Starrett had called off their Artifisiary lessons for the time being, so Bagsy had dedicated more time to practising any kind of acting she could. Mezrielda and Bagsy would hang out in the foldable forge, Mezrielda trying her best to understand metal and make something of the objects she was uncoordinatedly chiselling into. Whilst she worked, Bagsy would read aloud from any fiction book she could find in the library, trying to improve her acting skills, or lack thereof.
'Well done,' Mezrielda drawled at one point as she stared in frustration at a button and paperclip she was trying to combine. 'I think you might be the first actor to get worse the more they practise.'
'Oh haha.' Bagsy returned her attention to the story she was reading. Despite Starrett's lessons having been put on hold, she still found herself feeling sore from the Thaumathletics and from the quidditch practise she'd finally been able to attend.
Thaumathletics had been far more fun – only two more students had to meet the time of one minute and thirty second before they could move onto treadmilling – whereas in quidditch everything was a shambles. They were short a chaser, as no one was willing to fill the spot Ford had left behind and, despite his insistence, Jon wasn't good enough to do the work of two players. Plus the relationship between Greenda and Emmeline had deteriorated. This, more than the physical exercise, was what made Bagsy so tired. At quidditch practise on Wednesday, as Greenda and Emmeline were walking back to the castle, they were also having a quiet squabble.
'You've still not learnt your lesson,' Emmeline accused Greenda. 'I can count at least three separate rumours you've spread around the school that you had no business spreading.'
Greenda spluttered indignantly. 'I'm not spreading rumours! I'm talking to my friends about things I've seen. If I thought something was sensitive I wouldn't go telling everyone about it, and at least I'm not sticking my nose in other people's business.'
'Your business is my business when it involves sharing other people's secrets with the rest of the student body. Witchment Enrichment featured at least two stories I know came from your gossip.'
'You don't know that,' Greenda hissed back. 'As I said – I don't spread anything harmful. I tell people that I've noticed someone has a new hairstyle, or that someone joined the choir, or that someone made an interesting contribution in a lesson. There's a huge difference between rumour and plain old ordinary conversation. And I never said it was my business you were sticking your nose into.'
That made Emmeline's face turn a dark red. 'I'm trying to do the right thing.'
'That girl is rotten to the core and you're dumb to try and change her.'
'She's lost. All it takes is one person to reach out and try and help. I know she can change. She's still so young. Even if she is permanently disfigured.'
At that, Greenda scoffed. 'Disfiguration has nothing to do with it. Everyone looks different, that's life, but no one has a personality as wicked as her.'
'I'm just being reasonable. As long as she looks like that people will treat her like she's the bully so she'll never have any motivation to change unless someone pushes her.'
'Some people are never able to use magic,' Greenda offered back. 'That doesn't mean they can't change as a person, even if society may treat them differently. I don't see why physical appearance is any different.'
'You're unbelievable,' Emmeline breathed, stalking ahead and trying to get away.
Greenda, on the other hand, looked deeply hurt. 'You're more concerned about her than you've ever been about me!' she called angrily after Emmeline. 'And I actually was nice to you!'
Emmeline made a rude gesture back at Greenda, not saying anything in response. Bagsy didn't bother intervening – she was beyond done with their feud.
The mental weight of Greenda and Emmeline's fighting, the fact the Hufflepuff team was missing a player, and the physical toll of exercise meant that, as Bagsy tried her best to recite lines, she found it difficult to reach her arms fully out, or arch her back as much, or bend her knees; it all ached too much.
'I really do need to learn how to stretch,' she mumbled to herself. She and Mezrielda were in the foldable forge on Friday evening, the day before the first episode of Vampire Affairs was to air. They'd had an early dinner, so at least Bagsy's stomach was feeling comfortably full.
'I'm sure they'll have a book on it somewhere in the library,' said Mezrielda, eyes focussed on the final stage of her paperclip-button project. Frankly, it looked rather weird, but if it made Mezrielda happy, then it made Bagsy happy, too. Pausing her work, Mezrielda glanced at her sundial watch. The shadow was pointing to twenty to six. 'You better get going,' she said. 'The rehearsal begins soon.'
