When It Rains It Pours {Garnet}

[OLIVER SAMUEL DAVIES]

When it rains it pours and opens doors
And floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry
And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into the ones we love
That have to say goodbye
~Train

It was probably a bad idea.

Oliver was standing in the only semi-dry place in the entire world. At least, that was what it felt like.

"When I said I missed water, this wasn't what I meant..."

He grumbled to himself, pressing his back against the cold brick walls and trying not to shiver quite so pathetically. It was easier said than done. Icy rain poured from grey skies with a vengance, swirling into puddles in the streets and soaking right through his clothes. It streamed from the eaves and spilled over their troughs and it would have squelched in his shoes had he had shoes to wear.

Desperate for warmth and dryness didn't even begin to describe it.

He appeared to simply be taking a respite from the rain, but Oliver was watching the doors of the theatre very closely. In part, because he truly did want to get warm. In another part, because he was curious. He hadn't ever been inside a theatre in his life, and he was going to take this chance.

Ah, there.

The first people began emerging after the show, and Oliver slipped inside un-noticed.

He didn't get far before he was spotted, a surly guard who stopped him and asked what he was doing. With a shrug and a reply of "message for the master", Oliver slipped past him and kept going, acting like he'd been here all his life. The guard let him go. Who, after all, would bother to question a servant on a mission?

The halls were dim but not unwelcoming and it wasn't much warmer in here but at least it wasn't raining anymore, though Oliver was sure he was leaving a trail of muddy water behind him.

At least his face and hair would be clean from all that rain. His clothes too.

He would take nothing from here. Not today. He would make sure he got to know the place, figured out whether it was worth the trouble or not when there were surely many easier places to break into and out of with a successful loot for the amount of trouble. It never hurt to know, though. So Oliver wandered the halls, poking his head into doors and apologizing to one actor he nearly walked in on naked.

The next door he tried was unlocked, and it opened to what appeared to be a sort of dressing room. It was warmer here than the halls, if only just, and Oliver let his guard down enough to take a moment to look around.

After all, what were the chances someone would be coming back here in the next couple of minutes?

[GARNET NOEL HARGREAVES]

[atrb=background,http://i53.tinypic.com/28m240.jpg][atrb=style,border: 4px solid #FFFFFF;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,480,true] [style=margin-top: 3px; width: 80%; text-align: left; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -2px; font-style: italic; padding: 18 4 4 12; color: #676767; text-shadow: #cbcbcb 2px 2px 4px; border-bottom: 3px solid #c6c6c6; line-height: 20px; text-transform: uppercase;]VIOLATED, SO DEGRADED[/style][style=background-color: #FFFFFF; width: 312; padding: 4 4 3 4; margin: 3px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8;] [/style][style=width: 80%; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 15px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -1px; font-style: italic; padding: 4 12 8 4; color: #a2a2a2; text-shadow: #cfcfcf 2px 2px 4px; border-top: 3px solid #c6c6c6; line-height: 10px; text-transform: uppercase;]THIS WILL MAKE YOU ULTRANUMB[/style] [style=background-color: #ffffff; width: 80%; font-size: 10px; line-height: 16px; color: #585858; padding: 4 12 4 12; text-align: justify; border-bottom: 3px solid #c6c6c6; border-top: 3px solid #c6c6c6; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8;]It was the first day rehearsing Hamlet. Garnet had played the part of Ophelia before, but it had been two years before, and now he was reprising his role. Of course, he only played female roles and was often cast as the female lead when they decided to run productions of plays meant to be played with an entirely male cast. Except, unlike in the Elizabethan Age when females had been barred from performing, these productions were meant to draw a very niche group. He made his way back to his dressing room in his large ballgown, nodding to the artists and guards who acknowledged him. The females turned their noses up, and some of the males still thought he was a freak for his appearance, but there were some who showed him kindness. He could only offer hesitant smiles back. In truth, his mind was racing- he was trying to come up with a plan. In just two weeks, he planned to sneak a man he hardly knew into these walls. How was he going to pull off such a feat? As he reached his door, he was stopped for a moment only to be told that it was raining outside and none of the actors and actresses were permitted out for fear they would catch death. He shuddered at the thought- some of the actors had died of consumption the previous winter, and there was worry that it could happen again. So far, he had managed to evade the dreaded cough, but he worried that he may not for very long. At least he had a fireplace in his room. Not only that, but he had a private room. He would quickly go and warm the fire, curl up in some blankets, and sleep the rest of the day away. He was exhausted from the seemingly nonstop rehearsals and would enjoy a nice day of rest. He hung his head and opened the door, closing it before he noticed an intruder. He sighed and began to work at the fixtures in his hair to get them down, eyes closed. He had just gotten it down and let his hair fall down his back when he opened his eyes. He let out a sharp gasp of surprise and jumped back, hand going to his chest. "Wh-who are you?" he asked in a bewildered, frightened voice. No one had ever just appeared in his dressing room out of no where! Perhaps he was a new worker unaccustomed to the rules, yes, that had to be it. He couldn't let himself become frightened over what ifs. The guards were right outside anyways, he could turn and call for help. "What are you doing in my room? The worker bunks are upstairs..." Words: 570 Tag: Oliver Notes: Woo! Garnet gets to interact with someone else![/style] [style=width: 80%; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -1px; font-style: italic; padding: 4 12 8 18; color: #676767; text-shadow: #cfcfcf 2px 2px 4px; line-height: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-bottom: 15px;]by pademelon of on the edge![/style]

