Ch 124: The Girl’s First Opera!
My parents are disgusting. Pure shamelessly disgusting. They're like a whole canister of cheap sugar dumped into a decent cup of coffee, completely ruining it in diabetes.
"Daaaaaarling," Mother coos again, nuzzling her head back and forth into Father's chest.
Curled up in his side over his lap, she cuddles and clings on very much like how a toddler Lilyanne does. Except she's a shameless grown woman. I can't even look at her.
Grander than any king on a treasured throne, my father sits imposingly. Face seemingly expressionless but content enough. The slight quirk of his lip, something I know means he's quite pleased with himself. His hand mindlessly petting her head as he seems to focus on the music and show below.
Which is a lie. He's just that into himself. The horrid fiend.
Servants line up behind him, fine wine by his side, a beautiful wife that acts more like a spoiled mistress, acting not her age at all. Sprawling in and over his lap like that, like a puppy dog torn between being 'good' or cutely begging for attention. Her enthusiasm and floating hearts more than making up for his lack of an obvious reaction to her pawing.
"Love love kyaaa I looooove you darling~ Kyaaaa! " she screams, nuzzling even harder when he graces her with a quick peck.
I'm going to throw up. Where's the trash bin?
I don't even care if we're in public anymore. If my parents are going to be this shameless, no one will notice the toddler vomiting in the background. The noise they call music playing down below will drown out my retching.
That's right. We're at the Opera house!
A very inappropriate place for children and public affection, especially both.
Down below the hard working, though misguided, actors and musicians are grinding their performances. Playing it up all for the amusements and emotions of the audience. People who paid good money to see a show, be entertained, be given an experience! A sight that can't easily be found just anywhere. One of the real pleasures of a big city.
And here my gross parents are. Flirting.
Are they truly a noble married couple with children? Or unrestrained teenagers in the dark movie theatre, fueled by hormones and awfulness? Oh the shame!
Father, stop her already! Make her stop!!! Tell her to sit, behave, put on a shawl!? Oh the shame. You know better?!!
Normally, it's Father that puts a stop to all displays of public affection, but the fiend has been increasingly bold and merciless with his teasing as of late. Still, this is just too much.
Maybe this doesn't count enough as public?
At the very least there are no strangers around to face their judgment. The balcony seats provide not only much-needed privacy but it also has a great vantage point. Thick velvet curtains. Extra darkness and extra roomy seats. A silencing charm to help buffer out noise for the viewing pleasures of everyone around.
Perfect for disgusting couples!
"Lookie at funny hat man! Heehee. Very fat lady. Oh! Mama Papa wat dat?! Ooooooh. Oh Lily wanna peepee now."
And families with loud children I guess.
With barely a glance from Father's eyes, a pair of maids steps up to carry Lilyanne from her seat.
There’s my chance!
"I gotta go too!" I pipe up, ready to do anything to escape the vicinity.
Georgie is being a very bad attendant. In fact, he's been ignoring my pain and groans of second-hand embarrassment the whole time. Eyes glued down to the strange opera show below, munching on mixed nuts and rice crackers like it was popcorn.
"I said...I must visit the little girl's powder room." I enunciate again.
Surrounded by his superiors, and of course the Lord and Lady of the house, he cannot mistreat me like a brat to be babysat like he usually does. If I say it's go time, so be it!
The day after the homewrecking incident, my parents didn't show their faces till dinnertime, and they've been extra gross ever since! It was so dangerous that I've had to tie up Lily every time she tried looking to sleep with Mother.
No! No, no, no. No going near the parentals’s bedroom suite! Not anymore!
If they're this bad in public, I just can't risk any of their private spaces.
I'm seriously going to be sick just by breathing the same air that they've polluted. Too much exposure and I will likely die from second-hand embarrassment.
Reluctantly, Georgie gets up from his seat behind mine, to escort my escape. Like a good assistant should.
"Right at the good part..." he sighs.
Once we passed the black space of the curtains, another area for privacy and soundproofing, I tried making a real break for it. If not for the Georgie and the waiting maids, three of them, who have escorted us.
"That is not the way to the nearest chamber station, my young miss." calmly states the eldest tallest maid of the bunch. One who I suspect is really a secret guard in a disguised dress.
