fandomtownies | Improv Class, The Boards, Thursday Evening

Now that they were into the swing of things, Lizzie and Jono had decided to take alternating weeks of the improv class. Lizzie had expected to be nervous, about her first solo outing, but she wasn't. It felt like they'd been doing this forever.

"This week, we're pulling from a classic bit of sketch comedy," she announced, when it looked like everyone had settled in. "Sketch comedy isn't the same as improv, but they have similar roots, and this particular skit lends itself well to an improv activity. The skit is called The Four Yorkshiremen, but all you need to know is that it's an elaborate game of Top-That."

And everyone had a friend who was a master at Top-That, right?

"Here's the premise. Four men sit around drinking tea and reminiscing about how poor they were, in the past. Every time someone makes a speech, the next person has to escalate. You lived in a hole in a ground? Oh, well, we lived in a lake. So the next person sighs about how they would have dreamed of living in a lake, what with living in a rolled-up newspaper in a septic tank. And the circle goes around until it devolves into utter lunacy.

"It's hilarious, and it's also pretty fun to try. So: we're going to pair off and play Top-That. It doesn't have to be poverty-based; use any superlative you like. Which of you had the most tiring day. Which of you had the best news this morning. Which of you is the luckiest person alive. There are a couple of ground rules, though, and they're important."

She cleared her throat and glanced around at their students. "The first rule is: no denying your partner's reality. It's a fundamental rule in any improv exercise, but this game is really going to push that to the limits. If your partner announces that they had triplets this morning, and then twins this afternoon? Then they did. You don't roll your eyes and say that's impossible. You accept it and you go from there.

"So no, the natural laws of physics don't apply here. Kind of freeing, isn't it?"

It was good when a rule could also loosen a restriction like that.

"The next rule is, be inventive. It's more of a suggestion than a rule, but it's still very important. You don't top triplets and twins by going for octuplets and quadruplets. Make a sudden left turn. You sigh and state that you only wish you had the free time to have children, since you've been so busy travelling the world forty-seven times a day feeding the homeless. This game is about creativity.

"The last rule is that whatever went before, counts. You can play fast and loose with this, but it's kind of fun to have to take into account what you said previously while adapting to whatever new direction the game is going in. In the original sketch, someone mentions getting evicted from the hole in the ground so they can up their game to living in a shoebox in the middle of the road. Maybe nannies are raising your triplets and twins so you can go door to door hand-washing the elderly."

Okay, that mental picture wasn't ... exactly ideal.

"Or maybe you haven't slept in a week, and your partner insists that she hasn't slept since two years ago. You can't state that you haven't slept since the 1940s. At least, not without explaining that when you said "sleep," you meant resting your eyes for thirty seconds, and you haven't had real sleep since at least the Truman administration. Or maybe you wouldn't mind the no-sleep so much if you'd been fed this month. Or allowed to change your clothes."

Lizzie beamed at the students. "Above all, have fun with it. Sigh, roll your eyes, and make sure everyone knows that their story might be cute, but you had it really tough. Or exciting. Or wonderful. Pick a direction and throw a brick onto the gas pedal. Don't worry about logic, just go for it. Ready?"

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Well, mission accomplished, at least. Warren blushed, coughed into his hand, and then shot a look at Karla, silently begging for some kind of... release. Maybe.

It wasn't going to happen. Damn her for wanting him all... alive and things.

"Funny thing, it isn't the squirrels who complain about the view."

And you know, that bit of spine right there had Audric blinking and taking a half-step back. The squirming he'd expected. The retort, he hadn't.

Huh.

And so, he responded to the take-that. "It's nothing compared to the time Ilyse had me stitch a thousand thousand butterfly wings together to make her a ballgown," he said. "Using silk from cocoons, because anything thicker would have made them tear."

Was that a tiny victory Warren had just had? He'd hardly noticed, over the sound of Karla's dad being surprised that he had a spine.

He held it in reserve for pretty much every Kaeleeran he met, it felt like.

"Butterfly wings and silk cocoons aren't all that bad," Warren noted. "Try making the same thing out of the scales of a dragon that doesn't particularly want to share them, and then weaving them all together using the fresh-spun silk that I had to personally collect from a thousand black widow spiders."

