The Dressing Room
Jun. 1st, 2021 01:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annwfyn“Well,” the stage manager (faceless, black clad, often remarkably talkative) said, “things have changed around here,”
He looked around the dressing room with some bemusement.
“This place used to be for LRP characters,” he commented, and shook his head. “Pretty quiet really. Sally’s only had two really active LRP PCs for years. Others dropped in now and then, but didn’t stay.
“NPCs have their own suite, down the corridor. The TT PC room was next door. Smaller than this. Pretty run down, I suppose,”
“Yes,” Tabitha Bevan – the oldest of the TT PCs – said dryly. “We remember. Roof that leaked. And a coffee machine.
“None of us drank coffee,”
The stage manager looked a little uncomfortable.
“It was lying around,” he said defensively. “Anyway, you’re in here now. In the prime spot in Sally’s imagination. Just appreciate the velvet sofa now you’ve got it,”
Four different TT characters glared. The stage manager beat a hasty retreat.
He was, however, accurate. The makeup of the dressing room had changed. The LRP characters had largely stayed at home since Lockdown hit. Ranae de Rondell came in very occasionally, to check that the moths hadn’t got to the piles of richly coloured fabric, and pick up letters. AJ Heaton, who had been the rock star here in days of yore, had phoned in twice. She hadn’t set foot on the premises since March 2020, however. Apparently she ‘had a life, you know’ and ‘ain’t here to just sit around pandering to Sally because she’s bored. She gets me back when there’s actually something to fucking do,’
And instead the dressing room was filled with characters from tabletop – once the Cinderella figments of the imagination, now suddenly elevated to leading lady status, crammed into a dressing room which hadn’t had this many characters in it since the glory days of the IoD 24/7 email RP scenes.
They sometimes got on with each other.
The oldest of the TT characters – the original flakey witch and world hopper extraordinaire, Tabitha Bevan – had failed to take on any kind of leadership role, or, indeed, offer any particular level of assistance. She had muttered something about those kind of conversations leading to trouble, and vanished behind the green velvet curtain that had appeared out of nowhere. She was the only character who ever brought friends into the dressing room, which was, as several of the others had said, metaphysically impossible.
Tabitha had just shrugged and said that she didn’t like the word ‘impossible’. It encouraged reality to get ideas above its station.
In the absence of Tabitha saying anything useful, the role of ‘social hub’ backstage had fallen to Euryale, which was unexpected. Euryale was a Medusa Cleric of Prophecy from one of the D&D worlds, and as such should not have been expected to have much of a personality at all (because…D&D) and that which she had should have been bleak and threatening (because…Medusa). But she was remarkably cheerful and went out of her way to be nice to everyone, although she had offered the oddly precise admonition early on that she did not want to be asked if the snakes in her hair needed to shit in her scalp.
Apart from that, she offered wine post-performance, decorated the dressing room with flowers and painted stones and was happy to listen to anyone’s problems, with only the occasional prophecy of doom delivered in a remarkably upbeat tone of voice.
Yael, who was the other mystic dealing in fate and death, found Euryale nigh on insufferable and had been known to mutter that she felt the tiny and waiflike cleric was basically ruining the reputation of ritual workers everywhere. She glared a lot at Euryale. To be fair, Yael glared at most people. It seemed to be how her face worked.
The newer characters – the PCs who had never lived in the old shabby TT character dressing room next door, and only emerged during Lockdown and into this dressing room – mostly found Yael intimidating. Vivien – the gentlest and flakiest of the witches, who dabbled in ill conceived rhyming couplets delivered to a magic mirror and mostly wanted to just go back to doing her PhD and not worrying about her werewolf family – avoided her like the plague. She had once asked Yael for advice on talking to the dead (both Viv and Yael were mediums) and the experience had apparently been traumatizing.
Isabella Juandaastas – the dainty space princess with an interest in the more optimistic side of animism and shamanism – hadn’t even got that far. She’d seen some of the stuff that lurked underneath Yael’s fingernails on the day she moved in and had avoided the necromancer like the plague since then. She preferred the company of Nessie, the Bone Gnawer and the other vegan in the dressing room.
Nessie liked everyone which had, frankly, been a surprise to everyone who had met any of Sally’s werewolves before. She was prone to occasionally being tactless (such as the time she told Isabella that aristocracy was an innately corrupt system) and some of her well meaning interventions were not always welcomed (the rest of the dressing room remembered with horror the incident where she tried to convert Euryale to Straight Edge living), but she was invariably warm and friendly and helpful. She even seemed to like Yael, even if she avoided her. Apparently they had ‘different vibes’ which was accurate. Nessie was the character who had tried to start up conversation with the still mostly intangible shadowrunner – Ash or something? – who had turned up recently. She had time, Nessie had said. And it’s important to be nice.
