A Night at the Theatre

The playhouse was bright with light and raucous laughter. The players—who were now shouting over the audiences' wild jests, competing for their attention—were somewhere in the middle of the fourth act. The sun had set, leaving stage to be lit only by lantern and candlelight. The audience was tightly packed together, standing in rowdy clumps, pushing and shoving to get a better view of the stage or whatever brawl had taken over the crowd's attention in the prevailing moment. Servers in colourful clothes squeezed their way through patrons, answering to demand after demand for more ale, more wine and more food. Drink splashed on the ground, food was thrown in people's faces, and more than one brawl had to be split up by a few ushers carrying wooden bats.

All in all, it was an ordinary evening at a Rivaini playhouse.

Vidomeda was used to being on the other side, performing on the stage, hollering into the din. She had grown up with a travelling troupe of players who had frequented playhouses all along the Antivan Rivaini coasts. She had vivid memories of being a gangly teenager and the troupe's manager taking one look at her, shrugging her shoulders, throwing a large cone-shaped princess hat over her horns and pushing her onstage to play the part of the young woman in love. At the time she had been scandalized—a gawky, pimply grey-skinned Vashoth towering over everyone else playing a role like that? She was certain she was going to have food thrown at her until she ran off the stage. But the audiences were receptive and no one said anything about the horn poking through the hat's fabric by the end of the second act.

Vidomeda had fond memories of her time with the players. It had been a very long time since she had stepped foot in a playhouse like this and she was enjoying every moment of it.

"I don't understand what's happening," Josephine said. Her eyes had been glued to the stage the entire evening, either out of respect for the art or because she was desperately trying to ignore the drunks arm wrestling and spitting their drink all over each other four feet over to her left. She took a swig of red wine and swirled the remaining drink around in her cup.

"It's easy," Vidomeda said. "Here, listen." She tilted back her head and make a dramatic gesture of finishing off her own drink. She smacked her lips as she lowered her tankard, then spoke rapidly. "Andalus—the servant over there, the one in the red—is trying to win his freedom by helping his master woo the girl who lives next door, but all that goes awry when—"

"Yes, I understood that," Josephine interrupted. "I don't understand what's happening right now."

"Oh. Andalus believes he has failed in his mission and he is now drinking his sorrows away."

"…is that why he's rolling around on the floor clutching a wine barrel?"

"Yes," Vidomeda said.

"I thought this was billed as a tragedy," Josephine said, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Vidomeda gasped in mock shock. "Never! Why would you go to a playhouse to see a tragedy? You want to be entertained, not become a weeping mess by the end of the night!"

Josephine looked down, balancing her drink in one hand as she dug through her purse with the other. Muttering softly to herself, she eventually withdrew a rolled up pamphlet from her purse. "Well, it looked like a tragedy," she said, awkwardly unfurling the paper with one hand and scanning it again. "Look here, it says—"

Someone bumped into her from behind. Josephine screeched in surprise and fell forwards, her wine splashing out of her cup. She crashed into Vidomeda, who dropped her tankard and caught her with her right arm. and she fell forwards, crashing into Vidomeda. Vidomeda caught her with her right arm, steadying her.

"Are you all right?" she asked, looking at Josephine, concern on her face . "Because I can go hit him if you want me to. I might only have one hand, but I can still rock a punch."

"No!" Josephine exclaimed. She tucked the pamphlet away, then quickly finished off her wine. She looked around for a passing servant and, seeing none, politely set it on the ground. "No, Meda," she said. "Don't do that. That is entirely unnecessary. It was a little bump."

"Just as long as you're all right," Vidomeda said. "I didn't suggest we come here so you could get trampled by drunk theatre patrons."

"Oh?" Josephine said, arching an eyebrow. "You were worried about this? This is nothing. Or else you haven't spent enough time with the Orlesians at the opera." She grinned, her smile brightening her face. She started to giggle, and pressed a hand against her lips. "Can I speak honestly, Meda? This is much better."

"I see," Vidomeda said, pulling Josephine closer, her hand pressed against her back. "Do tell."

"Orlesian theatre, while grand and epic, is far too… polite, shall we say," Josephine said.

"Polite? They lit fireworks in the auditorium."

"Yes, but everyone is seated and respectful and the attention is always on the First Actor," Josephine said. "This is much more… real. Even if there are idiot buffoons sitting on the edge of the stage."

Vidomeda glanced at the stage. Sure enough, several of the patrons had taken it upon themselves to plunk their smelly asses on the edge of the stage. The company had adjusted accordingly and had incorporated the disruption into the scene, like true professionals.

"You see?" Josephine said. "Anything can go wrong and it makes everything go better! I love it!" She laughed gleefully, then stood on her tip-toes and planted a kiss on Vidomeda's lips. "I can even kiss you in the audience without insulting three different lords, inciting a duel and breaking an alliance with a marquise."

Vidomeda grinned and swept her into a tight embrace. "I like where this is going." She bent her head, swooped down and kissed Josephine on the cheek. "And I'm glad," she murmured. "This is fun."

"It is," Josephine said, eyes dancing.

Vidomeda kissed her soundly. She closed her eyes, listening to the roars of the crowd and the bellows of the actor playing Altus as he grappled with the wine barrel. For a moment, it all faded and it was just her and Josephine, in the middle of the crowd, and everything felt perfect.