Undeserving Eyes
A Three Act Play
CAST:
Shalushae Silverplume
(costume: bard)
A graceful figure, this trill has wings the soft silver of starlight and a
gentle smile. Sky blue eyes gaze beyond her feathery bangs and provide a
pleasant contrast to her sunkissed skin. An elegant white gown ties about her
neck and flows to the floor to trail behind her, diamonds studded at the
neckline and border. While clearly majestic, there is a pleasant, inviting
quality to her that beautifies her movements and brightens her smile.

Shalmae Silverplume, the Steel Magnolia
(costume: artist)
This trill is fairly short in stature, but with the posture of a queen; her
proud, hawkish features carry an expression of alertness and determination,
without a trace of self-doubt or uncertainty. She may be slight in figure, but
there is no hint of delicacy about her. She is well-groomed: her iron-grey
feathers are elaborately coiffed, her magnolia-coloured robes perfectly arranged
and lavishly decorated. She wears a heavy silver necklace and a matching tiara,
almost like a coronet in shape; both are adorned with exquisitely cut diamonds,
obviously set by a master jeweller. Her grey-feathered wings are dusted with
dark silver plumage, barely discernible until caught in direct light.

Yesureh Sunsoarer
(costume: gambler)
This trill has a hawkish countenance with a sharp nose and narrow blue eyes.
Towering over the average trill's height, he has a lean, shrewish disposition,
as well as dull grey feathers characterizing his head plumage and wings. He
wears a sleek black suit that is slightly marred by a handkerchief sloppily
shoved into his breast pocket. Ruby rings ornament his fingers which drum with a
nervous tic, as if counting something.

Mirupe
(costume: servant)
Dressed in the clothes of the lowest caste, this lithe viscanti appears somewhat
out of place in this manor. Clearly of noble birth in her gestures and stature,
she has a keen look in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. Two horns grace her
brow and her pale lavender skin is perfectly smooth and completely unsuitable
for any sort of hard labor.

Commissar Eduayo Swiftwing, of the Temporal Peacekeepers
(costume: sentinel)
Armed with a smart Sentinel breastplate and a rapier, this trill's feathers are
the blue of the Sentinel company and his smile a polite one. His movements are
conducted in a militant fashion and his green eyes appear to scan his
surroundings immediately upon entering the room. He appears like one of many
warriors: not extraordinary enough to be distinct, but clearly likeable and
amiable.

Scene: Manor

Light pours in from a chandelier as the curtains part to reveal a fanciful
parlor just below a stair. Sitting upon a divan couch, a striking trill woman
stares intently at what appears to be a younger version of herself, their silver
wings beating in a steady rhythm.

SHALUSHAE: Are you not happy for me, Shalmae? You have not said a word.

SHALMAE: (in a low monotone) Which word would you have me say.

SHALUSHAE: Congratulations?

SHALMAE: That would imply you are doing something good with your life. Which you
are not.

There is a slight sound from above as a lithe viscanti servant, Mirupe, steps
down the stairs, a tray in her hands of assorted cups of tea. She inclines her
head politely to the trill women before placing the cups upon the table, her
movements deft and her ears perked attentively.

Shalushae frowns at her sister as Shalmae daintily lifts a tea cup and begins to
sip it, her eyes stealing over to the tray as she does so.

SHALMAE: Go ahead, Shalushae, indulge in some white tea. I find it clears the
mind.

SHALUSHAE: My mind only wishes to know what thoughts you harbor in yours.
Enlighten me, sister. Is Eduayo a dishonorable man? Or is the family of
Swiftwing one beneath your notice?

SHALMAE: (Dismissively) What need has a woman of a spouse. Are you so desperate
to subjugate yourself, that you would enter the servitude of marriage?

Mirupe discretely wipes a few stray drops of tea from the table with a
handkerchief as Shalmae places her cup back upon it.

SHALUSHAE: (her voice wearing thin) Your cynicism, dear sister, is not
appreciated. Is it so much to ask you to be happy for me?

SHALMAE: You may ask me nothing - if you are willing to become a servant you
must become used to being the one questioned, not the one with the power to
question. Is that not so, Mirupe?

MIRUPE: (in a slightly amused whisper) Aye, Lady. A servant speaks when spoken
to.

