#theatricals

[warrior-cats-project-otd]

The Warrior Cats project of the day is "Monsters Behind Masks" (or simply Monsters) by Theatricals! This MAP explores the idea of Hawkfrost having a change of heart and redeeming himself, turning against Tigerstar and coming to terms with what he did to Ivypool. From this video we see Hawkfrost's perspective and how he was manipulated by his father from a very young age. The colour pallette and designs for this project are absolutely beautiful!

[nerdyrevelries]

7kpp Week 2019: Day 2 — Worldbuilding and ~The Theatre~

During week 5 we get to be part of a theatrical. Clearly theater (or theatre if you are British/feeling fancy) is an important part of the seven nations and I have put too much thought into what that means. 

Jiyel

Scholars differ on whether Jiyel or Revaire has the longest theatrical tradition, but no one questions that Jiyelese theater is an ancient and varied art that takes a very different form than it does in any of the other nations. The following are just a few examples of Jiyelese traditions as there are too many to go over here.

Single-gender Productions

Until the mixing of cultures brought about by the formation of the summits, it was seen as improper for actors of different sexes to share the same stage in Jiyel. While this view is no longer widely held, the tradition of single-gender troupes is such that there are still many active today. In both all-women and all-men troupes, actors are broken into “male roles” and “female roles” based on the gender they tend to play on stage. While there are plenty of members of these single-gender troupes who blend into mainstream Jiyelese society by marrying someone of the opposite sex during their career or after their retirement, it’s something of an open secret that single-gender troupes often provide a relatively safe space for the exploration of non-traditional gender or sexual identities. Some actors or actresses live with each other for their entire lives as partners both on and off the stage. 

Busu

Among the common folk of Jiyel, there is a wildly popular form of theater known as busu which makes use of stock characters, exaggerated and formulaic motions, and slapstick to tell comedic stories. While commonly looked down upon by those of the upper class, busu productions are often more than meets the eye and will hide biting social commentary behind their simple plot lines.*

*This is based on kyogen, which is great and more people should know about it and maybe I will talk about it sometime when I’m not very tired from my job. 

Arland

Theater is not viewed as favorably in Arland as it is in the other nations, but even Arland has its unique theatrical traditions. 

Tableau Vivant

In general, it is viewed as vulgar to take up a living as an actor or actress in Arland, but drama-based games are still a popular pastime among the nobility and are often featured at parties. Of particular note is the creation of tableaux, which involve dressing up and posing to make scenes from famous paintings, literature, or history. 

Nude Tableaux 

But tableaux have a more ribald side only seen at the most scandalous of parties. They aren’t commonly spoken in polite society and certainly the princess would have never heard of them, but there’s talk of tableaux featuring costumes that barely qualify as such with only the gauziest of fabrics placed in strategic places. Not that you would know about it, of course. Those are for other people. 

[mushroomblaze123]

[sibyldisobedience]

Brothers and Sisters

Bran and Rickon’s cheeks were rosy from excitement and the cold. They were in high spirits and full of stories of their exploits next door.

“Did you know Gendry has his own horse?” Rickon exclaimed.

“She’s a dappled grey mare, with big brown eyes,” added Bran. “Mr. Baratheon keeps seven in total.”

“And three carriages! And Mr. Seaworth, the gardener—“

“Groundskeeper.”

“Groundskeeper — he lost the tips of his fingers in the Navy.”

“That’s unsubstantiated.”

“He keeps them in a pouch around his neck!”

“You can’t believe everything the stablehands tell you Rick.”

“Mrs. Seaworth — she’s the cook — puts a pinch of salt in her hot chocolate, isn’t that funny? And it was even nicer than Old Nan’s, would you believe it?”

“Only, don’t tell her that we said so,” Bran whispered.

Sansa nodded, and crossed her heart solemnly.

“They have a beautiful library, Sansa,” he continued. “You should see it! Mr. Snow says it’s as well curated as any of the libraries at Old Castle!”

“He’s read all the books there are!” was Rickon’s hyperbolic addition.

“Not all of course, but a good many. He knows a fair amount about the Natural Sciences, and recommended some books I might like — but he studied Mathematics at University, and the Classics.”

“And he knows how to fight with a sword! Arya challenged him to a duel!”

“Heavens!” Sansa exclaimed, “Mr. Snow is a most exemplary young man indeed.”

