“Okay, that run-through was great!” Autumn Blaze shouted, and the kirins on the stage paused to look at her. “Everykirin, take a break. Velvet, I’d like to talk to you, I have some notes about scene three that I think would really help things pop…”
One kirin in particular, with red fur and gray eyes, watched her walk off, before stalking off backstage to check that everything was ready. Months of planning had gone into this operation, and he wouldn’t allow for any mistakes. The kirin community was small enough that just about every one of them would be at the opening of the play—a ridiculous story about a kirin ostracized for her fur color and powerful magic—and that would be the perfect time to strike.
“Psst, Pharynx,” a kirin whispered as he passed. “I was thinking—”
The red kirin whirled, a snarl rising out of his throat. “No names!” he hissed. “Are you trying to blow our cover? Idiot.”
The smaller kirin cringed. “Sorry, sorry, sir. Uh, Crimson. I meant Crimson. Obviously.”
Pharynx rubbed his head with one hoof. It was bad enough being out here in the middle of nowhere, but having to deal with the stupidity of his underlings made it even worse. “What do you want,” he said flatly. “And it had better be important.”
Spring Breeze was this changeling’s cover name, Pharynx recalled, and he refused to let her true name spend any time in his head, lest he make the same mistake she had. She was still cringing in front of him, wasting his time, no doubt trying to warp whatever inane thought she had into something that sounded important. “It’s just that, well, some of us were thinking that it might be better to wait until closing night. You know, because there’d be more kirins coming.”
“There will be plenty of targets opening night,” Pharynx said dismissively. “Besides, why would you want to drag this out another week?”
“Well, I mean… some of us are actually having fun with it,” Spring Breeze said meekly. “It’s acting! But, like, with less stakes than usual. It’s nice.”
“It’s business,” Pharynx muttered. “You are letting yourself become distracted.”
“Distracted from what?” A cheery voice cut in, and Pharynx turned to find Autumn Blaze behind him.
“Rehearsals,” Pharynx lied smoothly. “I am afraid she will not be ready.”
Autumn laughed. “It’s fine! It’s going to be great, you’ll see. Sometimes you take things too seriously, Crimson. Even if you’re a lead, you have to have fun with it, you know?”
“I am here to fulfill my role to the best of my ability,” Pharynx responded. “There is no room for fun.”
Autumn nudged him in the ribs. “Listen to yourself!” She raised her hooves up to pinch her face, talking in an exaggeratedly deep voice. “I’m a serious actor, I’ve got big plans, rabble rabble rabble.”
“I do not sound like that.”
“You do too! You gotta loosen up!” She grinned at him, then gestured to Spring Breeze. “Back me up here.”
Spring nodded vigorously. “Yeah! You’re gonna stress yourself out. Like… even if things don’t go exactly as planned, that’s still alright, right? It’s not the end of the world.”
“She speaks the truth,” Autumn said with fake solemnity. “Even the newbies can teach us things, can’t they?” With a laugh, she patted Pharynx on the back and walked deeper backstage.
“You really don’t have any fun with it?” Spring interrupted Pharynx’s thoughts. “Not even a little?”
“I…” Pharynx paused, then sighed. “Yes. I do enjoy my duties. But I cannot let my attention waver, lest I let all of those… back home… down.”
“You’re not letting anyling down,” Spring said, ignoring Pharynx’s wince. “Just this once, live a little.”
Pharynx hesitated. “But… my duty…”
“It can wait one week.”
[CHOICE] What should the changelings do?
Enjoy being actors for the kirins. What’s the harm? (Chaos)
Proceed with the plan as outlined. (Villain)
Pharynx sighed. “Very well. If you really think it will raise morale. We can wait until closing night.”
The stage was set for opening night, and the theater was filled with kirin. Pharynx looked out from the wings, before turning his attention to his fellow actors backstage, eager for their first performance. He couldn’t help but crack a small smile at their eagerness.
As the lights came on, he stepped out onto the stage. “Our tale begins in a far-off land, at the end of a story you may be familiar with. I have good news! The wicked witch…” he paused for dramatic effect, briefly meeting Autumn Blaze’s gaze, “...is dead.”
Spring Breeze stepped out, dressed in the white dress of the Good Witch. She was practically vibrating with excitement, but she still managed to remember her lines, and Pharynx returned backstage until it was time to return as the Wizard.
The performance passed in a whirl, and before he knew it, the cast was taking their bows to a standing ovation. As he stepped forward for his solo bow, the sound washed over him like a wave. He was a changeling—he had been performing all his life. But never had his performances gotten a response like this.
The curtain closed, and Autumn Blaze tackled him into a hug. “You were wonderful! Oh, your monologue was so good! I got chills!” She backed up, and then beamed. “You were all fantastic! What a wonderful opening night!”
Pharynx’s gaze slipped to the master script she held in her hooves, and the Page that slightly glowed within—the reason they were all here in the first place. But then he remembered the warmth of the audience’s applause.
Maybe he could get used to this. Being a real actor, for once. The mission… it could wait.
(+1 page for Chaos)
Pharynx held firm. “No. We cannot risk it. We make our move on opening night, as planned.”
Everything was ready. The stage was set, and everyling was in position. Pharynx looked out from the wings at the audience, eager to view the performance. It would certainly be one they would not soon forget.
As the lights came on, he stepped out onto the stage. “Our tale begins in a far-off land, at the end of a story you may be familiar with. I have good news! The wicked witch…” he paused for dramatic effect, watching Autumn Blaze look up eagerly from the front row. “...has been with you all along.”
Autumn Blaze frowned at the incorrect line, but there was no time to do anything about the signal. Changelings emerged from every corner of the theatre, and Pharynx leapt forward to tackle Autumn Blaze himself. “Apologies, Director,” he hissed. “But you can consider this my resignation.”
“But why?” Autumn cried.
Pharynx dropped his disguise, buzzing his wings and covering Autumn Blaze with goo that stuck her to the floor. Then he stepped back, taking the master copy of the script from her, its Page glowing faintly. “It’s not you,” he said. “You’re a good director. But my duty lies… elsewhere. I hope you understand.”
Everything was going to plan. Finally, he could report a success back to Chrysalis. Though… it was such a shame that none of these kirin would get to see the play… this one, or any other.
(+1 page for Villains)
