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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 19, 2008 2:59:35 GMT -5
Armand had his instructions. The director could have kissed the young prince for actually doing what he was supposed to once in awhile. And Armand, not having the passion, confidence and talent that Julien did, obeyed without much fight.
The scene should be first rehearsed separately, the director had told him, so that with chorus and music, there's no stumbling around that will make everything awkward. Armand couldn't agree more, not that it made this practice any less awkward for him.
He found Iseabail's door and knocked on it, leaning against the frame, studying the script in his hands as if it were a map to his escape.
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Post by Maestro on Feb 19, 2008 3:31:31 GMT -5
Iseabail had had the same instructions as Armand: go over the scene by yourselves before bringing it into context; that didn't stop her from pacing in her room. They had set up this rehearsal earlier, but she was still rather nervous about the whole thing. Which was WHY they were having this rehearsal: if they weren't able to do the scene alone, they would never be able to do it in front of an audience.
She was actually wearing a gown today, practice for the costume she'd be wearing. It was odd, though; she couldn't remember if Armand had ever seen her in anything other than kilts and occasionally trousers.
Pushing that thought from her mind as she heard the knock, Iseabail took a deep breath and went to answer the door.
"Hullo, Armand," she murmured, smiling, when she saw that it was, in fact, Armand. Opening the door a bit wider for him, she added softly, "Ye can come in." Goodness, this could be awkward. And then, on the other hand, it could be beneficial to the both of them.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 19, 2008 14:06:49 GMT -5
Armand glanced up as the door opened, and had to swallow. "Nice dress," he said after a moment and then wanted to kick himself. Nice dress? He sounded like Alexander. You look pretty, would have served just as well.
And anyway, it was fine, because Scarpia was supposed to out of control in lust for Tosca, and this would better predicate the mood. He attempted a smile as he stepped into her room. "Shall we get it over with?"
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Post by Maestro on Feb 19, 2008 15:47:19 GMT -5
She hadn't expected a compliment. "Thank ye," she murmured, smiling. "I figured I should get as much practice as I can, wearing an actual dress. A kilt works nicely enough for 'normal' purposes, but I dinna think that Tosca would wear one." For once she actually felt more comfortable in a dress, for some reason; she didn't dwell on that thought too long.
Closing the door behind him, she smiled a bit, probably just as nervous as he was. "Aye," she responded, although she wasn't quite thinking in terms of 'get it over with.' True, this was going to take some getting used to, but rehearsals were fun! Well, for the most part. This rehearsal might be less fun, more nerve-wracking, but if they got to a point where they were both comfortable, that would be half the battle.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 19, 2008 16:18:17 GMT -5
Armand glanced over his script, summarizing quickly. He raised his eyes to Iseabail and smiled. "Shall we pretend you just asked me to 'save him'?"
He tossed his script onto her table and in the next instant, was entirely transformed. Where Armand stood, now was Scarpia.
"I? … You rather!"
He took a few steps toward the table, looking in digust at an imaginary dinner that was supposedly interrupted. He repressed his temper and turned to her, calm and smiling once more.
"My poor supper was interrupted."
He caught sight of Iseabail, now Tosca in his mind, and looked a mixture of annoyed and sympathetic. "So downhearted? Come, my fair lady. Sit down here. Shall we try to find Together a way to save him?"
Armand sat at the table and motioned at her to join him. "Well then, sit down, and we shall talk. And first, a sip of wine. It comes from Spain."
Armand went to fill an imaginary glass, and then saw that Iseabail had already thought to provide two glasses and a bottle of red wine. Armand was tempted to smile, but Scarpia reminded him that now was not the time. He poured a glass and extended it to her.
"A sip to hearten you."
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Post by Maestro on Feb 19, 2008 18:27:06 GMT -5
Smiling, she nodded, taking one last glance at her script. She didn't need it, though; she had the scene memorized.
As she saw Armand's script land on her table, Iseabail slipped into character. It was good to be Tosca again; she really liked the character. Plus, she hadn't had a chance to sing for a while since before the masquerade.
She turned to face Scarpia, wondering how on earth he could think of food at a time like this. Dejected and sad, she stared at the floor. Her emotions must have shown on her face for Scarpia was now trying to soothe her.
At his words, she looked up, slightly wary. He was talking of ways to save Mario? Surely he couldn't be serious. Not without some sort of price, anyway.
She started toward him, though she did not sit; she just watched him as he did. Clearly not impressed by the fact that he had Spanish wine, she just raised an eyebrow.
