Nice to be Here
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Funny what the muses will send you. This is about an alternate
reality in which several characters from a few different anime series actually live
together and work together. You'll recognize characters from Utena, Ruoroni
Kenshin, Cowboy Bebop and a few new faces from Gundam Wing this time
around. Inspirational lyrics provided by the lovely Catatonia, again. This time
with their aptly named song "Sweet Catatonia." What does that leave me? Not
much, but as I mentioned, it's fun.)
It was a perfectly composed conversation. A give and take of sharp, wise, often
biting remarks—both sides scoring irreconcilable points. Observations.
Accusations. A volley of witticisms. Their favorite playing field—their best
skill, and what was familiar.
And then the question. She wants to ask.
But does he answer? What could he answer? How would he explain? Juri's
perseption ended, she couldn't decide what Ruka would say at that point. His
face immobile, soft lines around his eyes—either affection or pity? Which was
it?
As she deliberated, no answers could be known. She watched another sleepless
hour pass by.
Chance dreams
that cut across the bed,
leaving colours there instead
"Did you hear about auditions?" Faye whispered to her quiet companion. Juri
was leaning against the foyer wall, close to where Faye was perched on the front
desk—perusing through a random sampling of the new script.
"What this time?" Juri said, quietly, not really interested in anything. She was
waiting for Utena to come and issue out stage crew responsibilities. Requesting
to be left out of the acting responsibilities for the summer shorts and not
committing to the fall production either—Juri'd redirected her theater
commitment and responsibilities.
"They're open—more so than usual." Faye leaned over her gangly crossed legs
and managed to somehow scoop a wayward sheet from it's mid-flight slip onto
the floor. "The Glass House split and a few of their seasoned cast members are
dispersing to other theaters in the area. Something about an internal controversy
about the spirit of true theater."
"Oh dear," Juri said, feigning interest. "More selfish actors."
"Hey, I resemble that remark." Faye grinned widely, "But seriously, I'm not the
best and with more . . . fresh competition. It's just not fair, now that I've worked
my foot in the door and everything! Why now?"
Sauntering in the front door, Faye's younger brother remarked, "Don't make
excuses, Faye. We all know you're an opportunist. Just make sure to impress
Hajime."
"Don't use Saitou's first name!" Faye grumbled, shocked at Sano's partial
support. "It makes you sound so . . . familiar."
"Well, things are much better between us than they were. He's finally realizing
what a swell and talented guy I am." Sano chewed his toothpick confidently,
only his hands stuffed deep into his pockets betrayed his insecurity on the
subject. Sano was cocky and confident, except when it came to proving himself
to Saitou. And whenever Sano respected a person that much, he became a little
embittered to that individual as well.
"Speaking of the wolfish director, where is he?" Faye slapped the pages of text
against her knee.
"What time is it?" Sano glanced at his bare wrists.
"Past time for Utena to be here as well . . ." Juri entered the sibling's
conversation. "With the summer shorts, things are usually so chaotic Utena's
hands are well full. She wanted me to be here early . . ." Her voice trailed off as
they saw shadows approaching the front door.
Three shadows, as Utena entered first, the door pulled open for her by Saitou.
Closely behind the tomboyish stage manager followed someone the others had
not met before. Arguably better dressed than the Road Rage's fashionable
scribe, Kenshin Himura, the lean man was obviously just as intelligent. His eyes
quickly assessing and evaluation his surroundings. Settling his hands on either
hip, the stranger spoke over his shoulder to Saitou who smiled at the comment.
"It's a shame I waited so long to come over to the Road Rage. This
establishment has class, Jime."
"Coming from you, that's quite a compliment." Saitou stepped forward leading
the newcomer toward those already there. "This is Juri Arisugawa, Faye
Valentine, and the moron over there with the outrageous hair is Faye's kid
brother, Sanosuke Sagara."
Before Sano could decide whether to hide or respond in kind, the new fellow ran
a conscious hand through his own reddish-brown mop cut longer around his
face. "I can understand that."
"Gang, this is Mr. Trowa Barton . . ." Saitou spoke fondly, "I've finally
persuaded him to give the Road Rage a shot—and I think he'll fill our current
void rather well."
"Your offer was timely," Trowa turned his face away from the praise, "The
Glass House is a mess, I needed to get away."
Faye watched him carefully, noting that Trowa Barton didn't say more than
necessary, softening praise and making an effort to build comfort for the
established Road Rage actors. Still, everything he said seemed to carry great
meaning beneath it. His seldom seen smile seemed bashful, almost reminding
her of their recently disappeared Ruka. She glanced over at Juri, wondering if
she'd sensed the similarities, but Juri was more or less neglecting Saitou's newest
recruit. The auburn haired actress watching her feet, crossed at the ankles,
apparently still waiting for Utena to tell her what she needed to do.
