#unscripteddiva2022

It was finally time.

Nanna took a deep breath, walking towards the stage with the rest of the girls. No matter how much time they had to practice, Nanna couldn’t stop the nerves from creeping up with every step she took.

“I’m sure we’ll do amazing…” And though she says it loud enough for all of the girls to hear, Nanna knows that she’s mostly trying to reassure herself. Of course she would do all she could! But…what if she forgot a move? Or stepped on someone’s foot? Or—

‘Enough! You’re worrying yourself over nothing!’ She sighs, fiddling with the pink outfit that fit her like a glove. Jeez, they really planned this down to the final detail… I guess that was even more reason to do well considering how much work went into the production.

They’re in place, and Nanna can feel eyes on her before they’ve even begun to dance. Though her practices were poor, she knew that she couldn’t mess it up now— not when everything was leading up to this moment!

( And though she didn’t want any of them to be eliminated, the uncertainty of what would happen afterwards made her want to do her best. )

“Let’s give it our all!”

The music starts.

Roll 3d10. Technique: 11; Choreography: 8; Wow: 3; Total: 57

She moved professionally, almost as if she was a trained dancer— but just like the practice runs, Nanna couldn’t help but notice that she was too focused on perfection yet again, unable to connect to the audience. It was good, but it was missing something: personality.

[continued from here]

She takes Delancey’s words as a compliment- She may have no To-witter presence yet, but her name is a staple within the Adrestian Empire. Everyone there knows the next Emperor. “I’m afraid not. To-witter is new to me.”

With the registration screen now open, Edelgard begins to insert her phone number. She does so at a slow speed on the chance she happens to mistype. She can’t imagine what else to make her To-witter user information than the name she dons, and thus, opts to type in @edelgardvonhresvelg. To the point, but at least it’s clear who this account belongs to. That is her desire.

She is perplexed with the sight of an odd nothingness for a ‘profile picture’, hypothesizing that it must be a standard default. Turning back to Delancey, she nods in agreement: “It would look rather.. empty without a visual of myself. Thank you for the assistance.” Taking a good image on her phone evades her, but she will be sure to pick up on it sooner rather than later.

10,000 followers is a hefty number- Enough to make up something of a sizeable army, too. She can see the advantages in having a large following at her very fingertips. If the Imperial Princess can amass a following that size, perhaps it may prove much more useful than she had initially anticipated. “I see.. That’s quite the audience. It’s rather impressive. I expect you’ll be following me back, yes?” There’s a smile of confidence as she speaks, hopeful and wondering.

Feel free to use these for some quick interactions in the shared common room. Remember to smile for the cameras!

Send 🍕 to make something in the kitchen with my muse

Send 🎬 to watch a movie with my muse

Send 🎤 for a karaoke battle with my muse

Send 🎮 to play a round of Crash Bros. against my muse

Send 🎧 to listen to some songs on YourTube or speckify

Send 📷 to take some selfies with my muse to post on social media 

Send 😈 to play a prank on my muse

Send 🏠 to be shown my muse’s bedroom

Nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, eh? Though the way Julian and Delancey are acting both around and away from each other, there’s clearly something way deeper than just some contest. There’s got to be a story there. 

Regardless. Laslow can’t very well call himself the son of a dancer if he fails even the practice portion of Stairway to Stardom. Nerves are shoved deep, deep down inside him; nearly being strangled to death will do that to a person. He’s starting to get comfortable in this “studio.” All the mirrors lining one wall are such a help. As strange as this world is, their dedication to the arts is a huge upgrade from dancing in a wooded clearing. 

He’s a little less confident in his ability to compete with his voice. Mom taught him some things, and he occasionally finds himself singing a verse or two here and there.

“Alright,” Laslow begins, hands on his hips. “We should first agree on a song.” Eyes land directly on Azama. Now is not the time to be argumentative. 

“Everyone seems to love this group called BZS. Singing one of their songs might help us in the popularity rankings!” Hopefully. 

“Don’t give the enemies ideas!” Delancey had chastised her earlier. Elincia paid her no mind, clearly.

She watches like a hawk as Ingrid, Merric and Shez go through the choreography. No matter her warnings, Merric and Shez were her friends. Her students. They were more her people than Delancey could hope to be. Elincia would help them with whatever she could, as both a dear friend and their teacher. 

Even if it felt like pulling teeth.

Merric wasn’t a bad dancer per se, although he lacked his own flair and groove. His movements were so focussed on being correct that they lacked individuality. A chance to show his personality on stage. Perhaps he was just trying to master the choreography before trying to add his own take, they could discuss ideas after. How and where to add dynamics, facial expressions, things to take his dancing from fine to great. Although that would clearly have to wait.

Ingrid and Shez kept colliding with one another, both of them getting the direction wrong in different sections. With limbs failing, Shez lacked any sort of tension or power in his movements and seemed to rush his way through the choreography. On the other hand, Ingrid was as stiff as a board. Her moves were restrained, jerky and slow. A far cry from her grace upon a pegasus, lance in hand. Elincia knew both of them could move well, had seen it with her own eyes. With a weapon in hand the pair were both fluid and controlled. However, with music in the background. They seemed to lose all sense of co-ordination entirely. She had to put a stop to this before someone was hurt.

