I smell a feminist argument- which I will happily listen to at intermission- if we don’t get sidetracked.
[ At the pause he cocks a grin. He will, and chews on the fact that he actually would be happy about it. Her thoughts and opinions fascinate him- For some reason. Clay sits up straighter when the theater’s anticipation swells like a balloon before it’s popped with the first note from the invisible orchestra.
His arm pulls away from the back of her chair with the same reach he offers to put his glass of ice beside his chair. When he comes back to face forward, he has a nigh imperceptible hesitation before he relaxes the hand that was just around her chair above her knee instead- not as high as her thigh. This was a respectable venue and opera, and it’s not that sort of gesture. ]
back in my day, u either died in battle or a snake bit ur tit - cadence, probably
[ Cadence’s expression shutters at the offer—he’s thankfully misread her criticism, but she refuses to offer up more than she already has. It’s not feminism per say—it’s just harder to remove herself from what still feels like current events to her.
I remember Alexander’s army leaving for war, the way the crowds clamored for him in Macedon. I also remember the night they told that city they had brought his body home, the sheer amount of wailing in the streets. The man I had been with that night had touched my hair and asked me if I might have been his natural sister or daughter before I tore out his heart.
Cleopatra’s rise and downfall was at least on the other side of the Mediterranean, even if Augustus’ and Caesar’s versions of events had been self-empowering bullshit…but you attended Handel’s flowery retellings, you tell me about them.
She stills further as she feels the warmth of his hand gently press down on her knee, resting on the sheer fabric of her dress. Again, she doesn’t pull away, even though she feels like she could. It’s all too close, too intimidate; it’s dangerous. ]
[ He rolls his eyes and looks back at the stage. The hand on her leg squeezes slightly in acknowledgement that he heard her but he stays quiet to respect the performance. The show begins and he relaxes with a feeling of familiarity and joy; he always enjoyed the opera.
Clay does, in fact, focus on the show. It’s only during breaks in the musical numbers that he looks over at Cadence with interest to gauge her response. And there is a particular moment between the nymph and her eventual lover that he swears he senses some physical reaction elicited from the Siren. Applause at the appropriate pauses had drawn his hand away from her for a portion of the performance, but he takes the content of the stage below and her reaction as a moment to put his hand back where it had started the show. ]
[ As soon as the lights dim and the orchestra starts, Cadence is fully engrossed in the show. Handel may not be her favorite composer, but he still can write a compelling tragedy. Normally, Cadence heavily prefers a well-written drama over some of his more ridiculous comedies, but this one eats at her a little more than usual.
Galatea had never been her favorite sister (not that being her favorite had done much for Menippe either) but there was something particularly painful in watching her would-be reincarnation sing of her love for Acis, knowing what was coming in the end. It's a mixed feeling: she knows in reality, Galatea had suffered terribly during the events of this story. But she also knows everyone was frustratingly accepting of her morbid obsession over a dead mortal, and she can feel her whole body tense when the actress hits the hit notes of their love song.
Subconsciously, she can feel his hand return to her knee, but again she doesn't shrink back. If anything, the soft weight on her almost eases some of the tension in her body, though she's not sure how much she wants to examine that. ]
[ The hand on Cadence stays even through applause after the lovers’ song ends. Clay lightly taps his thigh with the other hand, in a polite acknowledgment to the cacophony below them. He looks at Cadence, an eyebrow raising above the crease of his mild concern; a silent inquiry should she choose meet his gaze.
It was, of course, like it never happened. And maybe it didn’t- he reasons. Perhaps he was caught up in the scene below and in that mistook her shoulders straightening up, and only imagined the way her eyes lost focus for a moment, in his periphery. But he still tried to place any reason for her to be discomfit.
Oblivious to her past- as she wanted it to this point- he speculates silently over the clapping. He wonders if it was a previous show, long ago, that made her react. Or maybe something closer to her personal experiences.
(With a lack of any conceptual fathom of how close.) ]
i had nothing good to say, she's so tense right now sorry;;
[ Cadence still can't bring herself to look from the stage, as frustrating and, well, almost haunting as the story is to her. She misses Clay's attentive glances in favor of fixedly watching the stage as a fellow shepherd, Damon, offers advice and encouragement for a romance anyone who's read the damn myth would know is doomed.
By the time the end of Act One comes around and the couple starts singing of the joy they've brought each other by coming together, Cadence feels like she's ready to lose it. She needs something to help ground her and grasps on to the only thing that's seemingly been able to calm her this entire damn show: Clay's hand, still resting as a soft weight on her thigh. Eyes never leaving the stage, she takes it with a small squeeze then realizes the pressure she's putting on him, what it might give away on her feelings about the play, and loosens her grip to place her joined hands back on her thigh.
