Sime~Gen Roleplaying: Householding Naros Scenario
Episode #184: A New Leaf (12/6/99)
Lalique sits on the edge of her bed in the Sun Butte Hotel, cradling her shiltpron in her arms.
Lalique squints at the mid-morning sun which is starting to come in the windows.
Lalique gets up and goes to pull the blinds shut.
Lalique returns to her corner with the shiltpron and strums a few more chords, audial oscillation only.
Lalique sings softly "I remember...."
Buggfa is re-reading the lamentably dog eared comic book which had been his sole piece of reading material at the time of his latest kidnapping.
Buggfa's comic book's color registration problem has not improved with age.
Buggfa would buy another but with no source of income he thinks it'd be a better idea to hang onto his remaining cash unless required for living expenses.
Lalique strums a sequence of chords.
Lalique: Are you fair... uh fair... hair... lair....
Lalique strums a another sequence.
Lalique: Do you dare....
Lalique reaches for her cup of trin and takes a sip.
Buggfa wonders if she's too proud to go for the crowd-pleasing "bare" or if she just hasn't thought of it yet.
Buggfa is aware that songs rhyming "dare" and "bare" aren't suitable for certain audiences.
Lalique senses his attention on her. 1
Lalique: Hey, Buggfa.
Buggfa looks up from his comic book.
Buggfa: What's up?
Lalique: I've been thinking about what you said, about the music being more important than the push for a Gen audience.
Buggfa thinks that's not exactly what he said, but what the heck.
Buggfa: Yeah?
Lalique: I'm trying to write a song that is just music.
Buggfa: Cool.
Lalique: I never tried that before. Tell me what you think of this.
Lalique accompanies herself on the shiltpron, audial range only.
Lalique: I remember the gleam in your eyes.
Lalique: When you whispered "Do you dare?"
Lalique: And the murmur of your sighs.
Lalique: And now you aren't there.
Lalique strums a meandering string of notes and looks up inquiringly.
Buggfa: That's not bad. Is there more?
Lalique: Yeah, I've been working on it all morning.
Buggfa thinks it would have gone over great about 20 years ago, so maybe would be a hit with Logan fans.
Buggfa personally has never been a Logan fan, but a lot of people are.
Nick tires of waiting for Riyyh to finish dressing, and goes in search of company.
Nick hears music down the hall, coming from Lalique's room, and wanders in that direction.
Lalique works her meandering notes into the intro to the next verse.
Lalique: I remember passion's lies.
Lalique: As I felt my soul laid bare.
Lalique: But all that's living dies.
Lalique: And now you aren't there.
Lalique lets the melody trail off into a sad whimper.
Lalique looks up.
Buggfa hasn't done a lot of performing for middle-aged audiences and wonders if they'd dig all the negativity or if it'd be depressing for them.
Nick signals at the door as the music trails off.
Lalique: Come in!
Nick opens the door and pokes his head through.
Nick: Am I interrupting something?
Lalique: Oh, hi, Nick!
Buggfa waves.
Lalique: I am trying an experiment: writing music that's nothing but music.
Nick finds this explanation slightly confusing.
Nick: Isn't all music music?
Buggfa: No nageric component.
Lalique: Yeah, audial range only.
Nick: Oh. Does that require a different kind of music, or do the same songs work either way?
Lalique: It's really tough to convey an emotion with nothing but words and sounds.
Buggfa: Hey, little kids do it all the time.
Lalique: Huh. I guess that's true.
Buggfa has to admit most of the more spectacular examples aren't anything the average person would want to hear on stage though.
Lalique: [to Nick] Truly great shiltpron pieces work on both levels.
Buggfa had thought they all did, but he may have simply been brainwashed by several years of Ambient Designers's inflated opinions of themselves.
Lalique: That's what made Zhag and Tonyo so popular.
Nick: I'm afraid I wouldn't know. Most of the time I've been around music, I've been too busy to listen.
Nick forbears from mentioning that the incidents in question were mostly when he was assisting Snake in scavenging work at TBT concerts.
Lalique: A lot of the traditional shiltpron pieces lean really heavily on nageric oscillation.
Nick: Hmm, that may be why I've never really gotten into shiltpron music.
Nick: Although some of the nageric work gets kind of interesting.