It's a little hard to tell them apart in their outerwear headscarves and coverings, looking a bit like informal nuns. But I'm pretty sure she's wearing armor or something down there and those are leather gloves underneath the sleeves. Ladies’ dresses just have a lot of hiding potential.
I would know.
"Yeah Rosa, the...powder room, isn't that way." Georgie teases.
Flanked by the other two maids, demurely and properly nodding their heads low, he gives a very mean girl's impression. It's amazing how much that suits him.
"Fine. Lead the way." I relent.
Together the mean girls' squad escorts my sister and I safely, and without any trouble. It's almost as if they're guarding against our escape than any outside forces. Specifically me.
Other than the nursery assigned maids, I'm not trying to make anyone's jobs much harder. On the contrary. At home, I've wasted my own very precious time to improve everyone's work and living standards.
Cleanliness with soaps, butter churners turned washing machines, the distribution of employee education, local public transportation, better food. Lots of wonderful delicious food being created.
And what thanks do I get? Being treated like a little convicted criminal. Oh for shame.
The ladies’s powder room is well lit and even more well perfumed. Given that many ladies have pages, stewards, even guards following them around, men are allowed in with a separate waiting section.
If Georgie so wishes he may sit back, relax, and pour himself some very diluted wine left out in pitchers for the servants.
One door past and there are the dressing and powder rooms. The scent of perfume and Potpourri growing only stronger. Flowers, both fresh and dried, decorate the space meant for feminine audience goers on the upper floors. Here women may touch up their make-up, perhaps change gowns, anything their delicate little whims desire in the dark privacies of womankind.
Behind that, are seemingly empty rooms. The furniture sparse and a large cabinet holding fine, beautifully painted even porcelain.
If I had come fresh from the modern times, with no cursed memories or special knowledge, I might think it quite odd. Why would anyone place their good china here? Dishes? Pitchers? What are they doing here?
But I'm not. It's a commode.
A.k.a. the cabinet of chamber pots. Pots of piss, or more if need be. The toilet sets and all the extra accessories, of course. We're in the VIP 'powder room'! Everything is clean, spacious, and pristine, even if the plumbing is not a thing. Why there's even an 'out' cabinet, meant for a lady's maid to, uh...place the dirty toilet set after they're all good and finished.
Just put it there and slam the door. Pretend it doesn't exist, until the cleanup staff who probably don't get paid enough comes to do their rounds. Please do not lift the lids, I promise it is not a roast or a casserole or anything like that.
I would like to complain about all modern movies and comics for not including these ... glamorous details.
You know it's not much different than a toddler's trainee potty. Except for the fact they don't really make children's sizes. Thus the need for help. God damn it, can't even use the restroom by myself out here.
15 troublesome minutes later, Lilyanne and I are finished with business and washing our hands in fancy perfumed water running in tiny ornate fountains. The use of magic stones compensating in some aspects of modern life, but obviously not all of it.
"I don't know about you but I don't really wanna go back." I splash at my little sister.
She too seems more amused to be playing in the sink than sitting through the terrible show. My parents I mean. The innocent musicians and actors, as strange as their performance to my senses are, have no faults there.
"Yaya! Let's play!" she cheers, splashing quite loudly. So much so the water easily drenches up to her shoulders.
"Oh no. Lily's dress has gotten so wet." I monotonously start, "Oh no, it sure would be awful, and very very fun, if she went for a swim."
"Swimmy? Swimmy scary." Lilyanne answers back, probably remembering the last time we had adventures in a fountain.
"But this one is so much smaller and shorter. You won't swallow any water if you stand up and or hold big sister's hands. Not unless you open your mouth and start chugging."
"Swimmy lessons? Today? Yaaaaay!"
"That would be inadvisable, my young ladies."
Suddenly, the maids have us picked up in fluffy towels, legs floating in the air. One girl per maid. The tall fake maid doesn't even open her eyes, head slightly bowed as she gestures for them to come along and carry us out.
Once again, my excuses stopped before they even started.
In the waiting room, Georgie fakes being a little lord. Hair gelled back in my pomade wax, waistcoat and tie in my designs, and sneering down on who? Their creator! Oh ho ho getting arrogant now are we?!
