The Sudden Changes • •

[micah andrew espeseth]

For its age, the theatre was not in bad shape. A few floorboards groaned under foot with the weight they had carried over the years, and some of the high beams close to the ceiling were starting to sag after a century or more of supporting the whole place, but aside from that, everything else had been replaced or returned to fit in with the ever changing tides of fashion. Chipped paint was easily covered over, those Micah could see where the work had been done not too long ago, switching out the taupe for a cappuccino shade a lot of places seemed to be favouring these past few years. Carpet, stained and flattened was just ripped up and relayed with something similar, but newer. Cosmetic work, just like those who feared aging in the modern age, was an affordable option to hide the truth of the old. Micah was more than a decorator or a carpet fitter. He took masterpieces and let them stay that way. No one needed to know that a child had put a sticky handprint on a priceless portrait, or that a museum had accidentally stored a canvas somewhere there was damp. And give him some time here and no one will come into the theatre and say it was a pity the mural in the foyer was faded or cracked. He’d have it restored to its full and former glory soon enough, bright and radiant, fitting with the rest of the building.

He worked while the theatre was closed, so as to get more done while he couldn’t be disturbed. It meant earlier mornings and later nights some times, but he didn’t mind. Micah worked best when he could lose himself in the painting, the process of the restoration. Something as big as this he couldn’t take away and work on in his own studio, he needed to put up scaffolding and work along the display bit by bit. He covered it up when he wasn’t there, which was usually when there were performances on and people showing up for work or to watch a show. He would never be able to get anything done with all that commotion, but he had the free time in his schedule now and it was either work around everyone else, or they would have to close down for a few weeks when Micah was free next, which wouldn’t be for a few months. He was always making appointments and arrangements to check out another gallery or museum who called him in. Some places were regulars now, others were new, but he was fast building a good reputation for himself, and the business his father had brought Micah into.

He sat up on the scaffolding, leaning back against a secure bar while he primed and prepped everything he would need. He only ever worked in small sections since there was really no other way of getting through something like this when the work was so meticulous and everything was so detailed. He was paid to be a perfectionist, and his focus was paramount. He couldn’t just rush into his work with a paintbrush and hope for the best, no. It had to be timed correctly, he had to feel it. When he did, he moved the brush with a steady hand, bringing life back to something that was faded beyond recognition. He had old photographs to go by, but up close the work was almost entirely destroyed. From the ground it might just seem aged, but with his nose almost pressed against the mural now, he could see how it was more than that. Lines were blurred, smudged, and some had disappeared completely. Micah would really have to work some magic to restore this back to its original quality, but he was a man who liked a challenge.

• • •

TAGGED! Hadley Bronwyn Hastings
WORDS! 640!
OUTFIT! Rugged Restorer!
LYRICS! Take Care - - - City And Colour
NOTES! <3

[Hadley Bronwyn Hastings]

Sometimes it did not pay to be a perfectionist. And Hadley would definitely agree with that. She was picky to begin with and then she was forced to dress one of the biggest Diva's on Broadway. It was just a good thing the stupid woman didn't understand Swedish or Hadley would have probably been out of the job a long time ago. As it was, she was lucky enough to be on the same page as the director when it came to her feelings about this particular actress. Downside to being the head of the department though, meant working the hours when the building was supposed to be empty. Sure, she could have done it all at home and brought the costumes in but her table, though massive, wasn't as big as the one she had in the back, nor did she had the same amount of well, anything. The things she had at her apartment were only really the things she picked up for her own designs and outfits or pieces. Her apartment had a room where the theatre had what Hadley fondly referred to as a warehouse. A room for all the bolts of material and what was left after it was used, another room for the thread, buttons and everything else that seemed more like it was odd and ends than actual pieces that could be sewn onto a costume. The last two rooms were her office where she could design the costumes in piece and the actual sewing room with all the machines and the cutting table.

It was her sanctuary in a maze of drama and snarky actors who thought they were superior. The petite brunette much preferred those who worked backstage to the ones on stage. There were a few of course, that she loved to work with but there were others that she wanted to stick with pins. It was that particular actor that had her out shopping that morning. She had so many high demands and Hadley was forced to do as she asked because the director was one storm into his office away from begging on his hands and knees. She was the best they had and that meant she had to dress her personally. Of course, it also meant she had her arms full of everything that she had needed to pick up at the shops. Most of it was in bags but there were the six bolts of material that she was carting around that wouldn't fit in a bag that were causing the trouble. Hadley knew better than to go shopping without some one to help her but the thought never seemed to occur to her until she was already at the shops and paying for the first of many purchases.