Nick is being tactful; he didn't think it was merely "interesting" when he was fighting to keep the ambient steady for Snake.
Lalique: Most Gens can't appreciate those.
Riyyh had tried to follow Nick to tell him not to go too far as they had to leave soon; however, Nick had disappeared so thoroughly he couldn't find him. After a trip to the main room of the Inn, where it turned out Nick had not yet been seen today, Riyyh has retraced his steps to the hallway their rooms are on.
Lalique: Of course, Ancient music was written audial range only.
Nick: Well, of course. 2
Riyyh pokes his head in Lalique and Buggfa's door.
Riyyh: Ah... there you are, Nick.
Nick turns.
Riyyh smiles at the other two.
Nick: Oh. You're ready?
Lalique smiles at Riyyh.
Lalique: Good morning!
Nick had estimated another fifteen minutes, but is glad that he was off on the overestimate side, not the underestimate side.
Riyyh tries to think of a good way to say he'd been ready all along and was just killing time until it was time to leave, which is to say, now.
Riyyh: Yes.
Nick: Oh.
Nick is just a bit chagrined at having been sidetracked just as Riyyh wanted to leave, after waiting around all morning.
Riyyh looks innocent.
Nick: Well, I suppose I'm ready, as well.
Buggfa: See you.
Lalique: Have a good day!
Lalique strikes a cheerful chord.
Buggfa is just as glad that Riyyh will be busy, since it's the first time he's heard Lalique experiment with music newer than 2000 years old and he would like to hear more.
Nick pauses in the doorway, and looks back at Lalique.
Nick: I'm no expert, but that last was more the sort of thing that I like.
Lalique smiles.
Lalique: Well, I'll keep plugging away then!
Lalique: Every day an adventure!
Nick grins in return, then follows Riyyh down the hall.
Riyyh: I do hope they haven't started yet.
Riyyh has found the local bunch of Narosians have a bit more enthusiasm than caution, a common problem in the outreach groups.
Nick: Started what?
Nick's experience with Narosian outreach programs leads him to consider anything from a genteel tea party to incitement to riot.
Riyyh: Printing, of course.
Riyyh wonders where Nick's head was yesterday, when they'd spent all afternoon trying to convince said Narosians that the particular brochure to be printed this morning is a very, very bad idea.
Nick: You mean they're going ahead with it, after all?
Nick: ~~ apprehension ~~
Riyyh sighs.
Riyyh is glad that Nick has so much faith in his ability to gather gossip, but he truly hasn't been in contact with any of them since yesterday evening, which is the same time Nick last saw them.
Riyyh can only hope to arrive on the premises early enough to head anything too wild and crazy off at the pass.
Riyyh: Well, I don't know. But with any luck we will arrive just after they do, and before any work has started.
Nick is glad of the relatively leisurely Narosian work habits; with a less hedonistic group, the pamphlet in question would already be on the streets.
Riyyh leads the way out of the Inn and walks down the street toward the headquarters of the Pleasant Volley Press.
Nick realizes that he is assuming that the print run has gone ahead, and scolds himself for lack of confidence in his channel's persuasive abilities.
Nick is glad that they are walking; he still doesn't feel completely comfortable with Rhonda's Rose's antics, and Riyyh tends to object if he tries to ride one of the pack mares in town.
Riyyh hasn't suddenly developed a fetish for exercise; the town is so small that the Press is only 2 blocks away from the Inn.
Riyyh smiles at various friends they see along the way, many of whom he didn't know at all before this visit.
Riyyh and Nick arrive at the Pleasant Volley Press's trim storefront.
Nick: At least there doesn't seem to be a riot yet.
Nick: ~~ encouraging ~~
Riyyh doesn't see anybody through the front window, and hopes that just means they're still getting in, not that they are all busy in the press room.
Riyyh walks in.
Riyyh waits to see if the door's bell will bring anybody out, then zlins for occupants.
Ozzie stands before the printing press, her frizzy brown hair tied up out of the way with bright red yarn.
Riyyh: They've already begun. I only hope they are printing something else....
Ozzie: [shouts] Come on in!
Riyyh hurries toward the back room.
Ozzie watches the brochures fly past, as ink spatters her long checked dress, adding black polka-dots.
Harriet rushes past, pushing a cart stacked with bundles of paper.
Riyyh: Why hello, Ozzie!