"I knew you would try something." he pinches at my cheeks.
"I haven't done a thing." I say quite honestly.
"Not yet. Only because we're watching out. Now come on."
"No. I quite refuse to go through such suffering. It's practically, no it is legitimately child abuse to force Lily and me to witness such a horrid thing."
"....the show wasn't that bad?!"
"I meant my body's gross birth givers. The incubator and donor!!"
He takes a deep breath, gesturing for the maids to release my sister and I back on the ground. Something my sister takes to mean she's free to run around in a circle, or a square. That's more the shape of the room.
"My young mistress Rosalia, the mouthy, Therese Ventrella. You know you could just call them ...oh I don't know...Lilyanne what would you, a good three-year-old child, call YOUR PARENTS?
"Homewrecker!" my sister answers, arms raised in glee.
He takes an even bigger calming breath, silently considering the diluted free wine. But good tastes, due to me spoiling him, makes him decide against it.
"You were saying, Georgie?"
"....crazies, you're all terrible and crazy."
"How dare you. Like a good aide, you should at least pretend to mollify your mistress in front of her face. I shall deduct your beauty bonuses for this week."
"Oh no. Whatever shall I do without you rubbing my face off?"
"It's called exfoliation! I'm only rubbing your excess skin off!"
"There is no excess skin. That's my skin! It doesn't come off!!"
"Shhhhh. Actually, it does~ All the time. Now shhhhhh. You're too youthful and turning out beautifully for early stress lines."
"....did you just threaten to skin me alive, again?"
"Ow ow owwww my cheeks!"
Never before in all of Rosalia's life have I ever faced having such an unruly servant in my household. As I have genuinely advised, they would at least wait till they think I'm out of hearing distance to start shit-talking behind my back. On the front face, a good servant must always appear respectful, reverent even if not fearing for their lives.
Which is why I suppose I'm stuck with Georgie.
He's a little plain. No special skill sets, no great physical strength, no magic, honestly not a lot of potential there even with training. He's a nice boy, I guess, but a pretty normal one.
I suppose that suits me better.
If only I was a main character sort of person. I could wait around and 'save' some extremely handsome foreign almost OP guy with a rippling 6pack or something to make into my personal eye candy servant and kinda bodyguard. Who may be shallowly in love with me as his mistress but knows it was never meant to be, so he holds back his pathetic feelings unhealthily. Yet he can't stop his desperately misdirected feelings of affection due to being touch starved and emotionally constipated. Thus swearing eternal loyalty and devotion to the idea of me, his white moonlight, all his life. Suffering silently while handling everything from the not so shadows as I densely frolic off for a brainless idiot and a toy crown.
Damn it Lilyanne.
Some girls just have all the ....luck? Trouble? Both?
She had like, a little over a handful of harem boys with that kinda backstory. I don't know the official number! There wasn't exactly a roster and sign-in sheet on the Lilyanne reverse harem fan club.
I had to make my own, rank them and it kept updating every week. Ridiculous. The things I do to keep that girl safe.
After all, you never know when a fanboy goes off the rails. Some very overly privileged and stupid men in this era. They don't take rejection very reasonably and therapy and widespread accountability isn't exactly a thing around here.
Right now that oblivious female lead, the flower on the cliff to legions of hearts, is running around a couch laughing her head off.
Oh, she's tripped! And she's back up to giggle and run some more, the maids lightly clapping and cheering her progress in running circles. At least she's stretching her legs?
I'm so glad she's only three because that shit gets really bad in about 10 or so years.
The gods of this world are unfair. Without doing anything, simply existing long enough, 'great', and very stupid, capture target worthy men will simply flock to her side. Without lifting a finger, love, reverence, and respect all come her way. Okay, maybe not that last part.
Meanwhile, I get cheek pulled! By Georgie!
"Wow, my stress is going down just like this! My young mistress is simply amazing! What great stored fats you have?! Such soooooft skin!"
"Unhand me, my face is not for squishing."
"My my my it is as soft as yeasted dough. What they say is right, after all, you are what you eat. And my young miss is full of squishy goodness. Honeybuns. Brioche loaves. Pizza. Pudding. Hmmm. "
My poor face. This is simply child abuse. Also, stop talking. I'm getting hungry.
