RP: Flightwright's Theatre

There is a sign up in the lobby of the Flightwright Theatre:

STRONG ARMS WANTED.

Strong arms are required for the Flightwright Theatre's latest venture, a production of Gauderne's AT THE HARVEST MOON.

Men and women of a martial nature are encouraged to apply for this position.

It's not actually the particular sign that attracts Jokul into the theater in the first place (although it is curiously taken note of when he steps on through the door). The Aesir warrior clad in dark-grey plates of Mithril doth stomp his way into the theatre's lobby, with a rather sizeable book tucked underneath on arm (namely the arm not occupied with holding onto the oversized sword propped onto an armored shoulder). After spending a few good seconds eyeing the particular recruitment sign, however, he turns on further along, to scan his surroundings with his green gaze-- to try and find *someone* who might at least look like they work here.

On a couch in the corner, ideally chatting to a few ... admirers?, a gnome in a bright purple ballgown with yellow trim sprawls, idly picking brightly painted nails and flicking colourful magickal spirals into the air. When Jokul is spotted, a beautifully lined eyebrow is raised. "Yoo-hoo!" comes the effeminate voice. "Hello, handsome! Are you coming about the job?"

"The... job," repeats the Aesir, effeminate voice contrasted by the man's deeply rumbling baritone. His hand shifts along the hilt of the sword he carries, to turn the blade itself alongside his shoulder to pointing towards the sign. "You mean that? I'm just here to drop his off." His left arm unfurls from around the book, to let his hand grab onto it and showcase it. It doesn't actually bear any markings or text on it's covers. "Was told to drop it off even if the owner of this thing isn't here. Said people here would know who to get it to." Someone's been apparently playing 'get stolen goods back from bandits'. Or been hired to do so, anyway.

Still, Jokul tosses a look over his non-sword-bearing shoulder, back to the way of the sign, and against his best judgement ends up asking, "What is that about, anyway?"

Esme clicks her fingers, and one of her aides glares at the gnome. "Get that, darling," The actress says, sweetly. The young half-sil nods curtly, and crosses the room to retrieve the book, bringing it back to Esmaudalein. "Thank you," comes the voice, as the pages are flicked through. "Hmm, thoroughly salacious. I'll see it gets to its rightful owner."

"Now, the job," Esme says, still looking through the book. "Are you a strong as well as handsome, my lovely?"

Jokul's nose wrinkles faintly. Perhaps he is starting to wonder if his particular employer should have come up with different method of dropping off the goods. Oh, well. It's not like he isn't going to be paid anyway.

"I would like to think I'm at least that much," he answers for the gnome's question, then -- which probably speaks a bit about which of strength and beauty the Aesir puts more value on. "Why? Somehow I don't get the feeling you just want some crate of costumes and props lifted around."

Swinging the begowned legs around to dangle off the (relatively low) couch, the gnome places a hand under a chin, and the well-made up eyes look at Jokul, fluttering. "My, you are quite handsome. And well spoken, for an Aesir! What a find!" The gaze is almost overwhelming. "You handsome devil. Can you sing, dance, handle a sword a little?"

Jokul... Well. Jokul likely isn't exactly sure of how to take the gaze and the compliments of the gnome's particular brand. His brow twitches ever-so-slightly. "...I don't sing or dance," he mutters. "But this--" He shifts the massive sword along his shoulder again, in indication. "Isn't exactly just a fashion accessory. ... Again, why?"

Thankully, he chooses not to comment on the 'for an Aesir' part of what she said.

Daintily (for a gnome), Esme steps off the couch, and sachés over the room towards the Aesir, walking around him and looking up at his impressive physique and sword. Whilst he's rather taller than the little actress, the height difference doesn't matter so much as the inspection continues.

"Lovely!" Comes the decision. "Oh! another question. Can you read?"

