Ordan
Beginner
Posts : 52
Age : 30
Join date : 2012-07-02
 |  Subject: Does it make a sound? (Invite only, send PM for details)  Tue Jul 17, 2012 4:44 am | |
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Silkomidias "The Silent"
Appearance: Short, slicked back black hair. Eyes are light hazel and full of life. 5'3". Rather scrawny (skinny, not sickly).
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Clothing: Pure white cloak that extends down to the ankles with Black scarf around neck. Currently wearing face paint in a "comedic" fashion. A large, black smile with three "eyelashes" above each other. Rest of face is covered in white.
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He nodded to himself. That sounded like a good thing for an announcer to say! Hm? Oh, right, he was in the middle of a show.
Silkomidias was in the Middle Ring today for his performance. He liked the other rings a good deal, but he always got mugged by vagabonds in the lower and his genius wasn't appreciated by the guards in the high and mighty upper.
Artists, were they ever truly understood?
Ah. Well, you know the saying. The show must go on! And indeed, it would, so long as he had a say in it. Well, not a say, obviously. But a word. That word being his name, more specifically. So long as he was Silkomidia the Silent, there would be theater in the world, or his name wasn't Silkomidias the Silent! Which, obviously, it was.
Right right. His current performance. He'd taken up one of his favorite spots along the corner of a poetry school. The people here appreciated things such as comedy and drama. In particular, he loved when the young ones would come to see him, which they seemed to do often. Today he was doing ad lib comedy. He would seize the comedic moment that lied within every day situations.
Was that not the definition of art? To pull something from every day life and portray it to to ones liking?
That was good, he should write that down...
An older man walked by him and he seized the opportunity, copying the mans limp to a T and following close behind. Of course, he added an extra amount of shake and spasms to his own walk for that comedic effect. When the man began to speed up, so did he, shaking his fist as the man tried to escape his performance!
Young rascals, always in a hurry these days!
The man spun around, shaking his cane at poor Silkomidias, who immediately threw his hands up in surrender.
Don't shoot don't shoot!
The elderly man stormed off, retreating from the roar of laughter that had erupted from the juvenile audience . Ah, the laughter of the crowd! Was there any other noise more beautiful, more petrifying? He so craved it. No, it was beyond a craving. It was an addiction.
He needed it!
With his latest medium of comedy gone, he threw a hand over his eyes in a most dramatic fashion (especially since the day was growing late and the sun was setting), scanning the street for someone new. No stock was too large nor position too noble for anyone (willing or otherwise) to become a temporary member of the Silent Caravan! | |
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