RP:Dissonance Among The Bards

This is a Bard's Guild RP.

Summary: Queen Josleen visits her old stomping grounds at the Bard's guild while Alvina frantically tries to sort out the madness that's been left behind for her. The Larketian Dignitary suggests a play to promote a possible cure for the bewitched children of Larket. The play's contents make Alvina uneasy but she agrees on the grounds of their friendship. Even still, there's a strangeness here that Alvina just can't quite put her finger on...

Mastery Lounge

Josleen hadn’t visited the Bard’s Guild headquarters since her days as a student at the Cenrili Academy of Music and Arts. She never joined the guild, even as a student, but she always knew people who were a part of the guild and would visit them here to plan performances. And visiting the guild today feels a bit like riding a bike, a familiar rhythm of hello’s, how are you’s, so good to see you’s that lead her to Alvina, the friend with whom she wishes to plan a performance thought she did not give her friend any advance warning of her arrival. Some of Macon’s negotiation tactics have rubbed off on her, and the element of surprise is one of Macon’s favorite strategies. “Catch ‘em off guard,” he’s growled on many occasions in his thick Veratoakan accent. Perhaps one shouldn’t employ such tactics with friends, but the matter is of utmost importance, life and death really, and the Queen will do whatever it takes to secure a bright future for her family and the city they preside over. “Alvina,” she says warmly as she embraces her friend. “It’s been too long! And not only since I’ve seen you, but since I’ve visited the guild. I feel again like a girl who hasn’t cut her fingers on a lute.” As girlish as she may feel, no one else regards her as such, her crown sitting atop her head as a garnish to an expensive dress hemmed above the ankle for ease of travel and embroidered to impress upon others the station of just who is traveling--another of Macon’s favored tactics. The alchemy of marriage is that, slowly and over time, two seemingly insoluble compounds, Husband and Wife, suddenly mix so that after some decades pass they become indistinguishable from each other.

Alvina is in the Guild Leader’s office, sorting through abandoned papers scattered on all surfaces the room offers. Floor, bookshelves, chairs in addition to the desk itself. Most of the larger stacks are being weighed down with instruments. Bards. She doesn’t look up immediately when Josleen enters. Instead, her harried sigh paints a brilliant picture of the responsibilities thrust into her lap. She’d taken the gig, after all. When she looks up, the realization that it’s JOSLEEN connects. Her body moves of it’s own accord, enveloping Josleen in a quick hug. “Gods, I thought…” She laughs, waving off the rest of what she’d been thinking. “I don’t think I’ve seen you outside of the city in -so- long.” In Disguise on the rocky shores of Cenril, before she became a Queen! Uttering Macon’s sins venomously. Funny how she can’t forget.When Alvina draws back, she takes in Josleen anew. It’s her, it’s true, but she carries a certain unwavering entitlement. Alvina could recognize it, she’d taken up the same mantle herself as the wife of a Narco. “Josleen,” she catches her breath with an easy smile. “I didn’t know you were familiar with the guild. Though why wouldn’t you be!” Nervously, she glances around to the papers and shakes her head. “If you came to see the guild leader, I’m afraid that’s...temporarily...me.” She gestures dramatically with both thumbs to herself, like this is a hilarious joke she’s playing. “Please, have a seat.” She knocks a pile of papers, reeds stacked on top, to the floor shamelessly. It felt good, spending that bit of frustration.

Josleen grins at Alvina’s double-thumb sass and literal paper pushing. “Oh really? I didn’t realize.” She sits on the only chair not stacked with music sheets. “Well I came to see you anyway, and the fact you’re calling the shots is just a perk. I’m looking to put on a performance in Larket, a big one.” She beams as she holds her hands out as if framing a theater’s marquee “It’s going to be spectacular! But I need outside bards, a gifted composer, lyricist, actors, the whole thing. It’s an original piece I’ve sketched out, and it’s massive, not only in scale but also in its vision and importance to Larket.” The Queen smiles freely, moves within the burden that had been haunting her for months, that of her son’s fate. Yet, despite the fact she’s shucked that grief she wore like a cowl for so long, there is a restless to her, a twitching of the foot.

Alvina crosses her arm and slants her stance. She is listening. “An original piece to be performed for the city of Larket.” She repeats the words, trying to grasp their importance. A nod at last. “Well, this is the very best place to find ALL of these things.” Maybe that’s what she needed, an actual direction instead of mind numbering directionless chaos. Drafting songs instead of trying to read ancient, dusty scribble. Alvina *loves* distractions. “I’m game, what’s the story?” Alvina keeps her eyes on the restless woman. She has not yet unravelled why something feels...off.

