MARCH SADNESS - A Symphony of Sorrow

[pumpkinhollow]

SYMPHONY OF SORROW

If the Audience Would Please Take Their Seats

You find yourself at the theatre.

You may be asking how you got here, why you are here, when did you arrive. But none of that matters, does it? Nothing matters. Whether you are shocked at yourself for thinking so or whether you have known that nothing matters for years on end does not matter either. Whatever meaning there was to be had in any of this escapes you now. Who you were and what you wanted, what you valued and stood for, it all seems now like such a hazy dream. Out of reach.

There is a ticket in your hand. It tells you where to go. You follow it dutifully. Ticket stubs are exchanged for playbills. A schedule of performances. Whatever. You numbly proceed to where you belong. Performers and stage crew to their places, orchestra to the pit, workers to their positions. All with the knowledge that there can be only pain.

A four-armed conductor in moth-eaten robes raises his baton, and there is music.

You deserve this.

You deserve this.

You deserve this.

Observer’s Overture

First Movement in E Minor

adagio, con dolore
PP

Lights down on the chorus, who sits in the stands. They are playing the role of the audience. Ad lib spoken word between chorus members seated near one another. Soft music begins to swell eerily.

Lights up on the stage. A performance begins, apparently in media res, where the chorus is meant to observe.

vacillante, improvvisato
cresc. P

The performers on stage play out their acts, appearing fearful. The chorus ad libs quiet uncertainty from the stands. Some of them will look down at their playbill and find their own name on the schedule of acts to come. There is a brief description on the page of the act that is scheduled for them. It is clear by the state of the ones already on stage that this isn’t something they have a choice in.

Chorus members attempt to rise from their seats, but cannot. Not yet. Foreshadowing to a later movement. For now, they must endure the overture.

Opera Infernale

Second Movement in Various Keys
( A medley of vignettes, performed in various styles)

chorale concerto a tutti, con affetto

F

Various chorus members rise between songs and make their way to the green room, where they are costumed. They have some time to talk with other incoming acts. They will find themselves and their loved ones being prepared for their acts.

segue

Those who performed before stop in the green room again. They look drained. A fate which awaits the incoming acts.

segue

On the stage, each act is a musical recreation of trauma. A worst fear, a most painful moment, an act of cruelty, a time of hardship. The styles will vary accordingly. If the other players in a given tale are present, they will receive their role without question. If a cast member has no fellow performers from their own world present, an understudy will be chosen to play any other roles from those that they are close to. Everyone is off book. Vocal quality is adjusted to match the conductor’s standards. Staff ensures there are no interruptions. The show must go on.

CODA: Für Nimona
A Coda in A Minor

There is a stranger in the green room, unmoving. Pale glowing eyes peer out from an ungulate-shaped void perched atop a high end suit. Antlers leer overhead. He is waiting for someone. Staff take no notice of him.

Ensemble's Lament

Third Movement in G Minor

bocca chiusa
PPP

There are other places to be besides the stage. Other roles to play.

pesante

Behind the stage, the stage crew toil under Baritone, the stage manager and the Viscount of Suffering. There is a pipe organ built into the man’s chest, and the bell of a horn where his heart ought to be. It shows. He is as cruel as he is miserable. He runs a tight ship.

declamando, letando

There are others in the pit, if they have the musical skill for it. And while this part of the performance is managed by a kinder sort, the Contessa of False Comforts is not so named for no reason.

The opera is long. There are no intermissions. The orchestra plays until their lungs ache and their fingers bleed, while Sonata assures them that it will all be over soon. Surely she cannot be lying. Surely there must be an end…

freddo, pietoso

Just outside the auditorium, there is work for the chorus serving food and drinks, taking ticket stubs for the endless stream of audience members, cleaning messes, or all other manner of soulless work. Perhaps these ensemble members simply did not interest the Conductor. Or it could be that they were made more miserable elsewhere.

