Disclaimer: I own nothing of Strange Magic. All belongs to George Lucas and the affiliated parties.
I only claim the storyline and OCs.
"You should have been there," Marianne said with a grin still plastered to her face. "I don't think I've ever laughed harder on set except that day," she continued with a giggle.
Dagda at her right, was shaking his head, his own grin wide under his silvery beard as he let his head fall to his hand.
Caren, the interviewer, let her own laugh out. "And it's because no one really knew, right?" she prodded.
"Well, no!" Dagda spouted, his emerald eyes twinkling.
Marianne giggled again. "There were still some people at that point that didn't even realize he's actually my dad."
"A shocker, I'm sure."
"Oh, especially that day," the older fae said, shaking his head.
"I hear tell," Caren said with a smirk, "that it cost several thousand?"
He let out a derogatory scoff, but his smile was still in place. "That's what they said, yes."
"Did you actually pay it?"
"Nope."
"HA!"
Marianne sighed, rolling her eyes as she picked at her nails.
They had all been standing around waiting for the better part of an hour. She was concerned it could be longer, though she was not about to tell any of her co-actors.
They were still early on in production, this was about their third scene they had shot so far. As par for the course with a lot of projects, they were starting from the end of the story moving to the beginning. The day was perfect for this particular scene - right after the castle was destroyed, Roland shows up to throw the potion in her face, her dad is brought in on the chair-thing - what was it called again? - and they had attempted that particular shot a few times now.
Her dad was not pleased.
Which she could hardly blame him for. That stupid seat was a hazard, both for him to ride in it and for the men to carry it. I mean, yeah, we're all fae here, but we aren't acrobats, she thought, taking a deep breath. She then flinched, hearing a raised voice from the director's trailer that was very clearly her dad's.
He and the director, Mr. Rydstrom, had been going back and forth on a lot of things, but today in particular, after having fallen off the safety hazard three times in a row, her dad was particularly temperamental. She did smirk, though, glancing around at the other actors and staff, their faces of surprise fresh in her mind from an hour ago; Dagda had let out a string of sailor-speech after clambering up from the third fall. They did not know him well on a personal level and the fact that he had a temper at all with how cheery and twinkle-eyed he was towards most everyone was apparently a shocker. She would have thought the fae would have been less surprised considering who he was, even if a lot of them had been on this side of the veil most of their lives.
She bit her lip to try to keep from grinning like a goof.
"Hey, Marianne."
She jolted lightly and turned, regarding her co-star, Bog - or Beauregard, his real name. Tall, even for a fae, all decked out in 16 hours of costuming and makeup, though still looking hilarious with the bright green paint on his wings to replace them in post-production with the dragonfly-esque wings they had decided to go with for the character. They really did a great job, she could not knock the creators and artists for that.
But staring at him made her remember the real reason her dad was so aggravated. Not just this scene he was currently going off on, but the whole shebang.
"What's up, Bog?" she said pleasantly.
"He's, ah… really miffed, eh?" Bog said with a boyish giggle, holding the back of his neck gingerly. He had been guilty of messing up the costume or popping bits off, even with the professional grade materials being used.
Marianne felt her shoulders droop. "Yeeeah."
"I don't blame him, I guess, but we're running out of daylight, don't you think?"
"Yeeeah," she repeated.
"Have you considered talking to him?"
"Oh, we've had plenty of conversations, I assure you," she said, crossing her arms as she shuffled her wings. "I think he's just gonna be perpetually angry about it."
Bog chuckled at that. "Oh?"
Marianne closed her lips tight, but knew her face betrayed her when she looked at him. "You should see how my step-mom feels about it."
Bog's eyes bugged out at that. "Oh HELL no, no way!" he said, raising his hands as he took a step back.
Marianne laughed outright at that. Beauregard was one of the few that was a bit more knowledgeable - he had been her friend for a few decades after all - but he had never actually met her dad and step-mom in person until the idea of a movie in the human world had been brought up.
People were shy enough of her dad based on reputation alone. But his wife had a reputation and appearances to go with it. She knew Bog was no longer afraid perse, but he was certainly cautious to say the least.
Marianne shook her head, holding her sides as her laughter simmered down to giggles. "Don't worry, she-"
They both looked up with a start as the door to the director's trailer burst open. Her dad stomped out first, face schooled into stiff mask, though his balled fists made it clear he was still boiling. Rydstrom followed closely behind, expression equally as stiff. He stopped on the landing as her dad continued down the stairs. "OKAY EVERYONE! Breaktime's over," he shouted, clapping his hands loudly, "we're getting this show back on the road!"
Marianne glanced to her dad who was trekking back to the two other actors and the seat before looking to Bog. He looked to her with the same amount of concerned dread. She shrugged. "Let's see what happens."
Bog shrugged back before raising an arm that direction. "After you."