See lines that draw it
to an end--ignore them
Not long after Saitou and Utena brought in Mr. Barton—several hopefuls came
to enter the auditions for the summer shorts. Saitou reserved the right to double
cast some actors . . . but the possibilities of landing a substantially important role
in one of many smaller acts brought in both seasoned, familiar actors and young
hopefuls. The split of the Glass House only increased the volume.
Sanosuke finished first, his strategy consistently to volunteer to go first and
earliest. The young actor had substantial importance in his first play and his
ambition combined with ability earned him a leading role in the spring
production. Knowing delay only made him sloppy, Sano poured himself into
the first reading and evaluation reading through a scene with his sister.
"Not bad, Sagara." Saitou said in his normal, non-committed tone.
Sano faked his pleased expression, hiding his worry. He felt as if some of his
best performances came from learning how to deal with the strict director.
Walking down the centrer aisle, and trying not to listen too closely to Saitou's
comments to his sister, Sano spotted Spike Spiegel hovering in the doorway that
divided the main auditorium from the foyer.
Spike grinned, "Great job there kiddo. Heard it was you and watched from
here."
"Thanks," Sano grinned, beginning to regain his intrinsic confidence. "Quite a
few folks showed up for this one."
"With the G House's shaky foundation, I'm guessing that we're getting their
overflow. I spotted Trowa Barton chatting with Utena. I didn't know they were
friends. He's low-profile but has a rather spotless reputation. Curious he's here .
. ."
"I think he's pals with Saitou, actually." Sano shrugged. "Saitou wasn't too
pleased that Ruka bailed out on us. Did we ever find out what business whisked
away our reliable Ruka?"
Spike pulled the toothpick from his mouth and examined it a moment, "He was
rather clammed up about saying why he had to leave. But Ruka's always
secretive like that. Doesn't mean he isn't coming back, kiddo." Spike began
flipped the toothpick into a nearby garbage container. "So I wouldn't get too
confident."
"Me?" Sano guffawed, "Never!"
"Excuse me, gentlemen."
Stepping between them, a woman with a confident step surveyed the auditorium.
Scanning the scene just above her tipped sunglasses. Seeming satisfied, she
pulled the frames off with a solid click closing them and putting them into her
handbag. "Perhaps you can point him out, I need to speak with the director."
Sano, amused by her self-assurance, pointed to where Saitou was now standing
with his arms crossed sternly over his characteristic black t-shirt.
"Of course," the woman arched one eyebrow, "Rather quaint place, isn't it?"
She smiled broadly to both of them and proceeded to make her way toward
Saitou.
"What the . . ." Sano breathed, appreciating the woman's innocent seeming
sundress and the way it accented her self-possessed gait. "Interesting."
Spike shook his head, amused and making no comment.
And if I say
how I feel again,
is it wise to do it?
Or like hearing
for the umpteenth time,
some despise
In record time, Saitou announced casting for the summer shorts. Shiori studied
the post, scribbling down not only her own two roles but also the names of those
who had been given the parts she'd particularly wanted herself. Julia. Julia.
Julia. Dorothy.
Shiori's pen pressed deep into the paper. She had expected better.
"My my my." A silky voice broke through Shiori's dark thoughts. "If I didn't do
well."
Shiori turned, glancing up and down to appreciate the figure of the woman next
to her. She became very much aware of her own casual and semi-rumpled
appearance. This actress daintily noted her parts, brushing back her pale blonde
hair with her left hand. The pen still balanced between her fingers. The new
arrival glanced at Shiori, apparently noticing that she was being evaluated. The
woman's smile crossed elegant features.
"I'm Dorothy Catalonia. Please to meet you, I'm sure."
"New to the Road Rage?" Shiori asked, turning back to stare at the postings, not
reading the names.
"Oh, have you performed here before? Fancy that." Dorothy never stopped
looking at the girl. "Well, you did get a couple roles didn't you? Pity," Dorothy
paused. "We don't have any together. But it seems that Trowa and I will have
enough to do. We both are, well you could say, artistic *refugees* from the
Glass House. The young director there has no direction. One should throw
stones in a glass house." Dorothy laughed lyrically, but her voice carried an
unfamiliar tone of humor. Dorothy Catalonia was undeniably powerful;
however, Shiori began to feel as if she were being toyed with.
"Dorothy?" Another new face appeared, this time a more ruddy looking man.
His short hair wired into dark, tight curls, carefully cut side burns accented his
cheeks. "So you've joined the exodus?"
