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moogle_workshop2011-02-21 02:45 pm
glacialphoenix) wrote in moogle_workshop2011-02-21 02:45 pm
Fic Prompt Fill: The Art of Interpretation
Class: Black Mage
Title: The Art of Interpretation
Summary: For the fic prompt in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ff_minigames: FFVI, Celes. How could she have pulled off a lead opera part with so little preparation?
Characters/Pairings: Celes, Locke, Ultros, random members of the audience
Word count: 895
Rating/warnings: G
A/N: I remember reading somewhere that in a performance of Puccini's Tosca, the baritone playing Scarpia was trying to direct the infamously myopic Maria Callas offstage, and ended up pointing and laughing rather publicly. He was convinced he botched his performance, but the newspapers ended up giving him rave reviews over his 'death throes'. So, er, consider this inspired by that.
**
The problem wasn't that Celes couldn't carry a tune; quite to the contrary, she had a lovely singing voice. It just wasn't on par with a trained opera singer's, though, much less one as renowned as Maria. The orchestra had already kindly consented to play a little softer (she was fairly certain they didn't know she was Celes and not Maria, and wondered what the impresario had told them in order to keep the show going), and the rest was up to her. She wasn't familiar with the role - she'd barely memorized everything in time. In short, she wasn't ready, but there wasn't time. Oh, well.
That sounded like her cue.
Time to move.
**
"Maria's voice sounds a little different," one self-proclaimed opera aficionado commented to his wife. "She sounds less sure. Nervous, even. And perhaps... strangely untrained?"
His wife, a lady clad in what would have been the latest Jidoorian fashions save for her bad taste in colour, gave him a frown that indicated she was going to make herself like this show. Tickets were expensive, and Maria and Draco was a famous opera, and she was going to enjoy it no matter what. "It is," she said, "obviously a more realistic interpretation of the character of Maria."
"Kindly keep your voice down," hissed an irritated listener. "I want to hear her sing. She's a little soft today."
"I hear she's been unwell," murmured another voice.
"Nonsense," said the lady, who had decided she rather liked being in a position to expound on the literary and artistic significance of Celes' singing. "The singer herself is not unwell, but it is not inconceivable that Maria, sunk in distress over her separation from her beloved Draco, might have fallen ill, but despite this she retains her regal bearing."
There was a murmur of agreement that yes, Celes' bearing was indeed remarkably regal.
"In fact, the contrast between the frailty of her voice and her regal posture indicates a woman who is shouldering an almost unbearable burden, a woman who is a hairsbreadth away from cracking under the immense emotional strain her situation forces upon her," Lady-With-The-Bad-Dress-Sense continued.
Her husband was, admittedly, a little stunned. He hadn't expected his wife to start on a verbal dissertation on the portrayal of Maria, especially not in the middle of the opera. "Hush for a while," he muttered. "Let's see what else she does. If you're right, this should be a very interesting show."
"Of course I'm right," she said, but settled back down, to the (sadly, temporary) relief of the audience members seated near her.
***
Meanwhile, Celes really was verging on a bad case of stage fright. She'd narrowly missed having to improvise some lines, and it was with much relief that she tossed the bouquet of flowers off the battlements (they nearly hit poor Draco on the head), practically rushed her lines, and fled offstage to prepare for the dance scene right after, not realising that there was a rather annoyed - and annoying - octopus hauling a heavy weight along the rafters, ready to push it down on everyone.
***
"She beats a hasty retreat in order to save the life of the man she loves," insisted the woman, in an increasingly strident voice.
"Just watch the dance. Please."
On stage, Celes reluctantly danced with Ralse, absolutely convinced that she'd crash into someone and reveal the fact that she wasn't an accomplished opera singer -
WHAM.
Locke, an angry octopus, and a very heavy weight dropped onto the stage. She instinctively jumped back, dragging her surprised partner along with her.
Locke being on stage wasn't too surprising - the man had a bit of dramatic flair to him - but an octopus? Why was there a giant purple octopus on stage? She could see the impresario cringing out of the corner of her eye. Actually, he looked to be mouthing, "I'm ruined!" Poor man.
Locke kicked a tentacle out of his way, looked around at all the expectant faces, and improvised the best line he could. "Neither Draco nor Ralse will save Celes! I, Locke, the world's premier adventurer, will save her!"
"Silence! You are in the presence of octopus royalty! A lowborn thug like you could never defeat me!"
***
"There is an octopus on stage. Explain that with your "more realistic portrayal" theory."
"It shows," the lady said determinedly, "that - that - that chance and fate always intercede, and that all our lives are in the hands of chance, plot how we may. Now, I think, the ending is in the hands of the gods."
"The gods? How do you think they intend to show that? Snatch Maria up into the sky?"
"Whyever not? They seem to be excellent at coming up with dramatic effects."
"I'll believe it when I see it --"
He paused, as did everyone else, to stare at the figure who'd snatched Celes up with a mocking "I'm a man of my word!" as the curtains closed. The Impresario blinked, and then made free with the remains of the plotline. " What a reversal! Thinking she's Locke's new queen, Maria is instead nabbed by Setzer! What fate lies in store for her? Stay tuned for Part Two!"
"Well?" demanded the lady.