Riyyh beams, then can't help but notice the contents of the cart as it rolls by.
Ozzie grins at Riyyh, her huge gray eyes alight with fervor.
Riyyh: Is that....
Blie rushes up to present Ozzie with a slightly damp pamphlet.
Blie: There is it! The first of the run.
Riyyh reads the cover.
Blie: Oh, hello Sectuib!
Blie: Lovely day, isn't it?
Ozzie: Sectuib Riyyh, we are going forward!
Riyyh: Urk!
Riyyh doesn't normally use this greeting with people he knows.
Riyyh's utterance may have been affected somewhat by the pamphlet's title.
Nick quickly offers support, this being less drastic than burning the offending printing press.
Blie notes Riyyh's reaction.
Blie: The cover did come out nice, didn't it?
Ozzie proudly surveys the cover which read: "Medicinal Herbs for a Happy Home" with a very large marijuana leaf in half-tones behind it.
Riyyh: Oh, my.
Riyyh: That is very... illustrative.
Blie: Yes. It wasn't easy getting that leaf to turn out... oh, dear!
Blie rushes off to tend to the press.
Ozzie turns to the centerfold which diagrams 22 useful items that can be made from hemp.
Riyyh: But Ozzie, dear, I thought we had talked about this yesterday. Weren't we going to postpone this project for just a little while?
Riyyh dazedly looks at the pictures of a hemp stash bag, a hemp garden basket, a hemp siesta hat, etc.
Ozzie waves her tentacles about frantically.
Ozzie: Sectuib, the world must have this information!
Riyyh: But the townspeople will be very concerned.
Riyyh begins wringing his hands in a fashion which is not terribly commanding.
Ozzie: Think of all the poor, anxious, frightened Gens whose lives can be made serene with this marvelous herb!
Riyyh: But you see, it's just a tiny bit illegal.
Riyyh: Don't you remember? We went over this yesterday.
Nick: Don't you think that perhaps cotton bags, wicker baskets, and straw hats are just as functional?
Ozzie: The townspeople will not be concerned at all if they just follow the advice in the pamphlet!
Ozzie: And once everyone is happy, the law can be changed!
Nick has to agree with that much, at least if Ozzie's pamphlet goes into all the uses of the hemp plant.
Riyyh thinks the whole "Unlimited Uses for Limited Availability Plant Products" line of brochures was a bad idea, starting with "Coca Cornucopia" and going downhill from there.
Ozzie's lips quiver with idealistic fervor.
Riyyh: Ozzie, please, may we talk about this before you go on any further?
Riyyh would reach out to take her hands, except that her hands are covered with black ink and he certainly wouldn't want any of that on himself!
Ozzie: Well, of course, Sectuib. I am always more than happy to share my thoughts and more with you!
Nick: Perhaps it would be easier to discuss this if the printing press were to be turned off? It's making a great deal of noise.
Ozzie: Oh, no! We mustn't delay the run! But let's step out into the herb garden.
Ozzie opens a side door, leaving black smudges on the knob.
Nick looks at Riyyh and shrugs; it was worth a chance.
Riyyh would rather keep the brochures from being printed in the first place than try to prevent them from being distributed once an unknown number have been created.
Riyyh winces.
Riyyh: Just for a moment then.
Ozzie steps out into a garden where the skeletal remains of several large sunflowers sway gently in the winter wind.
Riyyh follows Ozzie, carefully not touching the knob.
Riyyh just assumes Nick will do the same.
Nick follows, touching the doorknob accidentally.
Ozzie turns to face Riyyh and Nick, stilling her dithering tentacles by wrapping them around herself for warmth.
Ozzie's face has acquired a number of new, black freckles.
Ozzie: Sectuib, I am at your service!
Nick's roguish habits have been reactivated by the sight of the pamphlet, and he takes a quick look around to make sure that the authorities are not within hearing distance.
Nick has, of course, long since given up on keep anything away from the ears of Narosian gossips.
Riyyh: Ozzie, surely you are aware that the local authorities are up in arms over these drug pamphlets?
Riyyh: Perhaps in the interests of peaceful coexistence....
Ozzie: It's sheerest ignorance.
Ozzie: They're objecting to something they've never tried.
Nick should hope not.
Nick developed a prejudice against recreational pharmaceuticals, particularly of the blue horse tranquilizer type, while traveling with Snake.
