((Alrighty. This is just an attempt at writing one of those playfics that are getting so popular... This one is obviously based on The Rocky Horror Picture show, so any one that is appalled by this decadent fic, then maybe you should rent the movie. Seriously. Forgive me if the terms used are incorrect, but I really have no experience backstage whatsoever. All I know is what the actors are supposed t'do.
Disclaimer(s): I do not own Fushigi Yuugi. Therefore I do not own the characters I am using for the fanfic. I also don't own any characters from Pet Shop of Horrors, Trigun, or .hack. I do own a copy of the soundtrack, and have seen the movie multiple times, but I do not own the script or the lyrics. Not even the characters, even though they're weird enough. They all belong to the wonderful writer and various affiliates.
Warning: OOCness. Always. Probably a little Miaka/Tama bashing later on… Possible fluff and some hentai conversations. Well, I am psycho. Whaddya expect??))
Part I Scene I – The Trouble Always Starts Backstage...
A girl with medium length russet (::cough:: brunette ::cough::) hair traipsed into the lobby of a large Shakespearian theater, carrying a notebook protectively under her jacket and brushing wet hair out of her eyes. Outside it was raining, not particularly unusual for Angels Camp in the middle of winter, but odd enough that she hadn't been prepared. She glanced out the window and sneered, triumphant in the face of the storm. Her notebook was safe.
A young man glanced up from the ticket counter where he was reading a magazine that looked suspiciously like something he shouldn't have out in public. He grinned at her, flashing a perfect smile and giving her a thumbs-up. He had medium length blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and bangs that could only be described as "fly-away". Blue eyes were hidden by a pair of cheap sunglasses.
Rachel: Hey, Leon! When'd you get here?
Leon: Not too long ago. (He takes off his sunglasses to give her a wink.) Fighting against the elements again?
Rachel: (She sticks her tongue out at the cop.) Yeah, sure. (She brandishes the notebook.) Just trying to keep this damn thing dry. What's up? Why're you here so early?
Leon: Well… D decided to show up for this one, so I'm keeping an eye on him to make sure he isn't going to try and sell any of his freaks to your actors.
Rachel's eyes widened in a look of fangirlish glee. Her earlier frown was replaced with a huge grin.
Rachel: D's here?! Where'd he go???
Leon: (Sweatdrops.) Eh… I think he's backstage.
Q-chan suddenly flew in and landed on Rachel's shoulder with a happy grin. He squeaked a greeting and started playing with her hair.
Rachel: H-Hey! Q-chan, you'll just tangle it more! (She frowns in sudden realization.) Waitaminute. If you're here…
A small slender figure stepped out of the shadows, long formal cheongsam swishing about his ankles. His shoulder length black hair caught the light and took on a midnight blue sheen. A small smile graced his features as he watched the little rabbit mess with the girl's hair.
D: Q-chan, you really mustn't torment the director. (He bows respectfully to the director.) Your actors were getting worried about you, Rachel-chan.
Rachel: Honto? I suppose I'd better go check on them…
She disappeared out the side-door that lead backstage. Leon glared suspiciously at the Count.
Leon: Alright, D. What are you planning?
D: (The Count looks supremely innocent and a little hurt.) Me? Planning something? Officer, you really are paranoid. I don't plan on doing anything here save watching the show.
Leon: (grumbling) Yeah, right.
Meanwhile, backstage…
Rachel cursed silently. Why did she always go in the wrong door?? She had gone through the door that led to the lighting booth, not the dressing rooms. And to get to the dressing rooms, she'd have to run across the stage as quickly and silently as possible.
Not that that was a problem, or anything.
Rachel: (Muttering to herself.) Well… Here goes nothing.
She tore across the stage, almost tripped across a spare sound cord, and caught her balance soon enough to turn the headlong trip into a harmless tumble that took her all the way to the other side of the stage.
…Where she found herself face-to-boot with one of her actors. She glanced up at him with an embarrassed grin.
Rachel: Er… Hi, Tamakins…
Tamahome: (Cocks his head to the side quizzically.) Where have you been? We were all worried… Even Hotohori… Chichiri's practically falling apart…
Rachel: Ack! He can't do that! He's one of the principal characters!!!
The director jumped to her feet, startling Tamahome.
Tamahome: Gah!
Rachel: Hey, Tama, could you watch the front for me for a while? I don't want D selling anything to our patrons… And I have to deal with –
Tamahome: (He nods in understanding.) Alright. Just you'd better hurry it up, we don't have that much time.