'Right,' said Bagsy, moving to the ladder and climbing out of the foldable forge. 'Come on,' she called down to Mezrielda. 'I know you love hiding away from the world in there, but you've got to leave it some time.'
With grumbled acknowledgement, Mezrielda climbed out, too. 'I don't hide,' she added bitterly. 'I chose to avoid.'
'Sure, sure.' Bagsy wafted her hand dismissively as she folded up the forge and pocketed the bronze cube.
'Onto more important things,' Mezrielda said as they walked out of the library and to the castle exit; practise was in the acting troupe's tent. 'The plan.'
'Yes.' Bagsy nodded conspiratorially. 'The plan.'
'You still aren't sure if your spider gloves will work in the tent?'
'The walls and roof are made of soft material – I'm not sure if the gloves will stick to them like they do solid structures.'
'That is unfortunate.'
'You're telling me.'
'Yes, I am. That's why I said it.'
'N-no, Mez, it's an expression. Anyway, the plan. I practise with them, pretend everything is normal, then when the time is right, I slip away and have a poke around their stuff.'
'By?'
'By either asking to use their loo, faking feeling ill or, as a last resort, dropping this–' Bagsy fumbled with the item she was taking out of her pocket, the ball that jabbered and sipped about that she'd bought from Hooshair.
Mezrielda's hand shot out and grabbed hers, steadying it so she didn't accidentally release the ball. Mezrielda let out a relieved and harsh breath. 'You don't want to risk releasing that in the library. The librarians would never forgive us.'
Bagsy nodded, going pale. She placed it back in her pocket as Mezrielda let go of her hand. 'I can use it as a last resort if I need to distract them.'
'Correct.'
With nerves building inside her, Bagsy hurried out of the castle and to the acting troupe's tent. Mezrielda wished her luck.
Bagsy took in long breaths that she tried to keep slow and calm, pulling her cloak around herself tightly in the cold wind.
Steeling herself, she pushed one of the crimson tent flaps aside and stepped in. The material was frigid against Bagsy's palm, and once she was inside the chill she'd been feeling was replaced with a cosy envelopment of heat. It was like stepping into a warm bath and she let out a happy shudder as she shrugged off her cloak and, noticing a coat stand in the entrance way of the tent, hung it up.
The interior was larger than it seemed outside – and it had already looked fairly sizable. Bagsy was standing in a long walk-way with deep red material walls. As she walked her feet tapped on the floor which was, to her surprise, tiled. The tiles were triangular, and some would change colour when she stepped on them, or let out puffs of lavender or rosemary scents, and more still would show images of animals like cats while loudly playing the associated sound.
As Bagsy reached the end of the walk-way she saw that it led into a humongous space.
The acting troupe seemed preoccupied with all sorts of tasks. Some were blocking spaces for scenes, whilst others were jumping around the different trapezes, ladders and ropes hanging dizzyingly high above Bagsy's head. The dizziness was only made worse by the red and yellow striped material ornamented with floating orbs of light at regular intervals.
'Why, if it isn't the star of the show,' an American voice drawled from Bagsy's left. Philip, the leader of the acting troupe, who as so tall even this mammoth room didn't dwarf him, was confidently striding over to her. His garb was as colourful as it had been the last time Bagsy had seen him – from the patterned handkerchief, to the flat cap with a bobble, to the white gloves with frills. Stroking his ginger moustache, Philip looked Bagsy up and down and tutted. 'It's mighty kind of you to be so prompt, and very necessary. I can gleam from your appearance that you, young lass, are far from show-ready. You may look the spittin' image of Rose Deprive, and that may be why we needed you so desperately for this here production, but clearly that don't mean you know a thing about looking the part.'
'Oh.' Bagsy felt a little insulted. 'Sorry.'
'Ain't nothing to be sweatin' for.' Clicking his fingers, Philip summoned one of the stunt workers who was climbing a rope high above them. With little concern a stunt worker let go of the rope and fell straight down. They landed on a matt lying on the floor that reached up and caught them, before reforming on the ground.
'Hello!' the worker said happily. 'I'm stunt worker three, or you can just call me Three. It's great to meet you!' Three held out their hand for Bagsy to shake it.
