Before he'd spoken, Joy had remained professionally in character; she'd retained her act as the heart-broken damsel by the slump of her body leaning against the cardboard balustrade, her hand wiping delicately at the imaginary tears, and the tremor in her voice that rang throughout the theater. Her gaze was one of forced drama, though it did look rather convincing--obviously, this was not the first time she found herself in an acting position. However, Temptation's voice, weak and inexperienced in speaking in public, sounded strange and alien compared to the real actors' loud, booming declarations and quotes, and he felt he sounded bland and stupid before Joy. However, the effect was quite the contrary: because he was speaking from his heart, laying out his feelings down-to-earth, it sounded real. The audience could tell. . . and so could Joy. He was looking at her in the face when he spoke, and he saw her face change. Her blue eyes widened, and her figure lost that dramatic pose where she stood. She stared back at him. With the hundreds of eyes staring at them from the darkness, the bright lights shining down on them both, and his heart hammering against his ribcage so hard almost to the point of outright shattering it, Temptation couldn't tell what she must have been thinking or feeling. Was she still acting? --Or could she detect the truth? Then, after a long pause--in which the audience waited with abated breath for a reply--she spoke. For a second his heart leapt, until he realized she was still acting. This time, however, she seemed to struggle for words. "Then-- then let's-- let us plan an escape," Joy stumbled over her words as she tried to stay in character--which, by being stunned and flustered, made her character's reaction seem all the more realistic. "An escape from the ties of society that bind us, from our parents' houses of old that leave us weak and wanting of the sweet taste of freedom, of independence, of liberty. Let us run away together, leaving naught but our memories, your hand in mine-- brickitIcan'ttalklikethisanymore let's get outta here. Meet you in the garden at dawn." The curtain fell, and thus ended Scene i of Act I.
Before he'd spoken, Joy had remained professionally in character; she'd retained her act as the heart-broken damsel by the slump of her body leaning against the cardboard balustrade, her hand wiping delicately at the imaginary tears, and the tremor in her voice that rang throughout the theater. Her gaze was one of forced drama, though it did look rather convincing--obviously, this was not the first time she found herself in an acting position. However, Temptation's voice, weak and inexperienced in speaking in public, sounded strange and alien compared to the real actors' loud, booming declarations and quotes, and he felt he sounded bland and stupid before Joy. However, the effect was quite the contrary: because he was speaking from his heart, laying out his feelings down-to-earth, it sounded real. The audience could tell. . . and so could Joy. He was looking at her in the face when he spoke, and he saw her face change. Her blue eyes widened, and her figure lost that dramatic pose where she stood. She stared back at him. With the hundreds of eyes staring at them from the darkness, the bright lights shining down on them both, and his heart hammering against his ribcage so hard almost to the point of outright shattering it, Temptation couldn't tell what she must have been thinking or feeling. Was she still acting? --Or could she detect the truth? Then, after a long pause--in which the audience waited with abated breath for a reply--she spoke. For a second his heart leapt, until he realized she was still acting. This time, however, she seemed to struggle for words. "Then-- then let's-- let us plan an escape," Joy stumbled over her words as she tried to stay in character--which, by being stunned and flustered, made her character's reaction seem all the more realistic. "An escape from the ties of society that bind us, from our parents' houses of old that leave us weak and wanting of the sweet taste of freedom, of independence, of liberty. Let us run away together, leaving naught but our memories, your hand in mine-- brickitIcan'ttalklikethisanymore let's get outta here. Meet you in the garden at dawn." The curtain fell, and thus ended Scene i of Act I.
Before he'd spoken, Joy had remained professionally in character; she'd retained her act as the heart-broken damsel by the slump of her body leaning against the cardboard balustrade, her hand wiping delicately at the imaginary tears, and the tremor in her voice that rang throughout the theater. Her gaze was one of forced drama, though it did look rather convincing--obviously, this was not the first time she found herself in an acting position. However, Temptation's voice, weak and inexperienced in speaking in public, sounded strange and alien compared to the real actors' loud, booming declarations and quotes, and he felt he sounded bland and stupid before Joy. However, the effect was quite the contrary: because he was speaking from his heart, laying out his feelings down-to-earth, it sounded real. The audience could tell. . . and so could Joy. He was looking at her in the face when he spoke, and he saw her face change. Her blue eyes widened, and her figure lost that dramatic pose where she stood. She stared back at him. With the hundreds of eyes staring at them from the darkness, the bright lights shining down on them both, and his heart hammering against his ribcage so hard almost to the point of outright shattering it, Temptation couldn't tell what she must have been thinking or feeling. Was she still acting? --Or could she detect the truth? Then, after a long pause--in which the audience waited with abated breath for a reply--she spoke. For a second his heart leapt, until he realized she was still acting. This time, however, she seemed to struggle for words. "Then-- then let's-- let us plan an escape," Joy stumbled over her words as she tried to stay in character--which, by being stunned and flustered, made her character's reaction seem all the more realistic. "An escape from the ties of society that bind us, from our parents' houses of old that leave us weak and wanting of the sweet taste of freedom, of independence, of liberty. Let us run away together, leaving naught but our memories, your hand in mine-- brickitIcan'ttalklikethisanymore let's get outta here. Meet you in the garden at dawn." The curtain fell, and thus ended Scene i of Act I.
A good sappy romance makes me so happy.
Good, glad you're enjoying it, because I feel like I'm messing everything up.
I took part in a few, but it was a long time ago. 
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
![[ba]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/uIdovocWRLyFpSJXOPwq.png)
![[~]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/ozFsbNeZhKNyVxseYHGI.png)
SUCCESS, HE WENT TO BED!!! 
![[h]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/hfSwWMIrqfbcVMuaJTst.png)
