the Populaire hoping she could find her way.
The worst of it was there was practically no one in the halls. There were no rehersals today. There was nothing pressing as the show was so far away and so many things had yet to be refined before they could start setting blocking and finalizing anything as a full cast. Everyone had abandoned the house for the brilliant entertainments of Paris, or for personal buisness. Either that or they had all scuttled away for a holiday of some sort in the more secluded areas of the opera house. No matter what they did, she could not find a soul to ask for directions so she was left opening and closing doors to find out where she was.
Unfortunately, one of the doors she opened led to a darker area. She knew that the dormitories would not be dark, but as she leaned forward to check to see if there was perhaps a soul that could help her, Liana's greatest fault took hold: gravity. She leaned in a little too far, lost her balance and tumbled down the stairs into a darker area with a musty fragrence in the air. She had never been in this part of the Populaire, that was for sure. At least there was no one here to see her do that. Not that she could see at least. All Liana could see were a bunch of old costumes and piles of used and forgotten props everywhere. It was a real mess, but at least it wouldn't laugh at her for falling. Then again, a pile of old junk wouldn't exactly help her find her way right now either....
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 4, 2008 22:50:10 GMT -5
La Muta heard the tap of feminine footsteps against the floors in the halls, and then the opening of the door to the prop room. She paused half-way through brushing dust and webs from a once-white dress that she was sure had been meant as a bride costume. There were terrible little fake pearls embroidered distastefully about the neckline, and no where else. She shook her head at the poor piece, clucking her tongue sadly. She could spruce it up, though, she knew. How lovely she could make it! It was the wrong period for the upcoming opera, but refurnishing the thing would be a long-term investment best started now for the benefit of the next opera.
A bang and rattling jolted her, making her stand quickly and stare at the racks and wooden sets that blocked her view of the door. After a few moments of strained nerves, she folded the dress with uncanny quickness to place on a wooden crate, and then picked up her lantern to make her way through the maze of props to see what had caused such a noise. As she came around a bend and the light fell upon a figure on the floor, her heart leaped into her throat and she jumped. After the moment's shock, though, she was able to discern a bashful female countenance and race with quick sympathy to assist the girl.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 7, 2008 2:53:51 GMT -5
Murphy's law had struck again. Anything that could possibly go wrong right now would go wrong. First she got lost, then she opened the wrong door and leaned in a little too far, then she fell, and now someone had seen her fall. Of course, the person had been a bit afraid of her at first judging from the figure jumping. At least things hadn't gone completely wrong. It wasn't a ghost or a phantom. It hadn't been a stagehand. God knows what a stagehand could have done down here given a situation like this. She would have been in trouble then. No, she was safe for now. It looked like some other poor girl or another. She wasn't sure what the other woman was doing down here. At the moment, as selfish as she knew she sounded, Liana didn't really care. She was too consumed with the dull ache in her left ankel and the soreness in her back from the fall. She was used to that kind of pain though considering how common place this kind of care was. It followed then that she should be used to people pitying her afterward. This woman certaintly was.
As the other woman offered her hand, Liana took it, greatful that the light was dim and therefore her companion couldn't see the bright pink flush crawling up Liana's cheeks. It was funny. Liana was really beginning to think that this little quirk of hers was a curse of some kind. She always seemed to fall at just the wrong moment these days. Or in front of people. It just always worked out against her favor. Then again, last time she had tripped it hadn't completely worked against her. Maybe this time it would lead to something intriuging too.
This room for instance was interesting. Liana had never been down here before. By the dim light Liana could see a few old props and racks upon racks of old costumes. Well, at least she figured out she was in the prop room now, but that didn't help her to dicipher who the woman in front of her was. She probably had something to do with props or costumes. More likely costumes as it would be stagehands who were in charge of props and no decent woman would be daft enough to do that. Liana would not bring it up though. She merely tried to control her blush figuring the woman would introduce herself and forced a smile smile. "Thank you. I...I'm very clumbsy."
