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dizzy_land2008-01-27 03:44 pm
kit-invelvet.livejournal.com) wrote in dizzy_land2008-01-27 03:44 pm
Application for Kitty Butler - Tipping the Velvet.
Kitty had been sitting, smoking at her dressing table, waiting for her turn to head onto the stage. She hadn’t been there for rather a long time, but she had missed it, and persuaded Walter to help her get back into her original show. Not the one she did with Nan, and certainly not the strange one she had done with Walter, after hearing how Nan couldn’t watch it the one time she had snuck in to watch.
She got to her feet, smoothed off her evening jacket, put her top hat at a slightly jaunty angle, checked her basic stage makeup a final time and did up her waistcoat. Her name was called, she picked her cigarette up from the ashtray with one gloved hand and then her cane with the other before heading to the door. Upon opening it, she found herself in an entirely different environment to the stuffy backstage corridors of the Palace in Canterbury. There was a mouse and she suddenly felt intimidated, like she had been thrown in a strange world, where she knew nobody and nobody would understand why she was wearing a suit if she tried to explain. Someone was playing games. The mouse was talking.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
Kitty hesitates, swallows, and decides it would be best to be cautious with this strange world. She’s used many stage names and alibis in the past, another one won’t hurt much, so she answers in a soft voice with a slight Cockney lilt to it, “Kit Butler, at your service.” She gives a polite smile and a tip of the hat with the hand now gripping her cigarette quite tightly.
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
She smirks and starts to sink into her stage persona, adding a little more drawl to her voice and lowering it an octave or so, “To find the prettiest girl in all London town, of course,” With this, she gives the cat a bit of a wink, thinking she could easily act her way out of such a strange situation. This really was just like acting, except she was being questioned by a cat and mouse duo. How odd. Onstage, she really was the sort of person who would say ‘London-town’ with a straight face.
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'" Smirking again, she takes the final drag off her cigarette, stubs it under her foot, then lifts her hat to run her hand through her hair in thought, “You know, I think that’s between me and whoever’s granting them, don’t you?” Not to mention, the only wishes which could come into her head right now were ones of Nan and how things used to be, six years or so ago. She wasn’t about to share that with a mouse, especially if she wasn’t even going to share that she was a woman in drag with them. She just rather hoped she was doing a good enough job for nobody to notice.
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
“Well, I would commend them on their quick thinking. I don’t know what I’d do, though. Everybody thinks they deserve one more chance than they actually have, do they not?” Well, she certainly did. She’d thought she could have one more chance with Nan, she’d kept all those letters, all that money, everything, for the hope of another chance. It had not come.
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
This time, she looks up, rather confused, as not only was she being questioned by a mouse, she was being questioned about a revolutionary. “I…am an entertainer, not a revolutionary. I only went to that one Socialist meeting in the hope of finding a friend. So I am afraid I would not partake in any such thing, I don’t get myself involved in politics.” She smiles, hoping nobody was going to jump out at her for that answer or something, but the truth is, she wouldn’t have the first clue what to do if there was a revolution.
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
“Chocolate comes in white?” Kitty raises an eyebrow, but shrugs, as it’s hardly important. In fact, it seems like a rather out of place question, after those about wishes and revolutions, but she prefers this sort of question, so answers simply and clearly, “I do think it would have to be dark.”
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
This is met with several blinks as she tries to take in the list of things she mainly hasn’t heard of. Then try to come to terms with what she’s supposed to be judging about them. “I don’t think I’m a particularly good place to judge anything, saying I don’t know what I’m judging or what a ninja or robot is. But…I suppose I will say monkeys and bears. Because humans, however wonderful they are at one moment, can hurt you deeply the next. They’re never…consistent, I suppose. Then again, if they were, wouldn’t life be boring?”
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
“By no means. I have a cane, which is good for hitting people over the head,” she had no actual experience of this, but imagined it would be, “but nothing sharp, no.”
((This is Kitty Butler from Sarah Waters' novel, Tipping the Velvet. I have notes on her being a woman pretending to be a bloke here, and that post is probably a tad more useful than her Profile. This is also Bernard/Duckula/Shaun, btw.))
She got to her feet, smoothed off her evening jacket, put her top hat at a slightly jaunty angle, checked her basic stage makeup a final time and did up her waistcoat. Her name was called, she picked her cigarette up from the ashtray with one gloved hand and then her cane with the other before heading to the door. Upon opening it, she found herself in an entirely different environment to the stuffy backstage corridors of the Palace in Canterbury. There was a mouse and she suddenly felt intimidated, like she had been thrown in a strange world, where she knew nobody and nobody would understand why she was wearing a suit if she tried to explain. Someone was playing games. The mouse was talking.
Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"
Kitty hesitates, swallows, and decides it would be best to be cautious with this strange world. She’s used many stage names and alibis in the past, another one won’t hurt much, so she answers in a soft voice with a slight Cockney lilt to it, “Kit Butler, at your service.” She gives a polite smile and a tip of the hat with the hand now gripping her cigarette quite tightly.
"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.
She smirks and starts to sink into her stage persona, adding a little more drawl to her voice and lowering it an octave or so, “To find the prettiest girl in all London town, of course,” With this, she gives the cat a bit of a wink, thinking she could easily act her way out of such a strange situation. This really was just like acting, except she was being questioned by a cat and mouse duo. How odd. Onstage, she really was the sort of person who would say ‘London-town’ with a straight face.
"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'" Smirking again, she takes the final drag off her cigarette, stubs it under her foot, then lifts her hat to run her hand through her hair in thought, “You know, I think that’s between me and whoever’s granting them, don’t you?” Not to mention, the only wishes which could come into her head right now were ones of Nan and how things used to be, six years or so ago. She wasn’t about to share that with a mouse, especially if she wasn’t even going to share that she was a woman in drag with them. She just rather hoped she was doing a good enough job for nobody to notice.
