A One Act Play

CAST:
Lunesah Scarletfeather
(costume: bard)
Her head feathers piled high upon her head, this youthful trill girl has a
bright smile and smooth, porcelain skin. With tall regal bearing and graceful
poise, she is dressed in a gown of fine golden silk that bustles in the back and
flows into an elegant train behind her. Brilliant colours of sunset characterize
her plumage, beginning with a bright scarlet hue that fades into a gentle sunlit
gold. Her sapphire eyes sparkle with youth and vitality and a lyre encrusted
with rubies hangs from her shoulder, etched with sun motifs.

Dimoren Gol'dora
(costume: sentinel)
He is a lucidian of stately bearing, if with perhaps a slightly unsure look
about him. Smooth moonstone characterizes his features, which appear as if
carved to create the very model of a lean fighter, the nicks on the rapier at
his side revealing it's meant for more than mere decoration. Gentle jade eyes
give his otherwise cold expression a soft light, and well-kept crystal spikes
form some semblance of hair upon his head. He wears a plate of armour adorned
with the emblem of the Sentinels.

ONE ACT
[Stage: A musician's study
Adorned with opulent silk finery, this hall has various tapestries scattered
about portraying trills and lucidians performing upon different instruments.
Music notes decorate the borders of the rugs and statues of revered past
Hallifaxian bards line the walls in their majestic, marble splendor. Different
instruments are set up for use: a golden harp sits in one corner, an ebony piano
in another, and an assortment of trumpets hang from another.]

Red silk curtains part across the stage to unveil a musician’s study, assorted
with splendid instruments and sumptuous decor. Light music plays in the
background and a figure quietly opens the door to the room before entering and
taking a seat by the harp. She’s a trill lady, a rather young one at that, and
she plucks a few chords as she glances furtively over her shoulder.

LUNESAH: (in a hushed whisper) Are you there? Dimoren?

Lunesah plays a few more notes on the harp before humming along, clearly trying
to calm herself. Her sunset wings fan to and fro in slight agitation and her
tempo goes slightly awry as she continues to look about her.

LUNESAH: (her voice a bit higher) Dimoren, are you there?

Lunesah jumps a bit in surprise as the door to the room closes shut. She peers
about herself before a silhouette appears from behind the piano, glittering some
in the light of the room. A lucidian gentleman steps forward and bows to her
before greeting her with a kiss on the hand, Lunesah's expression quickly
brightening.

DIMOREN: I made an appointment with my Lady, and I am not inclined to break my
word.

LUNESAH: (beaming) Indeed, and you are here, which is what matters.

Dimoren smiles softly and flickers a gentle rose quartz, and Lunesah peers about
herself once more before scampering up and locking the door.

LUNESAH: (returning to her harp) Now, Sir Freeman Gol'dora, it is of the utmost
importance that you listen to what I say.

DIMOREN: Regardless of its importance, I will listen.

LUNESAH: Well good, because this is urgent! Quite possibly the most important
duty I have called you for yet.

Dimoren tilts his head curiously but remains in perfect posture.

DIMOREN: (thoughtfully) More than dragging you out from the cavediggers, Lady
Scarletfeather? Or giving you myrtle when you had chosen to hunt joules without
the proper equipment? Or perhaps a year ago when you were starving and required
sustenance--?

LUNESAH: (interrupting him briskly) Goodness, is your memory such a dull place
that it only remembers such silly things? Really, good Sir Gol'dora, you would
do well to replace those memories with better ones.

DIMOREN: (slightly amused) I suppose Lady Scarletfeather leaves an impression.

LUNESAH: We have been over this, sir. Lady Scarletfeather is my mother. I'm
Lunesah.

DIMOREN: Then Lady Lunesah it is.

Lunesah grins at him impishly.

LUNESAH: Quite stubborn aren’t you! Very well, Lady Lunesah shall have to do.

Lunesah's fingers trail across the harp's strings, each movement eliciting a
sweet, pure sound. Like water rippling in a stream, the notes reverberate and
resound in the hall, intertwining to create a cheerful melody.

DIMOREN: (his expression softening) And what business brings me here to your
side, Lady Lunesah?

