Arachne’s Silken Symposium of Veils, Lies & Half-Truths

Date: 2025-06-06 18:04

(/u>/i)/u>/i [/u>/i]/u>/iUpon the Weathered Theater Stage/u>/iThe main stage of the boutique theater rises four feet above the floor level,
its worn maple boards bearing the scars of countless performances. The
proscenium arch frames the space in carved plaster moldings painted deep
burgundy with gold leaf accents, though patches have flaked away to reveal
the white plaster beneath. Heavy velvet curtains in midnight blue hang from
brass rings on a thick wooden rod, their fabric showing signs of age in the
slightly threadbare patches where stagehands have gripped them night after
night. The stage itself extends thirty feet across and twenty feet deep, with
tape marks in various colors indicating blocking positions from past
productions. Overhead, a complex rigging system of ropes, pulleys, and wooden
battens allows for the raising and lowering of backdrops and set pieces,
while rows of stage lights hang from metal pipes, their barn doors and
colored gels creating pools of warm and cool light across the performance
space. At the rear of the stage, a painted backdrop depicts a generic
interior scene – French doors opening onto a garden – that serves as a
default setting between productions. The boards creak softly underfoot,
particularly near stage left where a subtle depression has formed from
generations of performers making their entrances./u>/iIt is about 60/u>/i15/u>/iAt Birch and Mariner/u>/iAn iridescent sea-shelled masked sylph squints at A sea-glass masked enchantress with razor-sharp lips- some. “Stop trying to seduce him,/u>/iKai/u>/iI’m the infamous Dobie. Want to come check out my trunk?/u>/iIt’s got chocolates, wine, and possibly ants… because they have good taste./u>/i