31 Plays in 31 Days, #2 - “Lost Children”
Aug. 2nd, 2023 09:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Today’s piece is also from the currently-being-drafted Mrs. Hawking part 7. When we come into Mary and Arthur’s new life in New York in 1890, they’ve got all these new things going on, fun life-expanding things, and Mary in charge of her own superheroing. So here is when she encounters the person that gives her the case she’s working for this episode. We wanted it to feel like a natural extension of the work she did in London, but show a meaningful evolution in Mary’s way of doing things. In this case, we see her willingness to help a man in trouble, while Mrs. Hawking only ever worked for women. It’s also meant to show she’s worked a few cases in America, and feels confident in her abilities to help people, even though it’s just her, with some assistance from Arthur.
Also this means we’re having our first American characters in the shows! Kathleen Duncan from yesterday’s #1 - “Busy Days” is as well. I find that I need to shift the diction in my head when I’m writing the lines for these characters, because I’m so accustomed to imagining them in English accents!
This piece is a little basic, but it’s got good bones.
Day #2 - “Lost Children”
From Mrs. Hawking 7 by Phoebe Roberts
MARY SWANN, society avenger, early thirties
OLIVER WARREN, a joiner, early thirties
New York, New York, 1890
~~~
(The street as MARY is carrying the baby and juggling all her things. She drops a ragdoll as she goes. A man passing by, OLIVER WARREN, pauses to pick it up.)
OLIVER: Ma’am, I think you’ve lost something.
MARY: Oh! Thank you, sir, it’s my little girl’s…
(He regards the doll a moment, and then breaks down.)
MARY: Sir? Are you quite all right?
OLIVER: Ah, Christ— so sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to trouble you—
MARY: No trouble! What’s happened to you?
OLIVER: Oh, it’s a long story, I won’t burden you with it. It’s only… I’ve only been in hard times of late, and there’s nowhere to turn.
(Pause.)
MARY: Please, sir. Tell me what’s happened.
OLIVER: All right, then… where to begin? My name’s Warren, Oliver Warren. I’m a joiner for Chapin and Sons, down the industrial way. About ten years ago, I met my wife, my Lucy, in a musical hall, of all places. She was a bit of a wild soul, she’d had to sneak out of her parents’ house to do it. Her people weren’t the sort to have anything to do with the likes of me— father’s some important judge, got some money and class. But that sort of thing didn’t matter to Lucy. Soon she was sneaking out once a week, until she said we ought to get married so we wouldn’t have to sneak.
MARY: God bless you.
OLIVER: Her parents wouldn’t hear of it— cut her off, tried to send her across the country so she couldn’t see me anymore. So we eloped, and the deed was done before they could. They stopped speaking to her— all but disowned her outright. I thought it might break her, but… she wanted our life together. We had our daughter, our Daisy, and we were happy. ‘Til this past winter… the consumption. Lucy fell ill to it.
MARY: Oh, no.
OLIVER: We wrote to Lucy’s parents, for the first time since we married. They sent doctors, the best their money could buy… but it weren’t enough. Jesus took her to Himself, between Christmas and the New Year.
MARY: Oh, sir, I’m so sorry. And what of Daisy? Was she all right?
OLIVER: That’s just it, ma’am. I thought the worst had come, but… just as I’d lost Lucy, her parents took away our Daisy. Said she’d be better off out of the gutter, they could give her things I can’t. And— maybe that’s so, but— they won’t even let me see her! And I can’t get past the gate. They’ve got an army of servants on patrol to keep me away.
MARY: How awful! Can’t they be reasoned with?
OLIVER: They won’t talk to me, won’t take my letters. They’ve built a fortress around them, so they’ll never have to deal with the likes of me again. They think they can give Daisy everything, but a girl needs her papa— more than ever when she’s just lost her mama! But I don’t know what to do. I’m at my wit’s end.
MARY: It’s a terrible thing, Mr. Warren. But, sir…
OLIVER: I’m sorry. I don’t mean to lay all my troubles on you.
MARY: Sir, it’s only… what if someone could bring your daughter back to you?
OLIVER: What do you mean?
MARY: If someone could help you, could you do what had to be done?
OLIVER: Why… I’d do anything.
MARY: Even… leave the city, and go somewhere no one could find you?
OLIVER: Anywhere, if it meant I got Daisy back! But… what do you mean? Why do you ask?
MARY: Because I may be able to help you.
OLIVER: You?
MARY: I have some experience of these things.
OLIVER: These things? Stolen children?
