Genre: First Meeting
Rating: K
Summary: Ursa comes to the theater one day to find they've hired a new makeup artist.
Agni, she can't wait to get away from her parents for real.
it's been, what, six days since she was last allowed out of the house? Her parents have been ridiculous these past few weeks, like they always are at the beginning of the play season; they don't want her sneaking out and ruining their name by appearing in those commoner plays or whatever. Like there was anybody in this tiny, backwater town that mattered when it came to their reputation.
But enough of that. She was here now, ready to act. She flagged down the director, lines under her arm so she could return them, and made sure he knew she was ready to go.
"Alright then," he said. "Go backstage. We have a new makeup artist; he'll be doing your makeup today."
A new makeup artist? Interesting.
She goes backstage, like the director asked, and finds the backrooms. One of her fellow actresses catches on her way. "Be careful around the new makeup artist! He's kind of an a-hole."
Okay? That doesn't sound very good.
There's one backroom that isn't occupied, with a boy she doesn't recognize standing outside it like there's a stick up his butt. It's almost like he's also a noble. He's tall and thin and very pale, with bags under his eyes and a look on his face that reminds her of the few times she'd been to a proper noble party, the kind of look that says 'I'm better than you and I know it.' Yea, she doesn't like this guy.
"Oi!" she yells at him, making sure to make a crude gesture at him for good measure. "You the new makeup artist?"
Weirdly enough, his expression doesn't change. "I am. Which part are you playing?" he says as he motions her in.
Damn, he did a pretty good job. She inspects his work in the mirror; even if it is stage makeup, it's not overbearing, and it seems to make her face thinner and sallower, just like how her part should look after that famine she went through. He really did study this play, didn't he?
"Nice job," she allows.
He huffs, allowing a tiny one-sided smile of pride. "As always, of course. Now go, you're on in two minutes."
Badly written over the course of less than an hour just before I go to bed. Typical. Next month tho, I'll be starting that early.