Hadley was impressed that she'd managed to get the theatre open with how full her hands were. She'd managed to pay the cabbie and gather everything up in her arms but she hadn't considered the front doors. Stubborn to the core, she'd wrestled the door open before nearly losing her balance once inside. "Anyone around to give me a hand?!" She yelled, hopefully loud enough to grab someone's attention even as she fumbled with the heavy bolts. Considering they were higher than she was tall, it was only a matter of time. "Fyra armar skulle vara så mycket bättre." She muttered. "Eller en assistent." She added, leaning back to try and counter the weight.

Tag || micah andrew espeseth
Words || 577
Clothes || Stressed Swed
Music || Love Me Like You Mean It --Kelsea Ballerini
Notes || <3!

[micah andrew espeseth]

One thing Micah loved about his job was that he got to work alone. He had adored his time learning the trade under his father’s guide, but he didn’t think he could be part of some big restoration team. He had seen a television show once where there were twenty or so people all trained like him working on one huge building project and the very thought horrified him. Micah was meticulous in his work and if he was honest he hated it when owners and curators popped their heads around just to see how he was getting on. He wasn’t a small child who needed babysitting and he wasn’t about to rob something that had lost most of its value because someone had been careless enough to store it where there was a damp or mould. This was his trade and if he wasn’t good at it he wouldn’t have the reputation he did at the age he was. The key to his work being a success though was being left to get on with it, uninterrupted, so that he could concentrate. It wasn’t as though he could make a mistake and turn it into some wonderful new thing. He was restoring everything to the way it should have been, and the way it needed to be exactly. There was no room for a slip of the brush because someone banged on the door or called his name.

That had been one of the many things his wife had never understood. Maybe he had married too quickly, but he had definitely married the wrong person. She had wanted him to drop everything for her, to give her the life she had always dreamt of without any thought to what Micah wanted. Then, as time ticked by, Micah realised all he wanted was his art and his career. He took jobs that kept him away from home for longer, accepted more right off the back of another just so he wouldn’t have to return to their marital home for another fight, some other argument about children he wasn’t ready for. He screwed up and she had screwed up, but he was shouldering more of the blame because it was easier that way. He wasn’t there to defend himself and when he had been back home she had twisted so many things in her anger that he was already the villain. Micah was tired of the fighting, so his fresh start in New York was just the best way to put a clean break under all of it, even if there wasn’t a divorce lawyer in sight yet.

It was the noise of someone’s arrival that stopped Micah putting a wet brush to the wall. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus with too much noise around him, so he figured he’d wait until they were through the entrance foyer before continuing. They did seem to be making an awful lot of noise though, and he peered over the edge of his scaffolding to see the woman struggling with all that she was carrying. Micah might be an asshole in the eyes of his wife, but he was a gentleman really. He put his brush down and climbed over the edge of his scaffolding, reaching the floor in a few strategic steps. “Here. Before you hurt yourself.” He took some of the bolts from her and shouldered them fairly easily. He was used to lugging about heavy things and moving equipment around. It came with his work. “And four arms would just look ridiculous.” He told her with a smirk, before he looked around the theatre. Growing up in Norway he was used to hearing not just his own native tongue, but that of the surrounding countries, too. Plus, the languages were so very similar it had been easy for a young Micah to pick them up, though he never really considered himself a multi-lingual. “Where are these going?” He asked, not particularly wanting to hold a long conversation while he carried the bolts around.

• • •

TAGGED! Hadley Bronwyn Hastings
WORDS! 681!
OUTFIT! Rugged Restorer!
LYRICS! Take Care - - - City And Colour
NOTES! <3

[Hadley Bronwyn Hastings]

Hadley had always been a wildly independent person, even when she had been a young child. She didn't need help from anyone, even when it was painfully obvious she did need help. She had at least wanted to try doing it all by herself first before she asked for help; which she was not opposed to. She would ask for help if and when she needed it. Running out today for better material had been one of those should have gotten help right off sort of things but Hads was so stubborn she had thought herself capable of doing it all her self and for the most part, she had succeeded. So despite the fact she had a big game of Jenga going with bolts of material and she was pretty sure she heard something drop, she was calling it a win and pretending the falling thing was from her saviour. Her head snapped up when he responded to her Swedish comments in English. No one she worked with understood her, which was how she managed to get away with all the nasty things she said on a daily basis. So someone actually understanding what she was saying threw her for a loop for a second and she just stood there blinking. "Uh... maybe not but then I wouldn't need help with my bolts." She finally told him when her words started working again.