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 9, 2008 0:55:38 GMT -5
Muta was in a terrible state, having no clue what to do--she was very rarely confronted with a situation in which she had to deal with the endless other boarders of the Populaire. She could hardly understand a word of French, and couldn't speak in any language. What an ordeal! What in the world was this poor woman doing on the ground?
La Muta helped her up, and then stood back in hesitation, unsure of herself. She bobbed a polite curtsy, but coming up from it her brow was raised--completely unwillingly, of course--from sheer embarrassment. The other brow arched up in further confusion as the girl said... something. What? No clue. She looked bashful, and just a touch annoyed. Was it something that La Muta had done? Had the girl intended to be on that floor? What a very strange hobby. She understood that it was damaging to one's health to make habits of sweeping stairs with one's person. Ah, well--to each their own.
With her usual gesture of passive apology, she gave a little shrug and shook her head to pronounce that she did not understand. She certainly looked quite foreign, she knew. She was a direct contrast to the girl in front of her--dark, where the other was light. A little, graceful hand fluttered over her neck and her head shook again, to indicate her lack of a voice. Lack of a voice... to think of it as such made her feel as if the voice were a being assigned to each person, a lovely little omnipotent pet, that had fled her as an unborn babe. The revelation made her strangely sad. A frown creased between her brows.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 9, 2008 20:05:58 GMT -5
Well this was all together strange. Liana had heard of being shy and quiet before. In fact, she epitomized the discriptions shy and quiet most of the time, but to help another person up and not ask if they were alright. It wasn't that the girl was rude. If the girl was rude she wouldn't have curtsied and looked at her as if she didn't understand. It would be strange if she didn't though. Then again, this was the opera house. The opera house was a large place full of different people from many different places. It was a shame too. Liana knew many different languages to try with this girl but she couldn't use them. To do so would be to give herself away as highly educated and she tried not to do so.
Still, it was strange the girl didn't speak in her language to show she did not understand. Just a confused glance was all Liana got, which made her feel just as awkward and embaressed as the poor forgien girl in front of her with her darker skin and curls. Liana pursed her lips slightly, furrowing her brows as the girl made a fliting gesture before shrugging and shaking her head. She didn't understand french then. Well, that was going to be hard. Then again, as the girl pointed to her throat, Liana's eyes widened and she blushed brightly.
Oh well then. That explained it. The poor girl was mute! Mute and probably, as suspected, forgein if she couldn't speak the language of the opera house. Liana could barely imagine what it must be like to have to do that. She could barely stand things the way they were now with so much bottle up inside. But to do that for your whole life, no refuge no one to speak to. Liana sighed and shook her head giving the girl a look of sympathy as an sorry in case she had offended.
Then, a sudden thought occured to her. Perhaps, since this girl could not speak, she would not be able to tell if she spoke Italian or English! She would not be able to tell another soul she was highly educated. Liana smiled and took a deep breath trying to remember what to say in both languages before, in a thick, clumbsy french accent she tried at English, "Do you understand now?"
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 12, 2008 23:05:07 GMT -5
Muta continued to stare, her hands falling without gesture to her skirt and idly fiddling there. She watched as realization flickered into the girl's eyes, and nodded a little to confirm. She must surely have understood the conversational barrier. Most others would be embarrassed, but Muta was so used to this. She understood not a word, and said not a word--most either thought that she was unintelligent or rude; often both. The other girl seemed more embarrassed at this moment than Muta did, but at least now she understood why she received no answer.