"Oh course, Nichol." Dorothy laughed again, identical to the first Shiori had
heard. "You know how I like to have my way—or none at all."
"Something we undoubtably have in common," The man called Nichol smiled,
apparently familiar with Dorothy's dominating style of interaction. They both
overlooked Shiori, who simply watched.
"Damn, Barton's here as well. I didn't see him at auditions." Nichol's lip curled.
"I do believe that he's on good terms with the director." Dorothy observed,
lifting her chin, still speaking as if she were playing a role, rather than revealing
herself. "Thereby, no-audition-necessary. If you know what I mean."
"All too well." Nichol said after a moment's silence. "But it looks like we'll be
well used. It seems that Barton hasn't tainted this new director against me."
Nichol pointed to the list. "Spiegel? Isn't he the chap who starred in 'Post
Script'? The joy of acting with talent at last." Dorothy nodded, her lips pressed
into a smile.
Shiori finally stepped away. Certain that a new battle was brewing in the Road
Rage. Neither of them had asked her name, but she was used to that.
She'd just make certain that, like certain others who underestimated her, they
never forgot it.
Don't you fall asleep
there's lots of things
I need to say
that just won't keep
Juri was proving to be her most reliable assistant, but Utena watched her closely
anyway. Unlike the others who ignored the symptoms or simply assumed they
were long over, Utena was certain that Juri was still unresolved. The tension
between the actress and Ruka during the spring had been obvious to all. But not
all had noticed the unwanted tension between the two familiar cast members and
one of the newest recruits. And the sudden distance Shiori had put between
herself and Juri only convinced Utena all the more. Utena simply waited for
when she would be needed, but the continued careful quietness of the suffering
woman worried Utena.
In the meantime, Utena found a strange new interest to make her work at the
Road Rage all the more enjoyable.
Trowa Barton.
She'd been quite surprised and pleased to cross paths with the actor again when
Saitou had been bringing Trowa to the theater for the first time. Utena was
familiar with his work from having been the assistant stage manager at the Glass
House for one season before taking the permanent position at the Road Rage.
They'd seldom spoke, but she'd always admired the quiet yet attentive ability
that Trowa had about him.
Prowling the halls of the theater, Utena was searching for Saitou to ask him
when to call in Mikage Souji for set and light directing. Finding her own
patience pressed by the missing director, she found it renewed when she crossed
paths with Spike and Julia who were becoming at that moment quite chummy
with Trowa himself.
"Hello everybody," Utena waved adopting her smile of universal affection and
good cheer. "Haven't seen Mr. Saitou have you?"
"I think he's trying to round up and send off those who auditioned and are
appealing their absences from any of the casting." Spike said with a mixture of
sympathy and amusement in his voice.
"It was a very busy auditioning. I don't know if Saitou's ever considered so
many people before." Julia added, her arms comfortably linked through Spike's.
"But he's a fair and honest judge of ability. It probably made things a bit more
fair since we had openings for both Ruka and Juri."
"Right." Utena asked, then without a bit of subterfuge, added, "I'm a bit worried
that Juri didn't audition actually. She did seem genuinely interested in taking a
chance to help back stage, but with everything that happened . . . I don't know if
her choice was made in that same spirit. She doesn't seem happy." She glanced
at Trowa, who listened with an interested but uncertain knowledge of the
situation.
"Perhaps we should make an effort to . . . something. What do you think,
darling?" Julia glanced up at Spike, her words carefully chosen.
"We'll keep an eye on her." Spike nodded, "We've known her too long to let her
feel abandoned by the Road Rage."
"Abandoned . . ." While no one acknowledged Trowa's casual muttering at the
time, Utena thought of it long afterwards, and wondered.
Sweet sweet sweet sweet catatonia,
I should have told you (ah ah)
Sweet sweet sweet sweet catatonia,
I should have told you (ah ah)
"I can hardly believe it." Faye's voice fluctuated between joy and reservation.
"I'm stage crew, then I get to act . . . finally. And now . . . and now . . . I'm
assistant director? What the heck?"
Shin chewed his food without comment, enjoying how each emotion crossed
Faye's face so quickly then was replaced by a new and different feeling.
"I know there are so many summer shorts that he would be spread to thin to
work with every rehersal . . . but still! This isn't what I had in mind. I didn't
even get one acting role. Which he said was so I could focus on learning what
he expected from me as a director but . . . I have too much *passion* to bottle it
up and stand behind the scenes again . . ." Faye continued to speak her mind,
letting joy and sorrow become confused as she remained uncertain how to react
to the startling revelation.
Alexander Edinburgh, better known as Shin, had been out on assignment for just
over a week and was enjoying his reunion with his steady companion. He'd
missed her enthusiastic conversation while he'd been puzzling over what angle
to take on a corporate merger in a distant city. Somehow her complications
made his life seem more simple—and satisfying.