Reprise - Observer’s Overture

Fourth Movement in E Major

impetuoso
FF It would seem that once a chorus member’s concerto is complete, they are free to move about the premises. At least until they are scheduled in a supporting role for another soloist. This means a chance to explore--- or escape.

presto repente, bellicoso
cresc.

Those attempting to escape will be met with resistance, however. Guarding the doors are shades, creations of the Conductor who can wear the faces of those held dear by those that look upon them. Escape, more likely, will come from within.

Members of the chorus who attempt to do battle with the Conductor, however, will find themselves up against something far more dangerous. Figures of glass, in all different shapes. Some abstract and solid, some hollow and human-like, and everywhere in between. Perhaps some chorus members will find one to be familiar.

The Hero will need an ensemble of her own to make it through and strike at the Conductor. Perhaps a resistance can be formed in a hidden location near the green room.

Homeward Aria

Fifth and Final Movement in C Major

tiempo di fanfara, vittorioso
F

When a dagger of Aster is driven into the heart of Prince Efrain of Sorrow’s Song, at last, the illusion fades. The members of the chorus relinquish their roles and find themselves on the summit of Crane’s Ridge.

It will be an arduous journey home, but it can be done with the solace that there is one less Demon Prince to trouble Pumpkin Hollow. Music in a joyful major key swells, then decrescendos.

enfatico, mancando poco a poco

| CONTENT WARNINGS: altered states of consciousness, entrapment, grief, depression, mood control, loss of bodily autonomy |

Comments

[liesdontfindyou]

"He— was supposed to be an ally, of mine. Working against my old program, like I did, I needed... contacts on the outside, you know? People to help. Needles— Santos—" she shakes her head, not really sure what to call him—she knew him as Needles longest, but Rat used his name toward the end and she remembers it vaguely from her childhood, "he was one of them. An old friend of my brother's, apparently. It made him... overprotective. He was always pushing me to leave, even when things were stable."

[itsjustabaddream]

"...I see. And he--- trapped you, in a way?" Neil's brow furrows with concerned confusion.

[liesdontfindyou]

"In a way," she echoes, picking at the scar across her palm the way she so often does. "Eventually he made me leave. I-It might've been the right call, things were getting... dangerous, but I didn't want to, and... anyway, we were on the run for a while. But my old team caught up with us and that— idiot—"

She clenches her fist, which stops her picking but makes the knuckles pale.

"He wouldn't leave. He took me down to this bunker, this— dead end except for a single escape pod only he had the code for and he wouldn't. Leave. The others were all dead but he— if he'd just listened to me, we could've escaped before—"

Her hand flies subconsciously to the scar that stretches up her chest.

[itsjustabaddream]

"Before he got you killed," Neil guesses. "Oh, CT, I'm so sorry. I don't--- I-I'm sorry if I've become---- tied to that memory for you, in some way, because of this. I hope you know that I don't ever want to put you in a position like that. I know I can be rash, and stubborn, but---"

[liesdontfindyou]

She nods in stuttering confirmation of his assumption, fingers curling against the scar before she forces her hand away again. "No, no you're— you're not the same as he was. He— he didn't listen, he never listened. Sometimes it was like he thought I was still just a kid who didn't know better, that's what I get for being his crush's younger sibling, apparently! He— you— ugh."

She drags a hand down her face. Goddammit, Santos.

"...you listen when I have something to offer. You're— fine."

[itsjustabaddream]

"Hey, it's alright. Breathe." His hands rise back to her shoulders. "It's alright. You've been incredibly valuable, of course I want to listen to what you've got to say. I'm very, very honored that you trust me after all of that."

Then, his hands leave her, arms spreading in an offered hug.

[liesdontfindyou]

She breathes. In, out. In, out. Until she doesn't feel quite so light-headed or like she's going to start hyperventilating for no good reason. Just breathe. They're... fine. They're fine. It's over. This is all just unpleasant memories drawn back to the surface.

A moment's hesitation, then she steps in and accepts the hug.