The only person Nessie had ever admitted to not really liking was the Black Fury werewolf who resided in the old TT character dressing room next door. Eva, Nessie said quietly, was…traditional. She’d said the word as if she expected the rest of the characters to know what it meant. None of them did. And Nessie didn’t want to say more because she felt it would be mean. But she avoided the old dressing room like the plague, and looked slightly stressed when Euryale popped next door to try and find some of her ritual kit which she’d stashed beneath the floorboards.
“You should come next door,” Euryale had suggested to Eva on that occasion. The blonde Amazon, with her adren rank marking tattooed on her shoulder, had looked up from the book she was reading. “I mean, I know your game isn’t running right now, but your world is still active and I know Sally thinks your story isn’t done. Which means you’re an active character and deserve to be next door with us. In the big dressing room.”
Eva grinned.
“I think the Bone Gnawer would rather I didn’t,” she said. “Anyway, it’ll be hassle to move. And you’ll be back here soon enough anyway,”
Euryale looked hurt. “I don’t think so.”
Eva shook her head.
“Nah. Look, we all know the deal. Sally prefers LRP. That’s why the LRP characters get top billing. And, you know, the stupid big dressing room with the velvet sofa, and the proper hot chocolate machine. Not to mention fresh flowers. When did we ever get flowers at all, unless you brought them in?
“And sure, they have gone home because there aren’t any venues for LRP and those prima donnas won’t show up unless there is a red carpet and £500 worth of special tailored kit laid out and freshly launched for them. So for now you get the nice room.
“But it’ll change. The Pandemic will come to an end and Lady Blue and Silver with her bullshit Way of Virtue theology will be back, demanding exclusive access to the chaise longue. Not to mention Squadron Leader Industrial Military Complex, who will think 75% of us are ‘unrealistic’ or ‘worn out bullshit tropes’. I reckon about a third of you lot will get moved to ‘inactive’ status, and the rest will be back in here, hoping that our game doesn’t get cancelled because there’s a five man Empire player event called ‘a very special night in the public lavatories of Tassato’ running that weekend and half the party just can’t make it.”
“No”, Euryale said immediately. “That isn’t true. The tapestry has changed. This Pandemic has a greater weight than you think.
“And our tales have kept Sally going for a year and a half. They’ve given her a world outside of her living room, they’ve given her friends, and hope, and achievement. She won’t forget that.”
He looked around the dressing room with some bemusement.
“This place used to be for LRP characters,” he commented, and shook his head. “Pretty quiet really. Sally’s only had two really active LRP PCs for years. Others dropped in now and then, but didn’t stay.
“NPCs have their own suite, down the corridor. The TT PC room was next door. Smaller than this. Pretty run down, I suppose,”
“Yes,” Tabitha Bevan – the oldest of the TT PCs – said dryly. “We remember. Roof that leaked. And a coffee machine.
“None of us drank coffee,”
The stage manager looked a little uncomfortable.
“It was lying around,” he said defensively. “Anyway, you’re in here now. In the prime spot in Sally’s imagination. Just appreciate the velvet sofa now you’ve got it,”
Four different TT characters glared. The stage manager beat a hasty retreat.
He was, however, accurate. The makeup of the dressing room had changed. The LRP characters had largely stayed at home since Lockdown hit. Ranae de Rondell came in very occasionally, to check that the moths hadn’t got to the piles of richly coloured fabric, and pick up letters. AJ Heaton, who had been the rock star here in days of yore, had phoned in twice. She hadn’t set foot on the premises since March 2020, however. Apparently she ‘had a life, you know’ and ‘ain’t here to just sit around pandering to Sally because she’s bored. She gets me back when there’s actually something to fucking do,’
And instead the dressing room was filled with characters from tabletop – once the Cinderella figments of the imagination, now suddenly elevated to leading lady status, crammed into a dressing room which hadn’t had this many characters in it since the glory days of the IoD 24/7 email RP scenes.
They sometimes got on with each other.
The oldest of the TT characters – the original flakey witch and world hopper extraordinaire, Tabitha Bevan – had failed to take on any kind of leadership role, or, indeed, offer any particular level of assistance. She had muttered something about those kind of conversations leading to trouble, and vanished behind the green velvet curtain that had appeared out of nowhere. She was the only character who ever brought friends into the dressing room, which was, as several of the others had said, metaphysically impossible.
Tabitha had just shrugged and said that she didn’t like the word ‘impossible’. It encouraged reality to get ideas above its station.