"Have I told you how marvelous it is to have you back, Shin? I just couldn't
stand thinking about all of this in my own head. Your opinion means so much
to me." Faye calmed herself to smile rather bashfully, looking down to the right,
watching her fingers hold the fork that still hovered over her untouched food.
Shin smiled, still saying nothing.
And with my fears
In the back of my mind,
will they gang up on me?
And when I least expect them to
they'll devour me
"How is Juri?" Ruka's voice sounded strong on the telephone, but Spike knew
him well enough not to take that as a certain sign of his recovery. The question
made so quickly gave Spike some insight as to his friend's true priorities.
"She's been the best assistant Utena's ever had—according to our over-worked
and under-appreciated stage manager." Spike reassured, leaving the unasked
questions unanswered. Spike didn't know if he could answer them with all
honesty. The seasoned friendship they shared granted Spike considerable
information as to Ruka's unveiled situation, and Spike genuinely worried that if
Ruka did not leave the Road Rage behind, he would let his illness consume him.
"You just concentrate on getting better, hear me?" Spike added with a friendly
threat for good measure.
"They've got me in some incredibly observation process—I don't understand the
half of it. But it's thorough. Very extensive."
"But no certain diagnosis . . ." Spike supplied.
"Not yet. I suppose my seat at the Road Rage has cooled considerably in my
absense. Summer shorts and all." Ruka laughed.
"Saitou brought of a friend of his actually. Fellow named Trowa Barton, and
he's alright enough. The Glass House quarrel finally led to a division and we've
collected a few of those who left. Don't know if Barton left . . . but he was
clearly invited."
"I remember Barton." Ruka said, "Reliable."
"I think that's the word we used most often for you." Spike breathed lightly. In
the background, he could hear a woman comment to Mr. Tsuchiya that he was
needed for conference and further testing.
"Sure, Kiki, just a moment." Ruka redirected his comment into the phone,
"Later, Spike-o. Give Julia my greetings."
"Take it easy." Spike set the phone down and sat quiet for a moment. Still
wondering if he'd ever be able to answer Ruka's true questions.
Don't you turn aside,
your tired ears must hear me out
there's nowhere to hide
They almost passed without a word. But quarters were close for the silence to
last any longer. Their eyes met and both let their lips part. But the words, while
coming, were slow.
"Juri."
"Shiori."
"I had hoped you might be acting again." Shiori, once loosed, began to regain
her posture. "I'm healing and to have you close makes the process sweet."
"Bittersweet." Juri said, "And I'm not sure what need for healing you're
referring to." She remained quite guarded.
"Come now," Shiori whispered hoarsely, but no less sure of herself. "He
managed to tear his way through my feelings. I was so confused, Juri. When
you've been nothing but straightforward and honest. Only asking for time, and
my patience. I was foolish."
Shiori added the last after a deliberate pause. Juri wondered at the sincerity, but
was still unready to trust. "You're back on your feet again. That's good." Juri
conceded.
"Don't twist my words." Shiori said lightly. Somehow, she'd come very close.
Juri closed her eyes, and suddenly recalled the way that Shiori had leaned,
leaned possessively toward Ruka. Why that memory?
Shiori continued in Juri's silence, "Yes, close your eyes. But remember, when
you open them, I'm the one who's still *here*."
The knife's edge of the latest comment cut clean through Juri. Bleeding
continuously without being given the ability to resolve any of the wounds—old
or new. Opening her eyes, Juri was still in the hallway. Decidedly alone.
Nothing, however, had changed. And Juri went about her business.
Don't you turn aside,
your tired ears must hear me out
(And with my fears
in the back of my mind,
will they gang up on me?)
"As much as things change, they do remain the same, wouldn't you agree?"
Trowa glanced down at Dorothy who was seated quite comfortably yet properly
in the back row of the Road Rage auditorium. "Hello, Dorothy."
"Ah, yes. Hello, Trowa." Dorothy remedied her greeting.
Trowa's jaw worked, then he added, "This is a good place for us. I agree."
For a moment, Dorothy's eyes lost their ever-present sparkle, but her voice still
reflected authority, "I'm glad you're here. I'm sure you saw that Nichol came as
well."
"He thrives on rivalry." Trowa observed.
"Makes life interesting, that it does." Dorothy chuckled, but her laughter was
thoughtful. They remained in silence for a while, taking some comfort.
Absorbing the new atmosphere until the lights came on with a bright
announcement of things to come.
