Festival Hosted by Tamryn, Mask a Muse entries

[Eraelabryn]

Entry number 1.


The entrant moved with a slow saunter of grace and poise and came to stand in the courtyard. Attired in all black with a sheen of sparkle to it's material, making it appear wet, the long form's gown puddled about their feet when they came to a halt. Either arm extended with spidery material and more shimmery black, that waterfall draped off the length of either arm. In the left hand a violin, in the right hand, the bow. Head of alabaster white tilted back as the graceful form was disguised as a Moriel. The mask was made of real bat wings and from under either wing - from one side to the other side - a veil of more spider webbing. Intricately adorning the mask was the placement of tiny, red, stones and the entire thing was covered in the glossy shimmer that beheld the moon's light and gave a sparkle to its lush hue.

Either graceful hand came to join before her as she cast the spell of "Spectral Symphony" to accompany her in this performance. As the performer began, a mist like essence rose around the courtyard surrounding the visage in moon beams bathed as she drew the bow across the violin. Somber, mournful yet - haunting and soothing all at once. The spectral orchestral accompaniment played rhythm and harmony while the vision played the melody. As the music played, the spectres circled her slowly. A site! Music and movement - however - as the music took to faster progression the spectres moved in time to its spin playing all the while. Faster and faster still till the performer looked to be standing in a cyclone of ghosts.

Finally at long last a voice was added to the spiral and music. A strong voice of such exquisite tones and inflections that one would be awed by it alone without the music and without the show. Hairs would tingle one's arms to the siren like incantations of voice and song and dire heart. It was a contest, however, and nothing was spared this performance. Eyes flashed with intensity as the performer was being pulled into the cyclone slowly. Never relenting, never stopping - the black garbed individuals garb soon started to swirl and as the music faded, so did they.

<while listening to Apocalyptica - Requiem for a Dream>

[Eraelabryn]

Entry 2


Dancer lays upon the floor, a shadowed mist of smoke brushing across her form. Her toned body is barely covered in her costume, a costume of black with silver lining. The bra piece cups her large breasts, pushing them skyward. Her legs are wrapped in long pieces of black silk and silver. The music slowly begins to play, a soft beat that caresses the ears, causing onlookers to sway. On the stage, the lone female begins to sway, arms reaching skyward as if trying to dig herself out of a hole. Her body lifts, a slow and steady pull of muscles, of sinuous movement. As she comes to a sitting position, it can be seen that the girls’ skin is covered in what looks like bruises, scrapes, and with a line that looks like a slit across her throat. Her eyes are dark, as if lost in another life…or perhaps in death.

Dancer slowly begins to stand, her hands skimming over her body as if in disbelief. Tears seem to slip from her eyes as she rushes forward, reaching to the crowd, a pleading look within the darkness of her eyes. Seeing that no one will save her, she turns, her body spinning in pirouettes across the floor, the skirts of her costume caressing her thighs. At center stage, she leaps into the air, the perfect arc of her body moving as she flips her legs above her head, swinging them around until they land back upon the floor, almost soundlessly. As she lands, she slowly crumples to the floor, moving bit by bit as she crawls forward, looking towards the heavens.

Dancers hands reach forward, first the right, then the left, then the right again as she crawls forward, still looking to the heavens, pleading for that release. The music tempo is increasing, her movement across the floor becoming faster. As she reaches the edge of the stage again, she leaps to her feet, the sound of a cry passing her lips. Her body arcs and sways, moving around the stage in continuous movement. Her eyes never leave the heavens as she moves, as if she is pleading to the gods for life, because she is not ready yet for death. Her fingers move along her form, tracing over the bruises, the marks, her costume. One last time she pleads, before falling back to the middle of the floor, the white smoke engulfing her as she lies there, as if nothing is happening.

Dancer lays upon that floor as if not moving, the music playing softly in the background, the tempo slowing just a bit. She slowly begins to rise again, but what is this? The lone dancer now wears a costume of pure white and crystals. The crystals dance across her breasts as she raises, the lights flickering across her now perfectly unmarred skin. Long ebony curls float down her back as she begins to sway to the slow beat, the movement consuming her very soul. She raises, in the center of that stage, her eyes now full of brightness and joy. She rushes to the front of the stage, holding her arms out to the crowd as if to say, look at me…I cheated death. She slowly rolls her body backwards into a perfect ‘U’ shape, flipping her feet over her body several times across the floor.