SHALUSHAE: (bristling as she steps forward) Enough of this foolishness. Eduayo
is a good man--

SHALMAE: (with a distasteful smirk) Eduayo Swiftwing, Commissar of the Temporal
Peacekeepers? A combatant? You would leave our sibling bonds for a bloodthirsty
sword-wielding proletarian. Whatever happened to remaining independent powers,
artistic pillars of strength?

SHALMAE: (voice softening) You and I, we were to be the unattainable. We were to
be above such chains as these.

Shalushae scoffs and turns away, and as Shalmae narrows her eyes, Mirupe
silently refills the tea cups with a gentle clink.

SHALUSHAE: (each syllable cold and sure) I do not require your blessing,
Shalmae. I only desired it.

With a swish of her robes, Shalushae glides up the stairs, leaving Shalmae and
her servant in silence. Mirupe cradles a cup in her hand before handing it off
to her mistress, smiling wryly.

MIRUPE: (a bit smugly) A bitter taste, my Lady?

SHALMAE: (her voice a low hiss) Do not try my patience, servant.

MIRUPE: Apologies to my Lady, I did not expect your wounds to be so sore.

Shalmae runs her fingers along the rim of the crystal cup, admiring its fine
quality in silence. A flicker of hatred appears in her eyes as she glances up
from her tea to the stairs, sighing.

MIRUPE: (cocking her head slightly) I understand this is not the time, but a
gentleman has come to the door.

SHALMAE: If he is that Swiftwing fellow, I have nothing to say to him. He may
steal what is foolish enough to lie around in wait for his taking.

MIRUPE: Sadly, it is no one nearly as interesting.

Shalmae pauses, comprehension flashing across her face.

SHALMAE: Yesureh may be shown the door, if you please.

YESUREH: (stepping out of the shadow of the stairs) You wound me, madam, I
thought you would at least listen to my words before dismissing me.

Shalmae smirks and takes a sip of her tea.

SHALMAE: Your tune never changes, you are but a dried up bard, sir.

YESUREH: Better than a dried up heart, which I fear is what you possess.

SHALMAE: (glancing to her servant) Mirupe, take this vile pile of feathers
outside, where the garbage belongs. Somewhere in the lower wards should do
nicely.

Yesureh chuckles and leans against the wall, eyebrow raised.

YESUREH: (amused) Oh what a cruel mistress you are. I imagine you paint your
works in blood.

SHALMAE: (insouciantly) And your statues are sculpted from the filth and rot you
surround yourself in. Come now, Yesureh. What brings you here, besides idle
fancy and foolish words?

YESUREH: (approaching her) My offer still stands, Lady Silverplume.

SHALMAE: (nonchalantly sipping her tea) And yet I knock it down so many times...

YESUREH: Your sister is marrying.

SHALMAE: My sister is a fool.

YESUREH: (calmly) And yet you will be the one to die alone, my Lady.

SHALMAE: Better alone than in your company.

Mirupe silently brings out a duster and begins to wipe away the dust coating the
crystal vases, seemingly disinterested in the conversation.

YESUREH: Your bitterness is unwarranted. I have put only the kindest words into
your ears, despite the venom you speak into mine. I cannot think of another
being in Hallifax as tolerant as myself in that regard.

SHALMAE: (under her breath) That is because you don't think at all, Yesureh.

Yesureh ponders Shalmae thoughtfully, his wings fanning slowly before him.

YESUREH: A creature as high ranking and talented as yourself deserves someone to
stand beside her.

SHALMAE: (laughing quietly to herself) You could settle for your place beneath
me, as I would like you to do. Settle for your gambling wheels of chance and
accept the certainty of my refusals.

YESUREH: And so you intend on maintaining your status as a maid.

SHALMAE: I intend to remain independent of those who seek to use me. Yesureh,
let us speak freely here. What need has a man of a woman who despises him?

Yesureh weighs his words in silence, walking about idly as his wings beat
steadily.

YESUREH: (glancing up at the tapestries in the hall) Lovely artwork you have in
here, yes? Positively stunning. Why, to throw such artwork in the lower wards,
or to hide it in shadows, would be almost criminal.

SHALMAE: (flatly) Have you a point to your prose?

YESUREH: (fixing his eyes now on Shalmae) Beautiful things ought to
be...exhibited properly.