One dark brow lifts upwards slightly along Jokul's forehead when she makes her approach, and for the first time, he takes a few seconds to take in the gnome, too, his own gaze appraising her for a moment--

...All the way through her being close enough that he actually has to tip his head pretty low to maintain eye contact. His brow does tic a few times over while she circles around him. There may be a distinct sensation of being studied like some animal in a zoo.

"...What?" He asks in surprise with the new question then, eyes blinking rapidly a few times over. "Didn't I just--- nevermind. Yes, I can read."

"Ah, yes. Of course." Esme springs back from her position, looking up at Jokul. One hand is under the chin; the other is under the elbow. The overall look is one of intense study. "Very good, very good!" Now a little clapping, and mock-fireworks are sent off in all directions. "Now, it's not entirely my decision, but I'll put in a good word with the director. You lovely thing." The thickly made-up face breaks into a beautiful, teeth-filled smile. Those are some very white teeth."

"..............................What?" The large Aesir lets out in a completely blank tone, and sloooowly blinks his eyes at Esme. "With the *what*?" His eyes close slowly, and his free hand comes up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Oy, vey. "...Okay, hold on. Just... what are you *talking* about?"

"Oh, my!" Now the places a hand with exquisitely painted nails over her mouth. "Oh, dearie! Please accept my apologies. Since you had come about the job, I assumed..." There is a pause as Esme considers this for a moment. "Well, I must admit, I wasn't sure what I assumed, but I at least assumed you'd know what the job was." Another pause.

"...You know I came here to bring the book, right?" Jokul points out, and the hand pinchin at his nose slides over to go scratching one finger along his stubbled cheek, instead. "...Actually, the sign over there didn't really even explain... Eh. Maybe it's just me." One mithril-covered shoulder gets rolled around, slowly. "...Since we're already talking about it, what actually *is* it about?"

Esmaudalein looks him over admiringly as he rolls his shoulder, and waits for a full ten seconds before sighing contentedly after Jokul finishes speaking. "Oh, yes. Of course. Well, one of two things, really. As you said, perhaps we need some things moving backstage. It's quite the mess. Alternatively, well, with your set of skills..." The gnome pronounces this word carefully. "With your set of skills, perhaps you'd like to be in one of our little plays? I am sure we could do with some, ahem, sword talent."

Jokul still probably feels a bit like he's being put on display. He's not entirely sure if to be happy or concerned about that, currently.

The way Esme pronounces that one particular word urges a brief, curious raise of an eyebrow, then, but he elects not to say anything of it. Rather, her particular... proposal draws more of his attention. "...You mean play-fighting," he murmurs, with his brows knitting together in a brief frown. "I'm... not really an actor. Usually when I swing this thing--" The sword's lifted ever-so-slightly upwards again briefly. "People fall down. I'm not exactly practiced in doing it in a way where they... well, *don't*."

"Well," Esme says, considering this carefully. "Our actors are most certainly well-practiced in falling when struck. I'm sure your fighting skills would lend a certain art brut feel to our production---real, but unrefined. It would be just right for the play, I'm sure!" She thinks on something else, looking around the room at the other rather more elfin actors in presence. Most look a little intimidated at the suggestion of casting Jokul in a fight scene. "I would think we'd provide a wooden sword, too."

"Art what?" Jokul repeats with a measure of uncertain confusion -- which doesn't really seem to fade at all the more Esme talks. It's perhaps becoming more and more obvious that the Aesir is significantly out of his element here. "...Right. Uh. I'm not really sure that... I am *right* for the theatrical arts." That's a good way to put it, right? "Though I. Appreciate. The thought. Besides, probably best not to risk me accidentally, uh... breaking bones in some of your actors. For some reason anything involving me is not considered an occupational hazard. Fancy that..."

<OOC> Jokul is not sure how workers unions and insurance works in Ea, but somehow imagines they tend to write any damages
      involving Jokul as non-refundable acts of nature. <.<

"Ohh..." Esme purrs, pouting a little, looking quite put out. "That's such a shame. I was looking forward to working und---err, alongside someone with your skills. Are you sure there's nothing we can do to..." Here the gnome steps forward again, lightly running a finger along Jokul's left vambrace. "...persuade you?"