She knew she was standing there awkwardly but she was still a little hung up on someone understanding her. The last time anyone had, she'd gone to this little shop she'd found when she'd been looking for materials and hadn't known until she was muttering in Swedish and the woman behind the counter answered her! Then there was a long conversation, jokes and political updates before Hadley was on her way once again. She frequented the place enough now that she didn't get homesick though there were times. Before that it had taken a phone call either to her brother or her parents but that had never been enough, not really. Shaking her head, Hadley blinked up at the man helping her out. "Right! Of course! My rooms." She said, probably not making any sense at all. "This way." She added, pointing towards the side entrance to the backstage area. Normally, she would have walked around to the actual stage door but she'd felt like if she did drop something, the floor inside the building was actually cleaned from time to time and it wouldn't ruin the fabric as much. Shaking her head again, Hadley started forward and wound her way through the back hallways around the bits and bobs that were always in the way until she reached wardrobe and pushed the never actually locked door open with her hip.

Her space beyond the door was her sanctuary. The first room was clearly the space where she designed and fit the costumes. It was cleaner than the other two by far but it was still that mess that said it was worked in often. She led her saviour through to the next room which held little more than the massive table she used to cut out her patterns, when she needed to measure something out or when she needed a ten minute cat nap in the middle of the night because she had a rush fix for the following performance. The room after that looked like a tornado blew through but Hadley knew where everything was and didn't need to think for a single second when she went in there to get something she needed. It was chaotic but it worked for Hadley. "The table here is fine. Thank you." She said, dropping her own arm load on the massive table. She'd had to get it custom made when she'd first taken over the job because the dinky table they'd had previously hadn't been good enough for anything. Hadley had genuinely wondered how the last head of wardrobe or any of her underlings did anything on it! Lucky for her the crew that built the sets knew exactly what she was after and was able to whip it up in the room in a single afternoon! "Will you be able to make it back out to the front?" She asked, knowing the first time she'd had to go through that way, she'd gotten lost three times.

Like always, Hadley hadn't planned on sticking around her workspace very long. It was her day off, her day to take a step back and go over her designs, maybe whip up something new for herself and grab lunch with a friend. She had planned on putting away the bolt she bought and mad dashing out the door again. And then she looked at her board and had an idea. That idea turned as it always did into a whole new sketch, which then needed to be coloured and material needed to be picked. The extra bits led to phone calls to the shops she adored for rickrack and other little bits, which led to orders and delivery date times. One thing always seemed to melt into the next and the hours just spun away with it Hadley ever even realising the sun had set until she woke up at her drawing table with her hair a mess, her glasses on the floor and a delicate pool of drool ruining the piece she was working on. Casper used to tease her so much that she would get so into her work one of these days they'd find her body instead of her because she'd forgotten to eat for so long. She was bad and she could admit it but she wasn't that bad. She did go to her apartment most nights ; not that it was much different than her space at the theatre.

Tag || micah andrew espeseth
Words || 974
Clothes || Stressed Swed
Music || Love Me Like You Mean It --Kelsea Ballerini
Notes || <3!

[micah andrew espeseth]

Micah liked losing himself in his work. When he was restoring a piece he could forget all of his troubles and worries, instead focusing purely on the job at hand. It was a relaxing hobby that he had turned into a career, a talent he had been able to work into a way to pay the bills. Unfortunately, it couldn’t fix all of his problems and Micah wasn’t the best at confronting the things that he couldn’t repair with art supplies. He was a smart man, but even smart men were prone to making foolish mistakes from time to time. “But you might be the subject of uhyggelig rumours.” He teased, barely aware that he had mixed his Norwegian tongue in with his English. Micah did it all the time, mostly without noticing, but occasionally he did it on purpose when he felt a word fit better or sounded more appropriate. It was difficult having two languages in his head, but people just seemed to nod and smile, and sometimes he wondered if they just thought they misheard him rather than question what the hell he just said to them.