Shalmae bursts into an inappropriate fit of haughty laughter. Placing the tea
cup back on the tray, she shakes her head, an amused smirk on her features.

SHALMAE: (with a sardonic smile) Ah, yes, what a glorious future for a Master
Artist of Hallifax! To be the jewel in a foolish man's crown, the tapestry in
his hall for his peers to admire and envy. But you are an honest fool, that I
will at least concede. You give me no lies of love or kindness.

Mirupe takes the tea tray and silently brings it away to the kitchen, curtseying
slightly before exiting. Now alone, Shalmae stands and stretches out her
magnificent silver wings before regarding Yesureh thoughtfully.

SHALMAE: You are persistent, and I commend you for that as well. But I will ask
you this, gambler. Why remain in a game that continuously bests you?

YESUREH: Because one cannot lose all the time, Lady.

SHALMAE: (wryly) But the odds do not change.

Shalmae purses her lips in thought and then waves Yesureh away with her hand.

SHALMAE: (voice wearing thin) I tire of you, Yesureh. Go now, find another game
to play.

YESUREH: (with an exaggerated bow) You have not seen the last of me, Lady
Silverplume.

SHALMAE: No, I imagine not. The Fates rarely allow life's garbage to be removed
so easily.

Yesureh smirks and turns to leave as quietly as he came. With him a sort of
heaviness seems to leave the parlor as well, and Shalmae seats herself once more
upon her divan sofa with a sigh, ringing the bell by her side. Mirupe enters
once more and curtseys.

SHALMAE: Where is my sister now, Mirupe?

MIRUPE: Lady Shalushae has gone out with her friends for the evening. I do think
she has...lower emotions she may be purging.

SHALMAE: (smiling faintly) Perfect. Call for a certain Commissar Eduayo
Swiftwing, please. I have changed my mind, and desire to speak with him.

The stage fades into darkness before being lit once more by the bright
chandelier overhead. The room remains that of the Silverplume home, but Shalmae
and her sister are nowhere to be seen. In their places, a quiet Mirupe leads a
tall strong trill fellow into the parlor, gesturing to the couch.

Eduayo hesitantly sits upon the divan sofa, curiously looking about the
luxurious trappings of the room. Mirupe slips away and returns with the tea tray
from before in hand.

SHALMAE: (her voice carrying from the stairway) I hope I have not kept you long,
good Commissar?

Shalmae steps down the high gilded stairs with effortless elegance. She smiles
gently at Eduayo before curtseying in what appears to be a mocking manner.

EDUAYO: Oh, not at all. I only just arrived.

SHALMAE: Wonderful. Then you won't be averse to staying a bit longer.

Shalmae eases herself onto the sofa and takes another sip of tea, glancing at
Eduayo beyond the rim of her tea cup.

SHALMAE: (conversationally) So you are set on marrying Shalushae, are you.

EDUAYO: (brightening at this subject) Ah, yes. She's quite something, your
sister, never met anyone quite like her.

SHALMAE: (dryly) I imagine that's hard in your line of work, yes. However did
you two meet?

EDUAYO: I saw one of her performances at the Opera House, actually. "Song of
Winter" I think it was called. She's a marvelous voice, my fiancee.

SHALMAE: (dubiously) Ah and surely you have equally marvelous qualities.

Eduayo fingers the pommel of his blade somewhat impatiently as Shalmae continues
sipping her tea.

SHALMAE: (briskly) Shalushae has had many suitors, you know. Lord Shevat's son,
that promising apprentice of Goldfeather's, the Steward of the city... How
curious that you, of all people, won her heart.

EDUAYO: (guarded) Well as they say, Lady. The heart has its own reasons that
reason knows nothing of.

Shalmae laughs lightly.

SHALMAE: Is that what they say? Well. I find emotions often come with strings of
logic attached.

EDUAYO: There are those who would disagree.

SHALMAE: Let them disagree, any fool can have an opinion.

Shalmae sips more of her tea, crossing her legs daintily. Her eyes steal over to
catch Eduayo's and she smiles, her expression rather unreadable.

SHALMAE: Do you like the manor?

EDUAYO: Yes, it's quite nice. You put a lot of thought in the decor, sist â€"
Lady Silverplume.

