Blood, Love and Rethoric

CHARACTERS

OBERON VORTIGERN, the worm of the abyss

ARTORIA AVALON, the king of the edge of the world

 

The curtains open on an empty stage. There is no furniture, no decoration, no paintings on the walls. The only noticeable feature are the dark stains on the floor.

OBERON VORTIGERN (OBERON) enters the stage.

OBERON: So? What did you think of it? Heartwrenching, wasn’t it? The tragic tale of Fairy Britain. Did you weep? Did you scream? Did you call for the fairies to die, perhaps?

Oberon starts pacing on the stage. His gaze never leaves the audience.

OBERON: You don’t even remember half of the deaths you have witnessed, do you? The story wasn’t even over yet, and you had already dismissed them. All this pain, all this suffering, and what for? Shallow entertainment? To be consumed, like wood in a fireplace, to burn and howl and then disappear forever?

The sound of footsteps. ARTORIA AVALON (ARTORIA) enters the stage. Oberon does not notice her.

OBERON: Go ahead, clap your hands! Applaud this destruction! You wanted this, didn’t you? Clap your hands! Clap your hands and go home! Clap your hands and go back to your real life, with your real wife, your real children, and bury us all twice over! Just-

ARTORIA: Oberon.

Oberon marks a pause. Then he turns to her.

OBERON: How did you get here?

ARTORIA: I came for you.

OBERON: That is not an answer.

ARTORIA: You would know what a non-answer looks like, wouldn’t you?

Oberon growls at her.

ARTORIA: Irregardless. I came for you. You are called backstage.

OBERON : (snorting) Who would call for the Worm of the Abyss now that this story is over?

ARTORIA: You get one guess.

OBERON : (short pause) You’ve got to be kidding me.

Artoria walks up to him, until they’re standing right next to each other.

ARTORIA: Stars do not burn because of their rationale. They burn because that is in their nature. I do not know how you could expect anything different.

OBERON: There is nothing to love in here! Not the worm, not the abyss, not the liar- mh!

Artoria grabs him by the collar and pulls him into a kiss. Her other hand wraps around the back of his neck. It lasts quite a while. There is tongue involved.

OBERON : You- you can’t do that.

ARTORIA: I recall someone kissed me back.

OBERON : You can’t do that! We’re uncle and niece!

ARTORIA : Vortigern is King Arthur’s uncle. You are the will of Britain and I am the holy sword. 

OBERON : Do you think they care? It doesn’t matter to them that I am not Oberon except when I am, and that you are not Artoria except when you are. It doesn’t matter to them that we are childhood friends, and siblings, and fated enemies, and uncle and niece, and lovers, and traveling companions, and the only ones who can kill each other, and the only ones who get each other. At best they see the individual components, they take the words apart until the sentences are devoid of meaning, and they make up a whole new identity based on what is convenient to them. They want love and rhetoric, but they can’t handle blood. They want the fuzzy feelings and the snappy one-liners, but they don’t want it to feel real. They-

Artoria suddenly pushes him by the shoulders. Oberon stumbles backward, then falls on his ass. Artoria immediately crouches down to straddle his lap.

ARTORIA : You want them to remember us? You want them to feel for us? Let us give them something truly disgusting. Let us give them something they will hate. If bringing you back is a sin, if the two of us, the three of us being together is a sin, then let it be the most horrifying thing they have ever laid their eyes upon.

OBERON : (Slight pause) Some hero you are. 

ARTORIA: We both know that girl was no hero. She was a perfectly ordinary country girl.

OBERON: And what? You’re only honoring her deep inner wishes by fucking the worm of the abyss onstage?

ARTORIA : What if I am? What will you do about it, uncle?

There is a slight pause. Then Oberon reaches up to cup Artoria’s face, and pulls her into another kiss.

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