They both headed to the scene setup, being joined shortly after by Plum, Griselda, Roland, Stuff, Thang and a few others. Apparently, the need to see this through had been ignited. Marianne exchanged glances with everyone: a nervous smile from Roland, a curious eyebrow-wiggle from Plum - goodness she looked hilarious painted in the solid CGI blue; a smug smirk from Griselda, not nearly as short or big-headed as post-production was going to allude to, with both horns wrapped in green cloth for later removal; and were those barely restrained grins of excitement from Stuff and Thang? It was hard to tell for sure with them being loaded down in their costumes and makeup. The tracking markers darting their faces were a good giveaway though.
Marianne took a deep breath as her dad and the other two flew off past the mark, a girthy tree that had green tape plastered in a large "X" so it wouldn't be confused with the others. Like had already been done three times prior, her dad would sit in the hazard off screen to be carted in as if flight was out-of-the-question for him, part of the long list of aggravations he had with this whole endeavor. She held her breath as Rydstrom sat in his chair and got his headphones on, the other staff preparing and setting up with all the clean-cut signs of bottled up anxiety.
There was about a fifty percent split down the middle of human staff that had worked with fae actors and those who had not. Even so, most had never been on the receiving end of an angry fae, as most of her kind found the entertainment industry… entertaining. Things were just amusing to people who could live for centuries.
Her dad, however, was not an actor. And he certainly was not amused considering the circumstances.
Her ears flicked as she heard the walkies go off, signaling everyone was in their respective places. She bit her lip and crossed her arms, feeling the air go still as she and everyone around her held their breath.
The crew called for quiet on set.
"ACTION!"
The onlookers did not have to wait long. The trio came into view from around the tree, the two "guards" carting the seat with all the grace of two camels hauling cargo between them while trying to walk through a mud-slick road.
Marianne closed her lips tight, not only because of the hilarity that was this debacle of flight, but also because of the barely contained expression of anger on her dad's face. He was trying, he really was. But he was nearing the end of his patience.
As if on cue, the moment the guards tried to land they rocked back and forth, trying to hold the seat steady while also trying to hover to a stop before dropping down. And again, right on cue, the moment their feet hit the ground and they tried to stoop, drop their wings, and carefully lower the hazard all at the same time in a not-so-smooth motion - it rocked and toppled, her dad falling forward and to the side.
His wings were up instantly and he caught himself. He hovered into the air, fists clenched as he shot a searing glance to the director.
"CUT!" Rydstrom yelled. He then leveled his own glare as he spun his forearm in a circular motion. "Let's try-it-again!" he said a bit louder than necessary.
Dagda said not a word as he turned and flew back to the mark. The guards groaned and picked the seat up to head back themselves.
Marianne bit her lip hard as she heard one of them question under his breath when her dad was gonna start throwing some tables.
Apparently, Dagda was not the only aggravated party.
"ACTION!"
Again, the trio appeared from behind the three. Again, the less-than-graceful trip ended in a fall forward out of the seat.
"ACTION!"
And again, the clunky trip from behind the tree. And again another topple from the hazard.
Marianne flinched this time.
Her dad's wing clipped the tip of the front actor's helmet , a hiss escaping through his clenched teeth as the other fae's head whiplashed against his chest with a loud clang. The poor guy of course raised his wings instinctively, knocking the already unbalanced seat backward into the other actor, who teetered trying to keep the thing from falling over, raising his own wings to keep himself upright which ended with the three of them accidentally battering the staff and equipment with several powerful, multidirectional gusts of air.
"FU-CUT! CUT! Careful, would ya!" Rydstrom spouted. "This shit costs a lot of money!"
Marianne stared at the man, fingers already covering her lips as her eyes darted to her dad, now on his feet. He had been reaching to the actor he had wing-smashed, but he spun around at the admonition, wings coming to attention as a sudden wave of heat buffered the immediate area.
Utter silence dropped into the set like an unexpected storm.
Marianne remained frozen in place as Bog tried to silently step behind her. Roland inched closer as well.
Her dad looked oddly calm despite the release. However, the calm before the storm never lasted long.
Mr. Rydstrom, for his part, was either strangely unaffected by this display or was very good at hiding it. He made a point to remain quiet, though, as if reluctant to be the first to break the silence, raising his arm and motioning once again to retake position.
Her dad was still for a moment before spinning on the ball of his foot and jumping into the air with ease. The other two actors were less eager to follow him this time, taking more care than strictly necessary when lifting the seat back up to their shoulders before lifting off to trek back to the mark.
"Please tell me he ain't gonna burn the forest down," Roland whispered in her ear.
Marianne jolted lightly, looking to see that both Bog and Roland were huddled behind her. She closed her lips tight and crossed her arms, flaring her wings just so, obliging them in their apparent need of her protection. "I'm sure that won't happen," she said in a non-committal tone.