<OOC> Esmaudalein says, "xD"
<OOC> Esmaudalein apologises for over-camp RP.

Jokul's eye flicks down to her, both brows raised ever-so-slightly, while he studies the short gnome for a long moment in notable silence. Thoughtful sort. Either he's not sure how to take this particular, uh, question, or he's *thinking* about it.

"I'd like to say that it depends on what you have to offer," he murmurs eventually, with one eye noticably still kept on the gnome. "But I'm still not entirely certain I'm the right choice for that kind of thing. Probably better off for your production to have me lifting things backstage instead of... doing anything on stage."

<OOC> Jokul says, "lol. It's fine."

"Oh..." The gnome says, with a dejected face. With a flounce, the gnome turns and minces back to the couch, taking a seat in a floppy, dejected manner. Gracefully the ballgown is smoothed over little legs as they are crossed. "Well, if you insist. Roberto!" Esme trills, and the hapless half-sil comes over, equally dejected. "See that this beautiful specimen gets his payment for the most kind return of this delicious tome." The book is tapped with the left hand. "And, if he would like, get him on the payroll as a runner. Perhaps when he sees the delights of the theatre, he might change his mind about becoming an actor. What do you think, Mr..."

It is here that Esme realises that introductions have never been made. "Ah..."

This is probably also the part where Jokul decides he is very glad he did not take a peek into the actual contents of the book. Some things are best left unknown and all that.

"Jokul," he provides for her, however, and now that she's no longer circling him like a predator, he takes a few steps to bring him closer to her and the couch, though he seems to be refraining from actually coming to sit down for the time being. "Just Jokul. Or 'The Asshole With The Giant Sword' if you ask most people in the warehouse district and the docks. Look--" Here, he holds up a hand briefly. "I can't actually take on a full-time job regardless. The Guild sends me on mercenary work too often for that, especially now with that mess with Dran and Rune."

Still, it's here that Jokul sends a look towards the other actors milling on the side, and he wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. "Say," he lets out after, and brings an inquisitive look bearing on the gnome. "How many of your actors have actually been trained in real combat?"

"It's very casual here," Esme assures him. "We're just always in need of strong hands." There is a very overtone of insinuation here. "Still, we wouldn't want any of our boys to feel threatened, would we, Roberto?" The half-sil, heading out of the room, shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"Real combat?" The gnome makes a motion as if to scratch a chin, but thinks better of it, and instead moves to stroke an earlobe. Too much makeup, probably. That'll be it. "The Bardic College does a marvellous course in stage-fighting, Jokul. The things I could do to you with a retracting dagger, oh my!" Eyebrows are raised around the room. "But hand me a butter knife and I'd probably eviscerate myself, dear Jokul. I daresay the same applies to many of my esteemed colleagues."

<OOC> Esmaudalein should have logged this.
<OOC> Jokul :D
<OOC> Esmaudalein ohgod can't stop the camp.

"Strong hands I can give," says Jokul, with just the briefest lift of the brow made all over again on his part. Wether or not that was meant to play along the same insinuation-- who knows. "Every now and then, anyway, when I actually am in Alexandria and not... well. Knee-deep in whatever beasts fate decides to throw at me on any given day, to put it bluntly."

Her answer to him leaves him into thoughtful silence for a few seconds all over again. "Telll you what," he says then. "You want... a sense of 'realism', in your play? Maybe my skills are better put in helping your people bring that forward." Two fingers drum along the hilt of his sword, now. "Coaching them, that is. STage-fighting is impressive to look at, certainly, but if you want a certain sense of what the real thing is..."

