La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Aug 27, 2008 20:21:18 GMT -5
La Muta sat upon a haystack in the stables, where occasionally a visitor's carriage would roll through and come to a stop through the back, lined up, and released from the horses so that the creatures could be brought to stalls and tended for. None of the men working within acknowledged her except with the occasional scornful dislike for walking into their territory. Since they said nothing to her, though, she obviously did not have to worry about not being able to say anything back. All that they did with their impolite neglect was aide in her purposes; in fact, she had chosen this place specifically because she knew that she would not be disturbed by unwanted questioning.
Muta was bent far over a little slate of wood, about a foot wide and long, a brush in her hand, which was making the tiniest twitches of movement as she placed the detailed features of Liana's portrait. She had been working on this in secret for some time now, as a gift for her only friendly companion in the Opera. With a gentle working of her fingers, she flicked Liana's kind smile into place.
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Post by Formorian Carlisle on Aug 28, 2008 2:14:57 GMT -5
Formorian should've been enjoying her day off shopping joyfully with what little money she had. However no amount of money could make her feel lighter on her feet than she did now. Her heart fluttered inside her breast in a carefree way that made every step she took seem as though she floated on air. Which entirely was the truth she felt as though she were floating in mid-air. Far too gone in this deep sea of love to care about anything beyond a man by the name of Riffael.
Instead she saved every franc that she came upon in the hopes of purchasing herself a half decent wedding gown 'if' and when Riffael so asked for her hand. Something fine to imagine as she'd scrubbed herself clean, her long locks of spun gold hair tumbling down her back in ringlets and waves. Extending her left hand in imagination that she already carried the ring about that ivory skinned digit a smile playing upon her lips.
A fanciful thought that had her twinkling on her toes up to the stage where she held Riffael's lunch in hand. The stage hands worked their long, hard hours leaving Formorian to attend her beloved as she could. Even if it meant bringing him the simple sack lunch of bread, cheese, a container of slightly watered ale. Twas nothing grand from the cooks that were provided by their own lack of interest in feeding the stable hands, or stage hands for that matter. Thankfully she was given a much more delightful meal but not so grand as to other persons in the Populaire.
If given the chance she could make a far better meal than what she carried but it would have to be enough. Her slight form had graced the stage amidst the male bodies. Barely managing not to get flattened by this or that, the chaos was like home to her. In a heart's breath she had found Riffael, teased him momentarily with a wink, a kiss before depositing his food for him.
Dancing away before his strong arms could catch her, she whirled down from the stage to find something else to do. She'd read enough books yes, she'd practiced enough riffs to make even the most devote singer go insane. No. Today she'd venture out for something, finding herself to the stables where she could admire the beauty of nature, the stable hands glaring at her only momentarily before they became smiles, and offering gestures.
All of which she'd not noticed before and now blatantly ignored. On one instance though she glanced over her shoulder. Her long mane of hair fluttering with the simple movement, her pale gown of a pastel blue clinging to the curves of her frame. She noted the dark cocoa colored hair of a girl, who was bent slightly over something. It was long not overly large but descent in size. Curious as any woman might be, Formorian walked over and looked down at the portrait in progress.
A small gasp escaped her lips not of shock, but of awe. Her voice floated down to the girl as she smiled to the other woman.
"My...you paint Mademoiselle Marceau so beautifully. You are very talented Mamselle."
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Aug 28, 2008 21:25:03 GMT -5
Colombina's head shot up and she shrunk back a little as her gaze met with the blue ones hovering above her, kindness and admiration contained in their depths. La Muta recognised the young woman. She looked far younger up close. She sounded very mature and serious when directing the chorus, and La Muta had never been close enough to her to see her in any detail. The youth of the woman stunned her. Such talent and patience! Colombina had expected an outdated diva. This woman was too young to have sung several seasons. La Muta's expression through her silent wondering had melted into open curiosity.
Suddenly she remembered that her staring and silence was offensive, so she smiled and placed her hand over her heart to signify thanks. Of course Mme.--or was it Mlle., since she was so young?--Carlisle knew Liana. She instructed her, after all. To indicate her apology for the lack of vocal reply, Colombina gave an apologetic bat of her doe brown eyes and pointed to her throat, shaking her head. Then she pointed to Liana, and to Formorian. The question was rather obvious. How well did they know each other?