Rachel: (Eyes grow wide.) …We don't have someone to manage the ticket booth…
Tamahome: I'll rope the first fangirl I see into it…
The director grinned and gave the boy a thumbs up before disappearing into the shadows. After she left Tamahome shook his head, a wry smile on his lips.
Tamahome: That is one strange girl…
The bishonen shook his head and silently crossed the stage to man the ticket booth (nah, he's gonna girl it) until some unfortunate fangirl ventured into the theater.
.::8::.
Bright lights were only made brighter by the mirrors that lined the walls of the dressing room. Well, it wasn't the dressing room. Each of the principal actors had their own, but this one served as a combination make-up shop and communal hangout.
Rachel entered in a flurry of messy brown hair and cheerful waves. The collective actors and several members of the crew that are currently holding down the furniture (nasty furniture. Why does it always try to run away??) all looked up in surprise, some with a total lack of interest and others… Well… I suppose relieved is the word.
Rachel: Hey, y'all! I heard through the grapevine that certain someones were a little worried. (She fixes a pointed glance on Chichiri, who fidgets and goes back to reading some book or other.) So what's the crisis that can't be handled without me, huh?
Nuriko, who was sitting at the long counter that was in front of the majority of the mirrors, turned around with a look of surprise.
Nuriko: All right, who are you and what have you done with the director?
Rachel: (She blinks at the sarcasm, then grins wickedly.) You've found me out! (Puts a hand dramatically to her forehead.) Whatever shall I do? Please don't call the cops! I didn't put the knife in her back, I swear!
Chichiri: (Glances up sharply from his book. In a flat voice:) That isn't funny, Rachel-sama no da.
Rachel: Hmm… Anyway, the Count was telling me that you were all worrying about me.
Mitsukake: It isn't exactly normal for the director to disappear before everything is ready for the play.
Rachel: (She sticks her tongue out at the healer.) All right, all right! Will you guys forgive me if I tell you that I finished the script revisions?
Tasuki: What the fuck're ya talkin' about, onna? I thought yesterday's were the last ones!
A bar of soap seemingly came out of nowhere and smacked the bandit square in the mouth. He immediately started cussing up a storm, but everyone ignored him.
While all of this was going on Rachel started handing out the scripts. After she finished she flopped down in a chair next to her favorite bishonen, who was still studiously ignoring her presence.
Rachel: (Raises an eyebrow at the monk.) All right, what's up?
Chichiri: …
Rachel: (Eyes narrow in annoyance.) Stop pouting and look at me, would you?
The blue-haired seishi finally glances up from the book.
Chichiri: I'm not pouting. And nothing's up no da.
Rachel: Right. That's why Tama said you were practically falling apart at the seams. Stage fright?
Chichiri: (incredulously) Stage fright no da? No.
She gave him a disbelieving look. What else would be bothering him? As far as she knew there wasn't anything else that could. Unless…
Rachel: You old soft hearted… You were worried about me, weren't you?
Chichiri: …
The director suddenly got a fangirl grin. She waited a few seconds, and then pretty much tackled the poor man.
Rachel: That's so kawaii!
Chichiri: (Massive sweatdrop.) Daaaaa…
She jumped away and flashed a victory sign at the room in general. Then, she pulled a hands-free two-way radio out of her favorite sweatshirt's hood and slipped it onto her head, carefully positioning the mike.
Rachel: (Into the radio.) All right, crew! We're gonna be meeting stage left! I'm giving you about… Five minutes. (She flips off the headset and turns to Nuriko.) Where's Hotohori? You guys need to get going on make-up and costumes… We have about an hour before the show starts.
Nuriko: All right. (His eyes become all big and sparkly.) I'll go get Hotohori-sama! (Flounces out of the room, whistling tunelessly.)
Rachel smiled bemusedly, shaking her head. She wasn't thinking about those two, however… She blinked, coming out of her thoughts with a blush.
Rachel: Hoo-boy… No thinking like that allowed.
Tasuki: (Fully recovered from the soap incident.) Thinkin' like what?
Rachel: (Her blush deepens.) Ehhehhehheh…. Never mind, Red. Never mind.
.::8::.
The entire crew had assembled stage left, save for Nuriko and Hotohori. The crew present included: Rachel, director; Dominic and Vash the Stampede, sound and lighting; Mitsukake, props; Neko-ane (and various chorus members and recruits), stage hands; and finally Chichiri, special effects (surprise of surprises ;;).
Dominic is a young man with a tendency towards being Goth. He'd be really handsome if it weren't for all the piercings in strange places. But he's the best damn light technician in the world.
