02-08-2012, 06:59 PM
OOC: Maybe a totally open posting order would work better, where anybody can post at any time if they want to pass by... sit and watch... stage invasion, whatever... though it'll probably just be us two, until they drag others in!
IC
Caspa would have been amazed if she'd known Terra thought the day was going smoothly. She was not a shy animal, despite her stoicism, but the confidence of the other woman was supreme. Especially considering they had not rehearsed for days. It wouldn't have mattered so much if the main prop for the show had only been delivered to its owner just minutes before: the magnificent tailor-made magician's coat. It looked incredible, but would it work with all their tricks? They'd planned a rehearsal, but that had been scuppered by Caspa's unfortunately timed run-in with her most bitterly hated enemy. She'd been late, and disorganised, and Terra had done all the arrangements single-handedly. Goodness knew whether they matched the original plan or not, for the coy-wolf was famously spontaneous and Caspa had considerable experience of how a new idea could hit her at the last moment and cause everything to change. She wasn't concerned, though. She could keep up, and if she couldn't, she could play the fool. With her odd appearance and her severe face, she was good at that: an unlikely but strangely effective clown, with her features picked out in sharp black lines, her gangling limbs, her mournful eyes and dangling ears.
She ambled carelessly past the wolves Terra had gathered together, and filtered with silent glee among the crowd who had no idea she was anything to do with the production. She kept a low profile in these lands, and was glad of it now as she stole anonymous glances towards the simple, informal performing area Terra had made. It looked good and colourful - and everything seemed to be in place. Her eyes darkened as she spotted the wooden puzzles through a chink in the fabric. She had no idea what those were. She might have guessed there were surprises in store all round.
Resigned to her fate, the aloof Afghan-cross circled quietly and returned to where Terra paced eagerly. She wouldn't show it, but she looked forward to the charade just as much as her partner-in-crime. The thrill of a difficult task well done, the capturing of imaginations and lifting of spirits: she envisaged it clearly. Perhaps she could be an optimist too. She did not see what they did as dishonest, for on a stage, or in a story, anything could happen and everybody but the youngest of pups would know it was only an act: even if they didn't know quite how something was done.
As Terra looked over with an unspoken plea, Caspa turned quickly away and threw up a knife, caught it then flicked her gaze back, eyes wide and innocent. "So remind me, what are we doing here?" she asked mischievously, her voice low and private for Terra's ears alone. "Oh yes, I remember. Fighting slavers. Or was it a pig?… I jest. Shall we get started?" She didn't wait for an answer, but wandered out from the curtain onto the left of the stage, looking vague and distracted - as if she didn't quite know where she was. Without paying any attention whatsoever to anybody else, she drew her knives and after tossing one from hand to hand a couple of times, let another one join in. Then another. She kept it to three for now, seemingly unaware but listening carefully for the minute the sounds in the locale died down. This was just like practicing: she could keep it going for hours, the three knives weaving under and over and her slim fingers finding the hilts every time.
IC
Caspa would have been amazed if she'd known Terra thought the day was going smoothly. She was not a shy animal, despite her stoicism, but the confidence of the other woman was supreme. Especially considering they had not rehearsed for days. It wouldn't have mattered so much if the main prop for the show had only been delivered to its owner just minutes before: the magnificent tailor-made magician's coat. It looked incredible, but would it work with all their tricks? They'd planned a rehearsal, but that had been scuppered by Caspa's unfortunately timed run-in with her most bitterly hated enemy. She'd been late, and disorganised, and Terra had done all the arrangements single-handedly. Goodness knew whether they matched the original plan or not, for the coy-wolf was famously spontaneous and Caspa had considerable experience of how a new idea could hit her at the last moment and cause everything to change. She wasn't concerned, though. She could keep up, and if she couldn't, she could play the fool. With her odd appearance and her severe face, she was good at that: an unlikely but strangely effective clown, with her features picked out in sharp black lines, her gangling limbs, her mournful eyes and dangling ears.
She ambled carelessly past the wolves Terra had gathered together, and filtered with silent glee among the crowd who had no idea she was anything to do with the production. She kept a low profile in these lands, and was glad of it now as she stole anonymous glances towards the simple, informal performing area Terra had made. It looked good and colourful - and everything seemed to be in place. Her eyes darkened as she spotted the wooden puzzles through a chink in the fabric. She had no idea what those were. She might have guessed there were surprises in store all round.
Resigned to her fate, the aloof Afghan-cross circled quietly and returned to where Terra paced eagerly. She wouldn't show it, but she looked forward to the charade just as much as her partner-in-crime. The thrill of a difficult task well done, the capturing of imaginations and lifting of spirits: she envisaged it clearly. Perhaps she could be an optimist too. She did not see what they did as dishonest, for on a stage, or in a story, anything could happen and everybody but the youngest of pups would know it was only an act: even if they didn't know quite how something was done.
As Terra looked over with an unspoken plea, Caspa turned quickly away and threw up a knife, caught it then flicked her gaze back, eyes wide and innocent. "So remind me, what are we doing here?" she asked mischievously, her voice low and private for Terra's ears alone. "Oh yes, I remember. Fighting slavers. Or was it a pig?… I jest. Shall we get started?" She didn't wait for an answer, but wandered out from the curtain onto the left of the stage, looking vague and distracted - as if she didn't quite know where she was. Without paying any attention whatsoever to anybody else, she drew her knives and after tossing one from hand to hand a couple of times, let another one join in. Then another. She kept it to three for now, seemingly unaware but listening carefully for the minute the sounds in the locale died down. This was just like practicing: she could keep it going for hours, the three knives weaving under and over and her slim fingers finding the hilts every time.