Josleen || “Well it’s about Guillem! Macon was finally able to discover a solution to curing our son, and, oh, Alvina.” Sighs out the good news, her body visibly relaxing as she drops the facade for a moment. Her unbridled, genuine joy shines through so that she appears like her old self, before her marriage to Macon. “His aging could not be reversed,” she explains, “but he now ages at a normal rate. We’re so happy, as I’m sure you can imagine! Can you believe it? Finally! And we want to bring this cure to all the children of Larket affected by the curse, and that’s what this story is about, it’s about reversing the curse and saving innocent children from rapid aging and premature death.” Still she appears genuine, her commitment to this goal earnest.

Alvina is, at first, confused about what play they could perform surrounding the young prince. Who would play Gigi? Gigi, the bard guessed. Does the guild have animal trainers? Did they need one? Gigi seemed a natural. When Josleen lights up, she’s easily seduced away from her concern. Her tired smile becomes earnest, the two women squeeze each other hands in celebration. “That’s wonderful news…” He’d grown up so quickly. All those precious moments must have felt rushed, more so than even having werewolf children. Alvina doesn’t want to mention the cause of the curse, Hudson’d told her that Josleen still blamed the witches instead of the Jar. No sense ruining a visit with technicalities. “Is this a play a form of public announcement for the cure?” She has a sneaking suspicion that the play might -include- the cure though she doesn’t know what the cure might be. Her mind whirls. “I’ll help anyway I can.” And thusly does the record of Alvina’s blind devotion continue to repeat.

Josleen remains open and unguarded as she begins to explain. “Well, the cure is rather unorthodox. Macon and I tried everything, absolutely everything, and nothing worked. And finally what we discovered is that the curse was evil in origin, a spell put in by witches, or at least The Red Witch, who worshipped an evil god, according to Percival, the headmaster at the Academy. So, in an act of desperation, Macon took Guillem to Vailkrin to cut a deal with the followers of Vakmatharas. Could you imagine? Taking your child to such a place? We were so desperate… And Macon’s instincts were right. The Vakmatharis could lift the curse, at a price.” Now her demeanor reverts to the false note with which she entered this room. She’s got a hard sell up her sleeve and Alvina is her first customer. “The price is that the parents of every afflicted child must accept Vakmatharas in their hearts, worship him, and only then would their child be spared. I admit I have not yet accepted Vakmatharas in my own heart--it’s difficult--but they spared Guillem in good faith and because… well, he inspired them. And that’s the story we want to portray, the story that starts with Macon, a king reduced to a desperate father like so many fathers in Larket, driven to an insane plot in Vailkrin and willing to trade his life for that of his son. But the main story is that of Guillem, because when he walked into the temple, a strange miracle happened. The stone avatar of Vakmatharas that was hung over the alter began to weep! And seeing that, his disciple wept too He knew that Guillem was special, his plight was one that Vakmatharas, the God of Death, pitied. And so he struck a deal and sealed it by sacrificing his own life for that of Guillem’s! It goes against everything we believe about the followers of Vakmatharas, does it not? He sacrificed himself for Guillem! That is the story we need to portray because it is important that the people of Larket put aside what they think they know of Vakmatharas--and trust me, I know that his evil followers have done so many heinous things! But… Macon and the Vakmatharis that day made a fair point. Death in and of itself is not evil, but a fact of life. Vakmatharas Himself is a neutral deity, the great balancer between life and death. It is his followers who are evil, who have commited evil acts in his name. We need to convince the people of Larket that by seeing Vakmatharas in this new light, they are not committing themselves to an evil deed, not at all. They are still Larketians. But by seeing Vakmatharas in this way, and accepting that Death itself is not foul, then and only then can the children of Larket be spared…. And I can’t fathom a better way to explain the miracle of what happened than through a play.” [A word to the wise: Josleen has left out some gruesome parts of the play, but she’s spoon feeding their unsavory pitch bit by bit, sweet before sour before rotten.]