MARY: And getting them back.
OLIVER: Ma’am… don’t give me hope.
MARY: I can do more than that, Mr. Warren.
OLIVER: Ma’am, what can you do?
MARY: I can bring your child back to you.
(Pause.)
OLIVER: Who are you? That you can do such things for people?
MARY: My name is Mary Swann, sir. And that’s what I do.
Also this means we’re having our first American characters in the shows! Kathleen Duncan from yesterday’s #1 - “Busy Days” is as well. I find that I need to shift the diction in my head when I’m writing the lines for these characters, because I’m so accustomed to imagining them in English accents!
This piece is a little basic, but it’s got good bones.
Day #2 - “Lost Children”
From Mrs. Hawking 7 by Phoebe Roberts
MARY SWANN, society avenger, early thirties
OLIVER WARREN, a joiner, early thirties
New York, New York, 1890
~~~
(The street as MARY is carrying the baby and juggling all her things. She drops a ragdoll as she goes. A man passing by, OLIVER WARREN, pauses to pick it up.)
OLIVER: Ma’am, I think you’ve lost something.
MARY: Oh! Thank you, sir, it’s my little girl’s…
(He regards the doll a moment, and then breaks down.)
MARY: Sir? Are you quite all right?
OLIVER: Ah, Christ— so sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to trouble you—
MARY: No trouble! What’s happened to you?
OLIVER: Oh, it’s a long story, I won’t burden you with it. It’s only… I’ve only been in hard times of late, and there’s nowhere to turn.
(Pause.)
MARY: Please, sir. Tell me what’s happened.
OLIVER: All right, then… where to begin? My name’s Warren, Oliver Warren. I’m a joiner for Chapin and Sons, down the industrial way. About ten years ago, I met my wife, my Lucy, in a musical hall, of all places. She was a bit of a wild soul, she’d had to sneak out of her parents’ house to do it. Her people weren’t the sort to have anything to do with the likes of me— father’s some important judge, got some money and class. But that sort of thing didn’t matter to Lucy. Soon she was sneaking out once a week, until she said we ought to get married so we wouldn’t have to sneak.
MARY: God bless you.
OLIVER: Her parents wouldn’t hear of it— cut her off, tried to send her across the country so she couldn’t see me anymore. So we eloped, and the deed was done before they could. They stopped speaking to her— all but disowned her outright. I thought it might break her, but… she wanted our life together. We had our daughter, our Daisy, and we were happy. ‘Til this past winter… the consumption. Lucy fell ill to it.
MARY: Oh, no.
OLIVER: We wrote to Lucy’s parents, for the first time since we married. They sent doctors, the best their money could buy… but it weren’t enough. Jesus took her to Himself, between Christmas and the New Year.
MARY: Oh, sir, I’m so sorry. And what of Daisy? Was she all right?
OLIVER: That’s just it, ma’am. I thought the worst had come, but… just as I’d lost Lucy, her parents took away our Daisy. Said she’d be better off out of the gutter, they could give her things I can’t. And— maybe that’s so, but— they won’t even let me see her! And I can’t get past the gate. They’ve got an army of servants on patrol to keep me away.
MARY: How awful! Can’t they be reasoned with?
OLIVER: They won’t talk to me, won’t take my letters. They’ve built a fortress around them, so they’ll never have to deal with the likes of me again. They think they can give Daisy everything, but a girl needs her papa— more than ever when she’s just lost her mama! But I don’t know what to do. I’m at my wit’s end.
MARY: It’s a terrible thing, Mr. Warren. But, sir…
OLIVER: I’m sorry. I don’t mean to lay all my troubles on you.
MARY: Sir, it’s only… what if someone could bring your daughter back to you?
OLIVER: What do you mean?
MARY: If someone could help you, could you do what had to be done?
OLIVER: Why… I’d do anything.
MARY: Even… leave the city, and go somewhere no one could find you?
OLIVER: Anywhere, if it meant I got Daisy back! But… what do you mean? Why do you ask?
MARY: Because I may be able to help you.
OLIVER: You?
MARY: I have some experience of these things.
OLIVER: These things? Stolen children?
MARY: And getting them back.
OLIVER: Ma’am… don’t give me hope.
MARY: I can do more than that, Mr. Warren.
OLIVER: Ma’am, what can you do?
MARY: I can bring your child back to you.
(Pause.)
OLIVER: Who are you? That you can do such things for people?
MARY: My name is Mary Swann, sir. And that’s what I do.
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