In the slightly awkward silence that followed, Muta's eyes swept over the young woman in front of her. She was very pretty. She had golden hair, something that Muta had always admired--she herself had hair near to ebony but not smooth or luminescent enough to be beautiful. Golden hair looked beautiful even when it frizzed, sending a halo of light over the head of the lucky wearer. Light eyes were also a beautiful thing. Light features of the hair, skin and eyes were the fashionable thing everywhere in Europe, it seemed. For centuries Italian girls had rubbed bleach into their skin and lemon juice in their hair to grow lighter in the sun. Not much was usually achieved. This girl had it all, and from birth. Such beauty! Muta could only dream of it. In a little moment of jealousy she almost led herself to believe that surely the girl was stupid, for most girls of the Populaire were.
Then the girl spoke the language of the Celts. At least, that's what Muta thought it was at first. English? Either way, Muta didn't understand a word of that, either. She wondered for a moment if she looked very English. She didn't think so. She'd never been to England, so she couldn't claim to know really, but she'd always been under the impression that the English were lightly colored. She certainly looked Italian, she knew. Perhaps Spanish, if one didn't know where the different lay. She shook her head sadly at the girl to indicate that she didn't understand.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 15, 2008 1:07:29 GMT -5
Well now this was just difficult. She had tried English and obviously French. Liana was still suprised at the fact that this girl was both mute and completely lost to the language. She could not imagine the pain and suffering of this poor girl. Too not have a voice for one and then to not be able to communicate with anyone else for another! She understood to some extent what it was to have her feelings locked up inside, to have a past to not speak of, a name to keep hidden. Perhaps this girl would feel her pain if she could just speak to her!
The yearning grew inside of Liana as she ran through her rusty knowlege of Italian praying this was the grail that held the key to unlocking the girl in front of her. Perhaps, just perhaps, she had found her saviour in this dark and dismal basement. They would help each other and get to know each other if they could just communicate and if the girl was willing. Of course, the girl seemed as if she were willing the way she was staring at her right now. It seemed to be something with her hair or her skin. It was not at all the gaze of complete jealousy or desire as she was used to. It was more curiosity and friendly jealously if there was such a thing. The girl in front of her was pretty enough though. At least no one noticed her looks. God how Liana just wished for that. To have not one eye drift her way because she was pretty. She might even go so far as to wish she was a hag.
But that wish would be circumvented if she could just speak to this girl. What was the phrase for a good greeting in Italian? Liana worried her brow slightly, biting her lip in frustration. If only she had paid more attention to her tutors! She had always been dreaming during Italian of running away TO Italy rather than speaking the language to forgien diplomats here! All that day dreaming was not helping her now however. It had been something with a parla and italiano? Goodness she hoped it worked! She would hate to insult the girl and if she spoke spanish instead of Italian with her dark coloring Liana would be lost in silence forever. Nervously, with the words dancing on her tongue Liana tried her first attempt at Italian in ages despite her attrocious accent. Her tutor would have killed her! "Lei parla l'italiano poi?"
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 15, 2008 1:45:07 GMT -5
La Muta began to feel a little smile creep onto her face. At first, it had all been wonderment, confusion, defensiveness, a bit of jealousy, concern--but now, the look on the girl's face! So much concentration! Surely she was trying to call up the words of another language. She hoped that it would be Italian. The more and more she watched the open expressions of this girl, the more she wanted to hear what she would have to say. She didn't have the benefit of asking questions, mostly, unless a person proved willing to guess at her gestures. It could be very difficult portraying some things, too.
She watched the girl's brow knit and a bright, wide grin broke out on her face. Her stomach heaved with laughter, even though only huffs of breath made their way out of her smiling mouth. She cupped her hands to her mouth to hide the grin, wishing that she had better manners. She couldn't help it. It was like a game! Which language?
When she finally struggled out with some horridly pronounced Italian, La Muta clapped her hands wildly, like an excited child. She nodded her head furiously. She pointed to the door, then the stairs, and then gave Liana a questioning look. She hoped that she would understand what the question was.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 15, 2008 2:21:31 GMT -5
Well! She had done something right then! Her newfound silent companion was clapping wildly. Liana almost wanted to take a slight bow for her accomplishment but she refrained and let out a relieved sigh instead. That had certaintly been rather strenous and challanging. At least she now knew what language to use to communicate to the girl if she could remember half the words. Perhaps her next book would have to be one more practical, one on italian....That would be useful, educational...