Tossing her head, she glared at Scarpia. Ever haughty, she sat down, facing Scarpia to show him that she was not afraid. She looked down her nose at the glass of wine he offered her then back up to Scarpia's face.
Her eyes never moving from his, she asked grimly, "How much?" clearly not referring to the wine.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 19, 2008 19:04:04 GMT -5
He pretended to be surprised, though it was obvious neither of them were. He laughed, an icy chill to the sound.
"How much?"
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Post by Maestro on Feb 19, 2008 23:23:00 GMT -5
Laughing slightly, Tosca eyed Scarpia, her gaze saying "You know perfectly well what I mean." Instead , she took the glass of wine and looked into it disdainfully for a moment before placing it back on the table, untouched.
"What is your price?" she asked, eyes never leaving Scarpia's face.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 19, 2008 23:41:11 GMT -5
Here we go, Armand thought, and turned piercing eyes on Iseabail.... or, er, Tosca. The passion seeped into his gaze, and he found it wasn't as difficult to act, if he was acting at all.
"Yes, they say that I am venal, but it is not For money that I will sell myself To beautitul women. I want other recompense If I am to betray my oath of office. I have waited for this hour. Already in the past I burned With passion for the Diva. But tonight I have beheld you In a new role I had not seen before. Those tears of yours were lava To my senses and that fierce hatred Which your eyes shot at me, only fanned The fire in my blood. Supple as a leopard You enrapped your lover. In that instant I vowed you would be mine!" Armand's voice had grown husky and thick, but now it was nearly animal in its quality. "Mine! Yes, I will have you …"
He stood to his feet and opened his arms to her, Come to me, his look, meaningful and hard, said.
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Post by Maestro on Feb 20, 2008 0:35:57 GMT -5
Her breath caught in her throat as Armand-turned-Scarpia gazed directly at her. She could practically see the passion and lust burning from his eyes. Normally, she could tell when Armand had pulled on Scarpia, but now, it was difficult to tell whether he was acting.
During his tirade, she sat mostly motionless, trying to calm her breathing. As though in a trance, when he held his arms open to receive her, the woman started toward him, not realizing what she was doing.
She caught sight of the window, brought suddenly out of her trance-like state to remember that they were rehearsing. Starting towards the window, she cried out, "I'll jump out the window first!" even though that was far from the truth.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 20, 2008 0:54:15 GMT -5
The sting of disappointment felt a little to real as she ran to the window.
"I hold your Mario in pawn!" he growled coldly.
"Oh, wretch Oh, ghastly bargain …" Tosca muttered mostly to herself and then, suddenly appearing to realize something, ran to the door.
Scarpia watched her with contempt. "I do you no violence. Go. You are free. But your hope is vain: the Queen would merely Grant pardon to a corpse."
Tosca drew back at his words, glaring, and then dropped into the couch. She turned away from him, and her contempt was obvious. Enraged, hurt, and hating himself for wanting to kiss her, he hissed: "How you detest me!"
"Ah! God!"
Eyes darkening with unknown emotion, he took slow steps toward her. "Even so, even so I want you!"
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Post by Maestro on Feb 20, 2008 1:05:15 GMT -5
It was definitely a good thing that Iseabail had had a lot of practice and training over the years. If she hadn't, she probably wouldn't have been able to act as though she hated Armand. The fact that it also wasn't her hate made things infinitely easier, as well.
Turning towards him, the look in his eyes made Tosca shrink away. She backed as far as she could into the couch, unable to retreat any further.
"Don't touch me, devil! I hate you, hate you! Fiend, base villain!" she spat out, not meaning the words she spoke with such conviction, unable to move.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 20, 2008 1:18:30 GMT -5
He shook his head, half crazed, half amused, and crouched low near the couch so that they were more eye level. He brought a hand down on the couch, blocking her in one side. He let his need, the crippling power, show for her on his face.
"What does it matter? Spasms of wrath or spasms of passion …"
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Post by Maestro on Feb 20, 2008 1:28:28 GMT -5
She couldn't go anywhere. All she could do was burst out, "Foul villain!" There was no escape.
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Post by Miss Jack on Feb 20, 2008 1:47:17 GMT -5
Her rage only spurred him further into the depths of insanity and lust.
His hands shook with what little control he had left and he grabbed onto her, forcing her against him. He ran powerful hands up her arms, dancing over her shoulders and clinging to her skin. He leaned in close and, his lips against her neck, murmured, "You are mine."
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