Eduayo coughs, having caught himself in time.

SHALMAE: (waving her hand dismissively) I am an artist. This is only one very
minor aspect of my work. More importantly, an artist must be aware of truth,
Commissar Swiftwing. Without it, art is very little but dribble on a canvas.

EDUAYO: Truth?

Shalmae nods and places her tea cup back down on the tray.

SHALMAE: Essentially, art portrays the absurdity of life. The futility of it
all. Young apprentices, they don't realize this. They draw me sunsets and
clouds, paint me roses and daisies. It is all well and good, but they mean
nothing.

Shalmae gazes significantly at Eduayo, her silver wings wrapping about her
figure.

SHALMAE: (in an even tone) Yes, I know truth when I see it, Commissar. And I see
you for what you are.

EDUAYO: Do you now.

SHALMAE: Continue battling in arenas, if you wish. Feel free to send my sister
trinkets and whisper in her ear. But you shall inherit nothing of the
Silverplume estate. You shall never have my house's blessing.

Eduayo stands up, outraged, and Shalmae looks up at him as if she has rehearsed
this many, many times.

EDUAYO: (voice rising) Your sister is right, you are nothing but a miserly maid!
What sort of unkindness is thisâ€"denying your only sister her inheritance?

SHALMAE: (drolly) Oh, do not give me this. True love conquers all, Commissar,
does it not?

EDUAYO: Love! You talk of love, and you insult me? Insult Shalushae? She's a
dear creature, gentler than anyone in this whole cold city. More deserving of
your family's name than you.

SHALMAE: (in mock surprise) You are marrying my sister, not her name, not her
wallet. You get what you desire, be at peace, sir.

EDUAYO: I love Shalushae more than anyone could dare toâ€"!

SHALMAE: (her voice suddenly steeling) I have loved my sister longer than you
have, and always will. Try another argument on me.

EDUAYO: All I ask is that you give your blessing, so that my bride is not a
miserable one.

SHALMAE: You asked. I declined. Why are you still here, brother-to-be?

Eduayo kicks at the table, and Mirupe nonchalantly leans forward to catch the
tray in her hands as it trembles. Shalmae fans her wings back and forth, highly
entertained as Eduayo storms about.

EDUAYO: (furious) I expected this. Of course I expected this. Coming from a snob
in the spires of Hallifax, what else could I expect? Heartless body that you
are, I hope you shrivel up and die here alone.

SHALMAE: (coolly) I suspect I'll enjoy that more than you realize.

EDUAYO: (turning to Shalmae desperately) Will you leave her anything? Anything
at all?

Shalmae smoothes out her gown and ponders for a moment, expression distant.
Then, standing, she approaches the Commissar, her eyes fixed upon him.

SHALMAE: (coldly) I leave her with you. Isn’t that enough?

Eduayo scowls, his hands tightened into fists. Shalmae circles about him
thoughtfully, alighting a hand on his shoulder and then turning to whisper in
his ear.

SHALMAE: (in a hushed tone) Now, Commissar, let's be frank. Why do you want to
marry my sister.

EDUAYO: Because I love her, damn it!

SHALMAE: (smirking) You should not have lied to me the first time; why do you
persist now? You are transparent as an open window, your intentions the same as
all the barbarians who come through these doors.

Shalmae pauses, regarding Eduayo evenly.

SHALMAE: I'll give you another chance. Why do you want to marry Shalushae.

EDUAYO: (with a scoff) I don't have to answer to someone like you.

SHALMAE: True, but honesty is more likely to get you the result you desire.

Eduayo starts towards the door, grumbling, and Shalmae remains standing in the
center of the room, waiting until his hand is upon the doorknob to speak.

SHALMAE: (calmly) I am, of course, willing to bargain with you, Commissar.

EDUAYO: (pausing) How do you mean.

SHALMAE: If gold is what you desire, I've plenty at my disposal. Creating
mandalas is by no means a low paying job, and the city is a generous patron.

Eduayo turns around despite himself and Shalmae fails to hide a smirk.

SHALMAE: I see I have gotten your attention. Very well. Now the true discussion
can begin.

EDUAYO: (torn) Why are you taunting me with this?

SHALMAE: Because you and I have something in common. We both possess what the
other desires.

