Some objects in this world are items of power. Others have intrinsic financial value. Still others, through happenstance or mean circumstance find themselves at the center of great events - catalysts of change.
Yet some, like a certain flower vase, seem to almost touch upon greatness, only to have their fleeting moment snatched from them and end up quite inconsequential to the events to come. It is this vase, amongst other items of fragile nature, which begins our story in that most unfortunate of fashions.
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New York City the set of the hit musical Hunting the Huntress
2004, one night after a charity performance dedicated to continuing the rebuild of the city from the Rikti War
The crash of shattering porcelain off the wall was warning enough to the stagehands and production personnel that a tempest raged within the dressing room of Denise Vittori.
Ill tear the [censored]s head off!
A voice filled the narrow prop-strewn hallway that ran past the dressing rooms, wrath mixed with envy. A small mirror was the next to go.
Unconvincing? UnconVINcing?!? How dare he
me
I
the words trailed off in a splutter of self-righteous indignation, as Denises fury overtook her capacity for coherent speech.
The demise of several other small objects over the next few moments, while tragic, are beside the point. In this, perhaps lies the greatest tragedy of all. After a tirade of appropriate length (with perhaps just a few extra minutes for fun), the mercurical divas voice called out with a dangerous cheerfulness.
Jak? Oh, Jak? Come here, please. The pleasant tone had all the sincerity of saccharine and most of the sweetness.
Having fled to safety outside the dressing room and thus throwing range Jak now looked up, biting his lip. To comply or not? If so, granted, there was a slight risk of bodily harm. If defied, however, Denises fury could mount to levels unimagined by any mere man. One of these days, he *had* to get himself a new girlfriend.
Uh, yes, my dear. What is it? Jak decided on the safe route for now. After all, the worst she could do then was kill him, a fate far more attractive than having to deal with Denise on a bad day.
Jak, am I still beautiful?
Oh, god, it was going to be one of THOSE sessions. Death was beginning to look like an attractive option. Well of course. You are the most beautiful woman in the city. A quick check of Denises eyes told him it would take more than that, And the country for that matter. For good measure, he added, Probably the world, too, though Ill admit I havent met EVERY woman in the whole world.
He had been hoping the bit of levity would help defuse the situation, but she seemed to take it in stride, offering a faint smile that was almost a smirk, Why thank you, Jak. It is good of you to say so. So, would you say, perhaps, that my voice is not what it once was?
Twitching his fingers slightly, Jak offered a reminder, My dear, you are one of the leading singers on Broadway. You are only 23 and your star is rising, not falling.
Leaning back in her chair, the tall Italian diva stretched a bit with a smug grin, suddenly reminding Jak of why she was able to hold such a grip on him.
So can you tell me, Jak, why Lester Ellis says, and now she lifted a section of newspaper, reading from the Entertainment columns,
Only one minor flaw: While delivering a skillful performance, Denise Vittori may be slightly miscast as the goddess Venus, as her manner is somewhat unconvincing as the ephemeral and demure goddess of beauty
?
As Denises eyes blazed with the repetition of the offending phrase, Jak winced internally. Suicide would definitely have been the wiser choice.
---***---
And remember, a proper huntress is not worried about flashiness. Alicia looked over the gaggle of fans turned students gathered before her, before setting down her bow gently on the silk wrappings laying on a nearby table. An impish grin followed the former stern warning as she cracked, But who wants to go through life being proper all the time anyhow?
Her comment produced a grin and even a few giggles from the teenagers. Who knows, maybe one or two of them might even take up the sport neither her words nor her posing with the bow by itself was likely to teach much, but it certainly could raise interest. Besides, it made them so happy to be here with their hero for tonight, she was not Alicia Martre, not really. Tonight, they were in the presence of Diana, the goddess of the hunt. And as the goddess, she compelled their attention.
Noting with some amusement the number of boys in the group almost a full quarter! she wondered how many of them got dragged along to the show by their girlfriends. Probably all of these, really. The ones who came to get an eyeful tended to congregate around Denise or Venus, depending on your frame of reference.
Speaking of Denise, Alicia lifted a hand to wave across the green room to her co-star, resplendent in clingy lavender and white gown and her long flowing blond wig the real Denise wouldnt be caught dead outside the theatre as a blond, of course. Briefly, Denises eyes met hers and hardened visibly. On some other strange level, Alicia could almost feel the waves of anger pounding at her, eliciting a faint sigh.
A slight tug at her left hand was followed up with the voice of one of the younger girls, Miss Diana, is something wrong?
Alicia allowed a faint chuckle to escape her lips, Why, are you worried about me?
The wide-eyed girl shook her head negatively before answering, Oh no, if you got into trouble, youd just shoot it with your arrows. Its just you seemed sad. I thought maybe it was because my dad said you didnt exist this morning and that there were no goddesses.
Smiling now, Alicia noted to herself that the children never failed to lift her spirits. Well, there are many ways for a goddess to exist, you know. She doesnt have to be standing here to exist. I am with you every time you are kind to an animal, or clean up your own trash rather than throwing it out your car window. As for actually standing here, well, to be honest with you, Im only the goddess when special children like you are here to visit. Otherwise, my name is Alicia.
---***---
Humming to herself, Alicia stepped into the rehearsal room and immediately wished she hadnt. Denise was haranguing poor Maestro Vilhelm about something and that meant her bad vibes were splashing all over the room. Such an unpleasant change after the delighted children upstairs. Poor Denise, always so out of sorts with the world.
shes even changing the notes! Dont tell me you didnt notice? Denises voice could be very penetrating when she wished it to be.
The directors response was hesistant, Well, Denise, ah, yes, yes I noticed, but really it DID work, didnt it?
Thats not the point! The point is shes corrupting the
the tirade cut off as the angered woman noted the cause of her consternation in the room.
Alicia exhaled lightly before responding, Im sorry you feel that way, Denise, but I was just singing what the audience wanted, and they wanted that part to end with a six-four-five cadence instead of the normal two-five-one. For more tension, you see.
The other womans reply was incredulous, The audience WANTED? Dont give me your New Age ESP garbage, like you gave to Lester Ellis from the Dispatch! And dont pretend like you are some accomplished singer - you came from the dance pool!
The director, sensing an opportunity for escape, began to slink quietly away.
Alicias eyes flickered briefly to the escaping man. Sighing, she offered him the cover he was looking for, I dont know what youre talking about, Denise, Ive never met Mr. Ellis. And I never claimed to know as much about song as you. I just know want the audience wanted.
This produced a sneer from the Italian, Oh, right. Your mystical connection with the audience, as your pet Ellis puts it, oddly enough almost exactly in your own words. And from the tone of his review in regard to you, Id say you probably did a lot more with him than just met him or is that the term for it these days, met him?
Closing her eyes, Alicia tried to block out the force of the others scorn and fear. Fundamentally, that was the problem. You couldnt really reason with fear. Or with pride, for that matter, and Denise had these traits in abundance. Im sorry, Denise, but I have a bit of a headache. Well have to quarrel later. She then turned, fleeing the vicious emotional sledgehammer pounding away at the spot just behind the eyes. It was certainly close enough to a headache.
Dont you-dont you walk away from me!
As she left the room, a sputtering diva was left behind.
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