2019-05-24 - Children Of An Idle Brain

Now that there are fewer kids around - including the juvenile assholes that RUIN EVERYTHING in this town - the company is having a good ol' time doing scenes out of the tragedies. They don't perform the Scottish play out in the park, but the others are fair game, and everyone's all awestruck while Keene himself, along with a few other players, play through bits and pieces of Romeo & Juliet. Specifically, they've gotten to Keene, as Mercutio, "I see Queen Mab hath been with you," and the mad rambling of that poor character that follows.

Alex and Violet have been down at the park a minute now, and happened across this little sidewalk-performance. He's giving it a bit of a wary eye, not so aware of the tricks this troupe is pulling to dazzle the uninitiated audience of onlookers. They're cute (Violet and Alex, that is, not the theater company; those guys are creepy fucks), so they're holding hands and stuff, and he says in a voice lower than the actor's, "Shouldn't this be a terrible idea?" He means all the shiny shit they're doing to mind-trick the mundane rabble.

Violet assumed there'd be nothing more uncomfortable a thing to do than go out to a place where she knew every single pair of eyes in this town would be on her. No, this was far more unsettling, the dark brightness of the theater troupe and the tricks that they were playing. Her fingers wrap a little tighter around Alex's own, and she stays glued to his side. "Yes," she murmurs back, her lips bowing into a frown as she steadies a look on Keene. The only good thing about this is that everyone was very busy paying attention to the troupe; they hardly even noticed Violet. It was almost like she could be normal for once! "They.. they sparkle. Differently," she adds quietly. It doesn't make a lot of sense to her. "I don't think we should get close."

The alleyway where the foodtrucks and tents are is slightly off the stage, and since she was supervising, Julia hasn't been paying too much attention to what's going on over by the stage for most of the day. However, she's finally managed to peel away and is trusting the greasy teenagers to run the booth for a bit. She stands at the edge of those milling about the stage area.

Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again.

A general gasp rises from the onlookers, though they probably aren't getting quite the same measure of theater that the special kids are, who see this little fairy-witch in a flash - and then the blades, themselves.

And Alex reels his head back from this, goes so far as to take an involuntary step backward while he attends the low words at his side. "It's quite a trick." He's not entirely dissuaded, but his steps start again, moving on before they get to the bit about the maids on their backs. Though his head turns while he walks, kind of keeping a peripheral eye on the performance. As such, he's unlikely to notice Julia till they're practically running over the top of her.

There's a little sound that comes from Violet at the sudden flash, and she winces her eyes shut, briefly turning her head into Alex's own. It doesn't help make the image dissappear, but it helps her suppress a little shudder that wants to run through. A deep breath in to fill her lungs and then a steady exhale follows. "Please hurry," she requests of him in a quiet voice, urging him onward with a squeeze of her hand around his own. It was this eagerness to get away that she also doesn't notice Julia until they were almost on top of her, and she suddenly stops in her tracks. "Oh."

Julia seems to have a good sense of her own spatial awareness, and so when the couple approach, she turns her gaze toward them and takes a few steps back. She apparently doesn't think they have anything to say to each other, and she simply moves off a few steps for the couple to proceed. Albeit with a faint air of sensing a stink, possibly from the space occupied by Alex.

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy...

That's when Alex and Violet pass out of earshot, save the soft laugh that comes a few minutes later when Benvolio gets to deliver his line about the wind blowing them from this place. The tension evaporates with the chuckles, and he gives Violet's hand a little squeeze back, an easy smile - see? nothing to be afraid of! - and then Violet stops. So he stops. "Hm. Hello." See?! Nothing to be afraid of!

There's a quick glance over her slim shoulder, back to the troupe and the laughter that filters back from Benvolio. But Violet's shoulders sag with the fading tension, and she looks back to catch Alex's easy smile. It brings something brighter to her face, just a quick smile of her own that flattens at Julia's own expression. "Hello Julia," she says quietly, but it was friendly enough. "Are you.. enjoying the festival?"

Julia looks Alex up and down, like she's trying to figure out exactly how Violet's reigning him in, and turns her attention to the blonde. "Hi," she says, even-toned. "I've been working, mainly. We have a tent over on the food row." Her gaze slides over to the stage. "They are not right. I mean, as dramatic interpetation goes they're not bad, but they're not right."

Alex goes out on a limb about the tent that Julia has over by the food row. "Fried fish?" It's a joke, everyone. Truuuue, it's kind of a Violet-caliber joke, but he made the effort. Since they've paused, he turns back to where the troupe was a moment ago. They've whisked off now, and the little cluster of onlookers had dispersed, but he contemplates the place that they were, like there's something to see there still. There's not. "No allowance for different strokes for different folks?"