She's still grasping his hand, face turned out to look at the crowd, when the curtain closes for intermission. ]
nah i find things to pick on don’t you worry— tbd if it helps.
[ Clyteus feels a long-dead tightness in his throat that he can’t pin entirely on the emotional scene below. Not that it didn’t make that emotion elucidate itself- in his mind- much more easily. A combination of the surge in passion and storytelling on the stage combined with a novel touch of pressure on his hand makes the opera’s dynamic all the more compelling to the beast. Dragons are, of course, fixated on holding and counting and possession of some treasure. In his shifted human form in particular, this makes Clay particularly tactile when it came to intimacy— and he hates it; her physical response to his simple offer of companionship in a hand makes him ache in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with his sexual interest in her.
That irritating feeling in his throat has to be literally swallowed before he will speak around something like that and look like a fool. His Adams apple moves and he instinctively loosens his hold, lifting the thumb an inch in preparation for her hand to pull up. He’s sure it will go to her purse for a trip to the restroom. It feels like the standard intermission protocol.
He looks after her face while the applause dies off- watching her continue to look to the stage a bit longer than a normal attendee would be held by a closed curtain. Clay’s lips part but he doesn’t know what to say. Whatever is happening, Cadence hasn’t experienced it before in his view. There’s such a reluctance to interrupt whatever this show has done to her.
The post-curtain reflection involved in a compelling show were the main reason he would attend. Whether they were comedic, dramatic, tragic or a combination- he enjoyed the musings on past and present life it brought to him. When/if possible, he would love nothing more than to hear another’s thoughts, if of course he found the person to likely hold interesting and critical thoughts.
And there isn’t anyone he’s met in 700 years whose opinions he would like to absorb. His hand doesn’t leave- very tenderly, he squeezes her hand in a belated return.
The dragon tries, patiently as he can, to wait- all this thought in the fleeting but awkwardly prolonged moment she remains focused upon the closed curtain. He can’t fathom what she’s feeling- but this has to be what Cadence looks like when she is… invested? Emotional? After the weeks of arguments, banter, and nights spent together, he still can’t place what this new expression is on her. ]
You sure you’ve seen this before?
[ He offers a (hopefully) light comment at last- something to snap her out of whatever reverie has captured her attention. Clay’s right hand is still holding her left upon her lap. ]
Edited (you don’t get to roll a 20 for perception, Clay) 2023-07-07 21:40 (UTC)
[ As predicted, Clay's voices breaks Cadence out of her fixed trance with a sudden start; she quickly squeezes his hand as she's startled to the present before she regains her composure and lets go completely. If she's embarrassed by her lack of self-control, she sure does a good job of keeping it off her face, although she notably doesn't meet his eyes as she speaks. ]
I have but it's been a while, it's...different from what I remember. [ Both compared to former productions and her own unfortunately sharp firsthand memory, but that's not a conversation for him (or anyone else for that matter.) ] ...The actress is more talented than I expected honestly, she conveys the emotion in the score very well. She's one of the better Galateas I've seen.
[ It’s a statement, not a question for her to rebut. His hand feels cold after the extended time it was.. permitted to hold hers. Much like Cadence, Clay uses the moment of “weakness” (it isn’t weak to feel emotion, you flighty mermaid) to try and drive something meaningful into their relationship— which he is still trying to define. As used to difficult and political conversations as he was, it was always particularly painstaking to try and probe without making her scoff, stalk out of his life, and try to ghost him (again). That coffee shop run-in was a marvelous twist of fate given a city of 18 million folks. ]
You must really enjoy this show, then. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so affected by something.
[ A pause, brief, but he dials it back a little bit so she doesn’t try to snap at him. The game he plays with her is starting to have rules defined: he bats, she catches it and throws it back harder, but he softballs back, to make her stop being so aggressive. It’s a cat-and-mouse situation he’s learned to try to keep up with her guarded, biting personality, without making her decide to stop playing.
He still isn’t sure when exactly he decided he would do what he must to keep her playing. ]
And if it is one of your favorites, I can see why you’d be hypercritical of performances.
[ The rebuttal comes sharp and harsh, coming even as a surprise to Cadence in his readily and fast it flies from her lips. She tries gathering herself but hanging around him has made her too lax, damn him, so she doesn’t completely shutter away the hurt in her eyes. ]
…I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite, or even close. Just saw it often when it was at the height of popularity.
[ Her eyes flick to him. ]
You know how it is: unoriginal paramours, all wanting to show you something “really unique and special” like they’re the first to ever discover theatre.