It was easy sometimes to forget. When he was on his own he muttered in Norwegian all the time. He had a neighbour who had been convinced he didn’t speak a lick of English for several months until one day when Micah knocked on her door to hand her some mail of hers he’d accidentally received. She’d been stunned when he spoke perfect English after all she’d heard from him were mumblings in a language she couldn’t identify as anything beyond European. Still, Micah didn’t think about it too much. It just happened. He recognised Swedish and Finnish with almost as much ease as his own tongue, and hardly noticed if he spooked people with how he switched out one language for another. “Lead the way.” He said with a boyish smirk, adjusting his hold on the bolts purely for comfort more than anything else. He didn’t want anything cutting into his hands when he needed to be able to hold his brushes again shortly.

Micah followed the woman through the theatre closely. He hadn’t done much exploring since it hadn’t been necessary. His work was out front and all he had needed aside from that had been the bathrooms, which also were easy to find since they were commonly what people sought out when they were out and about in many venues. It wasn’t so much that he wasn’t interested in places, but rather he didn’t want to interrupt rehearsals, or traipse paint everywhere he shouldn’t. He worked tidily, but there was always a speckle of paint that managed to drip onto his boots, or that he smeared onto his jeans, and then it was asking to just end up somewhere else where it shouldn’t be. Keeping to himself made less of a mess, and it was often easier in the long run. Micah travelled a lot with his work, and making and keeping friends was difficult because of that. “There you go.” He said, putting the bolts down carefully before running his hand through his somewhat messy hair. “Uh, I think so. I’ve gotten lost in worst places.” For all the work he did in them, Micah still had to figure out why most museums were designed like mazes. What was the point in that?

• • •

TAGGED! Hadley Bronwyn Hastings
WORDS! 575!
OUTFIT! Rugged Restorer!
LYRICS! Take Care - - - City And Colour
NOTES! <3

[Hadley Bronwyn Hastings]

Hadley had been lucky when she'd snagged the assistant gig there at the theatre and every one when she worked her way through the few people that had been ahead of her to take over the top position. The handful of people who worked under her may have been there longer but they'd seen what everyone else had seen and known she deserved each new wrung on that ladder. She was good, she was quick and she could take charge without making people feel like she was bossing them around. She needed the work done but she couldn't always do it herself; even if that's what she wanted most some days. At least there were costumes that needed to be created for shows that she could whip up herself because her designs and ideas on it just weren't coming across on paper the way she wanted. It didn't happen often but it did happen and if she spent the entire night hiding our in one of the wardrobe department rooms then so be it; now that she'd spent a good two weeks cleaning it out and reorganising the mess her old boss had left behind when she'd retired from the life.

The costume designer made a big enough mess whenever she had pieces to put together, she hadn't needed the mess from someone else on top of it. Luckily there had been a break between shows and the rehearsals for he next production so she'd been able to offer overtime pay and they spent the two weeks gutting all the rooms associated with the department. She had brought in huge storage tubs to throw things in and after she was done, the place was pristine and ass backwards from what she'd taken over. The people above her called it organised chaos but as long as she was giving them what they needed, they weren't complaining. Hadley had a feeling it could look like a hurricane went through it or be in need of a HAZMAT suit to enter but as long a she produced costumes or ideas on time, she would be left alone in the department.

It was so much easier to get to her space in the bowels of the theatre when she used the side entrance. But it hadn't been possible and that was just as fine, too. It took her a few minutes to get through the maze but then she was fine to do her thing and not worry about not paying attention and turning left at that one spot and not right. "Okay. I'd say if you get lost just come back but…" She trailed off with a laugh. He had more luck of finding his way back to the front of the building than he would have finding her again if he took a wrong turn. Once he was gone again though, she put her hands on her hips and sighed loudly. She had no idea where she was going to put all the new stuff. It was all for the upcoming musical so it needed to be close enough to reach when she really finished up the designing part and got going on the cutting and things. She still needed to have a couple people in to get proper measurements and chose to send a text message out to the four leads for sure. The ensemble could slowly trickle in over the next couple of weeks but the leads had a couple wardrobe changes at least.

Tag || micah andrew espeseth
Words || 584
Clothes || Stressed Swed
Music || Love Me Like You Mean It --Kelsea Ballerini
Notes || <3!