“Okay, okay stop!” Elincia shouts, stepping forward and turning the music player on the kiwi phone off. “I’m going to need all three of you to separate, to start with. Merric, you’re fine. Room for improvement but you’re doing well enough. I’d like you to run through the choreo again but think a little less.”

The trio quieted and she took a moment to shoot Merric a reassuring smile. He was doing well, he could just do with being a little less calculated. The odd mistake was a worthwhile trade off for a more energetic and personal performance. So long as he didn’t degenerate to the level of his classmates.

“Don’t be scared about making little mistakes, you have this down. Try it with a little more bounce or charm - whatever feels comfortable for you. Dancing isn’t just about movement, it’s about personal expression!” Her shoulders drop as she faces Ingrid and Shez. If they could manage the movements it would be a small miracle. Elincia wasn’t going to give up on them though. Who knows what would happen if one of them was voted off? Would they simply cease to be in this tale? “On the other hand, you two need to get that down first. Then we can build up. You have opposite issues. Ingrid, you’re so stiff it looks like moving is painful for you. Shez, points for enthusiasm but your limbs are all over them. I know you’ve developed muscle control from your training but you need to apply it.”

“Let’s see, shall I go through the first count or two and then let you two have ago? Try to copy me and then I’ll give you some tips and personal help?”

Flicking the music app on her kiwi Phone, Elincia starts playing the music and stands still through the first few beats to create tension. Then she takes herself through the steps, trying not to overcomplicate it. A simple step back on her left foot then swinging the right out. An arc of her right arm as she brings her legs together, bending her knees and waving her hand through four more beats, until her arm was fully extended. Then she turned to her allies.

“Okay, now it’s your turn. Merric, just give me a shout if you need any help.” He was such a gentleman though, would he really feel comfortable interrupting them? Possibly not, she’d have to adjust her teaching methods to include him. It would be easier to keep track of all three of them if they were easily in her field of view, too. “Actually, come over here. You have this polished. Show them how you do it - I want them at your level by the end of today.”

“You’re doing really well, I think what you’re doing is perfectly fine. I do think you have the potential to really shine though, so please forgive me if I push you a little.”

As beautiful as they are, she hopes Ingrid and Shez have some other skills to make their mark in this competition. It looked like dancing was going to be an uphill battle.

“One, two, three—”

A band begins playing behind you. The massive audience before you erupts in perfectly-timed applause, smiling widely at all of you. Some of you have ended up here, sitting under hot lights and with strange contraptions pointed directly at you, following your every move. A trap? But everyone seems to be having a fun time. Everyone, that is, save for the one unfamiliar face in your ragtag group who is looking quite sullen.

“…That interview was a disaster. The quiz show will be even worse…”

It’s a strange thing, waking up somewhere you’ve no recollection of ever having set foot. Like, it would hardly be the first time for ol’ Azama, but something about this particular stage gives even him pause...

But not for long. Clearly they’re in some kind of limelight, and that’s fine by him. He’s taken stock of his surroundings - more or less, indecipherable as they are - and of his outfit - hello Mr. Dashing! - and it doesn’t seem like there’s anything that’s immediately trying to stab or eat him so.

May as well go with the flow.

The very picture of calm and collected, Azama crosses one leg over the other, interlaces his hands, leans back and grins at Julian. 

 "Oh ho! I don't know about a disaster," he chimes in, chipper and nonchalant as always. "It looked more like a miniature apocalypse, if you ask me. But chin up, lad! Trust me, you probably can't do much worse in the next bout."

Julian scoffs, but it's with a small smile. "I suppose. One of the perks of playing the himbo, right?"

Playing the... what. Him-beau? 

A beautiful man? The monk lifts a brow, highly skeptical. 

Naaaah. Azama's much more handsome than this kid, so obviously that isn't what the strange word means. Or is it? Well, just in case, then--

 "Hah! Suppose so! And may the best himbeau win, then." He smirks, and with that the youth loses his interest and Azama turns his attention to the rest of the cast. Vaguely familiar mugs, these ones. Dressed in boring suits, and not saying a peep... 

Oooh, that won’t do, no sirree.

And so he plots.

@einjelique

Ingrid’s room was perfect for dance training. It had a large window her kiwi phone could send moving images to, and a full length mirror to boot; with that and Elincia’s help Ingrid was slowly but surely becoming more confident she could perhaps make it through one performance.

But there was only so much training one could do, and as the people running the show had told Ingrid the one time she had gone jogging to not do that again she found herself growing increasingly restless.

Thinking she might at least find a book to read, Ingrid makes her way out to the common area. She finds Nanna sitting in the spot she usually used for her own leisure, but it’s a pleasant sight nonetheless.

“How have you been?” Ingrid says, straightening her outfit and sitting down in the chair across from Nanna. She sees on the table full of magazines there are some tea pastries and candies and her stomach growls despite itself.

“I, er, just got out of training,” Ingrids explains and stuffs a small cake in her mouth before she can make herself more the fool. Chewing slowly, she looks over Nanna and has a thought. Taking out her kiwi phone to place on the table she asks,

Laslow waves around his phone. What is this thing?