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Post by Formorian Carlisle on Aug 28, 2008 21:41:12 GMT -5
"Oh dear.." Formorian said lightly when the startled girl looked up into her face. It wasn't so much the quickness of the movement but rather in which the girl seemed to shrink from her. Placing a step or two between them now, as the blonde had stepped back in slight dismay of interrupting the other woman. Widened blue eyes started back into the dark depths of the younger woman, who she really didn't know. It wasn't surprising Formorian knew little of anyone in the Populaire other than the managers, and even they were kind to her as she was an instructor.
As for the rest? They seemed hell bent on giving her a headache for all they were worth and Formorian wondered if this girl disliked the English just as much as the rest? Remaining just beyond the girl they studied one another it would seem. Eyes looking into eyes and Formorian didn't look away even though she felt like she were being scrutinized a tad bit more than she'd been looking upon the other girl. Shifting oddly her hands clasped before her, those pink lips pursed together slightly as the other girl's expression suddenly changed to an almost childish curiosity.
A smile swept her lips and Formorian responded with the slightest bit of her own, only feeling anywhere near to welcome when the girl placed a hand above her heart. It was a sweet showing, and the blonde had guessed long before the girl had indicated that speech was beyond her. Not placing a stereotypical wall between herself and the younger woman, she came closer when she pointed to the painting of Liana. Taking this as sign enough she stepped closer once more and nodded her head as she looked down at the canvas.
"Yes I know Mademoiselle Marceau. She is a fine singer, and you've done her much justice with your work. I'd call her sister if I were able but I don't think she'd be overly pleased. Even though I'd be the elder sister and most annoying to her by my pestering." At that she gave the other girl a wink, then motioned to the open bit beside her.
"May I sit? Oh and do forgive my rudeness..my name is Formorian Carlisle. And you might be?"
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Aug 29, 2008 0:53:28 GMT -5
Colombina smiled widely as the instructor professed her familiarity with Liana. So they were quite close! In this, as was a rare thing, she had something in common with someone else. Formorian gestured to the rough prism of hay on which she sat, and La Muta obligingly scooted a bit to allow the kind woman to sit. When her name was asked, she hesitated, her expression falling a bit. It was always to hard to portray her name to people. Then again, this was a choral instructor, and she certainly knew many things of the theatre.
La Muta drew her finger around her face like a mask--the half-mask that in shape was called "Colombina"--and then pointed to her apron, to signify the role of a maid, which was what the character of the Commedia dell'Arte was. She gazed at Formorian hopefully, wondering at the other's own name. Formorian? She'd never heard anything like it, and thought that she heard an accent that was not natively French. Could she be a foreigner, too?
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Post by Formorian Carlisle on Aug 31, 2008 0:45:01 GMT -5
The girl's wide smile had Formorian feeling all the more at ease, ivory hands moving to the skirts of her dress. Daintily drawing it up when the girl permitted her to sit on the bale of rough hay, wiggling her bottom a moment when a stray piece poked her bottom annoyingly. Settled soon after she smiled in way of the girl, her pink lips drawn up as it seemed nothing could dampen her mood until forever. She was a woman in love, the man she loved returned it and as hastily as it all sounded, seemed, it felt so right!
Lightly came the question as to the young girl's name, her dark hair a rich tone with both golds and red copper. Not a river of fire but perhaps of the sweetest chocolate ever made by skilled hands. Formorian watched as the girl used the talents that was both of a mute and of one who would have to rely on a guessing game when speaking to other people. Sky blue eyes watched as the girl's hands moved to her face drawing a mask in front of her.
A half mask it'd be, and so to the apron did she indicate to the role of some sort of servant. Formorian became silent for a time, replaying the girl's actions in her head as though there were a film going on. Servant, servant, servant, maid....Hmmm...a half mask....Looking to the girl the characteristics of a French to an English, to a German, to an Italian favored differently. Just the different look to the girl played in part and slowly did her pink lips lift into a smile.
"My my my....Miss Colombina where is that dashing Sir of yours? Did you unkindly leave your dear Arlecchino behind?" Asked the blonde with a good natured laugh. "If that is your name 'tis beautiful Mademoiselle."