'Hello,' said Bagsy.
Three had brown skin, many piercings, short black hair in an undercut and eyeshadow so smoky it had glowing flecks of amber fire that danced through it. 'Come with me,' Three said, ushering Bagsy after them. 'I do the make up around here, seeing as I'm the only one who understands it.'
'Okay.'
As they walked, she noticed the tiles below Three's feet didn't puff out scents or make meowing noises, whereas the ones Bagsy walked on did.
'Oh, yeah,' Three said, handing Bagsy a piece of paper that had permitted printed in calligraphy on the front. The second Bagsy took it the tiles stopped reacting to her footsteps. 'Every place we reside in has some feature like that to ward of intruders,' they explained. 'Keep that safe – they're hard to replicate.'
Bagsy carefully pocketed the paper.
In a whirlwind of brushes that rotated on their own, palettes that changed colour on Three's request, and pre-moulded lip effects that Three would place on Bagsy's lips only to shake their head and replace them with a different one, Bagsy found herself being all dolled up.
After their work was seemingly finished, Three fished a book out from the drawer of a nearby table. It had Vampire Affairs written on the front.
Spinning Bagsy's chair around so she could look at herself in the mirror, Three began to read. 'Rose Deprive wasn't like other girls,' they spoke, not noticing Bagsy already cringing. 'She was a little shorter than most, more muscular, and with a few more curves.'
Imagining Rose Deprive had a figure of a muscly corkscrew, Bagsy frowned down at herself. She was meant to look just like Rose, but she could only count an statistically ordinary number of curves on her body.
Three seemed unperturbed, however. 'Her cheeks were rosy, like her name, her eyelashes long, and her skin smooth and pale.'
Looking in the mirror, Bagsy noted that, thanks to the make up, not only did her eyelashes seem ridiculously long, but her cheeks were far more red. Something, perhaps a foundation or a colour change spell, had made her skin far lighter.
She wasn't keen.
'I think I've nailed it!' Three announced, closing the book and looking Bagsy up and down.
'Uhuh. Yup. Nailed... it.'
'Now let's get you into costume and on set.'
In another whirlwind, Bagsy found herself pinned with puffy pieces of skirts, long trails of laces and frills, black glinting jewels hanging from a waist piece, and a tight corset.
Struggling to breathe, Bagsy looked down at the frankly ridiculous get up. 'Is this necessary?' she forced out, straining in the uncomfortable outfit. It was incredibly itchy.
Three, however, was frowning at Bagsy's shoulder. Another weird thing about the costume was that is showed skin in odd places. Despite having sleeves that went to her fingertips, both of Bagsy's shoulders and a lot of her neck were exposed. Despite a skirt made of many different pieces that trailed on the floor behind her, two diamonds were cut out in the material to show her calves. It felt... weird. Bagsy liked it even less than her makeup.
'This is what Rose wears for Vampire Hunting,' Three explained knowingly. 'It's iconic.'
'She hunts in this?'
Three nodded, not seeming to realise the obvious impracticality of it. 'What's this?' Three asked, pointing at the three white scars on Bagsy's left arm, just below the shoulder, deep enough for a finger to prod into them, which Three looks like they might be about to do.
'An injury,' Bagsy said, leaning her shoulder away.
'Rose doesn't have an injury. Let's see...' Three fetched pale coloured putty and pushed it harshly into the indents, before flattening it out and covering it with a paste that almost matched Bagsy's skin tone. She grit her teeth the whole time – her shoulder, to this day, still felt sore, especially when someone pushed on the scars. She didn't want to be a nuisance, though, so she bit her tongue and kept the pain to herself.
'Well, well, well,' Philip said, walking over. 'Looks like y'all are about wrapped up here.' His timing was perfect. Oddly so.
Three nodded, smiling widely up at Philip. 'As you asked.'
'Indeed.' Philip put a hand on Three's head as if they were his pet.
Without any words, Three seemed to know they were dismissed and walked off to another part of the tent, helping another stunt worker move an ottoman to complete a scene.
Since Bagsy had entered, the tent had been slowly forming into a multitude of sets. Some were of gothic rooms, others of the countryside, and more still of caves. Bagsy wondered if they really needed six separate graveyard scenes, but what did she know?
