The Boards, Saturday, All Day

[furnaceface]

If what was invading the island today had shown up a couple of years ago, Jonothon would have opened his eyes in the morning, made a mental note of the fact that it felt as though his brain was being beaten in with a psionic powder puff soaked in glitter and sunshine, groaned to the best of his ability, and then would have resigned himself to spending the rest of the day in bed with his head buried under a pillow, hating everything.

These days, Jono was forced to get by without the telepathic early-warning system. It was Saturday, and he put forth his best effort to open The Boards on Saturday, and even with his sense of impending doom switched to 'on' by default these days, he had no idea what was out there, lurking.

And that was why he was in the office, working out a budget for the autumn theatre season. The Consequence of Being Frank wasn't going to put itself on for free, after all.

[OCD free, as usual, and open to any Fandomites who need a place to hide from their sparklypoos or to any sparklypoos who were ~♥~*Born For The Stage*~♥~]

Comments

[nosferatu-omg.livejournal.com]

"Hello?" Demetrius Dorian Devdan Jones called into the theater in his exotic and dead sexy Quebecois-Irish accent. The place wasn't much, but it was a stage; he could sing on it.

"You're in luck," he added. "I'm ready to perform."

Because clearly, this backwater would be thrilled to have a rock star like the frontman for Nosferatu stage an impromptu show. And performing helped to deaden Demetrius's pain from being half-Endless and half-vampire, and all totally fabulous.

[furnaceface]

There was something about that accent that made Jonothon's teeth grind together. Perhaps it was the Irish. Or maybe it was the Canadian French.

Or, perhaps, it was just the attitude of the kid who had walked into The Boards in the first place, sounding for all the world as though Jono ought to be tripping all over himself to accommodate him without so much as an introduction. Really, if he'd thought on it, he'd probably find that the grating parallel mostly just reminded him of Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke... Who was a git.

"Lucky, am I?" Jono glanced up from his paperwork, a handful of receipts and notes that were splayed out mostly haphazard across his desk, and then sighed and made his way out to investigate. "And what audience, pray, were you hoping to perform for on no notice at all?"

[nosferatu-omg.livejournal.com]

Hey now. Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant, etc., was a totally different concept. He wasn't half-vampire. Nor had he been raised in foster homes and orphanages, unaware of the true glory he had been born into.

He also didn't have the best hair in the world.

Said hair was being fluffed as Demetrius Dorian Devdan Jones worked his mouth into a pout.

"I'm the lead singer for Nosferatu," he said, as if speaking to the mentally slow. "We draw crowds anywhere we go. Rolling Stone said I understand the plight of modern youth better than any other songwriter. People would die to have me play for them, literally."

[furnaceface]

"Hm. Well, I've never heard of you, and I'm not in any particular hurry to die," Jonothon noted, one eyebrow raised. "Particularly not for anyone who introduces himself by telling me how lucky I am to be in his presence."

You maybe rubbed him kind of wrong, D3.

[nosferatu-omg.livejournal.com]

"Jealous," Demetrius tut-tutted. "It's okay. It's a common reaction. But I can't help being this amazing, and I don't believe in hiding my light under a bushel."

Because that would get Jono totally on his side, right?

[furnaceface]

Jonothon's deadpan, he'd show it to you.

"So far, I haven't seen any evidence that you're amazing. I've seen a fairly solid argument in favour of labelling you a stuck-up prat with more talk than substance, though. Trust me, if I were jealous, I wouldn't be rolling my eyes half as much."

[nosferatu-omg.livejournal.com]

"All right, you need to see what I can do," Demetrius sighed. "I can appreciate a little healthy skepticism. Lend me a guitar?"

He lacked hammer space. It was one of his few flaws.

[furnaceface]

Oh, there was no way in hell Jono was going to hand this kid his strat. He frowned a little, and then grumbled something unpleasant under his breath before walking across the room to pick up the old, worn-out acoustic that he'd been working on touching up over the past couple of weeks. It was still in tune, with the exception of one string that still desperately needed to be replaced.

One eyebrow raised, he held it out toward the boy.

"Wow me."

[nosferatu-omg.livejournal.com]

It was like the guitar Demetrius Dorian Devdan Jones had learned to play on, back when he was an unloved 14-year-old in a foster home! Perfect.