[OLIVER SAMUEL DAVIES]

The room was small, but nice, and warm. Warm enough to make Oliver sleepy after being out in the cold and the rain. Far warmer than his room in the inn.

His fingers brushed makeup and costumes, the rim of the glass mirror...

What a life could he have had, if he didn't have the one he had?

Nostalgia and wistfulness were not emotions Oliver was prone to, but when they did hit, they hit hard. He could blame it on the weather, on his wet clothes and the feeling that the dampness that sat deep in his bones would never quite dry completely.

He wished for ships and horizons, the steady roll of waves and the taste of salt air on his tongue. He longed for a warm hearth and maybe even a friend.

He was startled out of his wistfulness by a shocked voice, and spun to face the woman who he presumed owned the room he was in.

"I-I'm sorry."

His voice came out soft and smooth, gaze dropped just below eye contact though he studied the woman surreptitiously. His shoulders were slumped, no aggression or dominance in his body language. He would not challenge authority, no, he was no threat.

"I was looking f-for someone."

The stutter was manufactured, of course. Oliver had no trace of a genuine stutter, his natural voice flowed low with calm confidence and eloquence.

"G-got lost, miss, didn't mean t'interrupt."

Oliver shifted from foot to foot, acutely aware that he was dripping muddy water on the floor and that his bare feet were vaguely the same colour as the cobblestones outside, so covered with dirt he barely remembered the colour they were naturally. He dug his hands into his pockets and sighed a shaky sigh, giving his head a small flip to flick his sodden fringe out of his dark green eyes.

"I-it's lovely warm in here, miss. 'm a m-might bit cold..."

He trailed off, pulling on the heartstrings of this beautifully dressed woman. His dark, expressionless face disguised the fact that he was assessing her closely for the value robbing her would present him with.

[GARNET NOEL HARGREAVES]