Ozzie: One stiff cup of hemp tea and peaceful coexistence will be possible for all of us.
Riyyh has to admit that will probably be true, at least until the "hemp" wears off.
Ozzie: Do you want to go back in. Shall I brew us all a cup?
Ozzie: I admit I haven't had my tonic today. That's why I'm so excited!
Ozzie's tentacles are beginning to flutter again.
Riyyh: No, no, thank you.
Riyyh on marijuana is not a pretty sight.
Riyyh is actually a bit of a pushover in this area, and hopes that Ozzie will not try to talk him into it.
Ozzie: Well, my idea is to brew up a big pot of it.
Ozzie: If people complain, we can invite them over for a taste test.
Ozzie: They'll soon change their tune.
Riyyh: Oh, dear.
Riyyh's tentacles wave worriedly.
Nick: Somehow, I can't see the average municipal authority would agree to such a meeting.
Nick: How will you handle the ones who simply want your arrested?
Ozzie: I would tell them to read the pamphlet! Then they would know the truth!
Nick: What if they also read the law, and decide that it is a more compelling truth?
Riyyh's tentacles wave about all the more agitatedly as he remembers how it felt to bail Racknie and Saig out of jail; it's not the first time he's done something like that but he was hoping it'd be the last.
Ozzie: Well, beautiful, growing plants are the Law of Nature, and that is the Ultimate Law!
Riyyh: But Ozzie.
Ozzie smiles dizzily; actually the black freckles look sort of cute.
Nick puts a soothing hand on Riyyh's tentacles.
Riyyh hears the whining starting and realizes he's tossed aside logic (never his strong suit) as a means of convincing her.
Riyyh however once again doesn't reach for Ozzie physically, because at the last moment Nick's touch satisfies the need-to-touch factor.
Nick has, of course, long since forgotten that he touched the doorknob on the way out.
Ozzie's face is obscured when the wind pulls some of her frizzy hair loose from its ties.
Ozzie pushes her hair back out of her face, leaving black streaks.
Nick: Ozzie, unfortunately, the local courts must decide their cases by the Territory Law, not Ultimate Law.
Nick: Don't you think you could do far more to promote the use of unusual plants, if you weren't in jail?
Ozzie: I am willing to be a martyr, if that is required.
Nick: I realize that, but wouldn't it be a shame to let a little thing like the law prevent you from spreading information about beautiful plants?
Ozzie's tall, lean body seems to strain forward. Actually, with all the spots, she looks rather like a large Dalmatian.
Ozzie: We could spread the truth inside the jail.
Ozzie: Certainly, if anyone needs the comfort of our medicinal potions, it is those poor prisoners.
Nick: Well, but the word can only spread so far in a prison.
Nick: And prisoners don't have much chance to grow plants at all.
Ozzie: Well, I guess that's true. The poor prisoners have no plants.
Nick: Surely there are other, equally useful plants you could promote in your pamphlets, which are legal to grow?
Ozzie looks crestfallen.
Nick: Think of how many more people would be interested, if they didn't have to worry about legal consequences.
Nick has rather gotten the hang of the sorts of arguments that sway Narosians, in the past weeks.
Riyyh: And really, it isn't in the best interests of the program for you to be arrested.
Ozzie: We must start another project, to bring plants into the prison!
Riyyh thinks for one thing, the only people who'd consider Ozzie a martyr would be her 3 coworkers in the program, who hardly need extra inspiration to read the literature.
Ozzie: I have a wonderful idea for the brochure: we could put a picture of a poinsettia on the cover, all in red!
Ozzie: Very liberating!
Riyyh: Oh, dear. [to himself]
Ozzie shouts in the door: "Blie, do we have any red ink?"
Nick reaches out to put a sympathetic hand on Riyyh's shoulder, and only then notices the ink spots on his fingers.
Nick sneaks a glance at Riyyh's arm, which he touched earlier.
Nick: ~~ oh dear ~~
Ozzie flits over to Riyyh and snares him in a huge hug.
Ozzie: Oh, Sectuib, just wait! You'll be so proud of us!
see note 3
Wilard: "Your ripe nager"... no no, that doesn't scan.
Wilard rapidly erases that bit
Lalique strolls along the cobbled streets of Sun Butte.