Certainly her dad would not go that far.
Probably.
Most likely.
"ACTION!"
She held her breath as she watched, the air thick with anticipation. Of what, she was unsure, but she could feel it like static in her hair.
Once again, the three came from around the tree. Once again, they made it to the landing area. Once again, the two actors stuttered on the hover. Once again, the hazard seat rocked and tottered. And once again, her dad tumbled from it. But this time was different.
Somehow, he fell backwards.
Marianne saw his wings splay out as his legs shot into the air and for a split second she wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or panic.
Then came the storm.
Like a practiced dancer her dad turned in mid-air, his wings fluttering in a blur as he spun and righted himself just in time to slam his feet into the ground with the force of his wing-beats. His arms moved in a mess of motions that were confusing for all of point-zero-two seconds.
"FUCK!"
In a flash of gold-green, Dagda had the crown from his head flung across the stretch of forest that was the set. It hit one of the trees with a harsh CLANK that echoed into the air as it ricocheted off to stick fast into the dirt. Scraping metal and snapping leather was heard as all eyes remained glued to the now fuming fae.
Literally fuming.
Heat waves rolled off Dagda's form as he started ripping bits and pieces of the armor off, the white designs in his deep red wings starting to glow hot as metal chunks went flying: a shoulder pauldron one direction, a piece of the collar another, a gauntlet torpedoed into the gorge - all while a string of expletives in several human languages left the burning fae's mouth.
Suddenly he grabbed at his neck.
Marianne heard several loud gasps as he appeared to rip into his own skin… then several positively thunderous gasps as he flung some object off of himself.
She covered her mouth. But the giggling had already started.
The moment the silicone neck piece bounced like a shopping mall splat toy off the ground was the moment that any eyes drawn away by the flying bits and pieces returned to Dagda as he seemed to be struggling with the abdominal plate. He pushed at it from the sides, yanked at it from the chest, and clawed at it from the back before he let out a truly furious roar, his wings flashing a blinding white. The stench of singed leather permeated the air while a stifling wave of heat rolled into the crowd. The light of Dagda's wings faded just in time for everyone to see him yank off the abdominal section by the shoulders and throw it with the speed and strength only a fae could manage. It flew through the air like a Frisbee to hit a tree far behind everyone with a snapping crash. Like a studio audience, everyone looked to watch the armor fall from where it had smashed into the tree, seeing that the large abdominal plate… was actually stuffed with something on the inside. All heads turned back to Dagda, gasps and whispered words of surprise filling the air.
The older fae was hunched over, heat waves rippling from his form and his stiffly displayed wings as the white in his wings and the tips of his hair and beard glowed white-hot, the green of his eyes churning like molten emeralds. And he was clearly not pot-bellied under the fast melting chainmail that was hanging down his torso. In fact, it was quite clear that he appeared to be more toned even than the two actors that had been carrying the hazard seat - both of which were now inexplicably missing along with the offending item. The armor, and evidently fake belly, he had torn off had been hiding thick arms, broad shoulders, an expansive chest and what appeared to be a darn-near stereotypical "V" of a six pack.
Marianne had to hold her breath to stifle her giggling because the now red-hot, goopy chainmail dripping onto the ground was a sure sign that some harsh words were about to be had and the last thing she needed to do was fan her dad's flames by laughing.
And OH did she want to laugh.
The absolute shock and awe of the faces around her were priceless. She shivered with barely contained giggles as she tried to steady herself by looking at her still fuming father. Did you all forget he wields fire!? He's the KING OF FIRE for fuck's sake! I mean, I know it USED to be a metaphor, but COME ON! A squeak escaped her fingertips as she clamped her hands tighter over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes from her effort.
"HOLY FUCK, MAN!" Rydstrom yelled, having jumped out of his seat and backed up several feet with the rest of the camera crew. "Calm the fuck down!"
Ooooooh, no you did NOT just say that! Marianne thought, her brows shooting up into her hairline as her eyes darted between the two.
Dagda narrowed his eyes on the man, lips tight as he took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush of literal steam billowing from his nostrils. He then stood straight and grabbed at the rest of the rapidly deteriorating chainmail from around his neck and chest, handling the searing metal as if it was putty and flinging it to the ground. He then turned on his heel, smoke rising from where his feet fell as he started walking away from the set area.
"Holy shit, the crown is like… bent in half!" came a sudden shout from the north side of the set as several gazes darted to a staff member who had yanked the article from the dirt.
"Oh my GOSH!"
Eyes darted from the staffer to one of the goblin extras at the east section, who had picked up the abdominal plate.
The now very obviously fake pot-bellied abdominal plate.
"This thing's wrecked! It's conCAVE!"
