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

[graphomaniac]

Lev notices Qingqiu's peculiar tone, though he has to spend a minute considering it before he can begin to guess as to what exactly the tone signifies about Qingqiu's thoughts on the matter. At the end of that considering silence, he shakes his head, slowly.

"Last year, they tried this same shtik, nu?" he says, quietly — mindful that they could be overheard. "I think they appreciated not neither of our responses. I think ... like. I think the demons, they like not people what have ties to things outside themselves?"

He sounds unsure — and indeed, he's hoping Qingqiu will offer his opinion on the matter; it does not occur to Lev just yet that he ought to also explain exactly what had happened the previous March.

[xiaoxiuya]

"...They don't?" Shen Qingqiu blinks a little, unsure what Lev could possibly being eluding too. He wasn't even here the March before last; he arrived that April. What kinds of rumors has he heard about the things that happened before then?

"...Do you mean, when Mendel invaded Miss Dahlia's party to expose her and turn all her friends against her?" he finally asks. He's read about some pretty shitty uncles, but that really took the cake...and cast horrible spells on it.

[graphomaniac]

Lev shake his head — no, it wasn't Mendel's party-crashing — but he still purses his lips in silent disapproval at Mendel's actions. And then decides he wishes not to keep his disapproval silent.

"No, like, not the loshon horo," he says. "I meant like, last year, they tried to get us all to tell them our sob stories, nu? In song. But ..." he ducks his head, and blushes. "I think they might've like, been disappointed that Sir and I gave them nothing they could understand without knowing. Sir sang Rivers of Babylon. I chanted Kaddish, though like ..." he bites his lip and fidgets with a lock of hair. "There was no minyan, so like. Maybe I shouldn't have."

[xiaoxiuya]

"Oh...I don't think here I was here yet." Shen Qingqiu frowns slightly, considering Lev's words. "So your connection to a higher power protected you? That makes sense...and surely protecting yourself from rapacious demons is more than adequate justification for waiving some of the normal rules? It would fall under...forgive me, I'm not sure I remember the right term. Pikachu nefesh?"

[graphomaniac]

Lev snorts with laughter and shakes his head.

"Pikuakh nefesh," he says. "But like. Nu. I think it may not apply ... but even if it did, that's not why I feel weird? It's more like ... it's like the demons were looking for weak spots and ..." he pauses, fidgeting with his hair. "I worry how much of mine own weakness I revealed to them, taking the bait. Wanting to like, be clever."

"I just like, can't help but wonder what it is they're seeking? What compelled them to try again, the same time as last time. And like, I bet some here know what's going on, but I know not who."

[xiaoxiuya]

Shen Qingqiu hums thoughtfully, gently taking Lev's hand and massaging his wrist and knuckles. "I was under the impression that demons are predatory emotivores -- that is, they torment humans in order to feed on the emotions they produce. And our host seems to specialize in feelings of despair, melancholy, shame, guilt...A mourner's prayer may technically fall under his purview, but it's not just about the loss of a precious life, is it? It's also about praising your creator." Just because Lev's god isn't Shen Qingqiu's, doesn't mean he hasn't troubled himself to learn anything about his lover's beliefs. If it's important to Anzu and Lev, it's important to him, too.

"I'm not convinced you've shown them any weakness at all. It may be that displaying such a deep well of religious devotion has made you almost completely unpalatable by their standards."

[graphomaniac]

Lev thinks about it for a moment; he plays with Qingqiu's hair, and stares into middle distance; his expression is quite serene.

Finally, he frowns and says, "nu, like. Mourning is mourning. It is proper to mourn. But ... as it is proper to question, so it is proper to submit. But the Kaddish is more than either. It ... it binds us back to the community and to the One whom it praises. I suppose thou'rt right ... but it's like. There's more, nu?"

He shakes his head.

"The shin-dalesim here ... nu, like," he says, and then shudders. "No. They're not no shin-dalesim. Sir's ancestor is a shin-dales, a man of smokeless fire. He did bad things, and he did good, and he learned Toirah, and he gave the world his descendant and my bridegroom. The way the ones here have treated their own ..." he shudders again. "Understand'st thou? The way they treated Dahlia ..."

Words fail him. He bites his lip and falls silent.

[xiaoxiuya]

"Anzu is part demon?" Shen Qingqiu asks, surprised, but neither shocked nor alarmed. Not every world has 'demons' like the ones that plague Pumpkin Hollow; in some worlds, they're just another type of people, just as likely to be wicked or not as humanity itself. This is simply another interesting fact about his beloved.

But he does nod, when Lev alludes to the behavior of Dahlia's wicked relatives. "They have no sense of family loyalty," he mutters darkly. "They treat Miss Dahlia more like a plaything or slave than a child of their bloodline. In some cultures, children are expected to give their parents absolute loyalty; my Cang Qiong Mountain Sect held such beliefs. But even then, parents owe their children loyalty in return, not to mention protection from evildoers. Tormenting us is one thing, but the way they treat her..."

He shakes his head in furious disapproval. "It's truly...a wicked sight to behold."

[graphomaniac]

"Khos v'shuloym," Lev says, genuinely shocked. "Nu! Not so loudly."

He lowers his voice, and says, speaking quickly, "he is descended from one made of smokeless fire. A mazik. Nu. Djinn."

He makes as if to look around, as if by habit, but stops himself, and bites his lip, looking sheepish.

"Sir's ancestor was righteous and scholarly, with many good deeds to his name, and near as much wisdom," he says, primly. "But, nu. He was like, also ... not b'ney Adam. And that is like ... that is very different, from like, being a nefil, nu?"