89th of Fall, 513. Ninth Bell Alia had hardly believed the Labor Aid office when they had told her she could audition at the Amphitheater, never mind believing that she actually had a chance at getting a job there. Now, there was a spot open at the theater, and Alia intended to get it. Hugging herself, Alia started a conversation with herself in her mind to take her thoughts away from the audition, the amphitheater, the future. If you drag your feet any slower it'll be spring before you reach the Amphitheater Maybe I don't want to go to the Amphitheater. If you don't get a job soon you'll have no money to keep that runty apartment you call home. Thats not my home. Just hurry up, if you don't get there by the tenth bell, you'll be late and then you'll never get a job and then you'll end up busking on the street and then you'll get robbed and.. Alia shook her head. Am I going insane? Is that why I'm talking to myself? Atleast she wasn't fantasizing tiny globs of magic floating everywhere and unicorns prancing around. No, that was when she would declare herself insane. Picking up the pace a little, Alia shuffled down the path to the Amphitheater, taking the exact route Jorin had shown her earlier that season. Is that why you're taking the job at the Amphitheater? Because Jorin is an actor? You know the Job Agency recommended you to the White Crane, and you know that you''d be better of there. You know it, you do. Banishing the thought from her head, Alia shook her head again, freeing several small strands of fire-red hair from the somewhat-neat bun she had pulled it back into. Her hair was tied back by a blue ribbon, a nice contrast to her hair, she thought. Reaching back into the small knapsack she had brought with her, Alia skimmed over her notes. She had nearly, nearly, confined all of them to memory. All except one dratted line. Mumbling over her lines quietly, Alia imagined herself on the Amphitheater stage, holding the cards, reciting her lines, everything in order, then that one, darned, final line. Her nice fantasy turned to ruin as she thought about what would happen if she messed up that line, one word, one emphasis, one card, what would happen then? Then you wouldn't get the job. A snarky voice hissed in her head. Once again dismissing the thought, Alia worked on memorizing the line. Look at me! Look at how I stand, how I hold myself high! How I feel, how I see! Why are you blind to the world? Why are you blind.. Alia paused, right where it said to, To me? Alia bowed on her imaginary stage, flowers raining down, audience clapping. And then she dropped her notes. Halfway through her bow to the imaginary audience, a gust of wind stole the small parchments her lines were written on in delicate ink. No, no no no no! Alia watched in horror as the fragile papers were rudely ripped away from her, landing right in a puddle of mud. Kneeling down, oblivious to the fact that her Bryda she had brought all the way from Wind Reach was getting speckled with mud. Picking up one still legible paper, she read the one line that wasn't smeared with brown goo. Why are you ignorant, foolish, why do you fall down and sulk? Why don't you see the world for the way it is, for the way I see it? Balling the parchment in her fist, Alia readjusted her knapsack and brushed off her now-muddy pants. She was going to get to the Amphitheater, on time, and she was going to get that job. |