Wilard: "Your soothing field", yes that is better.
Lalique dons her sunglasses to protect her red-rimmed eyes from the too, too bright morning sun.
Wilard pencils in a few more lines, then stops and plays it from the beginning, humming along with the music.
Lalique thinks that it is early in the day to be wearing sunglasses, but then it is early to be out of bed at all after performing in a shiltpron parlor 'til the wee hours
Wilard: I touch your tentacles my dear... la la la la la, fear it might be the end of our love, la la la la la la.
Wilard: Maybe.
Wilard makes some changes.
Lalique finds the address she was looking for, home of the song-writer Wilard.
Wilard: I touch your tentacles my dear / every month I fear / It might be the end of our love / You are my precious light, my dove.
Wilard looks doubtfully at the score before him.
Wilard: Maybe if it's in a minor key?
Lalique thinks that the shiltpron parlor owner and the stage crew all seem to think the guy is hot stuff.
Wilard puts it under the lid of the music stool and sits on it.
Wilard: Maybe I need to start something new. Yes, that's it. I'll start again.
Lalique signals at the door.
Wilard: Maybe something more ekkk!
Wilard jumps up quickly, knocking the music stool over.
Wilard: Oh! I'm coming! I'll be right there!
Wilard quickly runs to put something on.
Wilard: Don't go away! I'll be with you in two shakes of a tentacle!
Lalique frowns at the rather frantic tone to the voice.
Wilard quickly slips into a pair of well pressed white linen trousers and a shirt of soft cotton with a large and loud floral pattern.
Wilard heads back to the door and opens it.
Wilard: Can I help... you?
Lalique wraps her cloak more tightly around her blue knit dress. A few snow flakes materialize in the air. It is cold on front stoop.
Wilard: Oh, come in come in where it's warm!
Lalique: My name is Lalique. I understand you're a song writer.
Lalique enters slinkily
Lalique: Thank you, dear.
Lalique lets her eyes wander about Wilard's abode.
Wilard: Yes, yes, Wilard Godfreeeg, that's with three e's and the g is silent.
Wilard's abode is spotless - except for the fallen music stool.
Lalique smiles a dazzling smile
Lalique: Good to meet you, Wilard
Wilard: Oh! You did give me a start. [commences to pick up the music] I'll just pick this up and [picks up music and stuffs it back into the stool as he talks] put it all back shall I?
Wilard: There, good as new.
Wilard beams at her.
Wilard: And you too, Lalique is it? How delightful! Can I get you a cup of something warm maybe?
Lalique examines Wilard, noting the oddly tropical shirt
Lalique: Oh, darling, that would be wonderful!
Wilard beams again at the "darling".
Wilard: I have some simply marvelous citrus tea, or if you prefer, I have some trin, somewhere...
Wilard: Or we could be absolutely wicked and have something a little more, shall we say, substantial?
Wilard winks.
Lalique: The citrus would be fine.
Wilard: Oh are you sure? Perhaps just a touch of something in your tea?
Wilard: Such a cold day out there!
Lalique raises her eyebrows.
Lalique: It's a bit early in the day, but... just how wicked are you suggesting?
Wilard rushes about the small, (but elegantly furnished and designed for spacious living in a tiny environment) flat, putting tea on and pulling out designer mugs and canisters.
Lalique sinks into a convenient chair.
Wilard: Oh, nothing too wicked! Just a drop of my own brew. Purely medicinal really! Hardly wicked at all when you stop to think about it.
Lalique watches Wilard's preparations with amusement.
Lalique: Well, then, dear, let us indulge.
Lalique thinks that years of playing in shiltpron parlors have given her a considerable tolerance for medicinal additives of many types.
Wilard arranges the mugs neatly, hurriedly wiping up any stray drops that miss the mugs, and pours a generous dob of a lovely orangey fluid that appears slightly oily into each mug.
Lalique eyes Wilard carefully through her sunglasses.
Wilard: There you are! Now, I'll just put a coaster on the table for you, the finish you know. Isn't this cozy?
Wilard takes a sip of his tea.
Wilard: Now, Lalique my dear, how can I be of service to you?
Lalique muses that he does not appear dangerous enough to be into the truly wicked, like knockout drops.
Lalique lifts the cup and sniffs the citrus odor with appreciation.
Lalique: Well, I am a singer. And shiltpron player.