"You're not giving me muuuuuch choice here."
Patting my mochi cheeks with some rose water and lotion, Georgie releases me just barely.
"Now listen, Rosa, I get it. We all do. Small children just aren't ready to appreciate the finer things in life. "
"I am full of finery, excuse you. I, Rosalia, am made of fine expensive things. "
"Of course little princess complainy, of course. But operas and such shows are not for small kids and I don't know why people bother bringing them? You're bored out of your mind and your little legs are restless from sitting still. I mean just look."
Despite the very badly influenced insult, that I see he's picked up. How dare Yuna and Georgie agree on such a terrible mockery, of all the things the babysitters agree on. I see the point of the rest of this statement. Kids just aren't meant for public shows. The opera or a ballet especially.
Something can be beautiful and you still just won't like it.
That and kids get restless easy.
Which is probably what my sister feels, having given up running to hop on the cushions. The maids still falsely clapping and cheering her on for doing...nothing. Well, at least she's getting all that hyper energy out.
Even without the gross situation that is my daily life with a lovey-dovey couple, I would like to stretch my legs. I'm a human child, not a ball-jointed wooden doll. All the physical functions, and defects, of a real child, come with it.
"So, since it must be very hard for our tiny and cute little mistresses."
"You're really pushing it, Georgie."
"Especially young miss Rosalia, we shall allow you about 10 minutes to run around free in the waiting room. Followed by a snack. Then we can return to our seats."
".....I shall accept the snack immediately. I will simply take a long time to eat!"
"Yes yes, as do all children. But first."
Georgie gestures to my blessed beautiful little sister, hopping from one sofa to another. A maid playing dead on the sofa. Another playing damsel in distress on another sofa. Even the secret guard half lays on an ottoman, play-acting.
The problem is they're all doing it emotionlessly monotone. The acting is so terrible it's actually good in some comedic parody way.
"My lady. Please. You must.. cough cough, go on without me. Go."
"Oh cough cough cough. I am melting. Good. Bye. Cruel world."
"Lily savie you!"
"No.... The holy grail. You must. Cough blood splurt splurt. You must save the wooooorld. Takes last breath and dies."
You know Matilda? Usually, people don't say their actions and stage directions out loud. You physically pretend to cough, not say 'cough cough cough'. The maid 'crying' for help is doing it with a dead fish-eyed look and sounds like a bad recording. Honestly, the best actress is the one playing dead. She's doing a wonderful job just lying there.
"Actually, I think I like this play better." I decide.
"It's actually not so bad." Georgie agrees with me, handing me back my purse.
After the short show of Lilyanne saving the 'world' by finally reaching a bowl of potpourri and bringing everyone back to life by throwing it over them, we can move on to snack time.
Now that there's no perceived risk of us running off, especially not with food on the line, Lilyanne and I are allowed to walk on our own two feet. All the way to the bar lounge.
Children? At the bar?
Well, it's honestly no big deal when it's more a lounge than anything. Not like anyone is here to stop us.
During intermission or after the show, this place will be filled with people. Sipping on their spirits, having a bit of refreshment and conversation over a light and overpriced meal perhaps.
But right now, it's as empty as a private VIP club. Just the way a lady like me deserves.
"A private table?" the host at a podium asks, leaning us past the stylized bars to the seats.
"We won't take long," Georgie replies "our young misses do need to get back to the Lord and Lady but, you know how little ones get."
"But of course. We offer a nursery section if so needed. "
While the waiter behind him lists off the nursery corner like it's a coat rack for rich ppl to leave their fussy kids, I take up a very tall seat and try to read the menu. Might as well enjoy some local fine rip-offs. Hmmm, what's special around here?
"Georgie, I'd like a pitcher of the red currant juice. The lamb shank polenta. The tripe wrapped white asparagus. A truffle risotto. Lastly, a seared bone-in steak, served blue. "
"And a seasonal cheese and fruit tart for the child. Does anyone else want something? "
The young waiter behind the mustached host drops his tray along with his jaw. How unprofessional. At least, he shut up about throwing me into the nursery.