LUNESAH: (with a ladylike sigh) Psh, must I always be handing you an agenda?
Listen for awhile, sit down. Do feel free to relax.

Dimoren reluctantly does so, pulling the seat to the piano over to Lunesah's
side of the room. He sits down upon it as Lunesah continues coaxing music from
the harp, smiling happily to herself.

LUNESAH: (conversationally) Do you like music, Dimoren?

DIMOREN: I have no mind for it myself, but it is...pleasant, yes. Especially
when performed well.

LUNESAH: Ah, well I will just hope that my skill is enough to please you then!

DIMOREN: (a touch of curiosity in his tone) Has my Lady forgotten how we met?

Lunesah smiles to herself for a moment, as if these words had been awaited the
entire time. The gentle song continues as her fingers lovingly caress the harp's
strings. However it sounds sweeter now, finer somehow.

LUNESAH: (singing in a dulcet tone) Young and foolish, a child she be, full of
fancy, inconstant as the breeze. Oh, what is love, to a wandering soul? Don’t
ask a child, she doesn’t know.

Lunesah hums a bit more of the melody before looking up at Dimoren thoughtfully.

LUNESAH: It has been four years, has it not?

DIMOREN: You were a young apprentice then.

LUNESAH: And you the ever faithful warrior, serving the Collective come what
may.

DIMOREN: As I recall, you had awoken some vile beast with that lyre of yours.

LUNESAH: (grinning) If by vile beast you mean my mentor...

DIMOREN: (deadpan) I stand by my statement.

LUNESAH: (swept up in nostalgia) And you gallantly stepped in and said I had
been playing on your request.

DIMOREN: (eyebrow raised) Is that what I said.

LUNESAH: (somewhat shyly) You may have added that you looked forward to seeing
me perform in the Opera House someday.

DIMOREN: I see.

Lunesah strums the harp, her fingers in constant motion though slacking somewhat
now in their movements. The melody becomes more languid, more dreamlike in
quality.

LUNESAH: (singing a bit more quietly) But children grow up, and so did she, for
fantasies fade as one learns to see. Yet illusions dispelled, she saw what was
true, and when the fog lifted, what remained was you.

DIMOREN: (gently) Lady, why have you brought me here.

Lunesah closes her eyes as if in a trance. The song fills her ears and appears
to completely guide her now, as her lips now mimic her fingers in their musical
endeavors.

LUNESAH: (shivering slightly as she sings) The question of meaning is one she
knows not, for she learns from you, and you've not said enough. So teach her,
dear listener, of what she dare not speak. Let lips do talking and hands graze
cheek.

Dimoren turns various colours and hues, his expression completely unreadable.
The study is filled with the harp's aria as Lunesah's voices follows the tune
with a practiced ease, if a bit unsteady in places.

LUNESAH: (singing to herself) Young and scared, yet a child no longer, growing
old isn’t the same as growing stronger. What is love, to the questioning soul?
Tell me, my darling, I'd like to know.

Dimoren hesitates before placing his hand on Lunesah's, effectively stopping her
song. She turns to look up at him and blushes faintly before laughing to
herself.

LUNESAH: (voice buoyed by forced levity) I know I've done works in the Opera
House, but never for a private audience. And, well. Now...now I have.

Lunesah ruffles her head feathers awkwardly, looking away.

DIMOREN: (a soft smile on his lips) Lady Lunesah, is that all you want from me?
To listen?

LUNESAH: (for the first time appearing at a loss for words) Well, I...

Lunesah's wings slump down a bit and she barely shakes her head no.

LUNESAH: (covering her face in her hands as she laughs) I'm not very good
at...this...

Dimoren ponders her thoughtfully, glowing a muted rosy color. He glances about
the place before bending low and tending to her side, taking her hands away from
her face and holding them in his own steady grasp.

DIMOREN: (coaxingly) Lady Lunesah? Why won't you look at me.

LUNESAH: (face a brilliant red colour) Because I'm acting like a silly novice.

Dimoren smiles at that and shakes his head.

DIMOREN: (a bit haltingly) My Lady...you have no cause to act that way.