Wilard: Oh! How absolutely delightful!
Wilard: You must be new in town?
Lalique: I have come up to Nivet from Gulf Territory and have been touring here.
Wilard puts his mug down so he can clasp his hands together in joy.
Wilard: Oh and such an accent! I just bet people are eating you right up!
Lalique: Well, you flatter me. I wish that were true.
Wilard: Oh you can't tell me that it isn't? But my dear, why ever not?
Lalique: Certainly they appreciate something a little new and exotic, but I am coming to feel that I need some new material for my act.
Wilard claps his hands together in delight.
Lalique: The culture here is different than in Gulf.
Lalique: Not everything translates well.
Wilard: And you come to me for new material? Why how charming!
Wilard: You know, just then, just before you gave me such an awful fright at the door, I was just thinking to myself, "Wilard" I said to myself "Wilard, you really must start something new!"
Wilard: And there you were!
Lalique: My associates at the Roiling Nager Lounge said you were the best!
Wilard: It's like magic, or a fairy tale or something!
Wilard: Oh isn't that nice of him?
Wilard: that would be Mik of course, Mik is such a darling. But so butch love! Just makes me shiver to think of him!
Wilard: All that muscle!
Wilard: It's wasted in one man, simply wasted!
Lalique smiles warmly.
Lalique: Ah, yes. I am not blind.
Wilard: So it's business that you are here on?
Wilard picks up his tea again and puts on his "okay, business" face, which is very much like any other of his faces.
Lalique: That's right. To see if you can help me.
Wilard: Oh my dear, it would be a delight.
Lalique: Of course, we should discuss terms
Wilard: I'm only sorry that I haven't heard you sing in public.
Wilard: Oh well, we shall just have to do what we can.
Wilard: Oh I never discuss terms before hearing someone sing!
Wilard: I mean, my dear, I'm sure you have a voice, but so many people who come to see me think they do and just don't!
Lalique: Well, I would be glad to give a little impromptu performance.
Wilard: Please, sing me something, anything you feel comfortable with!
Wilard: I have to get a feel for your voice.
Lalique: Of course, it is morning.
Lalique shrugs.
Wilard sits back and puts one hand over his eyes.
Lalique: I am more of a night person. You understand.
Wilard waves the other in the air.
Wilard: We can take that into consideration.
Wilard: Warm up all you like.
Wilard sits in a pose of artistic concentration.
Lalique takes another sip of her tea. The citrus really does do a good job of throat soothing.
Lalique: Well, a lot of my repertoire consists of Ancient classic songs
Wilard nods again, not wanting to disrupt his creative poise.
Wilard: Yes, yes, it doesn't matter what.
Lalique: And I like the type of material Logan made famous.
Wilard: ~ impatient ~
Wilard: Yes yes!
Lalique: All right. One of my favorites, then.
Wilard: Anytime you are ready!
Lalique: There is a ship and she sails the sea....
Wilard: Oh! Stop! Wait! I know that tune! I'll play it for you!
Lalique: All right.
Wilard jumps up and rushes to the music stool
Lalique wishes she had brought her shiltpron.
Wilard puts his hands on the keyboard. "Right, one, two...."
Wilard plays an elaborate introduction.
Lalique: There is a ship and she sails the sea....
Wilard: Is this the one? This is the one isn't it?
Wilard: Oh yes! Delightful delightful!
Lalique: That's right.
Wilard: Do you know this one?
Wilard starts a different song.
Wilard: La de dar de dar!!!!!
Lalique: No, I don't think I've heard that before.
Wilard: Oh dear, well, what about this one?
Wilard starts again.
Wilard: There's a ship waiting ready in the harbour! Tomorrow for old Sime Town she sails!
Wilard: No no, that is too low for you.
Wilard: Hmmm, give me a 5 note scale. Ready?
Wilard gives her a chord.
Lalique: Yes.
Wilard runs up and down the scale.
Lalique: It had to be you....
Wilard gives a chord up a semitone.
Lalique: It had to be you....
Wilard: No no! Just on "Ah" thank you!
Wilard: Again!
Lalique: It had to be you....
Lalique: I glinned around
Lalique: And finally found
Lalique: Somebody who....
Wilard stops playing in confusion.
Lalique lets her voice trail away.
Lalique: Yes?
