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Lucy Avellino
Thu Apr 21, 2005 19:03

“What’s your name and what part are you auditioning for?”

Aha, a repeat of Caleb’s fantastic performance. Well, not really. Lucy went from being a self-contained twenty-one year old to sixteen, all in a matter of seconds. Unnerving, wasn’t it? Delicate hands knotted together in front of her, attesting to the state of nerves the poor little dear. Or so went the whispers of the other female hopefuls, derogatory comments about her relative youth interlaced throughout.

“I would like to try for the role of Jenny. Gwenivere.” Oh, really. Whose was that breathy little voice, for it certainly did not belong to the woman that Caleb knew. Perhaps that was what she and Sean had been murmuring about just after Caleb had blown the audience away. Even David, normally dour and prone to fits of ugly honesty, was having trouble keeping a straight face.

“Go ahead then. Wow us.” Ooooo. Fightin’ words!

“Oh, Lance, go away. Go away and don't come back.”

And just like that, Lucy stepped partially into the role of the beautiful queen, her expression at once haunted and desperate. It was completely unlike Vanessa Redgrave’s portrayal, for the venerable actress had never sung these lines. No, the girl was following in the footsteps of Julie Andrews now, though that voice would never belong to her.

“Before I gaze at you again, I'll need a time for tears. Before I gaze at you again let hours turn to years.
I have so much forgetting to do before I try to gaze again at you.” A panicked breath, as if she was fighting for the very act of drawing air into her lungs. “Stay away until you cross my mind barely once a day. Till the moment I awake and find 1 can smile and say that I can gaze at you again without a blush or qualm. My eyes a-shine like new again, my manner poised and calm. Stay far away! My love, far away! Till I forget I gazed at you today . . . today.”

So very short. So very poignant. And then David effectively nailed the coffin lid on the other Jenny hopefuls. “I didn’t catch you name, Miss ….?” There was a bit of the devil in the director, he looked for all the world like he’d never seen the actress before.

“Lucy. Lucy Avellino.”

Christine! The whispers started anew as she inched off the stage, replaced immediately by Sean. That worthy currently had the mannerisms of a nobleman, much as he had during Phantom. “My name is Sean. My last name is unimportant. I shall be auditioning for the role of …”he glanced towards Caleb in the audience before continuing with a smirk, “ .. the role of plastic boy toy.”

Defeaning silence there. David spoke up after a few minutes, trying to choke his laughter down; everyone else was guffawing like mad. “Yes, well, that would be Lancelot then. Thank you, Mister Cafferty. Go ahead.” Lucy was doubled over on Caleb’s lap at this point, trying to muffle her giggles in his shirt. Poor shirt.

“As you wish, Lord David!” Sean strut to the center of the stage, and proceeded to reenact the invasion of England. In other words, “Camelot! Camelot! In far off France I heard your call. Camelot! Camelot! And here am I to give my all. I know in my soul what you expect of me; and all that and more I shall be! A knight of the table round should be invincible; succeed where a less fantastic man would fail; climb a wall no one else can climb; cleave a dragon in record time; swim a moat in a coat of heavy iron mail.” Pause. Strut to stage left.


“No matter the pain he ought to be invincible, impossible deeds should be his daily fare. But where in the world is there in the world A man so extraordinaire? C'est moi! C'est moi! I'm forced to admit! 'Tis I, I humbly reply. That mortal who these marvels can do, c'est mot, c'est moi, 'tis I. I've never lost In battle or game. I'm simply the best by far. When swords are cross'd tis always the same: One blow and аи revoir!”

By now, all the Gwen hopefuls were hanging onto every word the blond sang in his magnificent tenor, though there were some notes he dipped into a baritone for. Disgusting wasn’t it. Mister Perfect strikes again. And he wasn’t done, either! “So admir'bly fit; a French Prometheus unbound. And here I stand with valor untold, Exception'lly brave, amazingly bold, to serve at the Table Round!”

“ The soul of a knight should be a thing remarkable: His heart and his mind as pure as morning dew. With a will and a self-restraint that's the envy of ev'ry saint, He could easily work a miracle or two! To love and desire he ought to be unsparkable. The ways of the flesh should offer no allure. But where in the world is there in the world a man so untouch'd and pure?” Sean stopped singing, and pointed right at Caleb.