Sweet sweet sweet sweet catatonia,
I should have told you (ah ah)
(And when I least expect them to they'll devour me)
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: Funny what the muses will send you. This is about an alternate
reality in which several characters from a few different anime series actually live
together and work together. You'll recognize characters from Utena, Ruoroni
Kenshin, Cowboy Bebop and a few new faces from Gundam Wing this time
around. Inspirational lyrics provided by the lovely Catatonia, again. This time
with their aptly named song "Sweet Catatonia." What does that leave me? Not
much, but as I mentioned, it's fun.)
It was a perfectly composed conversation. A give and take of sharp, wise, often
biting remarks—both sides scoring irreconcilable points. Observations.
Accusations. A volley of witticisms. Their favorite playing field—their best
skill, and what was familiar.
And then the question. She wants to ask.
But does he answer? What could he answer? How would he explain? Juri's
perseption ended, she couldn't decide what Ruka would say at that point. His
face immobile, soft lines around his eyes—either affection or pity? Which was
it?
As she deliberated, no answers could be known. She watched another sleepless
hour pass by.
Chance dreams
that cut across the bed,
leaving colours there instead
"Did you hear about auditions?" Faye whispered to her quiet companion. Juri
was leaning against the foyer wall, close to where Faye was perched on the front
desk—perusing through a random sampling of the new script.
"What this time?" Juri said, quietly, not really interested in anything. She was
waiting for Utena to come and issue out stage crew responsibilities. Requesting
to be left out of the acting responsibilities for the summer shorts and not
committing to the fall production either—Juri'd redirected her theater
commitment and responsibilities.
"They're open—more so than usual." Faye leaned over her gangly crossed legs
and managed to somehow scoop a wayward sheet from it's mid-flight slip onto
the floor. "The Glass House split and a few of their seasoned cast members are
dispersing to other theaters in the area. Something about an internal controversy
about the spirit of true theater."
"Oh dear," Juri said, feigning interest. "More selfish actors."
"Hey, I resemble that remark." Faye grinned widely, "But seriously, I'm not the
best and with more . . . fresh competition. It's just not fair, now that I've worked
my foot in the door and everything! Why now?"
Sauntering in the front door, Faye's younger brother remarked, "Don't make
excuses, Faye. We all know you're an opportunist. Just make sure to impress
Hajime."
"Don't use Saitou's first name!" Faye grumbled, shocked at Sano's partial
support. "It makes you sound so . . . familiar."
"Well, things are much better between us than they were. He's finally realizing
what a swell and talented guy I am." Sano chewed his toothpick confidently,
only his hands stuffed deep into his pockets betrayed his insecurity on the
subject. Sano was cocky and confident, except when it came to proving himself
to Saitou. And whenever Sano respected a person that much, he became a little
embittered to that individual as well.
"Speaking of the wolfish director, where is he?" Faye slapped the pages of text
against her knee.
"What time is it?" Sano glanced at his bare wrists.
"Past time for Utena to be here as well . . ." Juri entered the sibling's
conversation. "With the summer shorts, things are usually so chaotic Utena's
hands are well full. She wanted me to be here early . . ." Her voice trailed off as
they saw shadows approaching the front door.
Three shadows, as Utena entered first, the door pulled open for her by Saitou.
Closely behind the tomboyish stage manager followed someone the others had
not met before. Arguably better dressed than the Road Rage's fashionable
scribe, Kenshin Himura, the lean man was obviously just as intelligent. His eyes
quickly assessing and evaluation his surroundings. Settling his hands on either
hip, the stranger spoke over his shoulder to Saitou who smiled at the comment.
"It's a shame I waited so long to come over to the Road Rage. This
establishment has class, Jime."
"Coming from you, that's quite a compliment." Saitou stepped forward leading
the newcomer toward those already there. "This is Juri Arisugawa, Faye
Valentine, and the moron over there with the outrageous hair is Faye's kid
brother, Sanosuke Sagara."
Before Sano could decide whether to hide or respond in kind, the new fellow ran
a conscious hand through his own reddish-brown mop cut longer around his
face. "I can understand that."
"Gang, this is Mr. Trowa Barton . . ." Saitou spoke fondly, "I've finally
persuaded him to give the Road Rage a shot—and I think he'll fill our current
void rather well."
"Your offer was timely," Trowa turned his face away from the praise, "The
Glass House is a mess, I needed to get away."
Faye watched him carefully, noting that Trowa Barton didn't say more than
necessary, softening praise and making an effort to build comfort for the
established Road Rage actors. Still, everything he said seemed to carry great
meaning beneath it. His seldom seen smile seemed bashful, almost reminding
her of their recently disappeared Ruka. She glanced over at Juri, wondering if
she'd sensed the similarities, but Juri was more or less neglecting Saitou's newest
recruit. The auburn haired actress watching her feet, crossed at the ankles,
apparently still waiting for Utena to tell her what she needed to do.