Wilard: Just a scale, like this. la la la la la, la la la la.
Wilard gives her a chord.
Lalique sings the scale as requested
Wilard: Good! Good!
Wilard: Now, up a semitone... [chord]
Lalique sings the next scale.
Wilard goes up another one.
Wilard: Excellent!
Lalique: What are you looking for?
Wilard stops in confusion once again.
Wilard: To write for you I have to know your range.
Wilard: I have to see the power you have in your voice.
Lalique: All right.
Lalique sings the next higher scale.
Wilard: Wonderful.
Wilard goes up another one.
Wilard: Next.
Lalique sings again. This is getting tiresome, but performance requires discipline.
Wilard nods.
Wilard: Now, an arpeggio.
Wilard plays a chord.
Lalique belts out the arpeggio.
Wilard: Oh no no! Softly my dear, softly. You aren't on stage, it's only you and I!
Wilard: Again!
Wilard gives the chord again
Wilard: Piano, softly....
Lalique sings the arpeggio softly.
Wilard: Oh delightful!
Wilard: You are delightful!
Wilard claps his hands together in joy and turns to face her.
Lalique beams
Lalique: Thank you, dear.
Wilard: Now, let me see. What do you usually wear on stage?
Wilard runs his eyes over her figure.
Lalique, having removed her cape, is wearing a slinky knit dress.
Lalique 's thick brown hair tumbles about her shoulders, glinting with gold highlights.
Lalique: I prefer simple, form-fitting gowns... perhaps a touch of sparkle
Lalique: In shiltpron performance, the managers usually prefer "post" emotions
Lalique: You know, songs about love, loss, hunger, pleasure.
Lalique: Songs that make the clients want to eat, drink and make out.
Lalique grins.
Lalique: You know what I mean.
Wilard: Oh but is there any other sort?
Wilard grins back.
Wilard: Right! Well, here are some things that I have written that you should look at. [hands her some music from out of the stool]
Lalique: Well, back in Gulf, there were places that catered to, shall we say, "pre" emotions.
Wilard: Oh? Well, different places, different ways! Live and let live, I always say.
Lalique quirks her lips.
Lalique: An interesting sentiment.
Wilard: You need to have seen what I have done in the past, just as I needed to hear you sing. But I think that we will be compatible. Oh yes, I think we will.
Lalique takes the sheets and scans them.
Wilard: Now that one wouldn't be suitable, not at all!
Wilard takes the top sheet out of her hands.
Wilard: What was I thinking, giving you that one!
Wilard rustles through the rest of his music.
Wilard pulls out another one and hands it to her.
Lalique takes the new sheet of music
Wilard: I tell you what, why don't you take that one with you and give it a try when next you perform. When do you next perform?
Wilard: See how it goes.
Lalique: Ah, tonight.
Lalique reads the music on the sheet.
Lalique hums to herself a little.
Lalique: "I've got you under my zlin...."
Lalique scans the rest of the piece, humming softly.
Lalique glances up, smiling.
Lalique: Yes, I will use this tonight. See how it plays.
Lalique: Wilard, it's been a pleasure to meet you!
Wilard: I, in the mean time, shall see if anything leaps into my head. Actually I think something has. I'm sure you will find my terms quite easy. Here, here is a list of my charges!
Wilard: I'm sure we can ignore the initial meeting charge in your case, catching me out of the blue the way you did!
Wilard: And you, my dear Lalique, it has been heaven, simply heaven.
Lalique takes the list
Lalique reads the list carefully. Her finances are tight.
Lalique nods approvingly.
Wilard: Where are you performing tonight, my sweet? I'll try to be there to hear your melodious rendition of my song!
Lalique: I will be on-stage at the Roiling Nager Lounge all this week.
Lalique: I'll look for you there, darling.
Wilard: I'll be there for you my sweet!
Lalique: Ta-ta!
Lalique waves cheerily and exits, stage right.
Note:
1) This is probably meant in the Ancient sense of "sensing somebody's attention" using all of the senses to pick up on subtleties of body language, etc. rather than the literal Sime meaning of the phrase, since Lalique is a Gen. [return]
2) In this era Simes and Gens don't know for sure how the Ancients differed from them, so this exchange just demonstrates that Nick and Lalique share the same theory. [return]
3) Later that morning.... [return]