Resistance is Futile!
WHO: Toris and Dewi
WHEN: Friday October 2nd, Late Afternoon
WHERE: LU Campus; Practice Rooms Behind Stage
WHAT: Dewi magically convinces Toris to Try out for The Musical
A hand traversed into his hair, ruffling it, the other planted itself firmly and deeply into his pocket. Brown pinstripes. They had to be purchased in the United Kingdom because, well... the Americans lacked class, Dewi decided. The British were always five steps ahead of the Americans in fashion. How many instances were there where he would return from his visit to Cardiff and find the students in his choir dressed in the attire of the British... and as he paced the polished stage floor, looking out onto the 500-seat maximum audience, scuffing his Oxfords against the surface in a rhythmic tapping, he couldn't help but feel... proud. Hopeful. He could see the audience already, on their feat and clapping for an encore. The auditions were coming - giving him the enthusiasm to wake up every morning with a lopsided grin on his face.
The whole place, however, was hopelessly blank, abandoned. His students left minutes ago... he chatted momentarily with a few of the choir students that were planning to audition, but that was nary half an hour ago. His fingers tickled the keys on the piano - A sharp, C, G, A Sharp, D, G, D-Sharp, D...
He closed his eyes, holding his finger down hard on that last D and let it drown out into the acoustics of the stage.
WHEN: Friday October 2nd, Late Afternoon
WHERE: LU Campus; Practice Rooms Behind Stage
WHAT: Dewi magically convinces Toris to Try out for The Musical
A hand traversed into his hair, ruffling it, the other planted itself firmly and deeply into his pocket. Brown pinstripes. They had to be purchased in the United Kingdom because, well... the Americans lacked class, Dewi decided. The British were always five steps ahead of the Americans in fashion. How many instances were there where he would return from his visit to Cardiff and find the students in his choir dressed in the attire of the British... and as he paced the polished stage floor, looking out onto the 500-seat maximum audience, scuffing his Oxfords against the surface in a rhythmic tapping, he couldn't help but feel... proud. Hopeful. He could see the audience already, on their feat and clapping for an encore. The auditions were coming - giving him the enthusiasm to wake up every morning with a lopsided grin on his face.
The whole place, however, was hopelessly blank, abandoned. His students left minutes ago... he chatted momentarily with a few of the choir students that were planning to audition, but that was nary half an hour ago. His fingers tickled the keys on the piano - A sharp, C, G, A Sharp, D, G, D-Sharp, D...
He closed his eyes, holding his finger down hard on that last D and let it drown out into the acoustics of the stage.