Neko-ane is a cat youkai that also happens to be the director's rather demonic alter ego. Due to a freak (yeah, right) magical accident they had been separated into the rather mellow, if still insane, Rachel and the seriously evil cat-girl.
Among the chorus members that had been recruited to help Neko-ane move sets and props between scenes were also Leon and D, who had been wandering around backstage at the wrong time.
D was only too happy to help, while Leon was a little… Reluctant. But they're there, so they both are now members of the crew.
Rachel surveyed the motley group with a critical eye. Then she smiled and nodded to herself. These people probably made up the best stage crew anyone could ask for.
Rachel: (Claps hands together to get their undivided attention.) All right, people! This is gonna be one tough night, and we'll most likely all be going home at one in the morning. But, damnit, we're gonna knock their socks off! Any questions?
Neko-ane: (She mutters to herself.) Another hugely inspiring pep talk courtesy of Fluffdom Inc.
Rachel: I heard that, you.
Leon timidly puts his hand up.
Rachel: Yes?
Leon: What am I doing here?
Rachel: (Blinks.) I dunno. What are you doing here?
Leon: …Helping, I guess. (He doesn't sound to happy about it, but who would? He can't not help. Not if he values keeping his skin intact, anyway.)
D: (teasingly) Oh, come on, detective! Where's your sense of fun?
Leon: I left it at the pet shop.
Rachel: All right, everyone. Remember, no whistling, and for heaven's sake, don't stand under any sandbags.
A sandbag fell a few feet behind Vash, who jumped three feet in the air, spinning around and pulling his gun.
Vash: Holy shit! (Goes chibi.) That was scaaarrrryyyyyy!!
Rachel just rolled her eyes.
Rachel: Okay, guys. We need to run some sound and lights checks, and I need to go help with the make-up. MOOOOOVE OOOOUUUUUTTT!!!
.::8::.
Sometimes things go wrong for people, and they just don't know why. For instance: Einstein. He invented nuclear fission to be a source of energy, and what do people do with it? Build bombs. Or the caveman who invented the spear. He probably meant for it to be used as a garden ornament… But, I digress.
The person that things were currently going wrong for was a luckless fangirl who also happened to be one of the director's closest friends.
Otaku-no-Miko, fanfic writer extraordinaire, was now roped into the job of 'manning' the ticket booth.
Otaku: (Mutters to herself:) I'll get you for this, Tamahome. I don't know how, but I will.
A cacophony of music and sound effects blared through the doorway into the seating tiers, causing the blonde to wince. She covered her ears with her hands and went back to reading her manga.
.::8::.
Tamahome wandered onto the stage and spotted Rachel. He grinned, creeping up behind her and tapping her on one shoulder while standing behind the other.
The trick has the desired effect. She did a full 180 degree spin before facing him.
Rachel: (Annoyed tone of voice.) Tamahome! You can be such a jerk sometimes!
The director's glare was interrupted by a burst of giggles.
Rachel: (Snickering.) Tamakins, that outfit is so you!!
Tamahome: (Glances down at costume, then pushes glasses back onto his nose irritably.) Yeah, yeah.
He was already in the costume he would be wearing for a majority of the play, a rather badly cut brown suit, thick glasses perched on the tip of his pointed nose. The costume made him look so geeky that he was definitely going to receive some screams from the fangirls in the audience...
...And the same fangirls would probably rake the director of a bed of hot coals.
A loud bang from the other side of the stage brought Rachel out of her thoughts with a jolt. She ran over to the noise, where a very fightened looking Vash the Stampede was sprawled, a pitchfork about an inch from his... er... leg.
Rachel: What happened??
Vash: Please don't be mad at me, director-lady! I didn't do anything!!
Rachel: (Sighs) I'm not mad. Now tell me what happened.
Vash: I was walking by, and this thing just... fell on me!
Rachel: (Raises an eyebrow) For 'just falling', it seems to be stuck in the woodwork pretty well.
Mitsukake, who had heard the thud and was doing his job as staff medic by running to the scene well after the accident had occurred, pulled the prop out of the floor.
Mitsukake: Seems to me that you just have incredibly bad luck. (Glances at the holes between Vash's legs.) Or incredibly good luck...
Rachel: (Sweatdrop) Eh... Can we please just stick the thing back where it belongs?
Up above them, a cloaked figure laughed soundlessly. Tonight was going to be a fun night. This play, like all the others ever in this theater, would not go without a hitch...