Eduayo cautiously makes his way towards Shalmae, who grins as the door to the
exit closes shut once more.

EDUAYO: I’m listening.

SHALMAE: (offhandedly) Of course you are. You prefer gold sovereigns to
Silverplumes.

Eduayo bristles at this but Shalmae laughs, cutting him off with a wave of her
hand.

SHALMAE: Now, do not lie to me once more, for if there’s anything I detest
it's a liar.

Shalmae cocks her head towards Eduayo and idly brushes a feathery bang from her
face.

SHALMAE: I am willing to pay you a sum worth my sister's entire fortune, if you
but leave her in peace.

Eduayo opens his mouth to speak and Shalmae's eyes sparkle in amusement.

SHALMAE: (analyzing him) What, do I put forward an unfair deal? I would choose
having my sister by my side over having her monetary worth in my bank. The
question is, do you desire the same as I? Either choice can be yours, if you but
ask. But let's not be greedy, Commissar, for one rarely gets all they want.

EDUAYO: (tongue stumbling) You're...you're positively insane.

SHALMAE: (stretching her wings) Am I now? Quite likely. If you love Shalushae,
as you profess, then all is well. You shall be blissfully destitute and rely on
your own means to survive. I hear love is a wonderful incentive, though I've yet
to see it truly in practice.

EDUAYO: I...

SHALMAE: Yes, Commissar? I am greatly interested in your response. For truly, my
sister is a lucky woman if she marries a man who cares more for her than his
purse.

A high lilting voice sounds from the hall to the south, and Shalmae smiles
faintly as the sound of a far-off door opening can be heard. Mirupe, who has
remained silent in the corner all this time, excuses herself to answer.

SHALMAE: (turning to Eduayo) Seems your fiancee is here. Do not answer me now, I
will let you make your choice in her company.

Eduayo stumbles in his bow to Shalmae, eyes unfocused and hands trembling. With
a polite nod of his head he goes southward and Shalmae sits herself down on the
sofa. For awhile, there is silence.

Mirupe enters once more, alone, and Shalmae takes a delicate sip from one of the
crystal tea cups. The sounds begin faintly: the sobs echo into the parlor, and
Shalmae shuts her eyes as Shalushae's frantic voice reverberates through the
manor. There is a slamming of a door. The cries increase in volume. And, with a
hiccup, they abruptly end. Silence descends once more.

SHALMAE: (quietly) Perhaps some wine would be appropriate, Mirupe.

MIRUPE: (amused) You never call for wine.

SHALMAE: (with a scowl) Oh please, Mirupe, it's not for me.

The door to the parlor opens with a gentle creak and Shalushae walks in as if in
a daze before falling into her sister's lap. The cries begin once more as tears
stream down her cheeks and she shakes her head, attempting to appear composed.

SHALUSHAE: (softly) I...well, I hope...I hope you are happy now, sister. Seems I
will be joining you in your endless loneliness and misery.

Shalushae stops as her voice cracks and she looks away, ashamed.

SHALUSHAE: (bitterly) He can't bear to marry me if it will tear me from my
family â€" can you believe it? You, you and your stubbornness, have come between
me and love. He would rather I be happy in my family than wedded to him and
miserable. So celebrate, then. You have torn me from the one person who ever
cared for me.

SHALMAE: (in a low voice) And I suppose my care could never rival the childish
offerings of a fairweather lover?

SHALUSHAE: Your selfishness could rival any man's, sister. If you'll excuse me,
I have been exposed enough to you today.

Shalushae dashes up the stairs and Mirupe turns to look at her mistress, putting
the tea tray on the table.

MIRUPE: (commenting thoughtfully) My Lady does bluff far better than others
realize.

SHALMAE: How do you mean.

MIRUPE: (shrugging) I am from a noble family myself. Dishonored and brought to
this state, but I can tell your intentions, for I have seen them practiced in
houses besides this one. Had that gentleman chosen Lady Shalushae, you would
have showered him in her inheritance, would you not?

Shalmae stares at the tray on the table and says nothing for a long while. The
sound of Shalushae weeping from her bedchamber can be heard in this quiet place
and Shalmae takes a long draught of her tea.

SHALMAE: (with a sigh) Perhaps I will drink that wine after all, Mirupe.

END