"Ahahahahaha! Uh good job!!! Our young miss ordered wonderfully! Sounds soooooo grown up because you practiced sooooo hard?! She did wonderfully right!?!" Georgie clamors about like a sweating fool.
Like a bad comedy, the maids start lightly clapping like an audience laugh track. Nodding along in rhythm with empty praises towards me before saying what's really in their hearts.
"Vino Blanco. Veloute de Chataignes, substitute the toasts for crepes."
"The house risotto and la coteletto. House vino"
"A clotted cream aperitivo and the vitello tonnato on the side.
No shame nor hesitation in placing their orders, all on my parents' dime. What maids would dare! Aha! More evidence they're fake maids. That or very unconventional ones after staying with my mother for too long.
Maybe my family in general....
Number one is foreign! Her accent in ordering what is essentially silky french chestnut cream soup impeccable. Unfortunately, that's just Vedette and we all know Father hired her from across the borders to help Mother practice...many things. Very dainty and ladylike. Probably not a secret guard if she somehow kept it a secret from the original for all those years.
Sure, she was almost convicted of murdering her husband back there at age 17 but in these times, that's so many women. Old news.
Number two's order is protein and carbs focused! The mushroom melody risotto, the veal cutlets battered and deep-fried with hearty sides. It's so much heavy food! No ordinary maid could handle it! Isnada has a younger face but I bet she's packing some heavy-hitting muscles down there! Her frame is much heavier but does not jiggle, I can only tell there's a lower strong core to her. A very reasonable mid-level chance she's a guard in disguise!
Last but not least Matilda! My top most likely to be a secret guard in disguise.
Who honestly ordered a very light and common cocktail and nibbles. A lovely choice on the chilled veal in tuna caper sauce, it's wonderfully in season BUT I don't yet know what suspicious conclusions I can make from that. I know the truth is out there!!!
I'm doing detective work. Ohohohoho.
Also, Georgie are you quite done?
".....that will be all. " he sighs.
Oh, it's so hard being a toddler. No one takes you seriously if you're not stupid and cute.
"Ahem, right away. Please forgive the improper display, he's new. What a wonderfully well spoken young miss this household has raised. The Lord and Lady must be very proud." the host respectfully bows, subtly kicking the waiter to get on with the orders.
Immediately, the experienced old host acts getting our comfort and orders assured. Though he does not know exactly which house from which we hail. The middle-aged man clearly understands we're extremely wealthy and powerful to have such confident tasteful maids and an educated small young lady.
It will be quite a long while to train Abbey up to even barely acceptable standards for public appearances. But I suppose there's something charming about her sincerity, clumsy as it may be.
Like Georgie, I suppose it suits me better. It will do for now.
Right now, the lounge and much space everywhere are quite empty. Of course, there are a few people passing for whatever reason, much like in any theater during showtime. Some servants running errands. A child here or there with their nanny that also needed a potty break. That kinda creepy old man at the bar drinking down lime cocktails like they were going out of fashion. A giggling young couple hurriedly rushing out downstairs to their carriage outside, all over each other in a way that's hardly gross compared to my own parents.
So much to see in a theater, quite entertaining.
While I do find it odd that downstairs patrons, most likely well off commoners in the cheaper audience seats, would waste their time and money leaving halfway, who can control such matters?
A theater date gone right too soon? Is someone getting lucky tonight? Oh youth. How illicitly scandalous. Oh ho ho ho~
But the food comes one after another and I am very thoroughly distracted. Oh boy, supper snacks!
Georgie and I spent an indecent amount of time tasting and analyzing our plates. Something we immediately share. He may complain a lot but I know his taste buds! As he does mine, it's his duty as my jr. chef.
Luckily we're quite compatible as chef and mistress if anything.
Ordering a lot to share and try is the fun of eating out. I haven't been able to do that much...at all. Not in this life.
But prior to the whole getting poofed into another world baby, I loved eating out! I had platinum status on my dining out apps! My scathing reviews were highly followed even more so than my good ones. I had a deliciously earned reputation and the freebies that came with it!
While I had little problems dragging along someone to eat with me, after all, who says no to good food, in the last couple of years ...before that whole dying thing, I would say my MVP partner in foodie crime was....my project manager? Along with my coworkers, if they were around?
Damn, work really did take over my life.
