Gauntlets Thrown

Writers: Leigh M-F.
Date Posted: 6th October 2016

Characters: Eionen, Maerin, Welzen
Description: A challenge is issued and met
Location: Harper Hall
Date: month 8, day 26 of Turn 8

Eionen was starting to suspect he was somehow being hazed, or at least tested by his students. While kids in his beginner classes for acting, singing, and dancing were wonderful sorts, eager to learn, the intermediates -mostly senior apprentices in mid- to late adolescence- were wearing on him. He initially told himself they were just testing their boundaries with a new mentor, but surely, with time, they would understand what he was trying to offer them: Years of experience, and guidance and a different perspective from someone who loved performance art as much as they did.

Now, Eionen was convinced that understanding was a long time coming, and it was getting outright aggravating. The intermediates wanted to put on a new kind of play, one with sung and spoken dialogue, dance numbers, and flamboyant costumes and makeup. Eionen had been intrigued enough by the idea and the script to give them the go-ahead, and that was when the situation worsened. They barely listened to him when he suggested different kinds of blocking, tried to correct their singing techniques, or pointed out flaws in their choreography.

He was good enough of an actor to not let it show in his face or body language in front of the students, but he certainly vented to his fellow teachers. "They're really pushing me too far," he grumbled to an instrument-maker, Maerin, whom he had known in his younger years.

Maerin met his eyes and said frankly, "Maybe it's time you pushed back."

Eionen hadn't taken the advice until today, at this latest rehearsal. While the students' timing and dialogue actually were coming along nicely, the dance routines were giving them trouble, especially when it came to the boy who had been picked by his peers for the lead male role. Eionen finally stood up from his chair, raising his hands for attention. "Take a break, everyone. Welzen, come here, please."

Welzen rolled his eyes at the others, stepped off the stage in the Great Hall where they were rehearsing, and strode over to the journeyman, crossing his arms. "What?" he asked impatiently.

"You're still not showing enough emotion when you dance," Eionen said in a low tone, to keep the scolding at least semi-private. "We've discussed this. Your role involves falling in love and then losing that love to someone else before there's even a chance to pursue it. I'm just not seeing that joy and love, or the abrupt grief at the loss. Is there something troubling you or otherwise keeping you from focusing?"

"There's nothing wrong with my dancing," Welzen said defensively. "I'm doing great."

"No, you're not," Eionen said a little more sharply than intended, and his student's eyes widened at the contradiction. "You have the technique, but you won't be able to show your audience the least bit of passion, or grief, or euphoria, if you don't start putting your heart into it."

The apprentice scoffed. "What the shards would you know about any of that? 'Those who can't, teach.'"

If he'd had any sense, he would have backed down when the journeyman said "Trust me, I know."

Instead, Welzen lifted his chin. "Prove it."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Eionen rejoined in a poison-sweet tone, and pushed past Welzen to step onto the stage himself. "Everyone, if I might have your attention, please? Your classmate has invited me to give a demonstration," he announced, and noticed several of them shot Welzen dirty looks. "This is the number he was just rehearsing."

He thought of Erisalle and Shastia, and began to dance. An explosion of energy and movement, a raw expression of the dizzyingly absolute ecstasy that came with true love; the love he had felt for Erisalle, and wished he could have felt for Shastia. He lost himself in those feelings until the point in the routine where it had to change, slowing down, motions becoming jerkier, as if stunned by disbelief. Eionen fueled that by remembering his shock at touching Erisalle's groin, which lead to the greatest mistake of his life in shoving her away. He remembered the horrible revelation that he was responsible for Shastia drinking herself to death, for the abuse heaped on her and their son.

The dancing slowed even more, almost staggering as Eionen thought of the terrible grief he'd shared with Erisalle when they kissed for the last time, weeping because he couldn't stay and she couldn't go, driven apart by Eionen's immense stupidity and the prison of Erisalle's body.

A not entirely feigned sob was wrenched from him as the routine ended. He swiftly dropped to one knee and both hands, bowing his head in time with the impact that created a BANG, his sash fluttering to the stage beside him.

It took a few moments and deep breaths to collect himself, and then Eionen raised his head. Welzen was staring at him in slack-jawed shock, and a glance over his shoulder showed the others were similarly taken aback. He rose, straightening his clothing, and cleared his throat, stepping off the stage to approach Welzen. "Once more, from the top," he said, patting the adolescent on the shoulder. "And remember, _emotion_."

After that, Eionen noticed the intermediates began to listen to his advice and instructions, albeit rather grudgingly. He decided to take what he could get and think of it as a victory anyway.

Last updated on the December 17th 2016

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Gauntlets Thrown