The noise that escaped Marianne's nose was both inhuman and infae alike as she tried with all the willpower she had left to keep herself under control.
"The fuck! Do you have ANY idea how much this is gonna COST!?" Rydstrom hollered, turning to look at Dagda's retreating form.
The fiery fae's still glowing wings gave several strokes, forcing blasts of heat to hit the cast and crew as he cringed. He clawed at the air for a moment, a series of unintelligible words making it from his mouth before he turned to face the director, his whole form flaring like a stoked fire.
"BILL ME!"
With that, Dagda jumped into the air, reaching altitude with what seemed no effort at all.
Silence descended into the crowd as the literal heat from Dagda's outburst faded, leaving a slight chill in its wake. Several crew members started mulling about, trying to find the articles of armor that had been thrown asunder. Though, no one made a move to try to collect the still glowing metal of the chainmail steaming in the dirt where Dagda had stood.
"Oh… my goodness…"
Marianne's eyes, wet with unshed tears of amusement darted to Griselda at her right.
The goblin woman was staring straight ahead, as if in a daze. She blinked slowly. "Woman," Griselda said, "your dad is hot." Amber eyes darted to golden brown. "He's also on fire, but holy hazelnuts in a handbasket is he HOT!"
That did it.
Marianne's laughter tore from her throat and she doubled over, the pain of having held it in causing her cheeks and stomach to ache as she bent over holding herself.
"WAIT!" Stuff spouted. "He's actually your dad!?"
"Holy shit!" Plum looked at Marianne in astonishment. "When were you gonna tell us he's not Santa?"
"That's your real dad!?" one of the guards shouted, somehow appearing out of nowhere now that the danger had passed.
"Is he a fukken body builder?" questioned the other, looking from Marianne to the spot her dad had just lifted off from.
"PFFTAAHAHAHAHA!" Marianne could no longer keep standing. Her knees buckled and she rolled as she hit the ground, laying on her back with her wings splayed out underneath her. She covered her face, literal tears streaming from her eyes as she outright guffawed at not only her co-actors' astonishment, but at the ripple effect of seeing the shock, awe, disbelief and confusion flowing from one face to another as the rest of the crowd slowly started to process what had just happened.
Dagda slumped in his chair, inching down ever further as he covered his face with his hand, looking more like an embarrassed high schooler than a centuries old fae who could melt metal with a touch. Marianne continued to giggle maniacally, wiping her eyes while Caren leaned to the side in her own chair, shaking her head with her fingers holding her chin.
"So, not only did it come to light that you are in fact father and daughter, but also that the King of Fire can actually use fire," Caren summarized with a barely contained grin of her own.
"THAT isn't even the funniest part," Marianne insisted with another bubble of laugher. "The part that really got to me is that people started going on about the fake belly!"
"They couldn't believe it was fake?"
"There's some behind the scenes footage somewhere," Dagda paused to straighten up in his chair, fighting the grin on his face as he adjusted his blazer, "of everyone going on about how I was 'Buff Santa, now'-"
"And then - you remember - how Plum was joking that you started smuggling Vodka onto the set by stuffing it in the belly!" Marianne chirped, collapsing into another fit of giggles. "She said you had to have something in there to keep chilled out after the blow up!"
"Did you!?" Caren questioned.
"NO! Of course not!" Dagda then glanced away. "I mean, I thought about it."
"So, tell me," Caren sat up straighter and cleared her throat, "what really caused the blow up?"
The fae king groaned and rolled his eyes. "Alright, well, there was a LOT going on that I'm legally obligated to keep shushed. But for this particular situation it was mostly to do with the last minute changes to the, quote, 'character design'," Dagda said, making the quote motions with his fingers. "As aggravating as it was, in that I'm a real person, I'm standing right in front of them and they're talking about me like I'm some fictional personage, they then are making these changes that make NO sense after already making 'necessary changes'," again he made air quotes, "for the sake of this dumbed down version of events which I had already given them quite a talking to about." He took a deep breath and leaned back in the seat. He clasped his hands in front of him as he rested his elbows to the armrests before barking out a laugh. "If they'd just told me that they thought I looked a lot like Lucas and they wanted to cameo him into the movie, so-to-speak, then I may have been a lot less inclined to be rightly PISSED OFF about wearing an extra twenty pounds of absolutely unnecessary silicone and memory foam."
Marianne snorted from her seat next to her dad, covering her mouth. Her mirthful gaze was met by his annoyed yet amused expression.
"It went splat."
"Pfft-" Dagda covered his face yet again giggling along with his daughter.
Thank you for the read. Have a good day or night and a wonderful time~*
PS: I'm sure Gary Rydstrom is great to work with. I'm sure he's also had his fair share of "talking to" in the industry, lol. Kudos to Mr. Rydstrom for the great work he did on a movie we've all come to love and adore~*