Not like I had much of one anyway. I probably would have just lugged along someone from the old bar. In the end, everything sources back to a place of work. A little depressing.
Bossman for tasting drinks. Someone else for cheaper drinks. All you can eat, family dinners all over the place, the newbies, even all the times I ended up just taking out J.J. Ah, I spoiled that kid too much when he was young.
At work, despite the whole age and superior power difference, constant late deadline scolding, and ever-present pressure of juggling projects, Yao and I were really compatible happy hour and take out buddies.
Also sometimes a girl just needs to get her grilled intestines and chicken feet dim sum cravings down without judgment. Chinese food for life. Eat everything. Absolutely everything. Great food culture I came from, might have impacted me for life...or lives.
Ah good meals though, especially during happy hour. So many yummy things to try on the company's time and dime. Not a bad partner in crime to have.
I think he would have liked all this, anyone would. Italian food is also extremely tasty. Especially the expensive stuff, mmmmm.
"Georgie.... this truffle is passable."
"It's so simple but for the blend of cheese...I could do a better job myself...but so good....this stupid mushroom."
"We should make our own when the prime season hits! Did you know we can use Amar's nose as a truffle pig? We could gather so many."
What?! What is that disapproving look for? It's an opportunity that shouldn't be wasted!
Perhaps, we stare a little too longingly at Isnada's meat cutlet until finally she gives up and cuts us a piece.
Mmmm! Cotletta is so good! A seemingly fancy thinner version of a beloved dish in my memory that many people love.
It's a type of veal Katsu! A somewhat familiar texture and taste, but an entirely different eating experience. So tasty! I'm glad that across time and space, humanity has figured out they like tenderized meat, breadcrumb coated, and fried to juicy crispy perfection.
My manager liked katsu. My brother liked katsu. Jung-Joon liked katsu rice. Man, why was it so popular? The magic of fried foods? Practically everyone liked katsu.
"Yummy Rosa?" my sister drools, staring at how Georgie and I squeal and crunch down. The poor maid staring down at her diminishing meat plate with dead fish eyes.
We ended up ordering another plate of cotletta. Everyone just likes breaded and fried chops ok!
It was honestly a pleasant enough time, avoiding going back to my awful, horrible, immensely disgusting par-
I would like to return to my precious parents and their familial affections now. Let's go.
But it's too late. The maids have grabbed me once again before I could make a run for it. Bowing low they all greet....the stupid prince.
At the opera hall, a chance meeting. A royal prince in all his evening finery, with his impressive entourage, suddenly running into his fated lady and her painfully dying sister.
Except add in the tiny detail that we're tinier kids, and that entourage is the maids and nannies accompanying said kids on their potty breaks!
Just throw me off the balcony. Do it. I can survive. I've been through worse falls. Just fling me away from here.
"What are you doing here!?" the little prince of rocks and stupidity toddles up to us, ignoring his train of maids right behind.
Why I'm here for a public swim and to apply for a job in the kitchens. See, I was inspired by the taste of veal cutlets and No! Why ever would anyone be at the opera during a show?!
The oh so wise young prince is dressed in, what I must say, is the stupidest puffy sleeves and capelet. Why are you even wearing a little cape? We're indoors? His hair behind the feathered fluffy hat is slicked back so much with wax that it looks like he's a tight eyed bald baby. Making his fat white bulging cheeks even more prominent. When he walks, it makes the click-clack sound of tiny little heels, probably giving him a greater height advantage if I were on the ground.
"His royal highness, Prince Erik Wief Hohenstaufen Heinrich, has graced your party with a question." an impudent maid speaks up.
Slap her. Go on fake maids, and Vedette, go slap her silly.
But they are not mind readers and even if I did say that out loud, they would not do so.
As the eldest senior in the party, Matilda curtsies and answers properly on our behalf. The standard procedures blah blah blah. Behind the stupid prince, his maids give a tense cold stare off. I'm sure there's a maid battle going on. The realistic thinly veiled with words kind, not the sexy slapping kind.
"Why are you out! Are you feeling better? Don't go out if you're sick, stay inside and be healthy enough to grow up!"
The silent maid battle flies over the arrogant little prince's head, despite his high heels.
