Of Damsels & Dragons

  ~*~

  Rehearsal, choreography, and scene shooting went as smooth as silk... for the most part.

  The choreography for the death scene made Amy nervous at first. Then Garret and Mark both gave her an encouraging pep talk, telling her that as long as she took it one step at a time, the flow would come eventually. Amy gave it her all. She listened intensely to what each stunt choreographer had to say, asked questions if she wasn’t sure she understood, and then demonstrated what she believed they wanted. All in all, Amy picked it up fast.

  Garret would, luckily, have the most difficult portion of the stunt planned. The scene constituted the villain, Sephiroth, to descend from what seemed a great height with his sword drawn. Upon his descent, he would then pierce Aeris Gainsborough’s character with the sword, she hanging suspended from the slightly curved blade until he withdrew it from her person. Then she would fall forward and Cloud would, of course, mourn and argue with Sephiroth before the villain vanished and Aeris was laid to rest in the water surrounding the altar.

  Garret would wear a harness that would control his descent and speed. The sword would show only as an empty haft and pommel, as the blade would be rendered in the later editing of the film. The most difficult and dangerous portion of the stunt would be as Garret descended. If the harness gave way, or even the arm that controlled his fall, either he or Amy could be seriously injured from the fall and the resulting impact. Max assured both that the harness and the arm that would hold Garret suspended would be thoroughly checked and re-checked before the scheduled shot.

  Shooting the scenes scheduled for that day was fun after the stress and concentration of the stunts. Garret’s scenes with Amy weren’t scheduled until later in the week, so he left shortly after the choreography of the death scene had come to a close. Amy and he had exchanged slight smiles and nothing more. Amy didn’t have a problem with the less-than-romantic parting because she’d planned on calling his cell phone later to leave a romantic message on his voice mail. There was no telling how stressful his day would be, and she reasoned that anyone would enjoy receiving a pleasant message.

  That and she wanted to remind him of her invitation to dinner that evening.

  The scenes went smoothly enough. There were the occasional bloopers, as in anything on screen, but the troupe dealt with it and moved on. Vanessa was brilliant as Tifa, for lack of a better word, but the relationship between Tifa and Cloud didn’t necessarily jump out at the watcher. It was more of a subtle intensity that the camera easily picked up. Amy enjoyed watching it, doing her best to learn what she could from each performance and apply it to her own.

  Time flew as Max pressed them to shoot scene after scene. He turned out to be more the taskmaster than Garret. Max demanded perfection from her; no foibles, no stutters, no hesitations, and no diverting from the set blocking of the scene. Amy took it all in stride, even though she noticed he wasn’t nearly as demanding on the others. She just chalked it up to the fact she was a ‘newbie’ chosen by the Executive Producer and moved on with the scene and what he demanded of her.

  Then Amy had a brief respite from shooting when Mark was called upon to shoot some of his solo scenes in ‘Miss Cloud’. Amy excused herself to one of the soundproof rooms with a phone and dialed Garret’s cell phone. She sat in a chair around a small table and drew circles around an ink stain with her finger as the call attempted to connect. To her surprise, it didn’t go to voice mail.

  “Harrison here.”

  Amy’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Hi, Harrison. Burke here.”

  “Hello, Amy,” he said in a much gentler tone. “How fares rehearsal?”

  “Good. It’s definitely different than the stage, all those cameras staring at me. And sometimes we have to reshoot a scene just because the camera angle wasn’t right or something. It’s a little frustrating, but I’m having fun.” Amy’s smile twitched upward. “How fares your schedule?”

  “The same as usual,” Garret said vaguely, “but I would much rather talk of you.”

  Amy smiled. “That makes me feel wonderful.”

  Garret chuckled. “Do you still plan on dinner this evening at seven? Or does Max plan on keeping you later than first planned?”

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Afraid to ask? Why?”

  Amy’s smile faded as she picked at the side of the table. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She forced the smile back. “I had a lot of fun last week, Garret. Thanks for clearing your schedule and coming over. It was really nice. Especially all the stories.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, Amy. I have never before so enjoyed laughing with a woman.”

  Amy released a deep breath as she closed her eyes, playing back the myriad of happy moments. “Garret, if you can’t make it for dinner, that’s okay. You can just give me a call between meetings or something.”

  “Ah, sweet muse, should I be content with the song when my soul thirsts for the warmth of the laughter within it? Say not that you give me leave to be absent, for that shall cause the death of my spirit.”

  Amy smiled, eyes still closed. “Poet mine,” she said in a voice slightly colored with tears, “come then that your muse might rest within the intensity of that spirit. My warmth is created for yours; my song sung for your lips; my life empty without your spirit to give it wings. Come then, that I might live.”

  Deep breath. “I shall come, sweetest muse. I shall come that your life and mine be shared as one breath and song. Cry not, lest your tears break this very heart.”

  Amy sniffed, wiping the tears from her face with a tremulous smile. “I cry, but for the joy found in the safety of your intensity.” Amy sniffed again. “Love has blossomed within that intensity, poet mine... accept this warmth as your very own. Accept my song as yours. Your muse shall wither if the petals of my love are not accepted by that of your spirit I adore.” Silence. “Poet mine, speak that I might hear the tones which replenish my breath.”

  Deep breath. “I speak, muse, but what words to say when a confession of love has stolen my breath?”

  Amy smiled. “Then let my words return it to you,” she whispered, “I love you.”

  Deep breath. “I need to go, Amy, but I will come this evening. Wait for me at the bus stop. I will take you home.”

  “Alright. Until this evening.”

  “Until this evening.”

  Amy took the phone from her ear and very slowly replaced the receiver. She released a deep breath.