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Felixir · 06-05-2021, 06:47 PM

The main thing Nem was getting from all this was that stage acting was so much more than real acting, and that was not a good thing. There was a lot of shouting - projection, whatever, a skill Nem hardly needed to know and therefore never learned - and general exaggeration, which they could do just fine, but avoided as a general rule.

Voice, movement, the acting itself, the music, plus whatever Trent was doing, everything was so much bigger than it needed to be; for a moment, Nem felt only a flare of disdain, which quickly faded, allowing them to work on analysing what they could observe. Shortly thereafter, they lapsed into boredom. They weren't going to get what they came here for, this was practically an entirely different skillset. Disengaging, Nem slumped back in their seat, resorted to manipulating the handful of metal matchsticks they carried everywhere with them, though, at that point, there was no reason to stay.

Their name was called. "I'm good," Nem said, pushing to their feet and returning the metal pieces to their pocket, intending to leave instead. Except, two seconds later, they abruptly changed their tune. "Actually, give me a minute." May as well; already here and everything. They'd pass on the theatricality and the major dramatics, not wanting a part in this thing after all, but for now it was something to do.

Nem climbed up onto the stage and paused by the pile of scripts, disinterestedly shuffling through before choosing one at random. Huh. This would work. Tale as old as time. Nem was vaguely familiar with it, though it had been years and years since they'd been subjected to any version of it. They straightened and moved to centre stage, flicking through the pages for just the right scene, and took a moment to get familiar with the lines. Yeah, yeah, shame on them, but it wasn't long at all before they were ready to go.

No introductions needed. No explanations. Nem just drew their wand and non-verbally cast a very mild Sonorus at their throat - no need for projection when they had magic - and launched right into it, keeping their wand in hand the entire time, and the script in the other. They played two parts, no warning, no turning this way or that to indicate a different role - they barely moved from where they started on the stage - no use of props, only a shift of demeanour each time.

Nem took a step forward, looking up and out, as though at the stars. "I haven't danced in years... I'd almost forgotten the feeling." They smiled, took a deep, contented breath, let it out again. A long pause, a moment of deliberation, uncertainty, and then determination passed over their features. They spoke again, lowering their gaze as though addressing someone directly ahead, their tone just short of offhand, tinged with sadness, but mostly stark with bracing acceptance of an unhappy truth. "It's foolish, I suppose... for a creature like me to hope that one day he might earn your affection." Another pause, and they looked down.

And then ahead again, unsure and undeterred in equal measure. "I don't know..."

Nem's eyes widened in surprise, and they pulled away slightly, taken aback, but subtle. "Really? So... you think you could be happy here?" They frowned for a split second, uncertain, disbelieving, not daring to hope.

And then shifted again, expression softening, a sad smile. "Could anybody be happy... if they aren't free?" Nem looked up again at the 'stars', the smile gone, an expression of creeping desolation in its place. They let the silence hang in the air for a moment - a quick glance at the script, then back up to continue the scene. "My father taught me to dance. I used to step on his toes a lot." Another small smile.

Which then changed, from wistful back to sad, but now strained too. Laden with guilt. "You must miss him."

The smile disappeared, they turned bereft, near grief-stricken, swallowed an imaginary lump in their throat and nodded. Spoke softly - though naturally their voice still carried, thanks to the charm. "Very much."

Once again, their whole demeanour changed, and they considered the issue, deliberated, suddenly decided, made their offer almost eagerly. "Would you like to see him?"

After one last pause, their expression cleared again, and they were Nemesis Upstead once more. Scene finished, they wordlessly headed for the edge of the stage, performed a quick Quietus on their throat, and dropped the script back onto the pile they'd collected it from. With a nimble two-footed hop, they jumped down from the stage, and returned to slump in their seat again.