LUNESAH: (In her nervousness, talking too quickly) I'm a trill, you know, we can
be a tad emotional at times, it's a bit perplexing...mortifying, really...um...

Lunesah bites her lip and turns away, but Dimoren’s hand gently eases her back
to face him.

DIMOREN: There are many far more deserving of this behavior than I, Lady.

LUNESAH: (quietly) Would you care to introduce me to them? Because for the life
of me, I’ve never met the man who could compare to you.

Dimoren pauses and a slight frown creases his lips. He casts a look at the
rapier he's sheathed and the crest upon his armor and then turns to face Lunesah
once more.

DIMOREN: (speaking slowly) I am ever your faithful servant, my Lady. Those of my
caste can only aspire to as much as that. But the stones beneath one's feet were
never meant to be fashioned into a crown, or a scepter; they serve their
purpose, which is to keep you standing. The glories of your caste are not known
to me, and it is nothing that I regret, but merely accept. I would not drag you
to my level for all the world.

LUNESAH: (her wings wrapping about herself) Why do you insist upon seeing
yourself with those dreadful eyes.

DIMOREN: What eyes, my Lady?

LUNESAH: The eyes of the city. The judging stares of my peers and my family. Oh
Dimoren, I would that you’d see yourself with my eyes, if only for a day.

DIMOREN: There is a divide between us, Lady, and I am--

LUNESAH: (her voice cracking) Honest. So terribly honest. You have never stepped
into my world, Dimoren, you…you’ve never dealt with the pride I have
encountered, the blind ambition, the terrifying competition of the artist caste.
It's a lonely place, a hateful one, even. Have you ever realized...?

Lunesah inhales and exhales slowly, smiling up at him weakly.

LUNESAH: Haven't you realized I only feel safe with you?

DIMOREN: You are still an artist, Lady, and--

LUNESAH: (with a gentle laugh as she shakes her head) And I find no love in
statues, or brushstrokes of paint across a canvas! I cannot place my trust in a
mural or a harp.

DIMOREN: (musingly) But you choose to place it in a weak vessel, nonetheless.

LUNESAH: (pleading quietly) Don't speak of the man I love like that. Please.

Lunesah hesitantly reaches over and places her hand to Dimoren's cheek. Shyly at
first, she strokes the moonstone skin with her fingertips, applying as much care
there as she did when enticing music from the harp. A surprised light suffuses
his features at her touch but she continues, looking into his jade eyes
imploringly.

LUNESAH: (with quiet confidence) I love you.

Dimoren moves to brush aside her hand but she shakes her head.

LUNESAH: Please, if you feel the same. Let me love you.

Dimoren meets her gaze evenly as his body shifts in colour. He takes in a steady
breath and carefully evaluates his words, Lunesah's fingers still brushing
against his cheek.

DIMOREN: (a bit awkwardly) You seem very set on your decision.

LUNESAH: Quite.

DIMOREN: All I have ever desired is to serve my Lady Lunesah, however she saw
fit.

Dimoren gently takes both her hands in his own and leans in closer as the hue of
his skin settles upon a soft quartz. Her wings wrap about him and he studies her
as if marveling, disbelieving.

DIMOREN: (firmly) I am no scholar. No artist.

LUNESAH: (exasperated) Dimoren. I do not care about things that shall never be.
I am concerned with what can be.

DIMOREN: And whatever that may be, I shall stand beside you.

LUNESAH: (voice a gentle whisper) And I you.

Lunesah slowly eases herself down to the floor so that she kneels at Dimoren's
feet. Eyes fluttering towards his, she brings a shimmering sapphire band forward
and smiles, the very picture of servitude at his feet.

Dimoren takes her hand and lifts her slowly from the floor, the ring in both
their palms. Lunesah closes his fingers about the ring and smiles before laying
her head upon his shoulder as she entwines her fingers with his. A gentle melody
echoes through the hall, a reprise of the earlier song, and the two figures lean
in closer as the curtains close around them. The music continues pleasantly
through the theatre, fading away as every light is snuffed out. The stage goes
dark.

END PLAY