And Julia isn't the only one with opinions. There's Christopher, for instance, who's been hanging out on the fringes and watching for a little while. Eventually, he pulls a squawbuck out of his pocket and starts flipping it. "Heads," he murmurs under his breath. "Heads. Heads." Yeah, so far, that's just about right.

There's a quiet little giggle at Alex's bad joke from Violet. Sure, Violet's player doesn't necessarily understand what's funny, but Violet's got those hearts in her eyes for Alex in spite of all the ~weirdness~ around them. So he makes her giggle, just a little bit. The sound cuts off abruptly though, leaving her with owlishly wide eyes and no small bit of awkwardness in her stance. "I.. I don't know if they are right or if they're wrong," she admits. "But they shouldn't be... like they are. Here. So ... prominently." It's about that time that she notices Christopher in the crowd, a lingering glance for someone that she's remotely familiar with. It makes her inch closer to Alex.

Julia blinks a bit at Alex, like - if he made a joke? She's not sure what it was. "Seafood on a stick." she clarifies, her mouth pursing. "Whatever." she says, adding, "Don't you think the fact that they shouldn't be is what makes them not-right to begin with?" She follows Violet's glance. "Who's that?"

No one has to get the joke. Alex's player gets the joke, and that's what matters, screw everyone else.

Alex is slightly less rawr about no one getting his jokes, pressing on without the bother of, y'know, caring that he's not funny. But he does try to follow the conversation about what these people should or shouldn't be; he's not following it, but the effort counts for something. "By that token, none of us should be. Here. At all?" No? Probably no. He's still a bit lost, so sure, he hones in on something actual tangible, like who's that. He watches the coin-flipping. "Hmm."

Is Christopher going to extend that streak from three to four, or is random chance going to ruin his reference? The world may never know. Because that's when he spots Violet, followed by the others. "Hey," he calls out to her, pocketing the coin once again. "What's all this about the wrong crowd?" He shoots a glance toward the troupe off in the distance, taking an educated guess.

"I don't know if you're wrong about that, actually," Violet murmurs back to Alex about how none of them should be here. But that was a conversation for a later time. Right now? Christopher was headed there way, and she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Hello, Christopher," she says quietly, politely even! "We were just.. talking about how the acting troupe seems.. different. That's all." She looks back to Julia and Alex both. "This is Christopher. We... went to high school together," she explains. "Christopher, this is, ah.. Julia. And my .." she looks up to Alex, biting at her bottom lip. "Alex. He's a doctor at the hospital."

Julia looks over to Alex. "By that token, I don't think I agree with your diagnosis, doctor." But now is not the time to clarify her meaning. She flashes a brief smile at Christopher, her brows lifting in polite interest. She holds her tongue on her next inevitable question, not wanting to invoke Alice's name for Violet's comfort.

There's a very nice smile for Julia, quite credible, and Alex tells her, "Interesting." Read: diaf. His tone is super-polite, which makes it segue appropriately into a nice-to-meet-you tone, which he turns upon Christopher presently. He even - wait, first he has to loose Violet's hand from his, then he's able to offer a handshake across to the coin-flipper, and he suits words to tone, "Nice to meet you, Christopher. We were - " He tips a nod to Violet. What she said, about the acting troupe. "Their performances are quite good, I think. But we were discussing their," what's the word, "methodology."

"Methodology, right," Christopher replies, buying a precious few moments to think. He has little idea where the one sister has actually gotten herself to, lately, and even less so about this one. "Likewise, Doctor Alex. So, the troupe. Isn't there one of those plays that's supposed to be bad luck?" /Of course/ it will turn out to be upcoming.

Violet lets Alex quit the hand-holding, though she sort of stands there awkwardly for half a second, wondering wtf she's supposed to do with her hand's new found freedom now. Eventually, she opts to idly play with a button on her cardigan while she flicks a glance back over to her shoulder, to where the troupe was. "There's a superstition," she says to Christopher. "That saying the name of the play in the theater will bring disaster. The play is supposed to be cursed."

"Which is why they call it 'The Scottish Play'." Julia chimes in. "There's all kinds of stories associated with bad luck around productions. Mostly stuff like the dummy of Lady Macbeth they use for when she hangs herself turning out to be an actual body, or really painful pranks being played on the actors. Tights soaked in turpentine, that sort of thing." A pause. "Was that too spoilery?"

"Reyes." Doctor Reyes, he means. "Or Alex, is fine." He waves away the whole issue of his name, tilts his head curiously into this conversation about the Scottish play. Or, really, his curiosity is about, "Why would you dip someone's pants in turpentine?" Not 'why would there be a real body hanging instead of a fake one,' nice priorities, Alex. "You'll wind up with a bad rash." So he frowns and makes no effort to pretend he doesn't think this idea is stupid.