Was this top that game getting a little serious? Because now that Warren had pulled out the backbone, he wasn't inclined to put it away.

Edited 2013-02-01 12:46 (UTC)

Bring it, kiddo. Just bring it.

"I only wish I had to try to talk scales off an unhelpful dragon," Audric replied, not at all realizing that such a thing might be true. "Have you ever had to lure a million fireflies and make sure they blinked in unison so she could have a gown and hairnet that glittered like stars?"

Speaking of stars...Audric glanced over at his wife and daughter to see how they were taking this little game of one-upmanship, and saw Karla looking at this male like he was her whole world, a fierce pride in her eyes.

Huh indeed.

"Fireflies can be trained to blink to certain musical numbers, easily," Warren replied, shaking his head. "Or, easily, compared to trying to train the stars themselves to do it! Do you know how difficult it is to coax them down from the sky?"

"Can't be any harder than weaving moonlight into a cloak that whispers praises to her beauty as my lady walks," Audric declared. "Or collecting the shine of the sun from her hair for her to bathe in."

"I've chased down the Winds themselves to create a gown that dances in joy at the touch of her skin," Warren boasted, "gathering them from places where the greatest the Eyriens have to offer fear to fly."

Audric had to laugh at that. "Well said," he complimented, ceding the game to Warren. "So you know of Eyriens, then? Karla's told you much about our Realm, it seems."

"I've trained in sticks under Lucivar Yaslana himself," Warren replied, not afraid to brag a little. "And Andulvar has given me flying lessons on more than one occasion. Kaeleer is... it's more a home to me than my own home ever was, sir."

Sputtering. Audric didn't know who this Lucivar character was, but the name Andulvar Yaslana lived on in records of the great war. "Surely you jest--"

"Just wait until you hear about who trained me in Protocol," Warren replied, with a little grin that bordered on sharp.

Because, honestly, now.

Edited 2013-02-01 17:09 (UTC)

"That would be the High Lord," Karla said smugly, before either of her parents could respond. And sending Warren a small thread of desire because, damn that grin did things for her. Looking more at her mother than her father, she continued to trot out his pedigree. "Andulvar lives at SaDiablo Hall in Dhemlan. Warren has been training to be a Consort by the High Lord of Hell himself, Consort to the last Witch and called the Seducer."

Saetan had about a million titles, actually.

"Lucivar Yaslana is the High Lord's youngest son, descended from Andulvar on the distaff side. And he gives Warren high praise. And amongst his friends, Warren counts the soon-to-be Consorts of Scelt, Dharo, and the Dea al Mon. He also gets along well with Morton."

Any other questions, folks?

There were some interesting expressions flitting over her parents faces there.

"Karla, this sounds like some sort of fantasy..." Ilyse began.

"A fantasy she mentioned last time we were here," Audric reminded gently. "Witch has come again and they are friends. Perhaps this is a time for fantasy."

"I'm no liar," Karla said steadily. "I have many flaws, but not that. And all those stories from my youth you thought were funny tales of whimsy? They weren't. My 'imaginary friend' was Jaenelle and we played with kindred. You can accept it or choose to believe I'm spinning fairy tales, but that doesn't change what's true."

"There's a settlement in Arceria," Warren offered, raising his chin and looking between Karla's parents. "Karla negotiated with the Arcerian Queen - Kindred, an Arcerian cat - for the right to develop an area of their land, for Glacian refugees to retreat to until she can step up and become Queen of the Territory. I assure you, it all might seem like fantasy, but what Karla is telling you is all very real."

He turned that little troublesome grin of his back toward Karla's father.

"You're welcome to challenge my skill at sticks, if you're unconvinced."

"Sticks?"

"The traditional Eyrien weapons are the bladed sticks and the warblade," Karla answered piously. "Warren has been learning sticks from Lucivar for a few years now."

Beat.

"...I did mention that Lucivar is an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince, yes?"

"And possibly the greatest mentor I've ever had," Warren added with a fond smile. "He's a little rough around the edges, but... He's Eyrien."

It was sort of their modus operandi.

Improv Class, The Boards, Thursday Evening

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