S&A: Discourse of My Dear Faith (Geoffrey & Maria)
For zarahemla, who requested a Slings and Arrows ficlet.
Title: Discourse of My Dear Faith
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Slings and Arrows
Characters: Geoffrey & Maria
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds rather than make unprofited return.
Notes: Set between S1 and S2
It was two in the morning, and Geoffrey had trapped Maria in the theatre for the sake of a fucking thought experiment.
"Seriously, Geoffrey," she said, pitching her voice to emerge from the confines of her scarf, "are we doing Twelfth Night or not?"
"No," Geoffrey said, definitively. "We're doing Macbeth."
"Then why are we--"
"It boggles me," Geoffrey interrupted, "the way Oliver used to stage this play. Why have the letter scene dancing about a forest?"
"Because he loved using trees?"
"Ha!" Geoffrey paced the full length of the stage, and where he got the energy, she could never guess. "Doesn't it seem counterproductive?"
"It's a bitch to light, that's for sure." Maria could see it in her mind, the mad shuffle the actors had done, and the strut Peter had used as he stomped around, intoning.
"Exactly!" Geoffrey almost leaped from the stage in his excitement. "Exactly, Maria, and it served no purpose except to show the audience how original Oliver was being." He flapped his arms high, incensed. "And they ate it up!"
Maria nodded. "Even though it pulled away from the text."
"And that," Geoffrey said, pointing his arm like a herald, "is why I love you, Maria." Dodging around the imagined trunks of paper-mâché, he proclaimed, "'I may command where I adore.'"
Maria snorted. "And he could never hit his mark for M, O, A, I."
"Because there were too many fucking trees!"
"And the rose bush," Maria remembered.
"And the trellis!"
"Fucking foliage."
"Exactly!" Geoffrey repeated, shouting until the rafters echoed. "Exactly, Maria!"
She sat up. "So what would you do?"
He pulled up short from his pacing, then spun in the center of the stage. He walked in a circle, mumbling to himself for so long that Maria started considering how she would stage it. Preferably with an amber wash, and no forest. Maybe a garden scene instead, with a single bench. She'd keep the trellis to signify the garden, but the rose bush was a pain in the ass, and all the trees did was clutter--
"Columns," Geoffrey decided aloud. "Columns, and a wild hedge."
The picture in Maria's mind faded back, and she slumped. "Are we doing this play next season or not?"
"No." Geoffrey paused. "Maybe."
"God," Maria responded.
And Nahum popped out from the trap door.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night.
Title: Discourse of My Dear Faith
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Slings and Arrows
Characters: Geoffrey & Maria
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds rather than make unprofited return.
Notes: Set between S1 and S2
It was two in the morning, and Geoffrey had trapped Maria in the theatre for the sake of a fucking thought experiment.
"Seriously, Geoffrey," she said, pitching her voice to emerge from the confines of her scarf, "are we doing Twelfth Night or not?"
"No," Geoffrey said, definitively. "We're doing Macbeth."
"Then why are we--"
"It boggles me," Geoffrey interrupted, "the way Oliver used to stage this play. Why have the letter scene dancing about a forest?"
"Because he loved using trees?"
"Ha!" Geoffrey paced the full length of the stage, and where he got the energy, she could never guess. "Doesn't it seem counterproductive?"
"It's a bitch to light, that's for sure." Maria could see it in her mind, the mad shuffle the actors had done, and the strut Peter had used as he stomped around, intoning.
"Exactly!" Geoffrey almost leaped from the stage in his excitement. "Exactly, Maria, and it served no purpose except to show the audience how original Oliver was being." He flapped his arms high, incensed. "And they ate it up!"
Maria nodded. "Even though it pulled away from the text."
"And that," Geoffrey said, pointing his arm like a herald, "is why I love you, Maria." Dodging around the imagined trunks of paper-mâché, he proclaimed, "'I may command where I adore.'"
Maria snorted. "And he could never hit his mark for M, O, A, I."
"Because there were too many fucking trees!"
"And the rose bush," Maria remembered.
"And the trellis!"
"Fucking foliage."
"Exactly!" Geoffrey repeated, shouting until the rafters echoed. "Exactly, Maria!"
She sat up. "So what would you do?"
He pulled up short from his pacing, then spun in the center of the stage. He walked in a circle, mumbling to himself for so long that Maria started considering how she would stage it. Preferably with an amber wash, and no forest. Maybe a garden scene instead, with a single bench. She'd keep the trellis to signify the garden, but the rose bush was a pain in the ass, and all the trees did was clutter--
"Columns," Geoffrey decided aloud. "Columns, and a wild hedge."
The picture in Maria's mind faded back, and she slumped. "Are we doing this play next season or not?"
"No." Geoffrey paused. "Maybe."
"God," Maria responded.
And Nahum popped out from the trap door.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night.