The Bassist Roman Orator:
As wasn't uncommon for the both of them, tonight was their Library Date night and that found them huddled together in their favorite nook, trying to decompress a bit before the start of
Five Nights' production. Today, it was Bruce's turn to choose the book, Carrie being content to rest her head against his shoulder as he narrated it in his gentle bass.
Initially, she'd been skeptical to his choice as he pulled a brand new publication of
National Geographic (getting enough of it at home thank you), this one covering the unveiling of a relatively recent discovery of Roman works that had been speculated to have once been owned and maintained by the Roman stateswoman and historian, Claudia Nerva...at which point, he pulled out the first true in depth academic analysis released to the public.
So today, it began a little unsteady (his excited rambling getting a little ahead of him) before settling in the current gentle rendition of Claudia Nerva's
Hades and Persephone, eager (as always) to share his newfound knowledge with her.
And so, began a portion of Claudia's worms, told from the perspective of her as a child:
It was a silent day,
where not even the wind deigned take breath, when she made way to the family mausoleum basket in hand, a red shawl with yellow piping wrapped around her small shoulders.
Each step seemed a cruelty, each breath a taunt, as she shuffled the worn path alone, this the first year in ages that her father was absent, entrusting her to make the walk on her own; tears dared creep into the corners of her eyes as she came closer and closer, her will faltering even as her duty drove her each step. The distant sound of 'snicker-snack' came from off the path (likely the gardener attending to the surrounding stones), the scent of cut grass and grapes strong in the air as she stepped into the hall of the honored dead. Gently, she began the rites of preparation, taking off her sandals and washing her feet in water and anointing them lightly in oil [as to not to offend the ancestors in their rest].
Taking a wet cloth, she began the arduous process of cleansing their stones and masks, reading aloud their name and reciting their deeds from memory; this continued long into the noon day sun, the cleansing of these hallowed halls, never once allowing her tears to fall, even during the rare moments as she chokes reciting the deeds of her ancestors. It's only as she ends with the most recent name, added some three years past that she begins to utterly lose her bearing and only her sense of duty prevents her from breaking...that is, until she makes no less than seven paces from the mausoleum and falls down to the side of path, and her sobs tear their way from her breast. As she is without a retinue, left at the bottom of the steps, she remains there in tears for a length of time unmeasurable, none to see her tears fall.
This ends with a gentle hand on her shoulder, the scent of grapes, grass and decay overpowering all else.
"My lady," comes their voice, a gentle bass, "this is a terrible day to be caught alone in the rain, come quickly we must get you dry."
It takes her a moment to get the stranger's meaning, startled by their sudden presence, the sky crisp and naught a cloud in sight.
"Thank you kindly," she says, pulling her shawl close, as the man gently leads her to the nearby homestead, "I seemed to have misplaced my coverings."
"It is of no trouble," he says as he brings her inside the humble abode at the edge of the cemetery, his garb placing him as their gardener, a man she'd rarely seen, "it wouldn't due to catch a cold in this weather."
Seating her with a nearby stool, he graciously turns his back to her as she hastily wipes her tears away, preparing some sort of heated beverage.
"Here," he says to her, handing her a cup of hot stock, "this should aid you to recover some from this terrible weather."
She takes it gratefully, sipping at it carefully; strange, she could not place the manner of beast or fowl.
For a time he works silently about the abode, leaving her grateful as she recovers some measure of bearing. Eventually, she realizes her rudeness asks of him his name.
"My lady, in this life I am called Nektarios," the man says, pulling a hand through his curly beard, appearing strangely familial in doing so, pulling from it twigs and what appear to be berries, "I am but a simple man tending the best he can for the living."
"Strange then that you work with the dead," she says without thought, freezing as the man coughs out a laugh, his amethyst eyes full of mirth.
"Ah, but the dead care not for these stones," Niktarios says, sitting down across from her, "only for the living whom hold them in memory, where they shall dwell forever. In that manner, do you care for a tale?"
She nods, not trusting herself to speak, ears still burning with fading horror.
"Horrified by her lover Zagreus' sudden death as she entered the mortal realm, and thus unable to continue her duties as stewardess of the Dead and tender of the Fields of Asphodel, she fled to the Overworld and hid from her family, one and all, following a fairly crass remark by Lord Zeus of her state. Her disappearance, such as it was, brought about such great sorrow and wrath from her mother Demeter, who refused to tend to the living until the matter had been solved and her daughter returned...and for a great many years, it would not be so.
No matter how the Olympians searched, how studiously or arduously, they could not find the goddess.
Then came the day that Hephaestus met with a young man, wreathed in shadow, stepped forth into his domain and asked for his aid in creating a mighty working, a Helm like no other. Hephaestus, reluctant to create the work, asked of a simple favor...and when the young man pulled back his cloak, his eyes piercing the very center of his being, the god began toiling away near endlessly and without pause to create the Helm, calling upon his sister Athena to aid him weaving the young man's cloak of shadow into the Helm. When finally given the Helm, that which would allow him to walk in the realm of mortals, the young man smiled and thanked his brother, eyes full of mirth as he stepped once more into shadow, and Stepped into a forgotten glade.
It was there that the thricebourne god Dionysus Zagreus, now the Dread Lord of all Hades, met with his lover, mother and wife, and promised that no matter how difficult the task or how long he must wait, he would find his way to her. It was then he took his Helm, carefully extricating it from the horns that marked his station, and told her, even as he fell asunder in the realm of mortals and giving her one last kiss, that he would be waiting for her in their home.
It was this way that Spring returned, when the Lady Persephone returned and begged her mother for forgiveness; her mother merely kissed her cheek and held her close, telling her there was nothing to forgive, and smiled as life returned to the hills and valleys, glad to her daughter with her close at hand. When she returned to the Underworld, she kissed her husband passionately once and forever more, returning to him his Helm, and even now that they are seated as Rulers below."
"You are saying then," she began a moment after he fell silent, "that even in their passing, we must hold them in memory and work in their name."
Slowly, as he masterfully orated the tale with depth and passion, Carrie became caught up in her husband's passion and found herself becoming equally fascinated by the tales, and so slowly began to brainstorm. As she listened to her husband recount the ancient legends, she realized that the incredible depth and complexity of the stories were the perfect foundation for a musical.
And so an idea began to form, slowly working its way into the forefront of her mind, determined to use it as the "script" that Jasmine would work on, so that she could continue to work on the project herself.
Over the course of production, Carrie worked tirelessly on her musical, drawing from Bruce's retellings of the legends and using the wild and mythical characters as inspiration for the songs, slowly around a basis of haunting melodies and gripping storyline.
So she used the production of her film as an excuse to finally,
finally, get Bruce to sit down for her to formally train his vocals and get him to
sing (somewhat) professionally. And after a reasonably excellent performance (for the previously untrained) and excited by the potential of their musical, Carrie enlisted the help of two sound engineers from LucasFilm, Kasey and Rachel, to record a demo of their work with the rest of the Highwaymen. Together, drawing from their diverse experience and expertise to create one of the most unique sounds the music industry had ever heard.
And so, the idea for
Hadestown was born.
A/N: Initially inspired by this –
– and it grew after I remembered a lot of Roman artifacts had been uncovered earlier inThread, and the idea grew from there.
[EDIT: Damn, did that roll on a limb, but I'm thankful I did.]