See lines that draw it
to an end--ignore them
Not long after Saitou and Utena brought in Mr. Barton—several hopefuls came
to enter the auditions for the summer shorts. Saitou reserved the right to double
cast some actors . . . but the possibilities of landing a substantially important role
in one of many smaller acts brought in both seasoned, familiar actors and young
hopefuls. The split of the Glass House only increased the volume.
Sanosuke finished first, his strategy consistently to volunteer to go first and
earliest. The young actor had substantial importance in his first play and his
ambition combined with ability earned him a leading role in the spring
production. Knowing delay only made him sloppy, Sano poured himself into
the first reading and evaluation reading through a scene with his sister.
"Not bad, Sagara." Saitou said in his normal, non-committed tone.
Sano faked his pleased expression, hiding his worry. He felt as if some of his
best performances came from learning how to deal with the strict director.
Walking down the centrer aisle, and trying not to listen too closely to Saitou's
comments to his sister, Sano spotted Spike Spiegel hovering in the doorway that
divided the main auditorium from the foyer.
Spike grinned, "Great job there kiddo. Heard it was you and watched from
here."
"Thanks," Sano grinned, beginning to regain his intrinsic confidence. "Quite a
few folks showed up for this one."
"With the G House's shaky foundation, I'm guessing that we're getting their
overflow. I spotted Trowa Barton chatting with Utena. I didn't know they were
friends. He's low-profile but has a rather spotless reputation. Curious he's here .
. ."
"I think he's pals with Saitou, actually." Sano shrugged. "Saitou wasn't too
pleased that Ruka bailed out on us. Did we ever find out what business whisked
away our reliable Ruka?"
Spike pulled the toothpick from his mouth and examined it a moment, "He was
rather clammed up about saying why he had to leave. But Ruka's always
secretive like that. Doesn't mean he isn't coming back, kiddo." Spike began
flipped the toothpick into a nearby garbage container. "So I wouldn't get too
confident."
"Me?" Sano guffawed, "Never!"
"Excuse me, gentlemen."
Stepping between them, a woman with a confident step surveyed the auditorium.
Scanning the scene just above her tipped sunglasses. Seeming satisfied, she
pulled the frames off with a solid click closing them and putting them into her
handbag. "Perhaps you can point him out, I need to speak with the director."
Sano, amused by her self-assurance, pointed to where Saitou was now standing
with his arms crossed sternly over his characteristic black t-shirt.
"Of course," the woman arched one eyebrow, "Rather quaint place, isn't it?"
She smiled broadly to both of them and proceeded to make her way toward
Saitou.
"What the . . ." Sano breathed, appreciating the woman's innocent seeming
sundress and the way it accented her self-possessed gait. "Interesting."
Spike shook his head, amused and making no comment.
And if I say
how I feel again,
is it wise to do it?
Or like hearing
for the umpteenth time,
some despise
In record time, Saitou announced casting for the summer shorts. Shiori studied
the post, scribbling down not only her own two roles but also the names of those
who had been given the parts she'd particularly wanted herself. Julia. Julia.
Julia. Dorothy.
Shiori's pen pressed deep into the paper. She had expected better.
"My my my." A silky voice broke through Shiori's dark thoughts. "If I didn't do
well."
Shiori turned, glancing up and down to appreciate the figure of the woman next
to her. She became very much aware of her own casual and semi-rumpled
appearance. This actress daintily noted her parts, brushing back her pale blonde
hair with her left hand. The pen still balanced between her fingers. The new
arrival glanced at Shiori, apparently noticing that she was being evaluated. The
woman's smile crossed elegant features.
"I'm Dorothy Catalonia. Please to meet you, I'm sure."
"New to the Road Rage?" Shiori asked, turning back to stare at the postings, not
reading the names.
"Oh, have you performed here before? Fancy that." Dorothy never stopped
looking at the girl. "Well, you did get a couple roles didn't you? Pity," Dorothy
paused. "We don't have any together. But it seems that Trowa and I will have
enough to do. We both are, well you could say, artistic *refugees* from the
Glass House. The young director there has no direction. One should throw
stones in a glass house." Dorothy laughed lyrically, but her voice carried an
unfamiliar tone of humor. Dorothy Catalonia was undeniably powerful;
however, Shiori began to feel as if she were being toyed with.
"Dorothy?" Another new face appeared, this time a more ruddy looking man.
His short hair wired into dark, tight curls, carefully cut side burns accented his
cheeks. "So you've joined the exodus?"
