Act III Scene XVI
Act I:
The first act is a story I know but haven’t heard in a long, long time.
The story of a simple man. A craftsman, no less. Sil is younger in this version of events, played and Mimicked by Parrish.
I watch with dread from backstage at the depiction of Sil introducing the first Players. Us. As he drains the well dry of story, of song, of Craft, he assures his new Players that this is what they are meant for.
A prop book rests in his hands to represent the Script as he makes them grand promises of spotlights and splendor and endless stages. He promises this will fix the world, because he is a smart man, and he can fix the world.
They agree. It makes sense. It sounds nice.
He binds them to the book in his hands.
And the world is their stage.
Act II:
Arius’s lyrical narration pulls the audience through Theatron’s histories, its wars, its Players, all in captivating song and sugary words. He skillfully omits the Playhouse’s part in most of it. His melodies are a corridor from a dreadful past to a bright future.
One that rests in Sil’s trustworthy, capable hands.
Act III:
The third act moves into more recent years. Titus plays the role of Michail, his traitorous actions hidden from the audience. His death is framed as a tragic accident.
Still, I don’t watch from backstage when his body falls from the highest level of the skene, hits the marble with a disturbing crunch. The result of a faulty railing in this version of events.
The audience wails at the depiction of the Playhouse fleeing the District in the wake of his death and the calamity that followed.
Act IV:
Nausea gathers in my throat as Mattia helps me change costumes, donning Galen’s old jacket. Then I set foot onstage for the third act.
My story.
The story of a girl who grew up fearful of Players, who lost a parent to the division, who carries the same mark as the rest of the North. A girl who despises the Playhouse, just like the audience.
I’m just like everyone else.
I step onto a set drained of its color, surrounded by faded, dreary shades of gray.
Then I journey to the Playhouse, and the world comes alive, blossoms with beauty and entertainment and song that the audience yearns for, locked behind its gilded doors.
There, I discover it isn’t full of evil; it’s deeply misunderstood. So, torn between the two, I become the bridge that bonds them.
Act V:
All is well.