Of course it would be easier to speak if her new friend did not laugh at her so. Well, at least it seemed like laughing. There was some kind of breathy response accompanied with a friendly smile. And she was trying to cover it up politely too with her hand. It was not working and just had succeeded in making Liana far more nervous to get it right than she already had been. The more she had thought though the more words seemed to be popping into her head, the trick was remembering how to combine them. One really wasn't taught how to say: I was looking for the dormitories because I really am hopeless at finding my way around despite that i have lived here for a year and fell because you see I am truely hopeless when it comes to any coordination of any sort. I thought this might be the door to the chapel after all and I know my way from the chapel. No, young ladies who were taught Italian were definently not taught to say such things. She would just have to make do!
Her small victory was enough to give her some confidence though. That little bit of assurance that she could manage one phrase was enough to perhaps put together another. Her face lightened slightly, even in its concentration at trying to get her answer about her fall just right. Her sentances were choppy but she hoped understandable as she prattled away in her broken Italian. "I fell because I was looking for...the..ummm...the rooms. The sleeping rooms. Ummm. I am very clumbsy. I swear I did not fall because I wanted to."
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 15, 2008 4:16:05 GMT -5
La Muta was able to calm herself once she realized how terribly unkind she was being. She couldn't wipe her smile away, though. If anything could be said about her, it was that she was quick to smile. Especially if she could communicate with someone, for that was a beautiful thing. Companionship was not something that she had ever gotten used to having, and though she had found ways to manage without it, loneliness plagued her.
She was surrounded by people day and night, all with their own stories and intrigues, pains and pleasures, and she couldn't reach out to any of them. She couldn't ask, 'Are you alright?' or 'Where are you from?', couldn't say, 'I'm lonely and just want to talk' or 'I had a beautiful dream last night, would you like to hear?' Such things were barred from her. Even more so, singing was barred. She loved it, the sound of it, and dreamed that if she had a voice it would be beautiful.
Muta placed her hands comically on her hips and shook her head, still smiling despite. She thought that the story was funny, but didn't want her to be embarrassed. La Muta was not clumsy. She could stitch with utmost concentration while weaving through a bustling crowd without so much as a bump or stumble. She could dance and hop to the gypsy dances of her people with skill and grace. Her grace only extended that far, though. She was hopeless at ballet. She had no idea how they got up on their toes like that.
She put her hands together, brought them up and rested her cheek against them, closing her eyes peacefully. Then she opened her eyes and once again her look was questioning.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 19, 2008 15:22:37 GMT -5
It was no wonder that the girl was sniggering at her. It wasn't unkind. Honestly, Liana was a bit used to it after trying out for the ballet. She had been cut before the first cut was even officially supposed to be made and Monsieur Reyer took pity on her and asked her to try out for choir with him. She had really been that bad. Besides all that she was used to being laughed at when she tripped or stumbled among the choir which was quite often really. Some of them even called her the clumbsy one if they didn't know her real name. It was a fact of life and really always had been, even when she had been living in a different world with a different name.
As the girl tried to still her laughter out of shear politeness Liana merely smiled, laughing along with her a bit knowing it was the only way to get out of such an embaressing situation with grace; to laugh at her own shortcoming along with the person laughing at her. Liana laughed a bit more brightly at the woman's shake of her head and hands on her hips. This girl reminded her so much of Nicolette with that wag of her head. It's what her friend used to do whenever she tripped in public.
Memories, however, were dangerous, so with a skill that no person should have to aquire, Liana pushed the image of Nicolette out of her head and smiled at her new found friend. She seemed to be asking something about sleeping? She was acting something about sleeping and she looked like she wanted to ask a question of some sort so maybe she was asking if she was trying to sleep. She would ask that since Liana was trying to find the dorms! That was it then.