06-05-2021, 06:47 PM	#50 (permalink)
Felixir Book Club Mod Alley Proprietor MO & DoM Banshee Join Date: Dec 2008 Location: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Posts: 50,106 Hogwarts RPG Name: Charlie Upstead Gryffindor Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Aurelio Kaiser Slytherin First Year Ministry RPG Name: Daxton Prince Mysteries Ministry RPG Name: Nikolai Kaiser Minister's Office Diagon Alley Employee: Ezekiel Ransom-Kruus Ollivanders x12 x12	FoR wHo CoULd eVeR LeARn tO LoVE a bEaST (pretend it's a stage script shhh) Lovely™ \| Captain Hurted \| Ariana's Bane \| Resident Antagonist \| Unparalleled Delight The main thing Nem was getting from all this was that stage acting was so much more than real acting, and that was not a good thing. There was a lot of shouting - projection, whatever, a skill Nem hardly needed to know and therefore never learned - and general exaggeration, which they could do just fine, but avoided as a general rule. Voice, movement, the acting itself, the music, plus whatever Trent was doing, everything was so much bigger than it needed to be; for a moment, Nem felt only a flare of disdain, which quickly faded, allowing them to work on analysing what they could observe. Shortly thereafter, they lapsed into boredom. They weren't going to get what they came here for, this was practically an entirely different skillset. Disengaging, Nem slumped back in their seat, resorted to manipulating the handful of metal matchsticks they carried everywhere with them, though, at that point, there was no reason to stay. Their name was called. "I'm good," Nem said, pushing to their feet and returning the metal pieces to their pocket, intending to leave instead. Except, two seconds later, they abruptly changed their tune. "Actually, give me a minute." May as well; already here and everything. They'd pass on the theatricality and the major dramatics, not wanting a part in this thing after all, but for now it was something to do. Nem climbed up onto the stage and paused by the pile of scripts, disinterestedly shuffling through before choosing one at random. Huh. This would work. Tale as old as time. Nem was vaguely familiar with it, though it had been years and years since they'd been subjected to any version of it. They straightened and moved to centre stage, flicking through the pages for just the right scene, and took a moment to get familiar with the lines. Yeah, yeah, shame on them, but it wasn't long at all before they were ready to go. No introductions needed. No explanations. Nem just drew their wand and non-verbally cast a very mild Sonorus at their throat - no need for projection when they had magic - and launched right into it, keeping their wand in hand the entire time, and the script in the other. They played two parts, no warning, no turning this way or that to indicate a different role - they barely moved from where they started on the stage - no use of props, only a shift of demeanour each time. Nem took a step forward, looking up and out, as though at the stars. "I haven't danced in years... I'd almost forgotten the feeling." They smiled, took a deep, contented breath, let it out again. A long pause, a moment of deliberation, uncertainty, and then determination passed over their features. They spoke again, lowering their gaze as though addressing someone directly ahead, their tone just short of offhand, tinged with sadness, but mostly stark with bracing acceptance of an unhappy truth. "It's foolish, I suppose... for a creature like me to hope that one day he might earn your affection." Another pause, and they looked down. And then ahead again, unsure and undeterred in equal measure. "I don't know..." Nem's eyes widened in surprise, and they pulled away slightly, taken aback, but subtle. "Really? So... you think you could be happy here?" They frowned for a split second, uncertain, disbelieving, not daring to hope. And then shifted again, expression softening, a sad smile. "Could anybody be happy... if they aren't free?" Nem looked up again at the 'stars', the smile gone, an expression of creeping desolation in its place. They let the silence hang in the air for a moment - a quick glance at the script, then back up to continue the scene. "My father taught me to dance. I used to step on his toes a lot." Another small smile. Which then changed, from wistful back to sad, but now strained too. Laden with guilt. "You must miss him." The smile disappeared, they turned bereft, near grief-stricken, swallowed an imaginary lump in their throat and nodded. Spoke softly - though naturally their voice still carried, thanks to the charm. "Very much." Once again, their whole demeanour changed, and they considered the issue, deliberated, suddenly decided, made their offer almost eagerly. "Would you like to see him?" After one last pause, their expression cleared again, and they were Nemesis Upstead once more. Scene finished, they wordlessly headed for the edge of the stage, performed a quick Quietus on their throat, and dropped the script back onto the pile they'd collected it from. With a nimble two-footed hop, they jumped down from the stage, and returned to slump in their seat again. __________________ Days of Potter 2023:___________________________ Which Bertie Botts Flavour Are You? You are Chocolate!