ArchivedLogs:Transformative

Transformative
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt, Spencer	2017-08-04 "/I/ think we'd still need theatre even in a post-apocalyptic wasteland."
Location <NYC> Imperial Theater - Midtown
Pre-show is a busy time, backstage -- at least, it is closer to curtain. This far out it's a little more muted -- the stage manager Laura is talking somewhat heatedly with one of the sound crew, two of the Props are working on repairs, there's new tape being laid down onstage, and in one of the dressing rooms Lucien is -- still very far from becoming a fae. The process is underway, though, his satyrification not quite halfway through. Where it rests on the arm of his chair, one bare and still very skin-toned hand is holding a phone that he is swiping at. His makeup artist crouches beside his other, carefully adding a grey-black hue to his /other/ arm, a soft grey coating of fur joining the black-tipped claws on those fingers. "-- My gods." Lucien is just putting the phone down. Slightly dismayed. "You really shouldn't read the news this close to call." The young man crouching beside his chair doesn't look up from his work. "It helps," Lucien insists. "Build up a healthy dose of spite and disdain for the human race." Matt's bone chair is parked as far out of the way as is feasible in the dressing room. Whether it's the lighting or actually his complexion, he looks extra pale, even by his recent standards. He wears a soft green button-down, khaki slacks, and brown oxfords, his wig arranged perfectly on his head save for one lock hanging down over his eyes, not quite obstructing his vision but enough to look roguish. Looking up from the book open in his lap (/Mona Lisa Overdrive/ by William Gibson), he tilts his head at his brother. "What is it?" Spence has been lurking around the set pieces, very pointedly Not Touching Anything. He's dressed in a short-sleeve lavender-and-black striped shirt, light gray slacks, and only slightly scuffed dress shoes, none of which is very visibly dirty -- /yet/ -- though his hair is a complete mess. He emerges from a copse of shimmery crystalline trees and darts into the dressing room. "Whoa that looks /so cool/!" He peers wide-eyed at the mirror from behind Lucien's chair, as though he had not seen this particular makeup job -- finished or otherwise -- a dozen times or more. "It's like you're /shapeshifting./" A pause. "/Really/ slowly. I'm wanna learn to do makeup like /this./" "Oh, just the further dismantling of our public school system and the department of energy as well." Lucien eyes his phone, but at least does not pick it up again. "On the plus side, nuclear winter will likely stop me worrying about how future children will get educated." The makeup artist furrows his brow. A little skeptically. Spencer's arrival derails whatever his answer was going to be, though. "It's not much of a superpower," he says with a small laugh. "On the contrary, you all work some truly amazing magic." Lucien tips his head back, slightly, glancing over at Spencer. "There are classes for it, if you'd like." "Ah. That." Matt grimaces, the shadows this creates on his face stark. "I'm not really sure /nuclear winter/ is the best solution to the problems of our age, but I guess we take what we can get." He closes his book slowly and twists around, reaching with some difficulty for the messenger bag hanging from the back of his wheelchair. He breaks into a smile, though, at Spencer's words. "That's exactly what's happening, in a way. It's the magic that happens backstage makes the magic /on/stage possible." "Nuclear winter?" Spencer frowns deeply. "Why's there going to be nuclear winter? And the people who survive still have to learn, right? I mean schools aren't great at education even /without/ nuclear winter." He steps over, unhooks the messenger bag from the back of Matt's chair, and holds it up for him. "Anyway it's an /awesome/ superpower. I only know how to do /normal/ makeup and I'm not very /good/. I would /so/ totally take a stage makeup class." Though here he subsides a little. "/Some/ time, anyway. /Lots/ of stuff to learn, you know." "I do hope there is not, but our current administration seems set on taking us there." Lucien's eyes close. "Hopefully in the new post-apocalyptic landscape we can design something better than our current schooling system. Start afresh." "I'm still holding out hope for not a nuclear apocalypse," volunteers the artist. "Sure, I'd be great at /looking/ the part but otherwise I'm not sure how far my skills would go. I've only ever lived in cities." "/This/ city," Lucien points out mildly. Then, slightly curious: "Spencer, are there any superpowers you do not find awesome?" "Ah, merci." Matt reaches into the bag and pulls out a slender black thermos. "And might I trouble you to put it back, as well?" He pops the lid and takes a careful sip. "Mm, it worked for Peeta, to a point. The ability to work well with others is, itself, a survival skill--in any environment." He considers the book in his lap. "It might be pleasant if we could design a better education system /without/ an apocalypse, no?" "The best education system would be one that just -- lets people learn? And lets people teach, I guess." Spencer closes the messenger bag and replaces it. "/I/ think we'd still need theatre even in a post-apocalyptic wasteland." He plucks at the hem of his shirt restlessly, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. Blinks at Lucien. "What? I mean they're all /awesome!/" "You know, that was one of my inspirations." The mention of Peeta puts a brighter smile on the makeup artist's face, previously furrowed in concentration. "Didn't really help with the zombies but in a different apocalypse, you never know." He turns the chair, spinning Lucien around to his other side to keep working. "I don't know why we don't get more children on the school board, honestly. It'd fix things up more than a little." "You have to be eighteen to run." Lucien says this with a touch of regret. "But if any qualified high schoolers desired, I would help their campaigns gladly." His brows raise. "I do not suppose you know of any, Spencer?" The comment on powers just earns a -- very small chuff of laugh. "Whether the makeup helped or no, you /are/ still here, at least." Matt idly traces a long bone on the arm of his chair with chapped fingertips. "And I, for one, think art is even /more/ important in a shattered world than in one that is whole--if there even is such a thing. May we never have any need for post-apocalyptic theatre /or/ education. It's a good case for having more children in charge of things /in general/." "/Maybe/. Not because we should be /running/ anything though. Maybe more cuz /nobody/ should be, exactly, and kids get that a little better I think?" Spence vanishes and reappears on the other side of the room so he can continue to observe Lucien's magical transformation. "Anyway I know /so/ many people who are qualified, just don't know if any of them actually /want/ to do that." Though here he's bouncing up onto his toes in excitement again. "I'll ask around." He disappears again, and for a moment seems as though he might have just decided to go off in search of adolescent school board candidates right then. But a moment later he returns with a bottle of elderflower lemonade and a straw, which he delivers to Lucien's not-yet-made-up hand. "See? Awesome. I rest my case."