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Mirff's Origins: Part two

A continuation from Prologue: A Name.

Forenote: This story still isn't finished, but I thought I'd give you some of the beginning and may add the second scene in a day or two after. I'm still working on scene 3. :)

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Act One; Scene One: Tragedy is the “In Thing”

After lurking in the edge of the city for an hour and observing the mortal culture and appearances, The Mirth took on the form of a young man with an olive complexion and dark, long hair to blend in with the majority of humans. He wore what seemed fashionable with the other men, a knee length golden yellow and white chiton with bronze clasps on each shoulder. The sandals were something he'd have to get used to, usually he went bare footed or used wraps, but he had never walked on stone floors before either. This was going to be the first of many new experiences.

He gave a heavy sigh, praying that by looking like the locals, he wouldn't be spotted so easily by unwanted attention from the Gods and Goddesses here. He stroked his side, the previous wounds from such encounters centuries ago had barely scarred over, although the mental ones proved longer to heal. These deities would be no different from the last, even if he hoped otherwise, he didn't want to risk being proven right. With a deep, calming breath, the man walked towards the main road and joined the crowd to enter the city of Athens.

The city was alive! Voices of hundreds of people merged into one with the odd ones rising above the soft buzz to attract attention to their wares. This entity had never seen so many mortals in one place. He had to weave between the swarming bodies in the market place and couldn't count the number of times he was knocked into or had bumped people, twice almost falling over. He finally found himself in a calmer area to stop and get his bearings and take a breather. Although the musky scent of animals and sweaty humans still dominated the air, he could also smell fruits, flowers and perfumes from some of the nearer stalls. Children wearing masks ran past giggling, causing a smile to light The Mirth's face.

He slowed his pace now and just watched the mortals go about their businesses. One thing was certain, there was excitement and celebrations in the air. The streets were decorated and some dancers further down were wearing fawn skins and shook long sticks wrapped in vine leaves and tipped with pine-cones instead of rock or metal. How bazaar! They seemed intoxicated in their maddened dances and as The Mirth followed an unknown force pulling him through the city, the wine flowed freely amongst the rest of the mortals. He of course gladly took an offering from a very pretty and tall, red headed woman for himself. She gave him a once over and smiled in a curious way, disappearing into the crowd before he realised he felt an ebb of energy pass by him with her.

The man was then led by the large crowd down a slope to a huge building with a large semi circle in the front and stone rows of steps climbing upwards. No not steps, they were seats. This is a theatre! The new word formed in his head as hundreds of people were filling up the stone seats and he followed suit. The immortal could feel the energy seeping from the stone, but he realised, as he sat down, it wasn't quiet the same energy he was searching for. Confused, he closed his eyes to concentrate, this theatre held great power, but-

Music and singing caused him to opened his eyes again. The actors had started their play. Intrigued The Mirth watched, but halfway through the first act he was getting uncomfortable and bored. These were pretty depressing plays! Where was the fun? The animal tricksters? The jokes? These were performed pretty okay, but there was nothing to keep the immortal's attention and he could still feel that sliver of energy wanting to take him somewhere else.

The Mirth didn't want to stand up and leave as it would take too long, so he became his small golden spirit form and only partially heard some gasps from behind at his sudden disappearance. Luckily it was completely invisible to the mortals now as it floated down the seats and around the theatre to explore. It soon started to feel frustrated that it couldn't find the energy that it was sensing in the building, but instead outside it. The spirit left the theatre and found itself down an empty and narrow path.

Now a man again, he looked around curiously, pushing a bay coloured strand of hair behind his ears. It didn't seem to be a well used route, but he could feel the pull was stronger down this way, so he strode down it's winding stones. Trees grew from the sides of the path, the buildings thinning out until he came upon another theatre tucked into the side of the hill. It was much smaller than the previous one and was surrounded by taller trees that broke the sunlight between the leaves. Here, only around thirty humans sat and drank, but this crowd seemed far happier than the sombre theatre that The Mirth had left behind and were laughing and joking as they waited for the play to begin. He sat down on the only free stone seat near the front and was welcomed with a cup of wine by his neighbour cheerfully.

Before he could say anything, an incredible handsome voice sang out from the clearing below, then settled around them. The immortal was transfixed in searching for this heavenly singer that had silenced the rowdy crowd.

His silver coloured eyes spotted a man wearing a grape purple exomis with gold and black print on the edges. Walking towards the centre of the stage, the man's voice changed pitch skilfully as he sang the opening song with each careful step. His auburn hair flamed into a rich red as the dappled sunlight touched it.

As his song ended, the singer switched to a narrative tone and introduced the play that was about to begin. These Greeks sure do love their tragedies. The Mirth sighed, resting his chin on the back on his knuckles and closed his eyes to listen to that voice.

He was suddenly aware of a heavy silence and in a horrifying thought he hoped he hadn't been the cause of it, he sat up quickly, eyes wide and there in front of him, merely metres away was a large, terrifying masked warrior, wearing the pelt of a beast on his back and wine red fabric tied around his waist. The immortal froze in place, his heart rose up into his throat. The warrior's sword was drawn, sweat glistened from his pale chest in the light as he walked boldly towards the seated man.