'You'll do just fine,' Philip said, inspecting Three's work.
'Thank you.' Bagsy felt awkward under his gaze.
'Oh! I wasn't talking to you,' Philip added absent-mindedly as he adjusted a sash tied around one of Bagsy's elbows and fluffed up her hair, making her feel like a child's doll. 'Now, raise your arms up for me.'
Not questioning why, Bagsy did so.
Philip nodded approvingly. 'Put your hands on your hips.' Bagsy did so. 'Now rotate your hands around like so, if you'd be so kind.' Confused what the purpose of this was, Bagsy continued to follow his instructions. 'And give me a twirl.' Bagsy turned in a circle, ungraceful from the mountain of fabric she was garbed in. 'Wonderful. Now, I'm bettin' you're mighty worried about acting without knowing the words or how to show emotion on that Rose-like face of yours.' Philip pulled out a black vial and held it out to her. 'Drink this and find those worries slippin' away.'
'What is this?'
'Just a potion,' said Philip. 'Too complex to be explained.'
'I'm decent with potions. I could probably understand it.'
That seemed to put Philip off. He took the vial back from her. 'Why don't we get to the dress rehearsal,' he said with a frown. 'I hear the other characters have finished prepping.'
Wondering how he'd heard that, Bagsy followed him to where the first practise session would be.
Two of the stunt-workers were dressed in costumes as ridiculous as Bagsy's. One of the boys was wearing an old-fashioned suit with long coat tails and the top button undone, while the other sported a lot of faux leather, a v-neck, and shaggy hair.
Philip handed Bagsy a thick script. 'Your lines have been highlighted for you,' he said. 'You can thank the kindly Three for that. They're a dedicated sort. And these are your co-stars, One and Five.'
One, the stunt-worker in the suit, dipped his head while Five bared his teeth, which had been artificially changed into fangs. Having seen fangs for real, Bagsy was shocked at how ridiculously long and pointy Five's were, and how many extra fangs he had, too.
Five's snarl disappeared and he broke into laughter. 'Just kidding with you. I'm getting into character, is all. Ko 'Fang' Fin is meant to be a bit of a bad boy.'
'Not like Benji Bites,' One countered pompously. 'Benji has basic decorum.'
'Alright, bud they're just characters,' Five joked.
Nervously, Bagsy spent the practise trying her hardest to read her lines in a believable way.
The whirring noise of the projector capturing everything was highly distracting. It wasn't televising anything, it was just to get her used to the noise before the live production itself, but all the same she wished they would turn it off.
Bagsy was certain she was doing a terrible job. For one, she kept reading the wrong bits, or coming in at the wrong time, or getting lost in the words and not coming in at all. Not only that, but some of the dialogue was so bag that she outright laughed in the middle of a scene. When Five, playing Fang, said 'it's biting time,' to One, playing Bites, Bagsy nearly fell over from her giggling.
Despite this, by the time they'd managed to get through the first episode, Philip was looking overjoyed as he watched from the edge of the set. Three, stood next to him, was nodding their head in excitement as well.
'Why,' Philip breathed. 'Simply astoundin'. What a mighty performance you've given us. You really are Rose Deprive.'
Bagsy raised her eyebrows. 'Are you sure?'
'Positively.'
Five and One were nodding their agreement as two other stunt-workers rushed onto the set and began to remove their make-up and props.
Three hurried over to Bagsy. 'That's that. Time to get out of those uncomfortable clothes. Follow me.' Three led her back to the make-up station where they cleaned the make-up off and helped her out of her costume.
When the corset came off, Bagsy sighed in joy. 'Actually,' said Bagsy abruptly. 'I need the loo... do you have one in the tent?'
'Sure.' Three smiled pleasantly as they were trying to shove all of the costumes into a small trunk labelled Rose R. Deprive before pointing to the side of the tent.
Shrugging back into her school robes and pulling on her own far comfier ones, Bagsy set off in the direction Three had gestured. Pushing a tent flap aside, she found herself in a small tunnel of red tent material and tiled flooring. With a sharp intake of breath, she tried to steady herself against one of the walls. Of course, it was made of fabric, and offered her little support.