((So, whaddya think? Cameos welcomed! Just tell me what you look like, your age, and any weird quirks. Seishi preference would be good too!
And about the cloaked figure... What theater is complete without its own personal poltergeist?))
Disclaimer(s): I do not own Fushigi Yuugi. Therefore I do not own the characters I am using for the fanfic. I also don't own any characters from Pet Shop of Horrors, Trigun, or .hack. I do own a copy of the soundtrack, and have seen the movie multiple times, but I do not own the script or the lyrics. Not even the characters, even though they're weird enough. They all belong to the wonderful writer and various affiliates.
Warning: OOCness. Always. Probably a little Miaka/Tama bashing later on… Possible fluff and some hentai conversations. Well, I am psycho. Whaddya expect??))
Part I Scene I – The Trouble Always Starts Backstage...
A girl with medium length russet (::cough:: brunette ::cough::) hair traipsed into the lobby of a large Shakespearian theater, carrying a notebook protectively under her jacket and brushing wet hair out of her eyes. Outside it was raining, not particularly unusual for Angels Camp in the middle of winter, but odd enough that she hadn't been prepared. She glanced out the window and sneered, triumphant in the face of the storm. Her notebook was safe.
A young man glanced up from the ticket counter where he was reading a magazine that looked suspiciously like something he shouldn't have out in public. He grinned at her, flashing a perfect smile and giving her a thumbs-up. He had medium length blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and bangs that could only be described as "fly-away". Blue eyes were hidden by a pair of cheap sunglasses.
Rachel: Hey, Leon! When'd you get here?
Leon: Not too long ago. (He takes off his sunglasses to give her a wink.) Fighting against the elements again?
Rachel: (She sticks her tongue out at the cop.) Yeah, sure. (She brandishes the notebook.) Just trying to keep this damn thing dry. What's up? Why're you here so early?
Leon: Well… D decided to show up for this one, so I'm keeping an eye on him to make sure he isn't going to try and sell any of his freaks to your actors.
Rachel's eyes widened in a look of fangirlish glee. Her earlier frown was replaced with a huge grin.
Rachel: D's here?! Where'd he go???
Leon: (Sweatdrops.) Eh… I think he's backstage.
Q-chan suddenly flew in and landed on Rachel's shoulder with a happy grin. He squeaked a greeting and started playing with her hair.
Rachel: H-Hey! Q-chan, you'll just tangle it more! (She frowns in sudden realization.) Waitaminute. If you're here…
A small slender figure stepped out of the shadows, long formal cheongsam swishing about his ankles. His shoulder length black hair caught the light and took on a midnight blue sheen. A small smile graced his features as he watched the little rabbit mess with the girl's hair.
D: Q-chan, you really mustn't torment the director. (He bows respectfully to the director.) Your actors were getting worried about you, Rachel-chan.
Rachel: Honto? I suppose I'd better go check on them…
She disappeared out the side-door that lead backstage. Leon glared suspiciously at the Count.
Leon: Alright, D. What are you planning?
D: (The Count looks supremely innocent and a little hurt.) Me? Planning something? Officer, you really are paranoid. I don't plan on doing anything here save watching the show.
Leon: (grumbling) Yeah, right.
Meanwhile, backstage…
Rachel cursed silently. Why did she always go in the wrong door?? She had gone through the door that led to the lighting booth, not the dressing rooms. And to get to the dressing rooms, she'd have to run across the stage as quickly and silently as possible.
Not that that was a problem, or anything.
Rachel: (Muttering to herself.) Well… Here goes nothing.
She tore across the stage, almost tripped across a spare sound cord, and caught her balance soon enough to turn the headlong trip into a harmless tumble that took her all the way to the other side of the stage.
…Where she found herself face-to-boot with one of her actors. She glanced up at him with an embarrassed grin.
Rachel: Er… Hi, Tamakins…
Tamahome: (Cocks his head to the side quizzically.) Where have you been? We were all worried… Even Hotohori… Chichiri's practically falling apart…
Rachel: Ack! He can't do that! He's one of the principal characters!!!
The director jumped to her feet, startling Tamahome.
Tamahome: Gah!
Rachel: Hey, Tama, could you watch the front for me for a while? I don't want D selling anything to our patrons… And I have to deal with –
Tamahome: (He nods in understanding.) Alright. Just you'd better hurry it up, we don't have that much time.
Rachel: (Eyes grow wide.) …We don't have someone to manage the ticket booth…
Tamahome: I'll rope the first fangirl I see into it…
The director grinned and gave the boy a thumbs up before disappearing into the shadows. After she left Tamahome shook his head, a wry smile on his lips.
