CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET? BECAUSE THE BEST LITTLE SECRETS ARE KEPT.

[There were torrid pleasures situated around the winter solstice -- the longest nights in the year and, accordingly, most vampires' partyime and playtime. And then there was his penitent fugue circa New Year's Eve. And now, Belville has found himself seguing happily towards satiation, towards lazy feline satisfaction in the new year and finding his bearings. And polishing off scripts.]

Comedy or drama? For that matter: what's your favourite play, my darlings? [For it's best to know his audience and their tastes, if he's to get souls (ha) in the seats once his playhouse opens its doors to their new run. And then there's the matter of the pretty blonde that showed up on his doorstep...]


[PRIVATE TO FURTUR.]
I received your card, and much more besides. You know my tastes far too well, dear Fritz.

[The vampire returns like an oncoming storm, with creaking wagon-wheels and wrought spells and a maelstrom of people milling about him, his satellites and prostheses all. He jerks his thumb and it all comes to a halt: we are home. we are here. After attending to business at the fairground, he steps into his once-vacant London house and scurrying minions -- people, really, they're people, but so firmly hypnotised that they might as well not be -- hurry to throw open the doors and beat out the dust and remake his bed. The Lord is in his house, and all is well with the world. More lights flicker on in the Circus as its theatrical appendage stirs back to life.]

The travelling players are back! Do we have any theatre aficionados in the audience today, my pets? Like the opposite of a snowbird, your dearest director, Mr. Belville, returns to London just in time for December and the holidays and for brightening your winter's gloom. The King's Men and I will be setting up shop as per usual, and playbills will be distributed soon-like for our very family-friendly Christmas celebrations. Right now, however, I'm simply getting settled in the old homeland.

If there are any able-bodied men (or strengthy women) in need of some paid labour, do step right up -- we could do with some helping hands to set up the stage, the tents, &c. No previous experience required.

Alas, the vices of man, as horrifying as they are presumed to be, contain proof (if only in their infinite expansiveness!) of his bent for the infinite.( Read more... )

( The Home. )

( The Theatre. )