In her mind Bagsy smelt charred flesh, felt heat and icky liquid on her skin, and a stinging pain in her legs. There was a gargling cry of agony and a harsh thrashing of movement. She shut her eyes and tried to stay calm. Oddly, it was the hushed voice of someone Bagsy loathed that broke her from the horrid images she was picturing. Opening her eyes she saw Primrose, and a small boy with a wiry halo of blonde hair with a black face mask, walking down the tunnel.
Not wanting to be seen, Bagsy threw herself against the side of the tunnel, grabbed two parts of the material and pulling them around herself.
'She's been trying to tell me that I can be who I want,' Primrose was saying quietly. 'She doesn't understand. When everyone sees you as a villain, it's foolish to try and be anything else. It'll only hurt more. If you don't embrace being a villain, then that just makes you a victim.'
The boy was humming his ascent from behind the black cloth.
'It's not even just that,' Primrose continued. 'People don't just see me as a villain, I truly am destined to be one. If I tried to be good and nice like all those liars, I'd only hurt more people when... when I eventually become a true villain.'
'It's like you were saying,' the pale boy responded, scratching his head vigorously with one hand while the other dragged a mop along behind him. Cleaning supplies floated next to him. 'The vampires in Vampire Affairs are a perfect example. They delude themselves into thinking that they're good, but they can't be, they're vampires. Once they accept that the hurting stops.'
'Exactly! Emmeline's deluded, and I won't let her delude me, too...' The end of Primrose's sentence tapered off. It wavered, like the waning of a furious storm, or a boat that didn't know which direction to steer.
'Lewis, had fun showing Primrose around?' Philip's voice sounded from the main room as Primrose and the boy she'd been with pushed through the tent flap and left the small corridor. Bagsy listened to the boy, Lewis, respond, and Primrose make a joke about her parent's money, before deciding she had more important things to do, and not much time to do them.
Releasing herself from the even smaller space she'd hidden herself in and trying her best to remain calm in the dark tunnel, she headed down. She checked in tent flaps, finding the toilet Three had said was this way, and rooms filled with different props and costumes of rich colours and glittering fabrics that floated in organised closets.
Eventually, though, she found a tent flap that was tied shut. Hoping this could be something useful, Bagsy untied the sash and pushed her way in.
It was large and lavish, with a plush chair, dark oak desk and cabinets filled with all sorts of items. She saw a skull, an old tome, a ship in a bottle, floating eye balls in a vial, a toy ferret, a yoyo spinning up and down and a necklace of gold and silver.
Not sparing a moment, Bagsy threw drawers and cupboards open, looking for something, anything, that might tell her where the breathing blight was. She found lots of documents which contained boring language and writing so fancy and slanted she couldn't imagine even the writer could read it. She found a waste bin filled with wrappers for oat frogs and bumblebee lollipops. She even found a collection of strings that looks so fine and fragile she was worried she'd break them by closing the drawer.
Eventually, Bagsy gave up, putting her hands on her hips and glaring around the room. She couldn't believe she'd agreed to take part in this whole production only to fail to find a single noteworthy thing about the breathing blight–
Bagsy noticed a book smack dab in the middle of the desk. There was nothing else on the desk except for a quill waiting in an ink pot. Curious, she pushed the book open. Her eyes settled on writing in a way that made her feel odd, as if something was trying to stop her from seeing the words but failing.
The book listed names with symbols next to them. The all had three words written in three columns next to them; processing, employed and terminated.
The word terminated sent a shiver down Bagsy's spine until she realised that, most likely, it meant the individual finished working for the acting troupe.
Flipping through the pages Bagsy couldn't help but wonder at the sheer number of names. It seemed like a lot of people had joined the acting troupe only to leave later on. Maybe the acting troupe wasn't a nice business to work in, Bagsy reasoned.
When she reached the final page, she felt as if her bones had turned to water. She leant against the desk heavily, trying to stay standing.
What was Maisy's Surname? Bagsy was sure it was Jewel, which only rushed to the forefront of her mind thanks to the name proclaimed as terminated in the book.
The words Perdita Jewel stared up at her, and Bagsy's mouth went dry.