Tamahome: That is one strange girl…
The bishonen shook his head and silently crossed the stage to man the ticket booth (nah, he's gonna girl it) until some unfortunate fangirl ventured into the theater.
.::8::.
Bright lights were only made brighter by the mirrors that lined the walls of the dressing room. Well, it wasn't the dressing room. Each of the principal actors had their own, but this one served as a combination make-up shop and communal hangout.
Rachel entered in a flurry of messy brown hair and cheerful waves. The collective actors and several members of the crew that are currently holding down the furniture (nasty furniture. Why does it always try to run away??) all looked up in surprise, some with a total lack of interest and others… Well… I suppose relieved is the word.
Rachel: Hey, y'all! I heard through the grapevine that certain someones were a little worried. (She fixes a pointed glance on Chichiri, who fidgets and goes back to reading some book or other.) So what's the crisis that can't be handled without me, huh?
Nuriko, who was sitting at the long counter that was in front of the majority of the mirrors, turned around with a look of surprise.
Nuriko: All right, who are you and what have you done with the director?
Rachel: (She blinks at the sarcasm, then grins wickedly.) You've found me out! (Puts a hand dramatically to her forehead.) Whatever shall I do? Please don't call the cops! I didn't put the knife in her back, I swear!
Chichiri: (Glances up sharply from his book. In a flat voice:) That isn't funny, Rachel-sama no da.
Rachel: Hmm… Anyway, the Count was telling me that you were all worrying about me.
Mitsukake: It isn't exactly normal for the director to disappear before everything is ready for the play.
Rachel: (She sticks her tongue out at the healer.) All right, all right! Will you guys forgive me if I tell you that I finished the script revisions?
Tasuki: What the fuck're ya talkin' about, onna? I thought yesterday's were the last ones!
A bar of soap seemingly came out of nowhere and smacked the bandit square in the mouth. He immediately started cussing up a storm, but everyone ignored him.
While all of this was going on Rachel started handing out the scripts. After she finished she flopped down in a chair next to her favorite bishonen, who was still studiously ignoring her presence.
Rachel: (Raises an eyebrow at the monk.) All right, what's up?
Chichiri: …
Rachel: (Eyes narrow in annoyance.) Stop pouting and look at me, would you?
The blue-haired seishi finally glances up from the book.
Chichiri: I'm not pouting. And nothing's up no da.
Rachel: Right. That's why Tama said you were practically falling apart at the seams. Stage fright?
Chichiri: (incredulously) Stage fright no da? No.
She gave him a disbelieving look. What else would be bothering him? As far as she knew there wasn't anything else that could. Unless…
Rachel: You old soft hearted… You were worried about me, weren't you?
Chichiri: …
The director suddenly got a fangirl grin. She waited a few seconds, and then pretty much tackled the poor man.
Rachel: That's so kawaii!
Chichiri: (Massive sweatdrop.) Daaaaa…
She jumped away and flashed a victory sign at the room in general. Then, she pulled a hands-free two-way radio out of her favorite sweatshirt's hood and slipped it onto her head, carefully positioning the mike.
Rachel: (Into the radio.) All right, crew! We're gonna be meeting stage left! I'm giving you about… Five minutes. (She flips off the headset and turns to Nuriko.) Where's Hotohori? You guys need to get going on make-up and costumes… We have about an hour before the show starts.
Nuriko: All right. (His eyes become all big and sparkly.) I'll go get Hotohori-sama! (Flounces out of the room, whistling tunelessly.)
Rachel smiled bemusedly, shaking her head. She wasn't thinking about those two, however… She blinked, coming out of her thoughts with a blush.
Rachel: Hoo-boy… No thinking like that allowed.
Tasuki: (Fully recovered from the soap incident.) Thinkin' like what?
Rachel: (Her blush deepens.) Ehhehhehheh…. Never mind, Red. Never mind.
.::8::.
The entire crew had assembled stage left, save for Nuriko and Hotohori. The crew present included: Rachel, director; Dominic and Vash the Stampede, sound and lighting; Mitsukake, props; Neko-ane (and various chorus members and recruits), stage hands; and finally Chichiri, special effects (surprise of surprises ;;).
Dominic is a young man with a tendency towards being Goth. He'd be really handsome if it weren't for all the piercings in strange places. But he's the best damn light technician in the world.
Neko-ane is a cat youkai that also happens to be the director's rather demonic alter ego. Due to a freak (yeah, right) magical accident they had been separated into the rather mellow, if still insane, Rachel and the seriously evil cat-girl.