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Sept 9, 2008 19:43:00 GMT -5
Colombina bit her bottom lip, her large eyes shining with happiness. Of course she would know! She lowered her eyes and shrugged her shoulders in a mute's giggle. She had no Arlecchino, no desperate admirer. She shook her head then and smiled brightly, then cleaned her brush with a small decanter of murky water and a well-used scrap of cloth, gazing at Formorian and dipping her brush for gold under painting, beginning to paint the figure of Mademoiselle Carlisle beside Liana. She continued to glance up at Formorian and down at the slate, her intention clear. She offered no room for protest, just began to paint.
Somewhere along her work she stopped and began to paint a likeness on her scrap, a quick sketch of handsome, noble features and playful, glinting eyes. She painted Monsieur Marcellinus quickly and held it up to Formorian, her eyes inquiring, her cheeks lightly flushed. She hoped that Formorian would recognise him and be able to tell her more about him.
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Post by Formorian Carlisle on Sept 10, 2008 0:13:10 GMT -5
Formorian gave light and good hearted little laugh when the other woman's eyes sparkled large with a joy that could hardly be contained with a simple look. Watching as Colombina did something she often did which was worry that full bottom lip and the blonde smiled brightly. A few things in common they had at least! Sadly Mademoiselle Colombina had no Arlecchino to harass her with his admirations and affections. Sighing, the choral instructor had settled down beside the mute woman who she gave no stereotypical glances down her nose at. However they were getting annoyed looks from the stable hands which had her giggling.
A glance away was all it took and then Formorian's icy-blue gaze returned to the work Colombina had been working so diligently on. Only to find that someone else was being added to the work of art, someone...that began to look familiar. When she did recognize the woman being added, her jaw had dropped and she had attempted to protest in the most lady-like of manners. Yet a glance from Colombina had her quiet as she wasn't about to win.
"Goodness...At least I pray you'll make me somewhat beautiful if only to ensure you don't mar such a good painting." Formorian teased, winking when Colombina cast her a frown. Remaining where she sat, allowing the girl to look from her to the slate time and time again. Even that seemed a time for a break and so Formorian stretched as the girl began on something new.
"Now what are you up to?" She inquired, leaning and quirked a brow as the scrap was thrust into her face. An expectant look on the brown haired girl's face, Formorian took the scrap and admired it. Hmmm...
"If you are painting your idea of Arlecchino...I must say he looks tremendously close to Monsieur Marcellinus." Said she looking Colombina with a smile. "Monsieur Marcellinus....is a patron here at the Populaire. I've seen him time and time again...but if ye can paint him I'm sure you know that already as well." What a help she was!
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Sept 20, 2008 18:09:06 GMT -5
La Muta blushed and looked away, struggling to look casual and barely interested. She was thinking of the man all the time, now. It was... to put it bluntly, a little pathetic. She sighed in frustration, an airy sound that she enjoyed making just for the pleasure of being able to make a sound. She had to decide quickly what she would do about this unhealthy fascination of hers and concentrate on moving herself out of dependence on the opera house. She'd had her pay completely eliminated now, seeing as she was already receiving room and board. The money she handled was specifically spent on materials. That meant that she had no money save, to pay someone to teach her to write. She had improved vastly at her French since coming here, enough that she could understand most simple conversation.
She shrugged and shook her head, crumpling the cloth in her hand and shoving it into her skirt pocket, going back to painting Mori. Monsieur Marcellinus was anything but her Arlecchino. Anything but a lovesick suitor. She tipped her head up to look at Mori once again, pausing. Maybe Formorian could teach her to write?
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Post by Formorian Carlisle on Sept 22, 2008 1:03:34 GMT -5
Formorian saw the little blush steal over Colombina's cheeks and she smiled brightly at the sight. There was no doubt in her mind this is what she looked like every time Riffael walked by. Any time he even gave her a glance, offered her a moment in the midst of the madness that was the Opera Populaire. She'd be blushing a crimson just like this girl and she almost blushed knowing she blushed this bad as well! A frustrated sigh filled the void between them and Formorian withheld her blushes.
The blonde watched as the other girl quickly turned the cloth into a crumpled little heap in her hand. Placing it in her skirt pocket before returning steadily back to the painting as she worked on the woman now being added to the canvas. Herself obviously, but Formorian leaned and watched with a gentle smile on her face. Looking into Colombina's eyes as the girl paused, stopped entirely and looked at her as though she, Formorian Carlisle held something of value the girl wanted or needed.