The mask worn looked on aggressively at the helpless immortal as the warrior swung his sword and struck at a spear thrust at him from his left. Another masked warrior in purple fell from the blow, then rolled around and picked up another weapon to strike the red fighter from his other side. Again he fell to the hilt of the... fake looking blade? The purple fighter repeated the motion of picking up a weapon and being defeated by another mock blow twice more.

The Mirth covered his face and almost laughed out loud. This was part of the play! The weapons they had were wooden! And the Singer was playing the part of the purple warrior. He slouched back into his seat, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he giggled silently to himself in relief.

“I STAND BEFORE YOU, DEFEATING EVERY OPPONENT THAT HAVE BEEN SENT AGAINST ME, IS THERE NO ONE ELSE WORTHY?” The red warrior, no, Actor bellowed at the crowd. He stood tall, the angry mask still covered much of his face and head, but peaking underneath at the back, were a tangle of bright orange hair. The Actor now spoke softer, but firmly as part of his character's narration to address the crowd as if they were Gods judging his worth. The Mirth leant forward again, not really listening to what was being said, but how it was said. The Actor's voice flowed like liquid nectar, rich and deep and with strength and confidence behind it. He could see the man's bare chest rising and falling with each carefully planned breathe causing the rusty grey pelt hanging over his shoulders to feel alive and breathing too.

Another song filled the theatre, snapping The Mirth's gaze from the Actor who now retreated to the back of the stage. As much as he enjoyed hearing the Singer's handsome voice he couldn't help but want to catch sight of the face of the masked man. Strained glimpses revealed him changing into another character, but his face remained hidden, now under another mask.

The Mirth leant back and watched the rest of the play, transfixed by the two performers in front of him. When it ended with the warrior losing everything he had fought for, the actor kneeled down with his back to the audience, his sword was drawn out and held to his throat. With a flick he pulled the mask off with the tip and let it drop to the floor.

The Actor rose to his feet slowly, then spun on his heels and bowed, his long curly hair falling over his freckled smirking face. The immortal remembered to breathe again as the audience applauded.

The Singer's smooth voice drowned out the noise without rising his voice. “This is only the first play of three during the Festival of Dionysus. The next is tomorrow at the same time. We hope you can make it back again.”

The crowd rose and The Mirth followed, but stopped and gave one last glance to the pair of performers, who were carefully watching the crowd leave. Before he could catch either of their eyes, he turned and left the theatre and headed back the way he came.

The immortal retreated outside of the city as the sun started to dip towards the horizon. His mind whirled from everything he experienced that day. The energy that had drawn him here was very strong and it had surrounded that little theatre, mostly on the stage with the two men. What did that mean? Was it something to do with this festival or with the Deities that seemed to be around? He knew they were here somewhere, but he hoped since he hadn't spotted any or been blasted at, that they haven't noticed his presence or hopefully were tolerating it. He sighed and sat against a tree in the forest away from the main road. The Mirth replayed his memories from today in silence, there were a lot to take in, he wrapped his arms around his curled up legs and sighed once more wistfully.

It was a clear, crisp morning when the city stirred with the rising sun. The Mirth rose with it and walked through the entrance to beat the crowds. He spent the morning exploring the city and accepting free wine handed to him by the dancers every so often, sometimes he would catch sight of the tall, red headed women, but she always disappeared before he could talk to her.

The stalls provided much interest with curious looking vegetables, strong smelling spices, bright and patterned fabric made from silk, cotton and hemp and metal and pottery trinkets from far off lands. Some boys ran passed with a ball, kicking it and throwing it to each other, laughing and urging each other on. The Mirff wanted to have some fun before he had to go watch another tragic play, so he played ball with the other boys until his knees and elbows were sore and bloody and the sun rose just past it's peak in the sky.

He had made it to the little theatre just in time for the opening song to start, much to his relief, although he did get some curious looks since he seemed to be the only child there, but their attention soon turned back to the play.

It again ended with a tragic fall of the main cast, a more depressing end than yesterday's performance, but the vocals and acting awed the immortal the most and was what kept his attention all the way through. This time he didn't move with the crowd to leave, but stayed sat in his seat, he could see the Singer was engaged in conversation with a few women who seemed to be fawning over him. The Actor had his own small group wanting to speak with him, but he watched the crowd carefully instead, as if searching for someone. The Mirth could see him frowning slightly, until he stared right at the him, causing the child to promptly leap to his feet and flee. He didn't stop running until he had left the city.

The immortal arrived back at his clearing in the forest and slumped against the tree heavily. He didn't know why he ran, he could only remember a sense of anxiety and a tightening of his chest that only released him once he was outside the gates. Why was he so scared of a mortal actor? The Mirth bit his lower lip, as he stared at a bug crawling on a blade of grass. At the back of his mind he knew there was something more to it.

The boy stood up and started to walk away from the city, then hesitated. He took another step and frowned and looked over his shoulder. From the forest he couldn't see it, but he still could hear the faint noise of its people milling about within its walls and could feel the energy pulling him back towards it. The Mirth still wasn't entirely sure what that energy was or really how to describe it other than a feeling. He took another couple of slow steps, the memories of the first time he heard the singer and saw the actor pushed its way to his conciousness. A small smile appeared on his lips. There was definitely something about those two that had affected the immortal and the thought of missing their last performance felt as if a hole crumbled open in his chest. The boy sighed and sat back down against a tree, waiting for the new morning to arrive.

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Next: It’s really love for the theatre

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