Christopher shakes his head. "I think that's the idea," he says. "Some 'pranks' are just people being dicks." He keeps his voice down, there might be kids wandering by, after all. "Any idea if this group's going in for any of that?"

Violet inclines her head in a small nod over to Julia, another frown drifting over her features. "And there was the theater that burned down while they were playing the show," she mentions, blinking back to Alex as he muses about turpentine pants. "I think Christopher has a point. It sounds like something somebody would do to be cruel," she shakes her head, shifting back to steal Alex's hand into hers again. "I don't think so," she answers Christopher. "I think they are... more interested in other tricks." It makes her brows furrow. She doesn't embellish.

"The tradition is more about things being done to the production, not so much by the production." Julia clarifies. "And right now I think it's just...bad vibes, you know?" It's easier to talk to Christopher, and by some extension Violet. Any cordial tone she offers Alex's way will come off way to saccharine. "But they haven't actually done anything that we know of. Who knows? We might all just be paranoid." They're not paranoid, but Occam's Razor and all that.

One more time, Alex looks back to where the troupe was a minute ago, doing the whole Mercutio bit. One more time, there's absolutely nothing to see, but he looks at the place contemplatively anyway. "Maybe they just really like performing." There's just a little hint of question at the end of that possibility, like he's aware that he's the only one giving them the benefit of the doubt here. Here, he agrees with Julia and doesn't do it like he hopes she dies: "Exactly. They haven't done anything. Except a little Shakespeare in the park."

It's not paranoia when /you're right/. "And maybe Civil War re-enactors are just history buffs," Christopher points out. "But I wouldn't bet my favorite shirt on it." It's all he can come up with, is quietly grumbling about how screwed they might be. Be nice if he had any idea what to /do/ about it.

"I only question the motives about the ones who play the South." Julia remarks to Christopher wryly. "But then, they delude themselves into alternate history every day." She does flash a smile over at Alex then; one that suggests should he ever be set on fire, all available forms of moisture would not be utilized. "They're creepy, though." And apparently doing things that should have consequences that thus far are not occurring. "Well. This is crazy awkward. Anyone interested in fish on a stick? Shrimp skewers? Lobster bites?"

"Mmm," Violet replies, rolling the sound over her lips with a shake of her frizzy blonde head. "Maybe. Though, you probably shouldn't be betting your favorite shirt on anything, Christopher. There's always a chance that you could lose. And then you would be.. shirt out of luck," it was a really bad joke, a really really bad joke, and her timing was god awful. But Violet giggles anyway, a quiet thing that almost immediately thereafter clams up. She clears her throat and tucks herself beside Alex, a quick glance shot over her shoulder to where the troupe was but isn't any longer. "Oh, I'm.. fine," she says to Julia, "Thank you though. I actually wanted to go look at the dreamcatchers," over there~. "Do you mind?" this is a question to Alex, before there's more polite smiles for Julia and Christopher. "It was nice seeing you both."

"Are they not?" Alex is very confused by Christopher's Civil War comment; it leaves him making shapes with his mouth that have no sound behind them. Though there's definitely sound behind him telling Julia's offer of fish-on-a-stick, "No," and shaking his head at her absolutely. Like, that's not just 'no' but 'omg no ew don't be gross!' It's really too bad he's distracted by the idea of eating fish on a stick, because Violet's joke was legit funny, and he missed it. 🙁 He's still getting over that mild disgust when he answers, "No," he doesn't mind. "It was nice to meet you, Christopher. Julia," Hoooolia~, "buenos noches."

They'll just be over here, buying dreamcatchers and not eating stick-fish.

"Evening, Vi. Alejandro. Bueno noches." The 'motherfucker' is silent. Yeah, there's no love lost between those two. Once Violet and Alex a good few paces away, she quietly inquires of Christopher, "So. You went to school with Violet? I'm guessing that means you know Alice?"

Yes, thank you, Julia, you've just guaranteed that Christopher will choose none of those things. Give him something safe, like a chili dog. "Yeah, uh, see you around." It's probably true for Violet at least, maybe the others. He's just starting to contemplate wandering off and checking out that booth with the malachite paperweights, when Julia goes and speaks up again. "Uh. Knew her, yeah, back in the day. Haven't caught up in a long while."

"I imagine not." Julia says, perhaps enigmatically, and then with a shrug, wiggles her fingers. "Anyway. Nice to meet you." She might be mildly insulted that they all refused her offer of food, but it's a passing fancy. "Have a good evening."