Her husband shrugged, giving in to her interpretation save for one minor detail. "You were wrong about the gods."
Title: The Art of Interpretation
Summary: For the fic prompt in
ff_minigames: FFVI, Celes. How could she have pulled off a lead opera part with so little preparation? Characters/Pairings: Celes, Locke, Ultros, random members of the audience
Word count: 895
Rating/warnings: G
A/N: I remember reading somewhere that in a performance of Puccini's Tosca, the baritone playing Scarpia was trying to direct the infamously myopic Maria Callas offstage, and ended up pointing and laughing rather publicly. He was convinced he botched his performance, but the newspapers ended up giving him rave reviews over his 'death throes'. So, er, consider this inspired by that.
**
The problem wasn't that Celes couldn't carry a tune; quite to the contrary, she had a lovely singing voice. It just wasn't on par with a trained opera singer's, though, much less one as renowned as Maria. The orchestra had already kindly consented to play a little softer (she was fairly certain they didn't know she was Celes and not Maria, and wondered what the impresario had told them in order to keep the show going), and the rest was up to her. She wasn't familiar with the role - she'd barely memorized everything in time. In short, she wasn't ready, but there wasn't time. Oh, well.
That sounded like her cue.
Time to move.
**
"Maria's voice sounds a little different," one self-proclaimed opera aficionado commented to his wife. "She sounds less sure. Nervous, even. And perhaps... strangely untrained?"
His wife, a lady clad in what would have been the latest Jidoorian fashions save for her bad taste in colour, gave him a frown that indicated she was going to make herself like this show. Tickets were expensive, and Maria and Draco was a famous opera, and she was going to enjoy it no matter what. "It is," she said, "obviously a more realistic interpretation of the character of Maria."
"Kindly keep your voice down," hissed an irritated listener. "I want to hear her sing. She's a little soft today."
"I hear she's been unwell," murmured another voice.
"Nonsense," said the lady, who had decided she rather liked being in a position to expound on the literary and artistic significance of Celes' singing. "The singer herself is not unwell, but it is not inconceivable that Maria, sunk in distress over her separation from her beloved Draco, might have fallen ill, but despite this she retains her regal bearing."
There was a murmur of agreement that yes, Celes' bearing was indeed remarkably regal.
"In fact, the contrast between the frailty of her voice and her regal posture indicates a woman who is shouldering an almost unbearable burden, a woman who is a hairsbreadth away from cracking under the immense emotional strain her situation forces upon her," Lady-With-The-Bad-Dress-Sense continued.
Her husband was, admittedly, a little stunned. He hadn't expected his wife to start on a verbal dissertation on the portrayal of Maria, especially not in the middle of the opera. "Hush for a while," he muttered. "Let's see what else she does. If you're right, this should be a very interesting show."
"Of course I'm right," she said, but settled back down, to the (sadly, temporary) relief of the audience members seated near her.
***
Meanwhile, Celes really was verging on a bad case of stage fright. She'd narrowly missed having to improvise some lines, and it was with much relief that she tossed the bouquet of flowers off the battlements (they nearly hit poor Draco on the head), practically rushed her lines, and fled offstage to prepare for the dance scene right after, not realising that there was a rather annoyed - and annoying - octopus hauling a heavy weight along the rafters, ready to push it down on everyone.
***
"She beats a hasty retreat in order to save the life of the man she loves," insisted the woman, in an increasingly strident voice.
"Just watch the dance. Please."
On stage, Celes reluctantly danced with Ralse, absolutely convinced that she'd crash into someone and reveal the fact that she wasn't an accomplished opera singer -
WHAM.
Locke, an angry octopus, and a very heavy weight dropped onto the stage. She instinctively jumped back, dragging her surprised partner along with her.
Locke being on stage wasn't too surprising - the man had a bit of dramatic flair to him - but an octopus? Why was there a giant purple octopus on stage? She could see the impresario cringing out of the corner of her eye. Actually, he looked to be mouthing, "I'm ruined!" Poor man.
Locke kicked a tentacle out of his way, looked around at all the expectant faces, and improvised the best line he could. "Neither Draco nor Ralse will save Celes! I, Locke, the world's premier adventurer, will save her!"
"Silence! You are in the presence of octopus royalty! A lowborn thug like you could never defeat me!"
***
"There is an octopus on stage. Explain that with your "more realistic portrayal" theory."
"It shows," the lady said determinedly, "that - that - that chance and fate always intercede, and that all our lives are in the hands of chance, plot how we may. Now, I think, the ending is in the hands of the gods."
"The gods? How do you think they intend to show that? Snatch Maria up into the sky?"
"Whyever not? They seem to be excellent at coming up with dramatic effects."
"I'll believe it when I see it --"
He paused, as did everyone else, to stare at the figure who'd snatched Celes up with a mocking "I'm a man of my word!" as the curtains closed. The Impresario blinked, and then made free with the remains of the plotline. " What a reversal! Thinking she's Locke's new queen, Maria is instead nabbed by Setzer! What fate lies in store for her? Stay tuned for Part Two!"
"Well?" demanded the lady.
Her husband shrugged, giving in to her interpretation save for one minor detail. "You were wrong about the gods."