Intro: Eighth Times The Charm
THE MAIDEN’S MADNESS
“You’re just not what we’re looking for. I’m sorry.”
Vivid stared out of the train window, reflecting. Seven auditions this month and she’d been rejected. Even for stage actors, it was a low. One or two out of seven wasn’t so bad. But not getting a single one of them was…impossible.
Vivid was talented. She was better than the ponies chosen for the roles. But her body was a bit bigger than most, so they refused her. Said her physique didn’t fit the bill, not even when she auditioned for a male role. All the directors in Manehatten just wanted shows with beauty, not substance, she supposed. Showbiz: a cruel term to describe the aesthetic obsession, previously only effecting filmmakers. But it seemed stage directors were catching the infection.
Vivid wished that the Canterlot Mask would start their season, but the first auditions weren’t for a few months. She would make a hundred bits a show there, and was cast in most shows for the season. Productions like Haylet and The Unicorn of Oz had earned her enough bits to survive, along with the thrill of the stage. It was her life, a silent lover who caressed her with bright lights and stiff fabric and gifted her with bouquets from a friend, cards from fellow actors. She received praise in Equestria Daily, The Ponyville Gazette, and one of the few good theater papers, The Paper of the Opera. In this paper, when she received a good review, it was like an angel had taken its wings and softly dragged them across her face. The pleasure from the softness, the stimulation from the tickling…it made her come alive.
But the summer had been full of nothingness, as the season was over. And until she could become the Mask’s betrothed again, she had to find some kind of work before she lost power.
Again.
Staring out at the exciting strangeness of Fillydelphia, Vivid pictured the possibility of her eighth audition being the charm.
The show was called Apples and Old Lace, focusing on two elderly, female apple farmers who murder old gentlecolts who are alone completely in the world. Vivid was going for the part of Elaine, a cocky young woman in love with the murderous women’s nephew. Having prepared a dramatic little monologue, Vivid had no choice but to feel confident. She had nothing to lose.
Filly’s Palamino Theater was a beautifully crafted building, with ridged columns and monstrous archways. Wine-colored tapestries lined the walls, as well as images from previous productions. Truth be told, the Palamino didn’t get the best reviews ever. But they were an artsy city, and paid good money for lush centers to hone the fresh talent.
Vivid was entranced. She felt as though she were a centimeter tall, and that everyone was so much more rigid and serious. To calm herself down, she pulled out a rose sandwich and munched while she practiced in her head. The way that auditions were set up is that you sat in the section for the character you want to play. They called a character and anyone auditioning would go in. Whoever did not come back out was chosen for the part. Vivid was not used to such quick decision processes. But she figured she’d make the best of it. At least there were no fronts. The actor was chosen and then they would immediately get to work.
When they called for Elaine, a monstrous amount of mares stood up. Vivid was worried to the bone. With so much competition it was going to be difficult for her to compare to the high cheeked, pearl-clad mares ahead of her.
“Vivid Rising!”
Her hands shook as she made her way to the stage, where she took a deep breath and counted to three.
One. You have done this a million times.
Two. They’re here for the same thing, they can’t judge.
Three. Relax. This is it.
Placing her information in their waiting hooves, she quickly pulled herself together to begin the scene.
“Your monologue?”
Vivid nodded. “Mares in Manehatten by S. C. Trots”
They nodded.
Vivid took a deep breath in through her nose. She had her blocking like a map inside her head, while her lines flowed in full concession.
“Scene.”
Vivid sat down on the chair she had set up. Her face was tired, showing signs of exhaustion.
“Living in this godforsaken city, I cry. Not because I don’t have bits or looks-believe me I got looks-but because my hooves are always dirty. I can never get that damn grime off my coat. The smell of solitude is so ripe, so there, forcing its
way into your very soul…
Then these damn foals whining about no hay. Boo-hoo! When I was their age, I ate what I got. Apples are just as good as hay. ‘But I want hay mama!’ Get a job! Fight for yourself! I can’t afford all that hay!”
Vivid had knelt down in front of the group. They judged what she was doing, and she felt a thrilling tingle on her spine.
“And then, Mr. Whatshisname comes trotting about, screaming about spending bits on a fur coat. I can’t afford hay with his bits! Where am I going to get a fur coat! But he never listens. Never. Just watches that documentary on how weather ponies do the weather. He always watches it. What about me? Does he ever watch or talk to me?”
Vivid was close to finishing. Putting her head in her hands, she cried. It was free and full of raw emotion. “Celestia! Help me! I need guidance! I need strength!”
She looked behind her as if something disturbed her. It was supposed to be a baby crying.
“I need new children! End scene.”
Standing up, Vivid wiped the tears out of her eyes. The director shook her hand and told her to wait for the results.
By the end, it became apparent that a lot of people wanted this part. Vivid stayed on alert, but felt a crushing sense of failure.
The last audition came and went, as well as their discussion. They called all the Elaines back to the stage.
Closing her eyes, Vivid listened and heard something. Something she didn’t expect at all.
She was the stage manager.
“Looking at your previous work, we feel you’ll help us a great deal. Please accept.”
Other mares stared her down, desperate for her to say no and let them have the spot.
“I’d love to.”
She would be getting bits, and doing something that she loves. It was win-win, so long as she stuck with it. Also, a hotel room in the Fillydelphia Inn might be helpful.
That's when Vivid remembered she didn't hace any bits on her.
Author's Note
iDisclaimer: I do not own anything, except the character Vivid Rising. She's mah baby!!!!!!!!
Also, I figured I'd give this story a test drive, so feedback is wanted and appreciated! If you want more, I will oblige. If not, I'll stop. Plain and simple!!!