"...." I look over to Georgie, eyes imploring for help.
It would be unwise to uh be myself in this situation. Should I play like I'm dying again?
"Who dat?! Hi hi! I'm Lily! And dit is my Rosa! We likey cheese. '' Lilyanne swings her feet in Isnada's hold, waving her little hands in hello. Taking over the situation naturally.
Wait...she doesn't remember him. At all?!
Wow, this love story is going great. Where's my rice cracker popcorn?
"You don't know who I am?!" points the prince, exclaiming in kiddy indignation.
"Hmmmm ummmm....homewrecker!" Lilyanne caws out, her new favorite word apparently.
"What?!! No, we met before!"
"Homewrecker?! Dis one has fat funny hat, funny hat heehee. "
"How-how dare you-"
"Aaaand faaat face like fat lady. Heee hee. Oh. Ohhhhh not home wrecker. Ohhhh. "
Turning to me, she nods in understanding and her own conclusions. The mystery of her developing mind making all sorts of new connections I never could have conceived.
"Big bruders Amar and Yuna are home wreckers." she purposefully tilts her head as she cutely frames her face with her hands. The angelic face imitating both named boys in their own way, from Amar's sleepy smile to Yuna's grumpy pout. Not bad for her age. All before turning truly sour. "Hmmmm big bruder owie Lukas too," she growls as if remembering her own mother being stolen.
The wound still too fresh I see.
I have nothing to say to that, so I simply smile and nod at her in praise. Good Lilyanne. Let's not like boys. Yes, boys are gross and dirty and if you dare pick up a harem, I shall sick Father on you. That should help deter things.
"Wh-what?!!! Who are those!? The...But I- I- I'm a bigger better homewrecker!" the ugliest dressed prince trembles, not understanding a thing but not taking well to being ignored.
"Nooooooooooo'' Lily points back and over to Georgie, "bigger homewrecker! Much bigger. You a funny egg head, heeehee, fat lady face. "
Sister dear, I do so love you, as silly as you are. We're working on it in general, but please keep antagonizing your beloved stupid prince.
Bowed on the sidelines, Georgie returns my look with a pleading one of his own. He didn't expect to be named, let alone like that. Now the tiny royal angrily pouts, stomping his foot as he glares into Georgie's direction.
Why didn't we escape faster earlier? Why? His blank brown eyes tell me he wasn't expecting anything like this and now he knows.
"You! Lowly serf! Don't think just because you're a big kid that....OH! I challenge you to duel for the honor of who is the bigger homewrecker! I, prince Er-Aaack!"
While dashing prince Erik continues to own himself bigger than any fool on stage, the dark silent aura of his governess comes up to whack him in the back of the neck into silence and submission.
Good. Because I was going to order Georgie to slap him maid style.
"It appears, the children are simply too excited to play." she coldly excuses, catching the dizzy prince, her face porcelain and stone.
"Yes. Tis the nature of children. " Matilda agrees.
"Can't be helped."
"We bid thee a pleasant evening."
"And to thee."
Every maid reciting the general agreement in various tones of voice.
Like a showdown stalemate, they curtsy and breeze past each other. Backs straight, skirts, scarves, and jewels flashing in the silent battle that all women know too well. Even Georgie gets in on the fun! Left-right left right and hiiiips, pose!
They must walk and strut very carefully. One wrong move and it very well could end up in a show worthy mean girls maid fight.
But that doesn't happen. Slapping fights don't happen every day, shame.
"Bu-but -" the stupid prince tries putting up a fight as his governess carries him away. If I bothered looking behind me I might even see sad blue eyes staring as his lost baby lady love. Too bad, so sad.
"Lilyanne....do you remember that one?"
"Ummmm, dat Isnada!" she points up to the maid carrying her. Eyes expectant at me to praise her for getting the answer right.
It's more than expected, that if not present or seen in a regular sense, a small child would easily forget things or people. The boy who 'played' with crabs and her a year ago is completely wiped out. Even if this terrible tragic comedy is inevitable in the long term, for now they know nothing. And there's little to no Prince Erik in Lilyanne's innocent mind.