“Did he really put snow on your foot, and carry you home from the ball last night?” Rickon asked excitedly.

“Where on earth did you get that idea—“

“Arya, said so.”

“I thought those slippers might cause you some distress in the end,” Bran observed.

“I am very grateful for the assistance he provided, but I assure you, he never did any thing so dreadful as that,” Sansa declared, blushing furiously. The boys spoke over each other in their defence of their new favourite.

“I don’t think it’s very dreadful—”

“It was rather clever of him to use snow to reduce the swelling in your ankle—”

“It’s what a knight would do, to protect his lady. That’s what Arya said—“

“Enough about Mr. Snow!” Sansa declared, inwardly cursing her sister for her loose tongue. “Where is Arya, anyways?”

“She said she had something important to ask Gendry,” Rickon answered distractedly. “What was the ball like Sansa? Did you dance every dance?”

“Almost. What did Arya want—"

“Is that how you hurt your foot?”

“Yes. But—“

“Is it all better now?” Concern creasing his dear little brow. Sansa sighed and looked down into her baby brother’s earnest blue eyes, wide as saucers, and she felt her irritation melt away.

“Why don’t you tell me,” Sansa asked in turn, with a sweet smile.

She took Rickon by the hands, and danced with him about the room, until Bran cut in, like a proper little Lord. The two boys laughed merrily with their sister, happy that Sansa’s ankle seemed fully healed, and her sullen mood from this morning had dissipated.

“Glad to see you’re fully recovered,” Arya observed wryly. She smirked at her sister, and held her hands behind her back.

“And where have you been?” Sansa asked haughtily. “We’ve started our rehearsal without you.”

“I had some business to attend to next door.”

When Sansa gave her a skeptical look, Arya produced a fistful of flowers from behind her back.

“These are for you,” she said as she pressed the little bouquet of white violets into Sansa’s hands, “courtesy of the glass gardens at Storm’s End.”

Sansa beamed at her sister, and breathed in the flowers delicate scent.

“That was very thoughtful of Gendry to send them.”

“It wasn’t his idea!” Arya scoffed. “Mr. Snow suggested it, and Gendry latched on to it. Only he didn’t know what flowers to pick, and since jonquils aren’t in season, I hadn’t a clue what to suggest. Mr. Snow recommended the violets, he said they were the most ‘appropriate’ choice, in that funny, stodgy way of his.”

“Oh,” Sansa murmured. Mr. Snow had sent her white violets, and called them appropriate. They were, of course, appropriate — white violets symbolised modesty and innocence — just the thing for a little girl. She could not help the twinge of disappointment she felt that they had not been purple — which suggested the giver's thoughts were ‘occupied with love’. Sansa dismissed that idea immediately, she was being ridiculous. “It was a nice gesture all the same. I should write him a ‘thank you’ note.”

“Thank him in person on Twelfth Night,” her sister suggested nonchalantly.

“Arya, you didn’t invite Gendry to the play, did you?”

“Of course I did! And Mr. Snow too.”

“Oh Arya, how could you?” Sansa groaned, burying her face in her hands. “They’ll laugh at our acting, and poke fun at us later.”

“They’ll do nothing of the sort! Gendry is one of us! I’ll vouch for him any day of the week, and Mr. Snow may be a little stiff, but’s he’s a capital fellow, and Gendry swears he’s a true kindred spirit.”

“Well, I don’t mean to act in any more theatricals after this one,” Sansa huffed, in a prim, grown-up tone, as she draped an old beaded piano cover over her shoulders, to serve in place of a Valyrian mantle. “I am getting far too old for such things.”

“Oh tosh!” Replied Arya. “You won’t give it up, as long as you can float about in a white gown and costume jewellery, with your auburn hair trailing behind you, like a ‘cloak of fire’,” Arya replied, quickly scribbling a notation onto her script — very much pleased with her choice of words. “Besides, you’re the best actor in our troupe! How would we get on without you Sans?”

Arya pulled out a gold paper crown from the costume trunk and held it out to her sister with a smirk. Sansa rolled her eyes and took it with a grin she could not quite suppress.

Read the rest here:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

1. Carl Offterdinger, Bruderchen und Schwesterchen (late 19th century)

2. Joseph Scholz (publisher), Urania Proscenium No. 11 (c. 1900)