The Boards - Richard III, CLOSING NIGHT - Thursday evening

[magdaofslovenia.livejournal.com]

Now was the winter of their discontent... The last night of Richard III was starting very soon. Still no sign of their errant Director, but Tony seemed to have everything well in hand. Sophie had counted up receipts from Tuesday, and they were doing quite well. The students had certainly given it their all on Tuesday night.

And Geoffrey may have cast them, encouraged them, and directed them, but everyone in the theater tonight had their own reasons for wanting this last evening of the play to go well.

"Thirty minutes, everyone. Our Stage Manager says places in thirty."

[OCD on its way up!]

Comments

Re: The Performance

[magdaofslovenia.livejournal.com]

Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.

Elizabeth didn't need her words. And she'd learn well enough. Or die.

Margaret gave a low, mocking curtsy, then rose to the height of the queen she once was, and swept off-stage.

Re: The Performance

[glacial_queen]

Karla had just kept darting glances between them, even now, not fully understanding the full measure of their hatred, unmuddied by the memory of a mother's love for even so vile a son.

Why should calamity be full of words?

Re: The Performance

[icecoldfrost]

Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries!
Let them have scope: though what they do impart
Help not all, yet do they ease the heart.

Emma sighed, giving Karla a sideways, crooked smile. She had never been trained to wield a sword, but by God, she was a Queen. Manipulating politics and words had ever been the weapon of her sex.

Re: The Performance

[glacial_queen]

Karla nodded briefly, realizing that she needed to come to a decision. She could either continue to hold those few, brief memories of love for her deformed and defective son, or she could stand with the others that he had hurt, demanding justice and vengeance for their shades.

She rose, extending a hand to Emma.

If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me.
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd.
I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims.

Re: The Performance

[icecoldfrost]

There was nothing she could do but place her hand in Karla's and rise, slowly, turning to face where Sam would enter. Wait to see how Richard would fare against two mothers looking to avenge the ghosts of their lost children.