"What, you mean---" Esme says, the made-up face brightening suddenly. "You mean---we can benefit from the fruits of your wisdom?" More ethereal fireworks whizz and pop away from the gnome, making the slightly dimmed room light up with colourful flashes. "Oh my, dear Jokul, that would be wonderful. Roberto!" comes the inevitable shout. "Roberto!" The half-sil youth does not reappear. "Oh, drat. I want so much to take you up on that immediately, Jokul! For anything we can offer you! Free tickets for you and your friends! Drinks with any actor that takes your fancy! A memorial plaque, dressing rooms named in your honour, a season ticket, anything!"

Jokul can't quite help but... well, let out a brief sound of laughter over the entirety of Esme's reaction, and with a slow shake of his head and a lift of his hand, he goes on to murmur, "You are maybe putting me on too high a pedestal if you're offering all *that* already," with the laughter still painting the tone of his words behind them. "I am just some sellsword. A few coins and the possibility of pushing away my boredom when I'm not off in battle is good enough." Beat. His eyes roll up over to the upper left corners of their sockets briefly, and he lifts one finger. "...Although I'll have you hold on to that drink part, actually. Just in case."

"Never!" Esme gasps, as if shocked by the first part of Jokul's reply. "Too high a pedestal? Absolutely not. What other sellsword has come to our humble theatre and offered such. Well, apart from Gillie the Whale, and Forthenstald the Ethical, and Constantia the Unready, and---" A brightly manicured hand to the mouth again. "Excuse me. The drink, of course. And of course you will be renumerated. Sweetie, drop by whenever. There are always actors here. And just tell them Auntie Esme said to pay you as handsomely as they find you." Again a stroke of the vambraces. "I'm sure you'll be richly rewarded."

"Just keeping myself busy, lass," Jokul insists with the briefest flash of his teeth in a grin that borders dangerously close to something feral. "A bit of silver is enough besides... Everything else."

The touch to his arm brings his head tilting low downwards then, with both brows raised upwards. "'Auntie', huh," he murmurs, voice a little lower. "Didn't really strike me as old enough to be called an aunt."

Esme almost swoons. "Oh! you wicked young man." Does the blusher suddenly darken momentarily. "Oh my. 'Tis but a name; I have no siblings to bear me nephetic progeny. Alas, I'm sure I would have been quite avantulous." Some of these words sound at least as made-up as the gnomic face. "But many of the younglings here see me as quite the auntie, I assure you."

<OOC> Esmaudalein is going to have to go in the next few minutes. I have had /tremendous fun/ with you today, Jokul; thank you.

Jokul wouldn't really know if they were made up or not, tell the truth. He certainly wouldn't know what they would mean if they weren't. So he just smiles faintly and nods along instead of calling her out on them or asking about their meaning.

"Looking after them and all. I understand." His hand rises up, then, and sets onto her shoulder to give it a light squeeze. "I'll come stop by tomorrow, perhaps. If you're here, we can figure out what exactly we'll be doing, yeah?"

<OOC> Jokul realizes that perhaps Jokul's hand doesn't so much come up as it reaches down, possibly. <.<;

The gnome nods emphatically, the pins holding the delicate fascinator on the bouncy red locks almost loosening in the vigorous effort. Some of this may be fuelled by the compliments or the touch from the burly Jokul, but some of it might be the gnomic tendency to over-emphasise everything. "Certainly, certainly!" Esme laughs and claps, sending spirals of bright colour leaping off onto the floor. "It was wonderful to meet you, dear Jokul, just wonderful." With this, the spritely little actor leaps from the couch, and dashes down the corridor where 'Roberto' disappeared shortly before, leaving the salacious tome on the bench behind her. "Roberto! ROBERTO! Come back here, I've some delightful news!"

With that, Esmaudalein's gone.

<OOC> Jokul says, "CAll it there, then?"
<OOC> Esmaudalein says, "Yeah, sounds like a plan. Want to pose out, or are you all done?"
<OOC> Jokul says, "I think yours was a good spot to fade things out in. Glad you had fun :D"
<OOC> Esmaudalein says, "Have a wonderful day, Jokul, see you soon."
<OOC> Jokul says, "Take care!"