"Lily...there's no need to remember the fatty egg head ok? "
"Heeehee the big fat pretty lady sing laaaaaaa hoooooolaaalala!~"
"Yes. Yes that is...uh, exactly how the opera singer went. Wonderful job Lily. But try words next?"
"Laaaalaaaa~ Singy a song dat we don't know, let's sing it...ummmmaahhhhhhhhhhhh an oooooooo!"
It's 'let's sing it high and sing it low', that’s what I tried teaching her for vocal control. Ah, my poor ears.
In the future, Lilyanne's voice is most closely labeled as a soprano. Her harp wasn't her only instrument. A voice like the calling of angels, so the masses praised. A siren of purity yet borderline temptation the fanboys described.
Oh cringe much?
Now don't get me wrong, she made a wonderful soprano. Would not fail any choir auditions, especially with lungs stronger than you expect from her weak frame. But anything really special? Hmmm, my modern senses say no
These people have never heard of oh say any internationally renowned pop or rock star, ever? Talk to me when someone starts bopping. They don't make much music out of common tone or scores?!
Hell, the piano hasn't even been invented, thus why I am trapped with the trashcan torture that is the harpsichord.
I have been forced to start practicing again. Ugh awful.
At least, I don't sing and dance on command like the trained monkey that is my sister. Puppy? When do I get a human to deal with? Do I have to wait till she's...5? Puberty?
While I was deep in thought, the maids and Georgie carrying us back to the auditorium, a strange commotion started going on. Theatre employees were rushing out and around as if a mass fire had erupted, which it didn't. No smoke or anything of the sort. But a mass panic nonetheless. With the audience still all inside, none the wiser.
"She couldn't have gotten far! Find her! Find her!!!"
Some angry authoritative figures, panicking backstage employees, a missing girl. Can it be? A runaway actress?!
"But they've stolen the 8 horse rider carriage!"
"How would you all let them?!"
"The next act begins in 13 minutes sir! What do we do?!"
"The understudy! Where is she?!"
"That was the understudy! The prima donna has laryngitis!"
"The under understudy!"
"Does that position even exist?"
"Cursed couple. Oh, love simply ruins everything!!!"
Amen sister. Or whoever said that.
On the sidelines, our little party has taken a step back to avoid the commotion. All for safety of course. We're not shamelessly eavesdropping or anything.
Oh, who am I kidding? This is great!
"Georgie, I have decided I much prefer this show."
"You know.....it's a horrible thing to happen of course!....And actually not all that bad."
He is tempted. Sorely tempted in the same vein that ignores me to watch funky operas and dramatizes things to the point the Rosalia Translation Filter System has to come into play. In a way, he's no better than the gossipy young maids back at home. It just needs to be good gossip and oh boy, isn't this just exciting?
"When the pathway clears, we shall escort the young ladies back." Matilda says, eyes not even open.
"Awwww. Booo." I express.
"Well, I guess that's that." Georgie reluctantly goes along with it, his duties and orders more important than the great show going on outside the theatre hall.
Well until then, we can watch a bit longer. It really is a better show.
I wonder what shall happen to the eloping understudy? Or what the panicking staff and theater director will do in say a little over 10 minutes. Problem. Intensifier. Plots, oh all the makings of a decent story. Bravo real life, bravo.
But the climax of this tale has yet to come. Not without....
"Bwahahahahaha! You think you can just leave like that! With some wet eared nobody! I made you, Mia! You're mine, Mia! Always mine!!!"
Out of nowhere, the bar lounge we were previously dining at erupts in a mild but dramatic explosion of chairs and tables. The creepy drunk old man laughing maniacally on the balcony.
The real crashing explosions come. An 8 horse chariot sized one, running through the grand front doors! Great screaming coming from not only surprised staff all around but the supposed 'Mia', trapped in the carriage as it rides through the hall and drops down the stairs underground. Crazed old man jumping down the grand staircase to ride the tails of it.
Oh, great effects. The drama! The intrigue! The pizzazz. Now, this is theater!
I am so entertained right now.
"So um, I don't think the way will clear anytime soon?" I pipe up to everyone's silent stares at the new and improved stage.
Great first Act everyone. I look forward to Act 2 and the ending of this story. Highly rated. The food was pretty decent too. Other guests, meh. 4.5/5 stars everyone.