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Post by Javert on Sept 12, 2008 19:07:29 GMT 1
(stage)
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Post by Wim on Sept 29, 2008 21:04:44 GMT 1
So it was going to happen, at last. Wim was excited as he waited for the curtain going up, but he wasn't excited because of the audience. He worried about their scenes with René. Will he be able not to kiss him?The overture began and the chorus - and also René - went out, he waited for his entrance. He listened to his colleges. They had very good convict soloists - this was a weak point on most recordings. They were important, dammit! He liked strong voices... "When I get free, you won't see me here for dust!" Time to move in. He entered slowly, waited in the background, to step out of the shadows in the right moment. "How long, oh Lord, before you let me die?" He never felt so much pity for this last soloist as now. And so much fraternity.
He stepped into the light and began on a hard, sublime voice.
"Now bring me prisoner 24601!" He didn't look at René. Not yet. "Your time is up and your parole's began! You know what that means?"
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Post by Wim on Sept 30, 2008 19:43:41 GMT 1
He looked at the man, wondering what this stupid con thinks. "No!" He said. "It means you get your yellow ticket-of-leave! You are a thief..." In this moment, all he wanted was to seem cruel and cold. He will change... later. Oh, René. He was so sexy in this outfit and with this messy hair. And that brand upon his chest... Wim just wanted to kiss those marks... But it was impossible. No, he must go on.
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Post by Wim on Oct 1, 2008 20:27:06 GMT 1
"You robbed a house!" He yelled, and he felt he was trembling. He hoped it's not visible. Thank god that this stupid hat shadowed his face. He was sure the girls in the audience are all looking at René... And that sexy brand. God. God, help me, help me do this... help me not to break. His gaze was filled with hatred. And his heart with despair...
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Post by Wim on Oct 3, 2008 20:51:27 GMT 1
He stepped closer, looking down at him. It was not easy, René being a little taller.
"And you will starve again, unless you learn the meaning of the Lawr!"
He said it totally Quast-like - with a stress on less and with lawr. He couldn't help himself. Lawr was the right spelling in his eyes. He looked stern, but he wanted and end of this scene, too. God, and the nightstick thing is before them.
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Post by Wim on Oct 3, 2008 21:43:48 GMT 1
He looked into the paper. Thank God - when he looked at René, he wanted to kiss him. No. You can't do it. Go on, Wim, you must hold on. And after the performance...
"Five years for what you did! The rest because you tried to run! Yes, 24601!"
He sang the number with that certain pleasure, as he ususally did, and was about to give the paper to Valjean, but...
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Post by Wim on Oct 3, 2008 22:10:14 GMT 1
He smiled like devil when seeing a sinner fall. And he raised his nightstick...
"And I'm Javert!" He touched with it the brand on René's chest, stroking the numbers one by one, what he never did before.
'Do not forget my name!" And he raised it to his chin, forcing him gently to look into his eyes, and stepping so close that their faces almost touched each other.
"Do not forget me... 2 - 4 - 6 - 0 - 1!"
He feared that his desire is visible in his eyes. He threw the paper to the floor, meant to in front of René, but it fell closer to him than usual...
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Post by Wim on Oct 4, 2008 21:13:53 GMT 1
Wim was pale. René was so close... he felt the hotness of his body... and... God, he knew all the girls in audience are sighing now happily, that: "OMG YAY soooo slashy!" Damn it, it was no fun, it was pain... sweet pain... Thank God he had to leave - another moment and he would throw himself on René. He broke the eye contact slowly, and step backwards. He felt his whole body trembled like in fever, when he went offstage. He went to their dressing room and closed the door. He needed to dress into his other uniform, but first... First he needed something else. He got the little, flat silver box from his desk, opened it, scattered a little powder on the back of his finger, and inhaled it. When anyone would ask what it was, he'd say it was snuff. But it wasn't. He stood for a moment, breathing heavily, and fell into his chair, losing all his force. In this moment, he barely knew where he was, but he calmed down, slowly. He began to dress again. This uniform was his favourite. When he was finished, he put the box into the pocket of the trousers, put on the French hat, and went out. He haven't looked into the mirror, otherwise he would see how pale and tormented he looked.
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Post by Wim on Oct 5, 2008 21:24:22 GMT 1
He rambled without a goal. He had plenty of time - why not go down to the cellars? He stopped halfway. Oh, Wim, you are not Erik now. Last night he had a dream. He was Erik - again - and René was Christine. It was bizarre. When he went back, he heard Lovely Ladies beginning. How long did he bum around? He lost his sense of time. All his thoughts were René, René and René. He knew he won't be able to keep it secret. Maybe René already knows it. He waited for his entrance. Oh, these terrible whore costumes, he thouht, as he was watching the scene frim behind. Even if he were heterosexual, he would fly from these women... And his moment arrived. He entered with his two henchmen, in full glory and dignity.