[atrb=background,http://i53.tinypic.com/28m240.jpg][atrb=style,border: 4px solid #FFFFFF;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,480,true] [style=margin-top: 3px; width: 80%; text-align: left; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -2px; font-style: italic; padding: 18 4 4 12; color: #676767; text-shadow: #cbcbcb 2px 2px 4px; border-bottom: 3px solid #c6c6c6; line-height: 20px; text-transform: uppercase;]VIOLATED, SO DEGRADED[/style][style=background-color: #FFFFFF; width: 312; padding: 4 4 3 4; margin: 3px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8;] [/style][style=width: 80%; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 15px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -1px; font-style: italic; padding: 4 12 8 4; color: #a2a2a2; text-shadow: #cfcfcf 2px 2px 4px; border-top: 3px solid #c6c6c6; line-height: 10px; text-transform: uppercase;]THIS WILL MAKE YOU ULTRANUMB[/style] [style=background-color: #ffffff; width: 80%; font-size: 10px; line-height: 16px; color: #585858; padding: 4 12 4 12; text-align: justify; border-bottom: 3px solid #c6c6c6; border-top: 3px solid #c6c6c6; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8;]Garnet grew suspicious when he was told that he was searching for someone. Why would have someone directed him here? He couldn't help but think it was some sort of cruel joke- maybe someone had seen him with the poor artist outside and wanted to show him just what sort of friendship that would end up as. He wouldn't put it past the man that had taken him in to do such a thing. "Well, you won't find them here, this is my room," He went to one of the drawers and pulled out the slacks and ruffled shirt he would wear now that he wasn't on stage. "And I'm not a girl," he frowned, then. He hated having to explain that fact to people and then seeing their reactions, but he supposed he should be used to it by now. However, he half expected most of the people that were in or knew about the theatre to be familiar with that fact. "We are rehearsing for a Shakespearian drama. Hamlet, have you heard of it? In his time, it was customary for boys to play the roles of girls," his voice was light and smooth and did nothing to help the fact that some confused his gender. He went to his dresser and took out a dry cloth and began to rub away the heavy stage make-up. He hated how thick and damp it felt on his face. He noticed, as he walked by, the water dripping on the floor. He'd have to find someone to clean it up- he may not have the luxuries the real female primadonnas had, but at least he had the privacy of his own room and people to clean and tidy for him as they did other male leads. Had he been more willing to "perform" for clients in "private", he would have had considerable more luxury, or so he was told, but he was content in the little room with the fireplace and necessities. Unfortunately for Oliver, Garnet didn't have much to his person. Everything, including his allowance, went through his father. He had a few coins hidden away for little trips he took out to the market. And, of course, he had some flowers from admirers, unopened letters, perfumes, and silly little trinkets for his hair, but nothing of real substance. "Would you mind turning away? I would like to change," He looked at Oliver pointedly as he raised the ruffled shirt. Just because he wasn't a girl didn't mean he didn't want his privacy. He paused, thoughtful. "Shouldn't you be trying to find your friend..?" Words: (Not Sure, a lot?) Tag: Oliver Notes: Suspicious, but still too innocent to actually kick him out.[/style] [style=width: 80%; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -1px; font-style: italic; padding: 4 12 8 18; color: #676767; text-shadow: #cfcfcf 2px 2px 4px; line-height: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-bottom: 15px;]by pademelon of on the edge![/style]

[OLIVER SAMUEL DAVIES]

"My apologies."

Oliver's curiosity had been piqued, and now he was more concerned with the information he could gather than the riches he could take. It wouldn't be worth the risk now, fortunately for Garnet, to pick his pockets. The other had seen enough of his face to recognize him, had heard his voice -however disguised- and would be able to pick him out of a crowd. All of which made stealing from him a highly unintelligent thing to do.

"You-"

Oliver blinked in surprise, studying Garnet with far more attention to detail when he was informed that this was not, in fact, a female.

"My apologies, sir."

He said again, keeping to the persona of a servant, however lost and sodden, he was respectful to the imaginary masters and all he came in contact with. It wouldn't do to be too confident, after all.

"I haven't, I'm afraid."

Oliver, though educated, had never been exposed to much fiction. His father hadn't had the patience for it, and Miles had simply thought it useless. There had always been something more important for him to learn. Arithmetic. Navigation. Fighting techniques.

Watching the other male remove the makeup from his face sent Oliver's thoughts on another train entirely. Now that was something he could use. It would be easier to appear different with the aid of makeup, to subtley alter the appearance of his face so that he wouldn't be recognized...

He stashed that thought away in the back of his mind for later. Later, when he could wander the market and figure out exactly where to get his hands on something like that, if he even could, and if it would be worth the trouble it could be to get it.

"Oh, y-yes of course."

Oliver turned his back without hesitation, though the motion heightened all of his senses. He was uneasy with his back to someone he did not know, as it gave them a perfect opening to attack him. However, he didn't wish to appear rude and had no real interest in seeing the other undress, so he stayed turned and hoped that if the man in a dress decided to attack him, he wouldn't be as quick as Oliver. His fingers twitched, just once, an instinctive itching to have a weapon in his hand in such a position of vulnerability.

