Chereads / Blood Thrall / Chapter 45 - Play is Work

Chapter 45 - Play is Work

But before I follow Adrian into the main room, I knock on Virgil's door. 

Adrian looks at me with a little pout. "Am I not enough for you?" I poke his cheek, rolling my eyes, and he breaks into a grin.

"You know that's not it," I grumble. "He has my script." Still, the door doesn't open. But for some reason, I feel sure that he's inside. "Virgil?" I call hesitantly. I put my ear to the door, and hear a faint rustling.

"I'm getting dressed!" I hear him huff from inside. "Be patient."

"Oh, sorry," I giggle. "Will you bring my script out when you're ready?"

"Of course," he replied in a lighter tone. I can almost feel his smile from inside.

"Thank you," I call, and turn around to leave, but the door opens as soon as I do.

I turn back to see Virgil peering at me from the doorway. "Actually, let's work on blocking."

"Fine by me," I reply, looking to Adrian doubtfully.

But he's wearing an unexpected sunny smile. "Sounds lovely. I haven't shown you our dance yet, either."

"Good. Oh. And bring the drapes from your bed, please," replies Virgil.

Adrian's expression sinks into one of mild annoyance. "I'll help," I offer, but he shakes his head with a sigh.

"No, no, you need to eat. Go get your food, and meet us in the music room," he says, steering me towards the kitchen.

I prepare tea and coffee for everyone as I cook, and put it all on the tea cart. It really is amazing how much more useful something can become just by putting wheels on it.

When I step into the music room, it's already mostly set. I scan the room, marveling at how quickly they transformed the space. There's Virgil's folding screen, and then Adrian's luxurious bed drapes are pinned to the wall in the corner beside it. The stretch of wall beyond that has been covered in several of Lucien's tapestries, with a low cabinet and stools for the bar up against the next corner. I have no idea where they found the stools.

And beyond that, I see Dante's desk, with his screen behind it. And nestled into the corner, an entire bed, frame and all. A familiar bed, actually…

Even with unfamiliar bedsheets, it's far too small to be any of theirs. "Is that my bed."

Lucien looks over with a grin. "Of course it is."

"It was Dante's idea," giggles Adrian. "Not like you're going to use it, right?"

"I did, once," I mumble defensively.

"I'm always willing to use it with you again," purrs Dante from behind me.

I jump in shock, triggering waves of laughter from Lucien and Adrian. "That is not the only thing I used it for," I shoot back, but my cheeks are already hot. "I did get one night of real sleep…"

Dante chuckles, putting his hands on my waist. I ignore him pointedly, pouring his tea in silence. He leans over my shoulder like he's going to take it, but instead he runs his hands up my sides, and I almost spill his tea as I shiver. "Just take your damn tea," I grumble, shoving the teacup into his hands. He makes a point to lounge on my bed rather than the chair as he drinks it.

One by one, I bring them their drinks: coffee for Lucien at his "bar", sencha for Virgil as he bustles about the room, and finally, an herbal rose tea for Adrian at the piano. I lean over his shoulder as he absentmindedly runs his fingers along the keys. "Can you play?"

In response, he taps out a cute little melody, smiling up at me.

"I'd love to watch, but I really need to eat," I sigh, giving him a kiss on the cheek. But before I can turn around, Adrian snatches me by the chin and plants a kiss right on my mouth. I almost fall on top of him in surprise. "A-Adrian-" I begin, but he just smiles sweetly back and continues to play. I turn around with an almost certainly glowing-red face and finally get back to my food on the cart.

Virgil's voice suddenly rings through the room. "Let's do the final scene while she's eating." They all respond with various levels of indifference: Adrian closes the piano with a sigh, Dante sets his tea aside with a stiff expression, and Lucien languidly rises from his seat.

As uninterested as they seem, they follow Virgil's directions well. I make note of the terminology he's using - cardinal directions instead of left and right, and "inside" and "outside" for closer and further from the center. Even without an audience, Virgil keeps telling them to open up to the center. I guess old habits die hard - and even harder when you're a vampire. 

But before I can relax too much, Virgil turns his gaze on me. "Can you do the first scene?"

"Ah. Uhhh…" I look down. "Sorry, I don't have it memorized…" The one scene in the whole play where I speak - until like three lines at the end, that is - and I've only read through it twice. "I, I can read it as I go, and take notes!" I offer.

He's obviously unhappy, and I look down guiltily, but then he sighs. "It's not your fault. Go ahead and read it, and we'll run through everything."

Virgil seems satisfied enough with my delivery, but he's constantly adjusting my poses to be more 'elegant'. "You have the right idea," he sighs, "but you have no idea how you look doing these things and it shows. Usually we have a full-wall mirror for this problem…"

"I'll keep working on them," I promise. "And I'll get my lines down, too."

He nods absentmindedly, and we continue all through the afternoon. By the time we reach the end of the play, my script is covered in hastily-scribbled notes, crinkled up from carrying it everywhere.

"Let's take a break-" begins Virgil, but stops when he sees my pleading look. "Oh. Right. I guess that's all for today." 

Still, he looks dissatisfied, so I give him a kiss on the cheek as thanks. "I appreciate it. I'm starving."

He turns slightly pink and puts his hand to his cheek. I can't help but giggle at his reaction as we head back to the main room.

Once I'm in the kitchen, I sigh at the suddenly daunting task of making dinner. I haven't moved around so much in weeks, and I'm still running on constant partial blood loss. I decide to be lazy. Most likely Virgil will want to do more play work tomorrow, and I'll need the energy.

The longer I take to gather my food, the more exhausted I feel. I guess I was running on adrenaline more than anything. Not wanting to risk dropping everything, I put all my food on the cart again, pushing it back into the main room.

I sit down between Adrian and Virgil and just listen to their conversation. After today, everyone finally seems excited, now that they know these characters are under their control. Adrian keeps going off on tangents fantasizing about the costumes, and Virgil keeps trying to steer him back to concentrating on his actual character. Every once in a while, I pop in to add my own opinion or quip, but for the most part, I just let them talk. Virgil, too, seems happy that everyone is interested now. It feels nice, to just sit in this unexpected warmth, enjoying the flow of conversation between everyone without actually being ignored. It's kind of novel for me.

I must have started to nod off, because I feel something tap my nose. I open my eyes to see two pairs of red eyes staring me down. Adrian smiles with that almost-simpering smile again as Virgil helps me sit up.

"Oops," I mumble. "Sorry, Virgil." I stand and start clearing away my food.

"Why are you apologizing?" he asks with a quizzical head tilt.

"I don't want to be sleepy right now," I explain, and he follows me into the kitchen.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" he says, perching on the counter again. "You sound like an old friend of mine, apologizing for everything."

"No, no," I shake my head with a small smile. "It's a real reason, I promise." I keep my face turned away as I continue. "If I fall asleep so early, I don't get as much time with you…"

He doesn't respond, and I worry that I've made him upset over something he hadn't yet thought about. But when I turn around, I'm immediately wrapped in his arms as he leaps off the counter towards me. He's squeezing so tightly. I just squeeze him back.

"After telling me not to doubt so much," I chuckle, "and it seems like you're worse than me."

"Shut up," he mumbles, somehow squeezing tighter. "Knowing is different from feeling."

"Yeah," I murmur. "I know." We just hold each other there, in the quiet kitchen, enjoying the soft silence together.