[Event] Preshow: The Curtain Rises...

Cepheus was buzzing with excitement (quite literally, Nemean's playful buzzing filled every nook and cranny) as guests lingered around the outside of the Theater. Concessions were being sold in a flurry, although they were slightly more, ahem, refined then usual - wines, beers, and champaigns served in cute little glasses, and small packages of nuts, pretzels, and sweets. The palace guards lingered around the outsides to ensure there was no trouble. Isra sat near the doors, looking extremely displeased to be there, and perhaps even more frustrated at the white collar set with a black bowtie wrapped around her neck. Was it sparkling pink, too?

There were others there, too, filtering in - Eggbert had his little paws on the concession stand, reaching for a cup of pretzels while Nedies stood just behind him, sipping on a glass of champagne. Not far away, Momma Balormaa and the Blacksmith chatted quietly, both of them a bit more shy but seemingly there out of curiosity.

A couple, more rarely-seen cave denizens were there too. A small group of Shapers from Centaurus were gathered together, seemingly bundling as many alcoholic drinks together as they could, snicking quietly to each other. And was that....Rezik? The black and blue deer-like creature looked neither excited to be there nor willing to interact with anyone. Perhaps he had only arrived to look good for the Master running this show. He sniffed disdainfully as he glared at Meissa, who jumped excitedly in front of the doors, getting right in Isra's face. "Come ONNNN I wanna see I wanna see!! Where's the musical? Is it happening? I wanna go innnnn!" she barked excitedly, but Isra didn't react, although if one looked carefully they might detect a gleam of regret for every single life choice that had brought her to this moment.

The show would start soon, but it looked as if there was time to arrive and mingle, before the pre-show began.

Backstage, meanwhile...

Mimosa rushed to and fro, needle and thread in hand, fixing any issue on the rack of costumes they could set their eyes on. "Look lively, everyone! If you have any rips or zips or buttons loose or something that you don't think is right, say now before you go on stage! Don't want to ruin your look!!" As the performing gembound arrived, they had their costumes ready to lay on with practiced efficiency. Makeup stands and mirrors dotted the large room for their own discretion - Mimosa would not be helping with that.

Were they ready, were they excited? Nemean's buzzing was prominent back here, but she wasn't visible...yet. They could all feel her eyes on them, though, and her expectations. They better be ready!

It is time for the pre-show of Origin's Musical event! Feel free to hang out and talk with each other or the present NPCs, get concessions, or prepare yourselves in the back for the upcoming show!

Worm peeked out from behind the curtains, at the hubbub and crowd forming. Then, immediately regretted the decision and pulled his head back. He trembled as he gulped for air.

Perhaps he'd forgotten about the fact that musicals were often performed for an audience and not just for fun... Not to mention that nasty, no-good Ruse was here. AND it was being hosted by (first name) Shitheel (surname) Nemean, who Imp had said was a terrible, awful no good person too. And Imp was cool, so he had to right.

"Oh," he whimpered into his paws, sagging onto the floor. Letting his still too-big paws cover his eyes. He still hadn't grown into them and he'd volunteered to do the lights and effects, him and his big clumsy paws. Perhaps he could have just stayed home. Told everyone he was dreadfully sick and would be dying shortly.

Yes, that would've been preferable.

So the kitten sat by the stage exit, hyperventilating and making wet, whimpering noises to himself.

Aethril did love a good show.

At least, it was something to do other than watching re-runs and waiting for the next Deathmatch. She lingered by the confection area first, getting herself a drink when she noticed Worm skulking about, looking nervous. Hm. She added a hot dog to her order and walked towards him, heels clicking.

"Worm," she greeted. He seemed terrified, but not specifically of her. Just everything around him. That made a change. "Come here."

The Valkhand scooped him up, squishing him into her side. "It's less crowded over here." The larger seats at the back were for larger gembound, but Aethril always took one anyway. She settled into a seat and sat Worm down in the dark on her lap, setting the dry hot dog on the cushion nearby.

Man, she loved cats. "That's for you," she gestured generally to the hot dog, and didn't stop him from getting off her lap if he wanted.