"My message is not one of extreme importance."

Oliver shrugged it off. He hadn't been acting like a servant on a hurried mission, after all, dallying around and exploring trivial things. He'd get to it when it suited him as a ready made excuse to take his leave.

"What is your name?"

[GARNET NOEL HARGREAVES]

[atrb=background,http://i53.tinypic.com/28m240.jpg][atrb=style,border: 4px solid #FFFFFF;][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,480,true] [style=margin-top: 3px; width: 80%; text-align: left; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -2px; font-style: italic; padding: 18 4 4 12; color: #676767; text-shadow: #cbcbcb 2px 2px 4px; border-bottom: 3px solid #c6c6c6; line-height: 20px; text-transform: uppercase;]VIOLATED, SO DEGRADED[/style][style=background-color: #FFFFFF; width: 312; padding: 4 4 3 4; margin: 3px; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8;] [/style][style=width: 80%; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 15px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -1px; font-style: italic; padding: 4 12 8 4; color: #a2a2a2; text-shadow: #cfcfcf 2px 2px 4px; border-top: 3px solid #c6c6c6; line-height: 10px; text-transform: uppercase;]THIS WILL MAKE YOU ULTRANUMB[/style] [style=background-color: #ffffff; width: 80%; font-size: 10px; line-height: 16px; color: #585858; padding: 4 12 4 12; text-align: justify; border-bottom: 3px solid #c6c6c6; border-top: 3px solid #c6c6c6; opacity: 0.8; -moz-opacity: 0.8;]Admittedly, Garnet was surprised when the other boy admitted to never having heard of it before. He couldn't imagine life without theatre, but that was, perhaps, because he had grown up in it. Truth be told, he didn't remember much of life with his parents. But in reality, it was fortunate for him that he couldn't really recall much of the incident that had claimed his parents lives, at least, not consciously. Certainly, nightmares tore him apart at night, but when he woke, he couldn't even really recall them. Submersing himself in the lives and personalities of his characters was somewhat of a reprieve for him. He didn't have to think about his own existence on the stage, and he could live out the life of someone much different than he, though he had been shown recently that he may not have been as different from them as he would have liked to have thought. He was naive and easily persuaded by kind and gentle words. He would be the type to fall in love and die a tragic death for it. He stepped out of the dress and began to fiddle with the underskirt. Finally, he pulled his shirt on and his slacks up. "Thank you," he said once he was done and resumed looking in the mirror to wipe off the rest of his make-up and pull his hair back. Unfortunately, it did little to help his appearance. He looked like a tall female, and that was that. His delicate bone structure and pouty lips along with his very thin, lithe frame were the main contributors, even the way he carried himself. But that could have been a side effect of playing so many female roles. He had to know how to convincingly play one. "My name? My name is Garnet- Garnet Hargreaves. It's very nice to meet you," he gave the other a sweet, sincere smile. Of course, the sincerity of actors could always be questioned, but Garnet was good at what he did for a reason- he never faked his emotion. When he was a character, he truly became them and felt as they would feel. It was one of the reasons the owner of Bryton Theatre continued to try to get him to open his doors, but as long as he could refuse, he would. It was a thought continuously on his mind, and he still couldn't help but be worried that this was what this boy was sent here to do- to unnerve him or convince him otherwise. But judging by the thick accent and poor attire, the boy was of no wealth. Garnet spoke with more finesse of the upper class, but he was taught in it. He hated to admit that sometimes, the poor dialect confused him with their lack of annunciation and colloquial terms and phrases. "What's yours?" he asked as he folded his clothes and began to put them away. Words: 515 Tag: Oliver Notes: Suspicious, but still too innocent to actually kick him out.[/style] [style=width: 80%; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: -1px; font-style: italic; padding: 4 12 8 18; color: #676767; text-shadow: #cfcfcf 2px 2px 4px; line-height: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; margin-bottom: 15px;]by pademelon of on the edge![/style]