"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to
give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"
“Well, I would commend them on their quick thinking. I don’t know what I’d do, though. Everybody thinks they deserve one more chance than they actually have, do they not?” Well, she certainly did. She’d thought she could have one more chance with Nan, she’d kept all those letters, all that money, everything, for the hope of another chance. It had not come.
Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"
This time, she looks up, rather confused, as not only was she being questioned by a mouse, she was being questioned about a revolutionary. “I…am an entertainer, not a revolutionary. I only went to that one Socialist meeting in the hope of finding a friend. So I am afraid I would not partake in any such thing, I don’t get myself involved in politics.” She smiles, hoping nobody was going to jump out at her for that answer or something, but the truth is, she wouldn’t have the first clue what to do if there was a revolution.
The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"
“Chocolate comes in white?” Kitty raises an eyebrow, but shrugs, as it’s hardly important. In fact, it seems like a rather out of place question, after those about wishes and revolutions, but she prefers this sort of question, so answers simply and clearly, “I do think it would have to be dark.”
"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"
This is met with several blinks as she tries to take in the list of things she mainly hasn’t heard of. Then try to come to terms with what she’s supposed to be judging about them. “I don’t think I’m a particularly good place to judge anything, saying I don’t know what I’m judging or what a ninja or robot is. But…I suppose I will say monkeys and bears. Because humans, however wonderful they are at one moment, can hurt you deeply the next. They’re never…consistent, I suppose. Then again, if they were, wouldn’t life be boring?”
"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"
“By no means. I have a cane, which is good for hitting people over the head,” she had no actual experience of this, but imagined it would be, “but nothing sharp, no.”
((This is Kitty Butler from Sarah Waters' novel, Tipping the Velvet. I have notes on her being a woman pretending to be a bloke here, and that post is probably a tad more useful than her Profile. This is also Bernard/Duckula/Shaun, btw.))
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"I dare say, what you call the past is my present. What exactly is your present, my good fellow?" He dressed differently than some of the others he had seen - Percy guessed that Kit Butler was from somewhere right in the middle of his present and someone else's future, if that made any sense.
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"Mine is 1895, sir. Yours?" She knew 18th century, but that could cover anything from the Jacobite rebellions in Scotland to the French revolution.
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"'zooks! 1895! Now that something. You, sir, are over a hundred years ahead of me. I come from 1792." It would explain the dress of the young man quite well.
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She laughed, then shrugged, "Even so, I think I have more in common with you, sir, than those a whole century ahead of me."
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Percy nodded and took off his own top hat, motioning to it with a grin. "Clearly our sense of fashion is quite similar! Sink me, you just might be the most fashionable young man I've encountered so far."
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She smirked and wondered what this man was up to himself. He did seem rather...frivilous, but she had heard the 18th century was like that. "Why, thank you, sir. I must say I admire your cravat very much so."
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His...cravat. Percy almost paled for a moment but was quick to brush off the feeling as quickly as it had come. "La, thank you, sir. The cut of your coat is marvelous, simply a beautiful work of tailoring. I must say, I have been admiring your hat."
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The cut of her coat? She smirked, as these coats had been cut especially for her, it was the way it had to be done, and little did he know why. "Many thanks, if I were to see my tailor again, I would inform him." She played with her hat between her hands, "It is nought but a standard top hat, Sir Percy. But your monacle...do you need that, or is it of choice?" She did like the way it looked and was genuinely considering adding one to her costume. If she ever got the chance.
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"Ah, but you forget, sir, that anything you own is not standard for the likes of me! That hat is not standard at all, in fact it's new and intriguing. Mine? Sink me, it's outdated now." He gave a sad smile and took the quizzing glass off from around his neck. "I'm not sure what a monacle is, but this is called a quizzing glass. It's for spying potential dancing partners from across the room and...oh, well, and for looking at strange objects in museums up close." He gave the young man his quizzing glass to try for himself.
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She took the glass off him and peered through it, "In my time, gentlemen have these on a chain, and they're to help them see things...or just look posh. I wish I had one to show you, but they're very similar."
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"It is on a chain, but...rather like my watch fob, I gather. Oh, rather, like your watch fob. The quizzing glass it worn like a necklace, and it's to help us read the wee print next to the objects on display." He looked at his quizzing glass and motioned for Kit to hold it up to his eye. "Like that, you say?"
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"Sort of, yes." Kitty had a look at it and held it to her eye, "I dare say they're a little smaller, as you can normally do this," she tried to wear it like a monacle, but it fell out into her waiting hand, "with them."
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He laughed loudly at Kit's attempt to wear the quizzing glass. "It's far to too rectangular to fit near your eye. Though, od's fish, the fashion. I rather like my quizzing glass; it's fit for adding drama when one speaks."
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She handed him the glass back, "That would explain things, I do suppose. I've always wanted a monacle for a laugh, but they tend to be rather annoying when one is singing."
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The quizzing glass went back around his neck and he stared at the young man with a renewed sort of interest. "I had heard you say you were an entertainer, but a singer? How remarkable!"
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"I am indeed. Music hall, which I think was after your time. But singing is what I do best." After pretending to be a man, I suppose.
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"Indeed, sounds like it was after my time. Are you an actor too, sir? I did know some actors and actresses in the 1790s." Percy wondered if he would ever hear the young man sing.
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"I have done acting, although only in pantomime. My act does require a little acting, though, I do suppose." A little meaning a lot, but that would rather spoil the illusion there.
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"Perhaps, if you were so inclined, you would sing for me, sir. I would very much like to hear it." He smiled genuinely.
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