Pleased that she was understanding so well Liana smiled brightly and shook her head. "No actually. I was going back to get a book. I am very fond of reading you see and I needed my new book since I finished the old one."
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 20, 2008 21:50:29 GMT -5
La Muta watched as Liana began to chuckle along with her, and took it as a good sign. She was not offended. It was humorous situation, anyhow. She wondered how often this girl went tumbling down stairs. As she gestured it was only half a hope that she would be understood, so when once again her question was answered she was very surprised. She was very good at this! She smiled brightly, happy to have found someone to communicate with. Even when she found someone clever enough to grasp her meaning, they weren't always nice or interesting people. As far as she could tell, the clumsy girl was both.
Lucky girl! She could read, and apparently well, if she did so periodically. She knew that many of the people employed at the opera could not read or write very well, but at least they understood the language. She did not how to read or write in her own language, even. She recognized a few words, but had never been required by her position in life to know anything more. She knew how to sign her name--or at least, her initials, 'CC'--but not how to write it out completely.
La Muta stared curiously at her, thinking about how she was going to ask her next question. Again with a questioning gaze and slight shrug of her shoulders, she put the sides of her hands next to her thumbs together in front of her, arms bent at the elbows, and held her hands flat. She slowly pushed her palms together and then apart, always touching at the side, like a hinge.
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Post by Liana Marceau on Jun 22, 2008 15:40:24 GMT -5
Well this was just going swimmingly wasn't it? A few minutes ago she had been alone without a friend or confidant besides Mori who was usually busy with the other girls and now, well, now things were limitless. The girl couldn't talk so no one could share her secrets if she accidentally let them slip and it seemed by her excitement and quick motitions that it was rare for anyone to try to talk to her much less be able to. She assumed that it would be hard since the girl didn't speak or understand french which was rather important considering they were in France. Any Italian most of them knew was memorized from a liberetto.
It was a relief to get another thing right. To feel like she was making progress or head way with this girl. She felt like it was a small spark of light in this dark storage area and even in the opera house where she had been feeling a little trapped lately from the silence. Still, silence was safe. This girl was safe to talk to and that was a little bit of the reason why Liana was laughing with her. She was laughing because she had finally found relief in someone who had to be just as quiet as she had to be with everyone else!
The other girl was doing something else now. Liana mirrored her to try to understand better from her own perspective. She put her hands together and stared with deep concentration at them as they opened and closed. It was something related the conversation and somehow the action both felt and looked familiar. Books! She was asking about a book! The one she was reading maybe? Liana bit her lip for a moment and tried to find the right words. "I have not yet decided which one to read next."
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Jun 26, 2008 0:35:51 GMT -5
La Muta smiled, shrugging. She hoped that she would be told when she picked a book to read. She probably wouldn't know what in the world she was talking about, being so detached from the literary world, but at least she would be a part of someone's life.
She had meant to ask which book it was that the girl had just finished, but the answer that she had received was just as good as any other. She wouldn't have known anything about the book, anyway. She just wanted to converse--well, if this was 'conversing'. It was good enough for her. She felt acknowledged, wanted, even understood. It felt wonderful.
She wanted this to last. If they were to become friends, surely names must be exchanged? Of all things, she had always found her name to be the most difficult to communicate. No one had yet understood her gestures and guessed her name. It was worth a try, though. She had done so well at understanding her thus far.
With her now common questioning look and a friendly smile La Muta pointed to her new friend, raising her brows. She shook her finger a bit for emphasis, and then dropped a little curtsy, trying to enact a formal meeting. She thought that she was being pretty clear, but she could think of many ways that her meaning could be mistaken. She might seem to be asking if the girl was of noble birth, which was ridiculous, because certainly no high born lady would be found in this part of the Populaire, and in such common clothing.
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