[ Clay pulls away infinitesimally, quickly at her rebuttal. She wasn’t the only one surprised by the ferocity; his eyes glaze with concern for a moment when he picks up something in that emotive of a response. Before he can do more than readjust, she elaborates and sends the conversation back his way. ]
Mmhm. [ His thoughts are still reeling, trying to see if he’s being hyper aware and attempting to elicit meaning where none might be. All the same, the way she says “height of popularity” makes him file away a note to see when that was. Cadence is like a Rubik’s cube he keeps turning and turning, but she won’t line up. ]
It’s hard to find something unique after a certain amount of exposure to the same shit, I’ll give you that.
[ The response has a certain thought in his mind, but he’s not sure if he wants her to pick up on it. This seems to just be his running theme with this evening. ]
[ She doesn't respond to his own double entendre; instead, her eyes flick back to the seats below them to watch the audience members start filing back to their seats. As much as Cadence wants to bolt from the concert hall and run from him, this stupid show, all of it, she is nothing if not stubborn.
He's already seen her squirm enough, he won't get more of a show from her. ]
[ Clay can be thick, but takes the hint at her attempt to escape, not even doing his usual ass-kissing (and, he reminds himself for his own sake, to keep control) offer to go get it for her. Quickly thinking, he tries to ensure that she will return and not run from the theater. The arm over her chair stays over her coat and he responds with a request. ]
Go now then; I think they stop adding to the ordering line once intermission is over.
[ He quirks a smile, knowing her even at this point to be capable of being… well, Cadence. She’s a horrific partner all things considered. And calling her that is in itself dicey. They’re on the books for dates but it’s hardly a relationship besides one for business besides that. ]
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[ At the pause he cocks a grin. He will, and chews on the fact that he actually would be happy about it. Her thoughts and opinions fascinate him- For some reason. Clay sits up straighter when the theater’s anticipation swells like a balloon before it’s popped with the first note from the invisible orchestra.
His arm pulls away from the back of her chair with the same reach he offers to put his glass of ice beside his chair. When he comes back to face forward, he has a nigh imperceptible hesitation before he relaxes the hand that was just around her chair above her knee instead- not as high as her thigh. This was a respectable venue and opera, and it’s not that sort of gesture. ]
back in my day, u either died in battle or a snake bit ur tit - cadence, probably
I remember Alexander’s army leaving for war, the way the crowds clamored for him in Macedon. I also remember the night they told that city they had brought his body home, the sheer amount of wailing in the streets. The man I had been with that night had touched my hair and asked me if I might have been his natural sister or daughter before I tore out his heart.
Cleopatra’s rise and downfall was at least on the other side of the Mediterranean, even if Augustus’ and Caesar’s versions of events had been self-empowering bullshit…but you attended Handel’s flowery retellings, you tell me about them.
She stills further as she feels the warmth of his hand gently press down on her knee, resting on the sheer fabric of her dress. Again, she doesn’t pull away, even though she feels like she could. It’s all too close, too intimidate; it’s dangerous. ]
…Hardly. Just focus on the show.
or… died at sea…? or left on an island to rot?
Clay does, in fact, focus on the show. It’s only during breaks in the musical numbers that he looks over at Cadence with interest to gauge her response. And there is a particular moment between the nymph and her eventual lover that he swears he senses some physical reaction elicited from the Siren. Applause at the appropriate pauses had drawn his hand away from her for a portion of the performance, but he takes the content of the stage below and her reaction as a moment to put his hand back where it had started the show. ]
potayto, potahto
Galatea had never been her favorite sister (not that being her favorite had done much for Menippe either) but there was something particularly painful in watching her would-be reincarnation sing of her love for Acis, knowing what was coming in the end. It's a mixed feeling: she knows in reality, Galatea had suffered terribly during the events of this story. But she also knows everyone was frustratingly accepting of her morbid obsession over a dead mortal, and she can feel her whole body tense when the actress hits the hit notes of their love song.
Subconsciously, she can feel his hand return to her knee, but again she doesn't shrink back. If anything, the soft weight on her almost eases some of the tension in her body, though she's not sure how much she wants to examine that. ]
no subject
It was, of course, like it never happened. And maybe it didn’t- he reasons. Perhaps he was caught up in the scene below and in that mistook her shoulders straightening up, and only imagined the way her eyes lost focus for a moment, in his periphery. But he still tried to place any reason for her to be discomfit.
Oblivious to her past- as she wanted it to this point- he speculates silently over the clapping. He wonders if it was a previous show, long ago, that made her react. Or maybe something closer to her personal experiences.
(With a lack of any conceptual fathom of how close.) ]
i had nothing good to say, she's so tense right now sorry;;
By the time the end of Act One comes around and the couple starts singing of the joy they've brought each other by coming together, Cadence feels like she's ready to lose it. She needs something to help ground her and grasps on to the only thing that's seemingly been able to calm her this entire damn show: Clay's hand, still resting as a soft weight on her thigh. Eyes never leaving the stage, she takes it with a small squeeze then realizes the pressure she's putting on him, what it might give away on her feelings about the play, and loosens her grip to place her joined hands back on her thigh.