He nodded his thanks and then began to caress the strings of his guitar. The song he played incorporated the incisive bite of Kurt Cobain's lyrics, laid over a guitar riff borrowed from Johnny Marr on his very best day, with some of Hendrix's fireworks topping it off -- only all much sexier.

He strummed. He wailed. He laid down everything in his heart. It didn't matter if the sounds he made couldn't technically come from that beaten up guitar; they came from it anyhow.

And then he had to go and spoil it all by saying, "You're probably sick of hearing that on the radio all the time, huh?"

[queen3ways.livejournal.com]

Morrigyyyyyn was there when they invented theatre, darling. She'd watched the first performance of Oedipus Rex!

Hadn't understood it, but she'd been there.

She swanned into the building with her sunlight-deflecting umbrella.

"Who runs this establishment?" she asked in her Brazilian-New Zealand-Swaziland overly complicated exotic accent.

[furnaceface]

Jono was going to end this day with the mother of all headaches.

"That would be me," he replied, eyeing both the girl and her umbrella with a raised eyebrow. Can I help you?"

There were certainly a lot of interesting accents wandering in here, today.

[queen3ways.livejournal.com]

"No, my darling, it is I who can help you," she said. "Is it perhaps opening night this evening and your lead actress has caught bronchitis, sinusitis, or the plague and cannot go on?"

These things happened arond Morrigyyyyn quite frequently.

[furnaceface]

Jonothon could only imagine. That eyebrow of his remained right where it was as he sized her up. And then shook his head.

"Actually," he replied, "it's coming on the end of the summer. We haven't even held auditions for our next production, and all I was planning on doing here tonight was perhaps a bit of sorting through the costume racks to see what's been had at by the moths."

Jono's life was so exciting, Morrigy^xn. Weren't you jealous?

[queen3ways.livejournal.com]

"But that's boring," Morrigyyyn protested. "I don't like being bored. It makes me peckish."

[furnaceface]

Peckish? Who actually said that?

"How unfortunate," Jono said, looking at her with the air of somebody who didn't quite grasp what peckish alluded to, in this particular case. "I could hold an impromptu open-mic tonight, provided enough people showed an interest, but I really hadn't been planning on doing much of anything at all, today."

Wasn't it funny how plans could change?

[queen3ways.livejournal.com]

"I do perform a stunning rendition of 'My Heart Will Go On'," Morrigyn mused.

Of course she did.

[furnaceface]

Of course she did.

"And I'm certain Celine would be very jealous." Jono had to work to keep from throwing up in his mouth a little. "Anything else?"

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

There was a zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzoooooooooooooooooooooom across the stage, and then a person diving behind Jono.

"I'm not here."

[furnaceface]

"Hiding from the small army of royal rockstars that are apparently swarming the island today?"

Jonothon was showing little sympathy today, Kenzi.

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

"They are creeping me out," Kenzi said with a shudder. All that pulchritude! All that attitude! All that wisdom! Yeah, it was the last one really messing with her. "I don't have an Aunt Nezabudka, damnit."

[furnaceface]

"And I'm fairly certain that Brazil doesn't have a monarchy, but that didn't stop its Queen from serenading me while wearing a giant fruit-hat earlier," Jono sighed. "Are they everywhere, then?"

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

"From what I could see, yeah. This Nezabudka person came up to me and hugged me on the street, wanted to know how I was, how Aunt Ludmilla was, if Dimi was out of prison yet." Kenzi curled herself as small as possible, eyes peeping over her knees. "I've seen this movie. It does not end well for me!"

[furnaceface]

"We could barricade ourselves in here until they decide to leave," Jono suggested. "I've got enough food," cold pizza, beer, and canned soup, mostly, "to last for a few days. The doors lock tight..."

It was so, so tempting.

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

"I am so seriously considering that." Kenzi peeked over the seat again. "Also? If we were related to the Romanovs, I so would've been drinking out on that story before this. It's either a scam or she's crazy or both." She really didn't like being on the receiving end of this kind of uncertainty. "They'll go away. Eventually. Right?" Please don't let them stay, please don't say noooo!

[furnaceface]

"If they don't, I've got a place to stay in New York. With any luck, they can't find me there."

Sorry, Jono. They could find you anywhere. If they cared to.