You stammer for a moment, trying to regain your mental footing
“Uhhh, it is clear to me that this… this [i]damsel[/i], does not return your affections… er… knight.”
There’s a brief pause and the young man behind you in the dress whispers harshly, although his voice still sounds like he’s a bit out of it, “Stick to the script, asshole!”
Your throat dries up and your voice feels like it’s cracking. You’ve always hated public performances and you’ve never really been a fan of medieval romance — all those “thees” and “thous” and “forsooths” have always made your head hurt.
The man in the knight costume looks surprised for a moment, but quickly recovers his poise. For a moment you think you recognize his face, but can’t quite place it.
“Foul betrayer!” He shouts at you, brandishing the sword in a threatening fashion. “How dare you sully the honor of the maiden Carla. You will pay for this treachery!”
He sounds very convincing.
You search your mind, hoping that some of the images you got from the wisdom cup can help you. A few of them seem like they’re applicable, but unfortunately you don’t remember any sounds being associated with the dreams born of the cup of wisdom. Well, time to improvise again.
You take a step backwards and pick up the man in a dress and throw him over your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder at the man dressed as a knight, you yell “You’ll have to catch us first!” and dash off. Silently you curse yourself — that retort sounded a lot cooler in your head.
Fortunately, the unseen audience seems to approve, and you dash offstage to the sound of smattering applause. The knight stays behind for a moment to deliver a soliloquy and then rushes to follow you backstage.
The tinkling music-box sound is hastily replaced with a much fiercer tuner, and a troupe of three dancers moves on stage to fill the void you leave in the performance.
You put the guy dressed as a woman down on the ground, and for a second you think you also recognize him from somewhere. You wrack your brains for a moment and the name “Carl” springs into your mind. Ah yes, now you remember Carl — the doped out kid from the common room who killed his own mother.
You’re about to being explaining things to Carl when a booming voice comes in from over your shoulder.
“NOW JUST WHAT IN THE NAME OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S BALLS WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!?”
You turn to face the sound and see the knight rushing towards you, helmet off. His face is red and he seems to be absolutely livid. Now that he’s closer to you, the horrible smell of human filth fills your nostrils and you remember where you’ve seen him before… on the floor of the common room covered in his own bodily fluids.
“Jesus, Christ James! We’ve done this a hundred times, now! Get with the fucking program or you’re going to need to find a new goddamn show!”
It would seem that he has you mistaken for someone else.
Vlad is a smooth operator, but theatre isn’t really his thing. His natural trickiness was enough to make it offstage without too much of a commotion, but his stage fright made his comebacks a little less than witty.
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