Archon was so not ready. He'd done his best, sure. Done some fumbling, bumbling Shakespeare attempts, read a weird musical he'd found stuffed into a shelf somewhere, but... was he supposed to sing? Nemean hadn't given them songs and he quite frankly had no idea if there was to be music.

Was he meant to make something up!? (It didn't occur to him that the resulting, potentially hilarious chaos of, say, fifteen people trying to sing along to wildly different tunes, all guessing, was the point of all of this.)

He tried not to think that this had been a stupid idea, or anything like that--no self-doubt, not now. (Please.) Instead he cleared his throat and pushed (carefully) through the backstage crowd for Mimosa. "I think my suit-" he tried to call.

Yes, he'd gone for a suit. Total formality, except it wasn't a modern business suit style. It was... fancy Victorian, for lack of a better descriptor, like the sort of thing a vampire would have worn in a movie, if the vampire were also a middle-class accountant. A cheapish formal suit with white ruffling at the throat and spilling forth from the sleeves, but also, somehow, a black neck tie. It looked awful, but that was not Mimosa's fault. Archon had picked and chosen what he thought looked best, and despite Mimosa's attempts to delicately guide him from the clash of styles, Archon had been determined.

Now, though, he has a problem. "The tie and the ruffles," he said, trying to call out over the din. "They're, ah. Chafing." Was that the right word? Could Mimosa even do anything about that, without removing the tie altogether?

It is a well known fact that the second romantic lead must be handsomer and more popular than the primary. Thus, The Piano approached the makeup tables with a very heavy sense of responsibility on its shoulders. Uh... yeah, we'll say 'shoulders'. For possibly the first time in its life, it felt a little.... nervous. The music part of the musical, it was confident it would do well in. Yet musicals were a multifaceted art form, and it wanted to do all those facets justice, including the mandatory devastating handsomeness of its own character. I mean, come on. Flirtatious, mysterious, talented.... does that not scream also SMOKING HOT to you!? It did to The Piano, anyway.
And everyone knows that The Piano is Always Right.

Dozens of makeup options were arranged in neat alphabetical order in front of the mirrors. The Piano reached out two dozen different strings at once to grasp the makeup instruments delicately in its grip. It dusted on glittering gold eye shadow around the alien script that served as its eyes, but for good measure also applied it to its keys. It selected a bottle of golden glitter and sprinkled it liberally all over itself. Multiple delicate brushes were dipped into gold paint and it lined its black wood with shimmering golden detailing.

Moving on to the accessories and costumes, it carefully wound garlands of snapdragons up its legs and around the stick that held its lid propped open. It selected two contrasting colors of rose petals--red and blue--and scattered them across its keyboard and inside the box that held its golden, gleaming soundboard and strings. Carefully, it tucked a single black calla lily at the center of its box, its stem slipped beneath a row of strings that held it in place. Finally, it artfully draped a large white cloth embroidered with gold thread across its half-vertical lid, letting the fabric fall in folds across its black surface. More garlands of snapdragons were attached to its lid.

It wheeled itself in front of a row of large mirrors and turned three-hundred-and-sixty degrees to admire its handiwork. It had to admit, it looked beautiful.

Backstage, Buckley and Gore were arguing. They were standing in front of their costume - a nice little casual suit that came with a bit of a...blanket. You know, to cover Gore for the first half of the show.

"I am NOT wearing that!" The goat bleated loudly, swinging its head. "They will not get to see my FACE!" Buckley sighed, but didn't try to force the thing on. Still, hadn't they talked about this already? "That's the point! You come in and take over halfway through and then I wear the cover!"

Gore glared at the blanket in disgust. "What, do they want one of us!! Its both of us or nothing! What, do you want me gone? Do you want me to be seperated from you?" Buckley gaped at it, confused as to why it was bringing this up at a time like this. "N-no! Of course not!! How could you say that?"

Gore snarled and pouted, but didn't reply. Just glared at the cover and sniffed, turning its head away. "I'm not wearing it. We go on stage together."