She's still grasping his hand, face turned out to look at the crowd, when the curtain closes for intermission. ]
nah i find things to pick on don’t you worry— tbd if it helps.
That irritating feeling in his throat has to be literally swallowed before he will speak around something like that and look like a fool. His Adams apple moves and he instinctively loosens his hold, lifting the thumb an inch in preparation for her hand to pull up. He’s sure it will go to her purse for a trip to the restroom. It feels like the standard intermission protocol.
He looks after her face while the applause dies off- watching her continue to look to the stage a bit longer than a normal attendee would be held by a closed curtain. Clay’s lips part but he doesn’t know what to say. Whatever is happening, Cadence hasn’t experienced it before in his view. There’s such a reluctance to interrupt whatever this show has done to her.
The post-curtain reflection involved in a compelling show were the main reason he would attend. Whether they were comedic, dramatic, tragic or a combination- he enjoyed the musings on past and present life it brought to him. When/if possible, he would love nothing more than to hear another’s thoughts, if of course he found the person to likely hold interesting and critical thoughts.
And there isn’t anyone he’s met in 700 years whose opinions he would like to absorb. His hand doesn’t leave- very tenderly, he squeezes her hand in a belated return.
The dragon tries, patiently as he can, to wait- all this thought in the fleeting but awkwardly prolonged moment she remains focused upon the closed curtain. He can’t fathom what she’s feeling- but this has to be what Cadence looks like when she is… invested? Emotional? After the weeks of arguments, banter, and nights spent together, he still can’t place what this new expression is on her. ]
You sure you’ve seen this before?
[ He offers a (hopefully) light comment at last- something to snap her out of whatever reverie has captured her attention. Clay’s right hand is still holding her left upon her lap. ]
no subject
I have but it's been a while, it's...different from what I remember. [ Both compared to former productions and her own unfortunately sharp firsthand memory, but that's not a conversation for him (or anyone else for that matter.) ] ...The actress is more talented than I expected honestly, she conveys the emotion in the score very well. She's one of the better Galateas I've seen.
no subject
[ It’s a statement, not a question for her to rebut. His hand feels cold after the extended time it was.. permitted to hold hers. Much like Cadence, Clay uses the moment of “weakness” (
it isn’t weak to feel emotion, you flighty mermaid) to try and drive something meaningful into their relationship— which he is still trying to define. As used to difficult and political conversations as he was, it was always particularly painstaking to try and probe without making her scoff, stalk out of his life, and try to ghost him (again). That coffee shop run-in was a marvelous twist of fate given a city of 18 million folks. ]You must really enjoy this show, then. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so affected by something.
[ A pause, brief, but he dials it back a little bit so she doesn’t try to snap at him. The game he plays with her is starting to have rules defined: he bats, she catches it and throws it back harder, but he softballs back, to make her stop being so aggressive. It’s a cat-and-mouse situation he’s learned to try to keep up with her guarded, biting personality, without making her decide to stop playing.
He still isn’t sure when exactly he decided he would do what he must to keep her playing. ]
And if it is one of your favorites, I can see why you’d be hypercritical of performances.
no subject
[ The rebuttal comes sharp and harsh, coming even as a surprise to Cadence in his readily and fast it flies from her lips. She tries gathering herself but hanging around him has made her too lax, damn him, so she doesn’t completely shutter away the hurt in her eyes. ]
…I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite, or even close. Just saw it often when it was at the height of popularity.
[ Her eyes flick to him. ]
You know how it is: unoriginal paramours, all wanting to show you something “really unique and special” like they’re the first to ever discover theatre.
no subject
Mmhm. [ His thoughts are still reeling, trying to see if he’s being hyper aware and attempting to elicit meaning where none might be. All the same, the way she says “height of popularity” makes him file away a note to see when that was. Cadence is like a Rubik’s cube he keeps turning and turning, but she won’t line up. ]
It’s hard to find something unique after a certain amount of exposure to the same shit, I’ll give you that.
[ The response has a certain thought in his mind, but he’s not sure if he wants her to pick up on it. This seems to just be his running theme with this evening. ]
no subject
He's already seen her squirm enough, he won't get more of a show from her. ]
...I want a drink. Have they closed the bar yet?
stubborn is as stubborn does
Go now then; I think they stop adding to the ordering line once intermission is over.
[ He quirks a smile, knowing her even at this point to be capable of being… well, Cadence. She’s a horrific partner all things considered. And calling her that is in itself dicey. They’re on the books for dates but it’s hardly a relationship besides one for business besides that. ]
Can I trouble you for an old fashioned?