"Oh course, Nichol." Dorothy laughed again, identical to the first Shiori had
heard. "You know how I like to have my way—or none at all."
"Something we undoubtably have in common," The man called Nichol smiled,
apparently familiar with Dorothy's dominating style of interaction. They both
overlooked Shiori, who simply watched.
"Damn, Barton's here as well. I didn't see him at auditions." Nichol's lip curled.
"I do believe that he's on good terms with the director." Dorothy observed,
lifting her chin, still speaking as if she were playing a role, rather than revealing
herself. "Thereby, no-audition-necessary. If you know what I mean."
"All too well." Nichol said after a moment's silence. "But it looks like we'll be
well used. It seems that Barton hasn't tainted this new director against me."
Nichol pointed to the list. "Spiegel? Isn't he the chap who starred in 'Post
Script'? The joy of acting with talent at last." Dorothy nodded, her lips pressed
into a smile.
Shiori finally stepped away. Certain that a new battle was brewing in the Road
Rage. Neither of them had asked her name, but she was used to that.
She'd just make certain that, like certain others who underestimated her, they
never forgot it.
Don't you fall asleep
there's lots of things
I need to say
that just won't keep
Juri was proving to be her most reliable assistant, but Utena watched her closely
anyway. Unlike the others who ignored the symptoms or simply assumed they
were long over, Utena was certain that Juri was still unresolved. The tension
between the actress and Ruka during the spring had been obvious to all. But not
all had noticed the unwanted tension between the two familiar cast members and
one of the newest recruits. And the sudden distance Shiori had put between
herself and Juri only convinced Utena all the more. Utena simply waited for
when she would be needed, but the continued careful quietness of the suffering
woman worried Utena.
In the meantime, Utena found a strange new interest to make her work at the
Road Rage all the more enjoyable.
Trowa Barton.
She'd been quite surprised and pleased to cross paths with the actor again when
Saitou had been bringing Trowa to the theater for the first time. Utena was
familiar with his work from having been the assistant stage manager at the Glass
House for one season before taking the permanent position at the Road Rage.
They'd seldom spoke, but she'd always admired the quiet yet attentive ability
that Trowa had about him.
Prowling the halls of the theater, Utena was searching for Saitou to ask him
when to call in Mikage Souji for set and light directing. Finding her own
patience pressed by the missing director, she found it renewed when she crossed
paths with Spike and Julia who were becoming at that moment quite chummy
with Trowa himself.
"Hello everybody," Utena waved adopting her smile of universal affection and
good cheer. "Haven't seen Mr. Saitou have you?"
"I think he's trying to round up and send off those who auditioned and are
appealing their absences from any of the casting." Spike said with a mixture of
sympathy and amusement in his voice.
"It was a very busy auditioning. I don't know if Saitou's ever considered so
many people before." Julia added, her arms comfortably linked through Spike's.
"But he's a fair and honest judge of ability. It probably made things a bit more
fair since we had openings for both Ruka and Juri."
"Right." Utena asked, then without a bit of subterfuge, added, "I'm a bit worried
that Juri didn't audition actually. She did seem genuinely interested in taking a
chance to help back stage, but with everything that happened . . . I don't know if
her choice was made in that same spirit. She doesn't seem happy." She glanced
at Trowa, who listened with an interested but uncertain knowledge of the
situation.
"Perhaps we should make an effort to . . . something. What do you think,
darling?" Julia glanced up at Spike, her words carefully chosen.
"We'll keep an eye on her." Spike nodded, "We've known her too long to let her
feel abandoned by the Road Rage."
"Abandoned . . ." While no one acknowledged Trowa's casual muttering at the
time, Utena thought of it long afterwards, and wondered.
Sweet sweet sweet sweet catatonia,
I should have told you (ah ah)
Sweet sweet sweet sweet catatonia,
I should have told you (ah ah)
"I can hardly believe it." Faye's voice fluctuated between joy and reservation.
"I'm stage crew, then I get to act . . . finally. And now . . . and now . . . I'm
assistant director? What the heck?"
Shin chewed his food without comment, enjoying how each emotion crossed
Faye's face so quickly then was replaced by a new and different feeling.
"I know there are so many summer shorts that he would be spread to thin to
work with every rehersal . . . but still! This isn't what I had in mind. I didn't
even get one acting role. Which he said was so I could focus on learning what
he expected from me as a director but . . . I have too much *passion* to bottle it
up and stand behind the scenes again . . ." Faye continued to speak her mind,
letting joy and sorrow become confused as she remained uncertain how to react
to the startling revelation.
Alexander Edinburgh, better known as Shin, had been out on assignment for just
over a week and was enjoying his reunion with his steady companion. He'd
missed her enthusiastic conversation while he'd been puzzling over what angle
to take on a corporate merger in a distant city. Somehow her complications
made his life seem more simple—and satisfying.