Dancer moves her body as the beat of the music begins to increase. Carrying her from one side of the stage to the other. The music builds, body swaying bit by bit, arms moving in time with her body, beckoning everyone to join her, to feel the embrace of the music. Suddenly, she leaps into the air, flying through the sky, landing on one foot, and spinning her body with rapid movement. This is the movement of freedom, and of grace. The movement of being able to feel herself again. Leaps, bounds, sways, everything topped with a look of pure bliss upon her face. She begins to pirouette again, faster, faster, faster, jumping into the air again, to land and begin spinning again. It was as if she was in another time or place, one where only she existed.

Dancer reaches the center of the floor again as the music begins to slow down again. The pirouettes slow, becoming smaller, sinuous spins of her body. She finally stops spinning, right there in the middle of the stage. She begins to sway side to side to the now slow beat of the music, her arms being brought in against her body bit by bit. She wraps her arms around herself and begins to sway side to side at an even slower pace, tears in her eyes again. As the music begins to fade, her eyes lower from the heavens, looking out at the crowd as if truly seeing them for the first time. A look of shock is on her face as the lights slowly begin to fade, leaving her standing there in the middle of the stage in a total cloak of darkness.



(Done while listening to the song: Lifehouse - Everything)

[Eraelabryn]

Entry 3

It was old woman who appeared upon the Bard's stage. Her hands wizened, her lips trembling, the near cataracts within her eyes, making them seem clouded. For her, sheets had been hung, and lanterns took their place to provide light to make shadows what was seen on the screen. She only bowed, before she would take her place behind the sheeting, and began to play the harp resting in her fingers, knobby things, but as she played, as she began to sing, the shadow changed, her form changed. Only the shadows showed it.

<Cast of One and use of puppetry to do Shadow Theatre>

The shadow changed and the music became softer, more light. The vision allowed a dance of shadowy beauty behind the screen, her face held in hands, a softer saddness that would be expressed from notes being played. Long curls, the way that shadows showed the motion, as if the girl were chained and then, as happier sound exploded from strings, on the other side of sheet another form appeared. This one a drak, a hunter of some kind, apparent by the bow he used. The drak approached the crying beauty, his power, his form -seen- in his shadows lines, and he would touch her cheek, and then as the music got softer, more light, more playful, appear to plead with her to 'dance' with him.

Only then, did the music grow near happy, like pixie's songs at play, the dark shadow of the nymph, not weeping now, oh no but attempting to match the pace of the drak, as he pulled her closer and she tried to match his own light hearted motions. He made motion to give kiss to her lip, and in an instant the shadows 'fled' off to the sides of curtain disappearing as the music took on a harsher more violent sound, as if heartbreak had occurred, as if emotions were shattered in their own way. Light flared and the shadows disappeared, then once more it was as it was.

Puppetshadow of the nymph, changed shape, until it was an old woman, seen peddling the wares of cart, an apple held out. Then the appearance once more of our hunter drak, aiding the woman by pushing cart over a fallen tree. The music swelled, that tension felt in it, as once over the tree, the apple was offered to the Drak. The shadow of him, seemed to consume it, and then, as the shadow of him, fell to the 'ground', the form of the old woman changed into the nymph. Now the music turned into a bitter sweet swell, the tenderness of hurting another, heard in the notes as they drifted.

Nymph shadow would be seen putting things upon the hands, upon the throat, upon the body of the sleeping drak. Now the music took on an air of mystery, as the lights flared and that scene ended. Instead happier music started to stream out, near lush in its vibrancy, and we see a shadow of the drak, spread out, arms bound, legs bound, the chains shadows like ribbbon's holding him to. Nymph beside now showing him 'her' dance, one where chains bound and motions were not as free as the dance he had shown her, repaying the favor in her own way. Music carried out, as the 'sound' of lashes were heard as the drak's form in puppet was seen just as nymph's had been, struggling to learn the steps.

Then there was only silence, the old woman stepping out from behind the curtain, and taking her puppets and stepping from the stage. "And that is the story of how the drak learned to dance in chains. " her voice carried with that edge that the elderly had. "Or how one good turn, deserves another." A bow before she would toddle off the stage with her toys.