“There he is. King Arthur. Pure as the driven snow.” He skidded off stage before anyone could throw things at him, eventually popping up next to the affianced couple. “So … here’s the latest gossip. Ben auditioned this morning, and won the part of Merlin. Hugh will be here later on. I think he’s going to try for King Pellinore. And … Marion moved out to Los Angeles on Monday. Her boyfriend got a soap job out there, with a week long part for her.”

Lucy lofted both eyebrows, pleased for the older woman … and faintly envious. The only job her boyfriend could get her would be a stint at the Agency. And THEY most certainly did not want her trim fanny wandering through levels that were off limits to everyone but the NSA and President. “My name is Ralph Mazzaro, and I’m trying for the role of Sir Tom.”

She turned her attention back to the rest of the auditions, and remained near David for the remainder of the afternoon.

Thump! Right below the ‘tree’.

“St. Genevieve! St. Genevieve! It's Guenevere. Remember me? St. Genevieve! St. Genevieve! I'm over here beneath this tree. You know how faithful and devout I am. You must admit I've always been a lamb. But, Genevieve, St. Genevieve,” Rising from the heap she fallen into, and wearing a certain borrowed cloak from the costume department, she angrily stomped her foot – in full ‘princess mode’, “ won't obey you any more! I won't be bid and bar gain'd for like beads at a bazaar. St. Genevieve, I've run away, eluded them and fled; and from now on I intend to pray to someone else instead.”

Remorse flooded her expression, prompting the girl to sway forward, her voice producing a tone of wistful melancholy, “Oh, Genevieve, St. Genevieve, Where were you when my youth was sold? Dear Genevieve,
weet Genevieve, shan't 1 be young before I'm old?”

Step, step, step to stage left.

“Shan't I, St. Genevieve? Why must I suffer this squalid destiny? Just when I reach the golden age of eligibility and wooability. Is my fate determined by love and courtship? Oh, no.” Such a bitter tone, young lady. “Clause one: fix the border; Clause two: establish trade; Clause three: deliver me; Clause four: stop the war; five, six: pick up sticks. How cruel! How unjust! Am I never to know the joys of maidenhood? The conventional, ordinary, garden variety joys of maidenhood?”

And back to the tree, or the rather the coat track, behind which Arthur was currently hiding. First day of rehearsals, they’d all met one another the day before at the read-through. Hugh had won the role of the confused Pelli, but was running late with niece problems and wouldn’t be around for another hour.

“Where are the simple joys of maidenhood? Where are all those adoring, daring boys? Where's the knight pining so for me he leaps to death in woe for me? Oh, where are a maiden's simple joys? Shan't I have the normal life a maiden should? Shall I never be rescued in the wood? Shall two knights never tilt for me
and let their blood be spilt for me? Oh, where are the simple joys of maidenhood?”

She did another circuit of the stage, responding to hand signals from David, who was trying to decide how he wanted this scene blocked out. Lucy didn’t mind, she just moved where he told her to and kept singing, “Shall I not be on a pedestal, Worshipped and competed for? Not be carried off, or better still, cause a little war? Where are the simple joys of maidenhood? Are those sweet, gentle pleasures gone for good? Shall a feud not begin for me? Shall kith not kill their kin for me?”

Wave, wave, wave. Back to the coat rack! Yessir! Trod. Trod. Settle into a kneeling position, as if praying to her beloved Genevieve again, “Oh, where are the trivial joys . . . ? Harmless, convivial joys . . . ? Where are the simple joys of maidenhood?”

David’s voice rang out. “CRACK. Branch breaks and Arthur, would you kindly topple to the ground in front of yonder fair maiden?”

Fair? Check. Maiden? Debatable. Yet Caleb jauntily saluted Herr Director and literally fell sideways, landing on his ass in front of lady Jenny.

Pssst. King man. You’re up!

Two hours and they were expected at James' home for dinner. Oh, joy. Joy, joy ---- Cough. Yeah.

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