"Have I told you how marvelous it is to have you back, Shin? I just couldn't
stand thinking about all of this in my own head. Your opinion means so much
to me." Faye calmed herself to smile rather bashfully, looking down to the right,
watching her fingers hold the fork that still hovered over her untouched food.
Shin smiled, still saying nothing.
And with my fears
In the back of my mind,
will they gang up on me?
And when I least expect them to
they'll devour me
"How is Juri?" Ruka's voice sounded strong on the telephone, but Spike knew
him well enough not to take that as a certain sign of his recovery. The question
made so quickly gave Spike some insight as to his friend's true priorities.
"She's been the best assistant Utena's ever had—according to our over-worked
and under-appreciated stage manager." Spike reassured, leaving the unasked
questions unanswered. Spike didn't know if he could answer them with all
honesty. The seasoned friendship they shared granted Spike considerable
information as to Ruka's unveiled situation, and Spike genuinely worried that if
Ruka did not leave the Road Rage behind, he would let his illness consume him.
"You just concentrate on getting better, hear me?" Spike added with a friendly
threat for good measure.
"They've got me in some incredibly observation process—I don't understand the
half of it. But it's thorough. Very extensive."
"But no certain diagnosis . . ." Spike supplied.
"Not yet. I suppose my seat at the Road Rage has cooled considerably in my
absense. Summer shorts and all." Ruka laughed.
"Saitou brought of a friend of his actually. Fellow named Trowa Barton, and
he's alright enough. The Glass House quarrel finally led to a division and we've
collected a few of those who left. Don't know if Barton left . . . but he was
clearly invited."
"I remember Barton." Ruka said, "Reliable."
"I think that's the word we used most often for you." Spike breathed lightly. In
the background, he could hear a woman comment to Mr. Tsuchiya that he was
needed for conference and further testing.
"Sure, Kiki, just a moment." Ruka redirected his comment into the phone,
"Later, Spike-o. Give Julia my greetings."
"Take it easy." Spike set the phone down and sat quiet for a moment. Still
wondering if he'd ever be able to answer Ruka's true questions.
Don't you turn aside,
your tired ears must hear me out
there's nowhere to hide
They almost passed without a word. But quarters were close for the silence to
last any longer. Their eyes met and both let their lips part. But the words, while
coming, were slow.
"Juri."
"Shiori."
"I had hoped you might be acting again." Shiori, once loosed, began to regain
her posture. "I'm healing and to have you close makes the process sweet."
"Bittersweet." Juri said, "And I'm not sure what need for healing you're
referring to." She remained quite guarded.
"Come now," Shiori whispered hoarsely, but no less sure of herself. "He
managed to tear his way through my feelings. I was so confused, Juri. When
you've been nothing but straightforward and honest. Only asking for time, and
my patience. I was foolish."
Shiori added the last after a deliberate pause. Juri wondered at the sincerity, but
was still unready to trust. "You're back on your feet again. That's good." Juri
conceded.
"Don't twist my words." Shiori said lightly. Somehow, she'd come very close.
Juri closed her eyes, and suddenly recalled the way that Shiori had leaned,
leaned possessively toward Ruka. Why that memory?
Shiori continued in Juri's silence, "Yes, close your eyes. But remember, when
you open them, I'm the one who's still *here*."
The knife's edge of the latest comment cut clean through Juri. Bleeding
continuously without being given the ability to resolve any of the wounds—old
or new. Opening her eyes, Juri was still in the hallway. Decidedly alone.
Nothing, however, had changed. And Juri went about her business.
Don't you turn aside,
your tired ears must hear me out
(And with my fears
in the back of my mind,
will they gang up on me?)
"As much as things change, they do remain the same, wouldn't you agree?"
Trowa glanced down at Dorothy who was seated quite comfortably yet properly
in the back row of the Road Rage auditorium. "Hello, Dorothy."
"Ah, yes. Hello, Trowa." Dorothy remedied her greeting.
Trowa's jaw worked, then he added, "This is a good place for us. I agree."
For a moment, Dorothy's eyes lost their ever-present sparkle, but her voice still
reflected authority, "I'm glad you're here. I'm sure you saw that Nichol came as
well."
"He thrives on rivalry." Trowa observed.
"Makes life interesting, that it does." Dorothy chuckled, but her laughter was
thoughtful. They remained in silence for a while, taking some comfort.
Absorbing the new atmosphere until the lights came on with a bright
announcement of things to come.
Sweet sweet sweet sweet catatonia,
I should have told you (ah ah)
(And when I least expect them to they'll devour me)