Buckley sighed and looked at the cover before putting it back on the rack. "Fine, I guess. Have you practiced your singing at least?" Gore's head snapped forward, eyes widening. "I thought YOU were going to do that!!"

It seemed all the lion was doing was sighing at the moment. He looked around briefly and wondered if there was anyone else here that had no idea what they were doing. His gaze lingered on the Piano, a little confused. Is that a gembound? Are they performing too? There had been no rehearsals, no introductions of the cast members. Only notes on roles and the story. It sounded like it was going to be a chaotic mess but at least it would be fun?

He stood and stepped over to the...the Piano. "You look. Really nice." It wasn't a lie or anything - the gold glitter was charming, he simply didn't know what would constitute a piano that didn't look nice. "Do you feel ready and stuff? Um, you didn't happen to get like any lines or anything?"

"Buckley is speaking!" "GORE IS SPEAKING!!!"

A large, two-headed Gembound approached to talk to The Piano, who emitted a ringing hum of pride at their praise. (It chose not to give much weight to the goat-head who did not give it any compliments. Having overheard quite the dramatic argument earlier, it figured it might simply be in a bad mood.

"Thank you, my friend...?" The Piano left an open space for the other Gembound to introduce themselves. "I suppose I'll have to be ready, no matter how I feel. You didn't get any lines either? --Well, I suppose Nemean wants us to get in touch with our creative sides." Its chordsmash-voice glimmered with amusement. "All I know is that I play Sebastien, who is quite the... impression-making musician." It did not know if it should give away too much--while it couldn't quite tell if this musical was going to be a competition (it didn't THINK so?), it wouldn't do to spoil the mystery of it, in case the actors could not keep information gained as an actor separate from their character.

At last, as Isra finally opened the doors, Meissa bounded in excitedly, the first to get into her seat, right at the front of the stag, barking excitedly. The rest of the crowd filtered in as well, slowly making their way to their seats, arms, claws, and other appendages holding the finer concessions and small pamphlets that Isra was handing out. These, apparently, were the playbooks, although there were no song lists, no notes about the story other then what the cast was given, simply the cast list, a small overview of each, and notes about the cast members.

Things such as "The son of the celebrated Collector makes his Broadway debut!" and "He's here to show that even someone from the Chaos Forge can become a famous artist!" Unfortunately, these did not speak and had to be read.

The theater itself had been transformed into a proper stage. Red curtains covered the majority, save for a small sliver of space at the front. The guests were allowed some more time to chat and get to their seats before the lights began to dim just a little bit.

Nemean's voice rung out from all corners of the theater. "HELLLOOOOOO LADIES GENTLEMEN AND WHATEVER THE FUCK ELSE!! Weeeeee've got some GREAT pre-show entertainment for you today! So shut up and enjoy the lovely Honk do some cool stuff for you before the show!"

A spotlight from nowhere blinked on with a click - it wasn't super dark in the auditorium, but just dark enough that the light was obvious. Time for @Honk to give their performance!

Backstage, Mimosa continued working, pausing halfway through sewing up a loose stitch on a pair of pants when Archon approached. They looked up and a pained expression crossed their face. "Oh. Well...ahem. I can help?" They set the needle down the rushed over, standing in front of Archon with their many hands twitching as if they desperately wanted to fix everything about their outfit.

Trying to hide their obvious disdain for his choice of apparel, they reached forward to try and smooth some of the ruffles. "Are you quite sure you want the tie? I think it would look better without - and you would be more comfortable." They should put some logic in it too, yes yes. "A-and! It'll be better for your singing without so much wrapped around your throat, hmm?"

Toddling onto the stage with a nervous air perceptible to even the least astute gembound, clutching three perfectly average stones. They paused, both for some dramatic tension and to steady their nerves. Before tossing the stones up into the air and holding out her paws.

And then subsequently getting bonked on the head by each stone, every impact producing a comical honking noise. But that was okay! Honk was sure they could salvage this! Placing a hand on their forehead and falling to the floor as Honk pulled an exaggerated pout, miming a tear running down their cheek. Then indiscreetly scrabbled for the rocks.