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gira goodmouse has had it up to here with these kids, and she’ll be the first to remind you that she is not very tall. it’s tech week, and in a not-so-shocking turn of events, kipperlilly copperkettle is the only one taking it seriously. and she’s the stage manager. gira has tried talking to ebria dwimmerwaithe, begging the elven elven woman to knock some sense into her students to no avail.
gira is not sure what dwimmerwaithe expected, casting ivy embra and fig faeth as romantic leads in phantom of the opera of all pieces. fig made a fantastic phantom, but it’s like the woman missed all of last year. ivy and fig have all but been at each other’s throats much to the dismay of gira’s carefully constructed props.
the first time they rehearsed the final kiss scene, it had gone, in a way that gira can only describe as absolutely catastrophic. gira had been sitting in the audience of the auditorium trying to make sure her candles looked accurate enough. she’d tinkered keep the candles lit, and she wanted to see if it worked.
fig tried, gira gave her that. but fig didn’t know her lines, and ivy was fed up. after the fifteenth time of fig calling for a line, and dwimmerwaithe sinking further and further into her chair, ivy lost it. she stormed off stage, swept her hands across every surface on her way, ruining gira’s hard work and gaining shocked and angry gasps from her student tech team.
“ivy embra!” gira had thundered, seeing kipperlilly fuming in the wings. gira had been met with the all-too-common sight of ivy embra’s middle finger as she disappeared into the wings and backstage.
now, it’s tech week. gira has carefully reconstructed her set filled with candles and she is praying to cyrollalee above that ivy and fig will get their shit together before she loses her mind.
“do you think they’ll pull it off?” gira whispers to ebria before the curtain opens on their final dress rehearsal from their places in the audience. they’ve opened the dress to students and faculty in the hopes that support (and peer pressure) would help. the bad kids have come to support fig, and most cast members have their family here.
ebria scoffs. “are you doubting my casting skills, goodmouse?” ebria narrows her eyes at gira before collapsing into giggles. “oh, help me, i have no clue. one can only hope.”
gira places a hand on ebria’s shoulder and tells her dramatically, “i would never dream of questioning you, dwimmerwaithe.” she sucks in a breath and motions towards the stage, saying “these kids, though. one can only hope.”
she settles in as the curtain opens, and the first few numbers go well. gira feels the tension release from her shoulders, and finds herself able to focus on the tech aspects of the show. she makes a few notes to change some set pieces, new paint here, an extra prop there.
under her breath, she points out to ebria that jem peppercorn is lingering so incredibly visibly in the wings. he’d been a wildcard, gira supposes. not who she would’ve picked for raoul, but that’s why she does tech, not directing. she never was great at casting. she remembers being in her own production of phantom in college, where she had played meg giry. she’d been good, always been a good singer. but when she had to pick a minor, she’d chosen artificing. there’d been something so alluring about it, and she had rationalized it by saying she could fix her own instruments now, but truth be told it came in handy for technical theater. she’d loved magic and loved being a bard, but imbuing her own sets with magic to keep them alive? that was brilliance.
ivy is magical up there, gira thinks. so in her element, and despite the student’s hatred of the girl, looked picturesque next to fig’s phantom.
she leans over and whispers to ebria, “aelwyn did a fantastic job on these costumes.”
ebria beams and exclaims, “didn’t she!” christine’s dress seems to glow as ivy walks, and gira muses that it might be. she turns to aelwyn, sitting a few rows behind her, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up.
they’ve reached the title track, and gira holds her breath. when the girls nail it, and fig does not drop a line, she breathes out heavily and rests her head on ebria’s shoulder. she shouldn’t be this invested as the technical director, but if the show doesn’t work from an acting perspective, no one will look at her sets. and by arvoreen were people going to love that chandelier. she’d worked immeasurably hard on it, the only set piece she refused to let the students touch. this, she wasn’t going to mess up.
when the show ends, she actually stands up and claps. she didn’t think she would, she was certain she would end this night clearly up yet another set mess and pulling an all nighter to get them to opening night. but these kids rocked it, and gira feels her heart swell with pride.
“bravo! now, that is a show!” ebria crows. she crosses to stand in front of the orchestra pit, and the students chatter happily. “however! i have many a note to give, and this night of rehearsal is far from over. bid your parents adieu, you will see them after the show closes.”
the girl playing gira’s own role as meg giry, merlina, pipes up and says, “don’t you mean tonight? when we go home?”
ebria cackles with glee, exclaiming, “no, miss merlina, i do not!” and as ebria gives the cast their notes, gira sinks back into the auditorium chair in relief.
aelwyn sits beside her, needles and fabric in hand, and looks at gira. “did you think they’d pull it off?”
gira looks at her, and after a moment, begins to laugh. gira turns her head back to the stage. “gods, no. but would you look at that chandelier!”