It felt like time just dragged on once Vyra had agreed to help out. It was not a job that she wanted, and she felt that it was just insulting more than anything else, to suggest htat despite what she had gone through, the limited amount of her story that she told being a small fraction and yet grossly outweighing any sort of plight that these people may have once suffered under, she was frustrated, no way to deny or hide that fact. But, she opted to remain and help the development of the play, which much to her shock was something that was nearly finished with.
It seemed that that was the only thing that had been missing were Vyra’s influence, her story and being able to properly translate it into something that actors could make tangible. As the play seemed upon the eave of opening, Vyra had still yet to find out who it was that she was going to be helping, and yet, the man who she had approached had insisted that she remain, despite her wishes to be done with all of this. After a while, she wondered if she would have anything to do with this, and then she saw her.
A woman, perhaps no older than Vyra was, there being little difference in appearance between her and Vyra when all was considered. And yet, there was something that was off. Her clothes were hastily put on, her hair was disheveled, she was panting, and she emerged from the small office room that he had been preparing the show in. Shortly after she left, he emerged from the room, glancing over to Vyra, having an evil look for a moment but not before smiling. He stated to her that that woman was going to be the lead of the show and she was to tell her of her story. He walked away then, and her eyes went glossy for a moment as she returned to focus.
The voice and consciousness within her put together everything far faster than Vyra stood to have. Knowing the bruises that littered her body, it was only fitting that if this man was intent on getting sexual favors from potential actresses, then that would be the last time that he would be finding work for himself. Controlling Vyra’s body, the personality lounged about for a while, waiting for the show to come near opening. Then, when everyone was gathered about waiting, Vyra stormed the crowd, crying rape at the director, showing the bruises that “he” had inflicted upon her. It was not true, none of it, but in the immediacy of what she was doing, the woman who was expected to be the actress also cried foul. Between both of them, it was not long until the crowd turned against the man, killing whatever hope that there may have been for the man to build a career in theatre, let alone having any hope of getting out of Marigold with any meaningful future in the first place.
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