"Tell me quickly what's the story Who saw what and why and where Let him give a full description, let him andswer to Javert!"
He grabbed a whore's arm, holding her back from running away.
"In this nest of whores and vipers, let one speak who saw it all! Who laid hands on this good man here, what's the substance of this browl?"
He tossed the woman away, wiping his hand in his coat.
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Post by General NPC on Oct 6, 2008 18:28:53 GMT 1
The lines were sung with their usual fake innocence and cockiness. "Javert, would you believe it, I was crossing from the park When this prostitute attacked me," he gestured at Nurlaila, who was on her knees on the stage. "You can see she left her mark." He pointed his finger at his cheek.
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Post by Wim on Oct 6, 2008 18:57:01 GMT 1
Oh, how he liked to hold his nightstick that way and play the cold, heartless cop. Poor Nuriala was fun to abuse.
"She will answer for her actions When you make a full report You may rest assured, M'sieur, That she will answer to the court."
He sang with so much self-confidence and contempt as he could. This was the most "evil" moment in his role - humanly moments can wait. Now he must be ruthless.
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Post by General NPC on Oct 9, 2008 18:44:54 GMT 1
"There's a child who sorely needs me, Please M'sieur, she's but that high." Still on her knees, she lifted her hand a little above her head to show how tall Cosette was. "Holy God, is there no mercy? If I go to jail she'll die!" She crawled slowly over to Wim and took a hold of his coat, lifting it and kissing the material.
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Post by Wim on Oct 9, 2008 18:53:05 GMT 1
He pushed Nuriala away, using hid nigthstick. He wouldn't touch such a trash.
"I have heard such protestation Every day for twenty years Let's have no more explanations, Save your breath and save your tears!"
And he placed the nightstick under her chin.
"Honest work, just reward, That's the way to please the Lord!"
With the last word, he shoved her once again. He was so evil.
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Post by General NPC on Oct 13, 2008 21:09:57 GMT 1
He walked in from the dark and looked upon the scene.
Valjean A moment of your time, Javert I do believe this woman's tale
He stepped between Wim and her, his eyes immediatly meeting Wim’s. This scene’s focus is just not Valjean and Javert, René. He’d have to focus attention on Fantine too.
Javert But M'sieur Mayor!
Oh, René. How aborable you are. How I want to kiss you and I can’t do it… no… God, I think even Javert would want you.
Valjean You've done your duty Let her be She needs a doctor, not a jail.
His eyes still held contact with Wim’s. How easily he played the heartless policemen right here. But he wasn’t heartless. That was one of René’s favourite things about Wim’s Javert. He was so much more complex than that.
Javert But M'sieur Mayor!
Fantine Can this be?
Valjean Where will she end - This child without a friend?
He finally looked away from Wim and directed his attention towards Nurlaila, his voice softening as he did so.
I've seen your face before Show me some way to help you How have you come to grief In a place such as this?
Fantine M'sieur, don't mock me now, I pray It's hard enough I've lost my pride You let your foreman send me away Yes, you were there, and turned aside I never did no wrong
Valjean Fantine Is it true, what I have done? My daughter's close to dying To an innocent soul? If there's a God above Had I only known then... He'd let me die instead
Valjean In His name my task has just begun I will see it done!
He stood up and shot a look full of warning at Wim.
Javert But M'sieur Mayor!
Let me do it. Just once. One kiss and I’d die happily. No… impossible. God, have mercy on me!
Valjean I will see it done!
He stepped closer.
Javert But M'sieur Mayor!
He was closer now still. He could smell the lightly scented soap Wim used and the subtle smell of sweat. It only intensified in fueling what he wanted to do. Remember the audience. He pushed his top hat into Wim’s chest.
Valjean I will see it DONE!
God, like a hit. I’d love if he’d hit me. I want to be his slave.Wim, don’t be a fool. You must be the Lawr now.
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Post by Wim on Oct 16, 2008 19:56:48 GMT 1
Wim stood there, holding René's hat and coat, till that stupid cart scene happened. It was maybe the weakest point of the show, tie with Turning. Turning... Gods. Wim always flew after his suicide scene. All one needs after that and before ECaET is a bunch of lamenting hags...
But back to the present.
The crowd disappeared, and he remained alone with René. For the first time. Oh, how he waited for these moments.
He stepped closer, but stopped, thinking.
Can this be true? I don't believe what I see! A man your age To be as strong as you are!
He went to René and helped up his coat. God, he was touching him... only for seconds... but he felt as his blood become hot in his veins.
A mem'ry stirs... You make me think of a man From years ago A man who broke his parole He disappeared
Suddenly, he looked at René, as if he were horrified by his own heretic thoughts.
Forgive me, Sir, I would not dare!
Oh, René, forgive me, he thought. Forgive me that I love you.
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