In the absence of Tabitha saying anything useful, the role of ‘social hub’ backstage had fallen to Euryale, which was unexpected. Euryale was a Medusa Cleric of Prophecy from one of the D&D worlds, and as such should not have been expected to have much of a personality at all (because…D&D) and that which she had should have been bleak and threatening (because…Medusa). But she was remarkably cheerful and went out of her way to be nice to everyone, although she had offered the oddly precise admonition early on that she did not want to be asked if the snakes in her hair needed to shit in her scalp.
Apart from that, she offered wine post-performance, decorated the dressing room with flowers and painted stones and was happy to listen to anyone’s problems, with only the occasional prophecy of doom delivered in a remarkably upbeat tone of voice.
Yael, who was the other mystic dealing in fate and death, found Euryale nigh on insufferable and had been known to mutter that she felt the tiny and waiflike cleric was basically ruining the reputation of ritual workers everywhere. She glared a lot at Euryale. To be fair, Yael glared at most people. It seemed to be how her face worked.
The newer characters – the PCs who had never lived in the old shabby TT character dressing room next door, and only emerged during Lockdown and into this dressing room – mostly found Yael intimidating. Vivien – the gentlest and flakiest of the witches, who dabbled in ill conceived rhyming couplets delivered to a magic mirror and mostly wanted to just go back to doing her PhD and not worrying about her werewolf family – avoided her like the plague. She had once asked Yael for advice on talking to the dead (both Viv and Yael were mediums) and the experience had apparently been traumatizing.
Isabella Juandaastas – the dainty space princess with an interest in the more optimistic side of animism and shamanism – hadn’t even got that far. She’d seen some of the stuff that lurked underneath Yael’s fingernails on the day she moved in and had avoided the necromancer like the plague since then. She preferred the company of Nessie, the Bone Gnawer and the other vegan in the dressing room.
Nessie liked everyone which had, frankly, been a surprise to everyone who had met any of Sally’s werewolves before. She was prone to occasionally being tactless (such as the time she told Isabella that aristocracy was an innately corrupt system) and some of her well meaning interventions were not always welcomed (the rest of the dressing room remembered with horror the incident where she tried to convert Euryale to Straight Edge living), but she was invariably warm and friendly and helpful. She even seemed to like Yael, even if she avoided her. Apparently they had ‘different vibes’ which was accurate. Nessie was the character who had tried to start up conversation with the still mostly intangible shadowrunner – Ash or something? – who had turned up recently. She had time, Nessie had said. And it’s important to be nice.
The only person Nessie had ever admitted to not really liking was the Black Fury werewolf who resided in the old TT character dressing room next door. Eva, Nessie said quietly, was…traditional. She’d said the word as if she expected the rest of the characters to know what it meant. None of them did. And Nessie didn’t want to say more because she felt it would be mean. But she avoided the old dressing room like the plague, and looked slightly stressed when Euryale popped next door to try and find some of her ritual kit which she’d stashed beneath the floorboards.
“You should come next door,” Euryale had suggested to Eva on that occasion. The blonde Amazon, with her adren rank marking tattooed on her shoulder, had looked up from the book she was reading. “I mean, I know your game isn’t running right now, but your world is still active and I know Sally thinks your story isn’t done. Which means you’re an active character and deserve to be next door with us. In the big dressing room.”
Eva grinned.
“I think the Bone Gnawer would rather I didn’t,” she said. “Anyway, it’ll be hassle to move. And you’ll be back here soon enough anyway,”
Euryale looked hurt. “I don’t think so.”
Eva shook her head.
“Nah. Look, we all know the deal. Sally prefers LRP. That’s why the LRP characters get top billing. And, you know, the stupid big dressing room with the velvet sofa, and the proper hot chocolate machine. Not to mention fresh flowers. When did we ever get flowers at all, unless you brought them in?
“And sure, they have gone home because there aren’t any venues for LRP and those prima donnas won’t show up unless there is a red carpet and £500 worth of special tailored kit laid out and freshly launched for them. So for now you get the nice room.
“But it’ll change. The Pandemic will come to an end and Lady Blue and Silver with her bullshit Way of Virtue theology will be back, demanding exclusive access to the chaise longue. Not to mention Squadron Leader Industrial Military Complex, who will think 75% of us are ‘unrealistic’ or ‘worn out bullshit tropes’. I reckon about a third of you lot will get moved to ‘inactive’ status, and the rest will be back in here, hoping that our game doesn’t get cancelled because there’s a five man Empire player event called ‘a very special night in the public lavatories of Tassato’ running that weekend and half the party just can’t make it.”
“No”, Euryale said immediately. “That isn’t true. The tapestry has changed. This Pandemic has a greater weight than you think.
“And our tales have kept Sally going for a year and a half. They’ve given her a world outside of her living room, they’ve given her friends, and hope, and achievement. She won’t forget that.”