Never losing her little smile Formorian spoke.
"You know. 'Tis not all that bad if you're liking the Monsiuer...I'm certain he'd appreciate very much to know how fondly a secret little admirer might think of him." Formorian winked at Colombina then. "Who is to say when someone...." She pretended to look around innocently. "Were to happen to...give this...man a letter...from an Annonymous...someone.." She looked back to Colombina.
"There is no way of hiding how you fancy the man." Formorian smiled. "I should know...I've blushed like that for a man, and I took a risk on whim for that man. And I love him dearly....Life sometimes needs a bit of a risk to get beyond where we are." Quirking a brow she smirked playfully.
"He might even like a little painted heart to go along with a letter. What do ye say? 'Cant hurt if he doesn't know whom it is..yet."
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Sept 22, 2008 1:16:07 GMT -5
Colombina stopped and stared at Formorian in perplexed shock and curiosity. What a preposterous idea! Then again... if it were anonymous... but what good would it do? Maybe increase her worth in his eyes, if he ever found out. Get a weight off her chest. Maybe. She lowered her eyes as she pondered the proposal and then timidly raised them back up to meet the pale blue of Mori's. She gave a tremulous smile and shrugged her shoulder, moving her right hand with thumb and forefinger pressed together in the air as if writing and then shaking her head. She could not read nor write, of course. Her face lit up. This was her opportunity!
She pointed to Mori and then to her moving hand, and then to herself, finishing by leaning forward in excited anticipation with her hands clasped in fists in front of her. She begged with her eyes, her fisted hands moving back and forth together slightly to pronounce the request.
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Post by Formorian Carlisle on Sept 24, 2008 14:42:39 GMT -5
Formorian looked back at Colombina after her more than lengthy look of curiosity. It was Formorian had made an odd sound in front of a beautiful puppy and the head tilted to it's side like she were somewhat crazy. Which wasn't that far from the truth if she fell into love so foolishly with a man she barely knew! Oh Riffael...The blonde sighed but kept her eyes trained on her new found friend.
A girl so talented with her skill that when their eyes met the dark of her own against the lighter almost icy blue Formorian held. The smile Colombina gave her was an uncertain one and she shrugged which Formorian responded with a stern little look of her own. Watching as the other girl showed her she couldn't write. Laughing she leaned and took a piece of scrap cloth beside Colombina.
"Aye. We'll have ye writing in no time. Here sit a bit closer." Once Colombina had seated herself closer she spread the cloth out. "Think of it as painting first. All it is is lines to make a symbol anyone can read. Sort of like the signs that hang from the doors of shops. Some have spools and thread with a measuring tape. It'll be a seamstress or tailors shop, this is the exact same thing. But you need to learn the alphabet while you make these marks." Elegantly she wrote the first one.
A
"A. Watch my hand......and...there. That's a Capital A. A lower case a is..."
a
"I'll teach you the difference between the two other than size later. Now here you are just copy what I just did." Formorian repeated the A and the a three more times before giving it over to Colombina to try.
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La Muta
Understudy
Parlare Non Male
Posts: 70
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Post by La Muta on Sept 24, 2008 18:03:14 GMT -5
Colombina's eyes lit up. Her heart raced as understanding dawned on her. Yes, she was getting herself into something fascinating, and she was getting in deep. Learning to read and write could open up so many possibilities for her. She could perhaps buy better dresses and purchase toiletries, attend some social events that might eventually lead to a beneficial marriage. She could marry a craftsman and maybe even open her own shop. The letter was, well, just a letter--it would be sent and enjoyed then forgotten. Despite her childish infatuation, she wasn't lying to herself. Nothing could come of it, and nothing would.
She gripped the cloth handed to her and repeated the symbols that Formorian had painted for her. Her own letters were more rounded, and tapered off in a pretty fashion. She was an artist, first and foremost, and designed her letters as such. She had wonderful control of her hands and the brush, so there was very little trouble in copying the alphabet neatly. Once they had covered the alphabet, she went over it once again. It was a little difficult to memorise the symbols and match them with sounds, especially with so many different spellings of sounds and how not every letter sounded the same every time, and then there were accents... yet, overall, she had made progress, and was quite proud of herself. The light was fading outside when finally she stopped and pointed to the pale red light that filtered through the eaves, her expression one of concern. They had stayed very late.
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