Among the chorus members that had been recruited to help Neko-ane move sets and props between scenes were also Leon and D, who had been wandering around backstage at the wrong time.
D was only too happy to help, while Leon was a little… Reluctant. But they're there, so they both are now members of the crew.
Rachel surveyed the motley group with a critical eye. Then she smiled and nodded to herself. These people probably made up the best stage crew anyone could ask for.
Rachel: (Claps hands together to get their undivided attention.) All right, people! This is gonna be one tough night, and we'll most likely all be going home at one in the morning. But, damnit, we're gonna knock their socks off! Any questions?
Neko-ane: (She mutters to herself.) Another hugely inspiring pep talk courtesy of Fluffdom Inc.
Rachel: I heard that, you.
Leon timidly puts his hand up.
Rachel: Yes?
Leon: What am I doing here?
Rachel: (Blinks.) I dunno. What are you doing here?
Leon: …Helping, I guess. (He doesn't sound to happy about it, but who would? He can't not help. Not if he values keeping his skin intact, anyway.)
D: (teasingly) Oh, come on, detective! Where's your sense of fun?
Leon: I left it at the pet shop.
Rachel: All right, everyone. Remember, no whistling, and for heaven's sake, don't stand under any sandbags.
A sandbag fell a few feet behind Vash, who jumped three feet in the air, spinning around and pulling his gun.
Vash: Holy shit! (Goes chibi.) That was scaaarrrryyyyyy!!
Rachel just rolled her eyes.
Rachel: Okay, guys. We need to run some sound and lights checks, and I need to go help with the make-up. MOOOOOVE OOOOUUUUUTTT!!!
.::8::.
Sometimes things go wrong for people, and they just don't know why. For instance: Einstein. He invented nuclear fission to be a source of energy, and what do people do with it? Build bombs. Or the caveman who invented the spear. He probably meant for it to be used as a garden ornament… But, I digress.
The person that things were currently going wrong for was a luckless fangirl who also happened to be one of the director's closest friends.
Otaku-no-Miko, fanfic writer extraordinaire, was now roped into the job of 'manning' the ticket booth.
Otaku: (Mutters to herself:) I'll get you for this, Tamahome. I don't know how, but I will.
A cacophony of music and sound effects blared through the doorway into the seating tiers, causing the blonde to wince. She covered her ears with her hands and went back to reading her manga.
.::8::.
Tamahome wandered onto the stage and spotted Rachel. He grinned, creeping up behind her and tapping her on one shoulder while standing behind the other.
The trick has the desired effect. She did a full 180 degree spin before facing him.
Rachel: (Annoyed tone of voice.) Tamahome! You can be such a jerk sometimes!
The director's glare was interrupted by a burst of giggles.
Rachel: (Snickering.) Tamakins, that outfit is so you!!
Tamahome: (Glances down at costume, then pushes glasses back onto his nose irritably.) Yeah, yeah.
He was already in the costume he would be wearing for a majority of the play, a rather badly cut brown suit, thick glasses perched on the tip of his pointed nose. The costume made him look so geeky that he was definitely going to receive some screams from the fangirls in the audience...
...And the same fangirls would probably rake the director of a bed of hot coals.
A loud bang from the other side of the stage brought Rachel out of her thoughts with a jolt. She ran over to the noise, where a very fightened looking Vash the Stampede was sprawled, a pitchfork about an inch from his... er... leg.
Rachel: What happened??
Vash: Please don't be mad at me, director-lady! I didn't do anything!!
Rachel: (Sighs) I'm not mad. Now tell me what happened.
Vash: I was walking by, and this thing just... fell on me!
Rachel: (Raises an eyebrow) For 'just falling', it seems to be stuck in the woodwork pretty well.
Mitsukake, who had heard the thud and was doing his job as staff medic by running to the scene well after the accident had occurred, pulled the prop out of the floor.
Mitsukake: Seems to me that you just have incredibly bad luck. (Glances at the holes between Vash's legs.) Or incredibly good luck...
Rachel: (Sweatdrop) Eh... Can we please just stick the thing back where it belongs?
Up above them, a cloaked figure laughed soundlessly. Tonight was going to be a fun night. This play, like all the others ever in this theater, would not go without a hitch...
((So, whaddya think? Cameos welcomed! Just tell me what you look like, your age, and any weird quirks. Seishi preference would be good too!
And about the cloaked figure... What theater is complete without its own personal poltergeist?))