Alvina’s face remains supportive but her body language tenses. Josleen starts talking about Vakmatharis in a way that makes her extremely uncomfortable. Extremely. Her writer can not emphasize enough how creeped out Alvina is. Her skin crawls, tingles with baaaaad vibes. It’s a heroic story, a man willing to risk his life for his child - buuuuut...Alvina is struggling to buy that -miraculously- a practical cult member threw himself on the pyre for Macon and Guillem. She can’t help but wonder if this was a fabrication created by Macon to pacify his worried wife. Maybe Macon slit the man’s throat as an offering and Vakmatharas, in all his twisted cruelty, granted Macon’s wish if he promised to recruit more followers to his cause. Ah, but what did Alvina know. Other than she has the creepy crawlies over this story. How would Josleen have reacted if Alvina repeated the same sentiment but with WITCHES instead? Madness. A twitch of her lips might betray her disbelief in some portion of the story, though which part is unclear. If Vakmatharas’ followers were the true evil, why did a powerful God not maintain balance among them? “ It sounds...complex.” Alvina offers, straining for a polite response. “I’m sorry, I’m a little tired so forgive me. I’m struggling to understand.” She had -so- many questions. Least of all…”Is Valrae the red witch?” Is that her name now? She has a legacy behind her? Funny that this detail catches her attention. Alvina’s opinion on Death is skewed. She’d struggled with the idea when her own curse supposedly promised absolution of this natural cycle. “I...think we might have to spin it a little.” She advises, gently. “Otherwise it might seem like… propaganda? Maybe?” A blunt suggestion. Why she’s making helpful suggestions for this mad idea is beyond her. It must be solely rooted in love. If Josleen had been ANYONE else, Alvina would flat out told her she was out of her mind and she wanted nothing to do with this. It stinks to high heaven already…

Josleen nods curtly. “Yes, sorry, Valrae is known as The Red Witch in Larket because of that red robe she always wore.” Alvina accuses Josleen of spinning propaganda, and the actress Queen maintains an inscrutable smile that does not betray the fact that this is blatant and intentional propaganda. Poor Alvina, she’s never had to run a city before. How else should they do it? With a whip? Propaganda is the best way. “I see what you mean, it is rather blunt. I’d love to hear your ideas.” She senses Alvina isn’t ready for the other shoe to drop, and so she witholds the part of the story/propaganda where they normalize and even elevate human sacrifice.”If you’re tired, I won’t keep you. I can send you a stage script soon, and a score, and you can give me honest feedback. That’s why I’ve come to you, Alvina. I trust you and no bard would be better in guiding my hand.”

Guiding my hand. Alvina fixates on this remark. This feels...bad. Worse than building a machine that detects magic to persecute an entire class of people. How? It’s just a play? Alvina can’t help but feel like they might be playing chess against each other now. No, that couldn’t be right. Josleen was occasionally eccentric but her heart was always in the right place. She loved her son and her husband. Alvina ignores how she’s having to humanize her dear friend. “Well she’s dead...again so…” The sentiment makes her stomach churn, she doesn’t know why. “I’d love to help.” But would she really? That’s like saying she’d like to help burn the city to the ground. Love is a strong word, but maybe she can do something good by being involved. It’s flattering that Josleen came here because she trusts her. She clings to that too. She wouldn’t lie, whatever The Queen’s saying, Jos must believe it. “Please do. I’m sorry, does it show?” She laughs, “There’s no time out from being a parent, you know.” Ah, how old and strange this felt! “I’ve got to get home but please do! I’ll look it over and we can start working on it together.” So foreboding, that thought. Alvina advances to hug Josleen again before the two women part. Something is happening and it scares her. “Please take care of yourself Josleen, I love you so much. You look great, I can’t wait to see Guilliam again.” Her words are earnest but her heart beats, a frantic rabbit trapped in a very small cage. She is afraid.

Josleen || “She is, that’s true.” Dead, that is, Valrae is dead. Showing no remorse or regret, the Queen smiles, embraces Alvina, and says goodbye without a false step in her graceful movements. Although in the end she won Alvina’s acceptance, she can feel the reluctance with which Alvina agreed to this. She isn’t sure the other bard will play this new melody for long. She pauses at the door, looks over her shoulder and says, “I know this is all very unorthodox. I too was raised to shudder at the thought of Vakmatharas. I have to learn to unlearn everything I’ve come to know about Vakmatharas, but I must, because life has dealt me a strange hand. I’m doing this for the children of Larket. They deserve my full devotion, don’t they?” She glances into the hall and strains to hear the flighty sounds of students practicing their scales. “The guild isn’t as full as I remember it. The exposure will be good for the guild as well. Who knows, maybe once I am less busy with this I can join the guild as well and promote it.” She smiles disarmingly and leaves.