Act I: Scene III

On Narkissos
Narcissus is one of the many significant contributions of Boeotia to our cultural heritage, but there are many others. Including in no particular order, the Hunter Orion, The poet and scholar Plutarch, an elite army of homosexuals, and your Husband’s alleged ancestor, Constantine, The Red. There are some in Constantinople that resent what they see as a “violent usurpation of a provincial commander.” There are some even organizing to that effect. However, for now, let’s say that many great heroes have come from obscure backgrounds, and move on.

Act 1: Scene 3

The Riverbank Cephissus and a field of daffodils, a wooden dock on one side with a A handsome young man reclining on top. He is looking down to a calm part of the stream.

Narkissos: Why dos't thou complain so much?
This entrenchment near the river bed, i'd hope it would please you?
By the gods below! The river would have surely taken this soil away, but for my sweat and splintered hands!

Alas! Should I make something, you see only the flaw.
Should I fix the flaw, you criticize my carelessness.
And should it be flawless, there is always something I should have done instead.

Mekhane files down.

Mekhane: Hello Narcissus, my fellow flower friend.
I see the new pylons have been placed well.
And these boards you've sanded so smooth.

They feel fine on old webbed feet.
Surely you will let an old friend fish here one day.

Narkissos: Well met Cranesbill. [See footnote].

Scholastikos On Flowers. My friend and colleague, The Priest Christopher Akratotrophos, who found for the court this play, makes the following note. 

“Here the author is playing with their ancient names for a pun, with The Crane γέρανος [Cranesbill] and Ναρκισσος [Daffodil]. Given that this pun only works best in ancient Greek, this proves the work was written by Aristophanes.” 

On certain topics, I will always defer to the expertise of the Old Theban monastic. But since this is outside of matters of demon-slaying and wine, I quibble here. I'll concede this may be a clever classical Greek reference for a child or Frankish queen stammering through our poetry. However, it doesn’t sound like Aristophanes, because Aristophanes is funny. But perhaps there is a reason this text has remained outside of Aristophanes’ widely celebrated work. 

Narkissos:  Just another day in Elysium, I suppose.
The opinion of a crane is always welcome on technical matters, yet my spirits, they are not lifted.
Twas made for another, and still goes unappreciated.
If I could bring myself to it, a gathering or festivities could'st be held.
Here upon the docks, our families gather like a field of flowers.

But such plans are calls to the aether.

This dock was made for my reflection. And tis best not disturb my better half.

How is the other half you look upon?
And your hatchlings?
You have how many now?

Mekhane: Eight now, Narcissus.

With my mate they make my muses.

For my nest is filled with noise,
There is always history held against me,
And plenty of drama from which I can laugh and cry.

I can make no complaints that have not already been logged.
Funny thing, though, any time I fly down to you with a bundle of grievances,

I forget them by this riverbed.

Narkissos: Lost in my reflection, I suppose.

Mekhane: Though now I must warn you,

you have a stalker encroaching upon you.

Narkissos: Nine cranes are a good omen, I hope. Your concern, I appreciate, my friend. Your fear I do not.
Be it beast - Alas, the gods ensure - to fear them I have no need.

To the wolf and bear, I am but a plant to them.

Not as flesh or herbivore do such predators view me.
And if they are not beasts, but men. Then they may join the chorus I suppose.

Mekhane: I can't speak for her danger, only her determination.
But perhaps you may find this predator pleasant.
She is a persistence predator, what she lacks in grace and cunning, she makes up for with will.

Gothika emerges from the water.

Gothika: Who would think that a bird would make such a poor wingman?

Narkissos: Oi moi! what ripples ye make!

Gothika: My whistling went unnoticed, my undressing unseen.
I pose on the rocks and the only howls I hear are from wolves.
So I swim over to your side, and now my golden locks are mangy and mud-colored.

And what do I see when I get here?

The Crane talking to a beautiful youth.

So tell me Aesop, what moral shall I learn from this setup?

Mekhane: You should learn that loyalty to one's friends is never treason.

And that in Greek, adelphoi come before hetairai
Since the prey has pounced upon herself, I suppose introductions are in order.

Narkissos meet The Gothic Night Creature.

Gothika meet the cursed lineage of Kephissos and the water nymph.

Now, you have each other, a third voice is too crowded.

I wish you both success.

Mekhane departs. The Chorus of Perverts Enters, led by Philanthropos.

Gothika: That accursed crane has stolen my element of surprise.
ach! Marass! Sorry. I'm used to catching my prospects off guard.

My mother says to make as much of me a mystery to men.
But I suppose that's moot now. How do you do?

Narkissos: Could it be of any consolation to thee, should I say I saw you alredy?

Gothika: You did? I mean tellst more unto moi.

Narkissos: Minutes past, whilst musing upon my reflection.

By the light of the moon I saw you.

Speaking with the throng of lechers.
There are many small things you notice here.

When you've been here as long as me.

Chorus of Perverts: Rejoice! Goth Girl.

He saw thee before thee saw he.
And what a pleasant site to see.
Perhaps its fate, that there is more.

What great interactions have we in store.

Narkissos: Cease! Speak no of fate so flippantly, fools!
For between her and echo, none have hated more my unhappy line.
And tell your newest member of your ekklesia.

During the day I don't begrudge thee thy tyranny.
But suspend thy sessions at nights.

Gothika: Well firstly! Your rule is not fair to me.
My curse comes from the sun.
The day will burn my supple body.

And secondly, how dare you!
I am not part of the Chorus of Perverts!
 Just like you they were all watching me!

Philanthropos [Chorus]: Like you, we have from a distance watched and admired.
To see his sad eyes, his golden hair, his perfect hairless chest and face.
But while he looks upon his reflection's face. Our gaze is not so chaste.

Chorus of Perverts: We like to think, that when we do.
As Narcissus looks upon himself with lust.
His reflection ogles him too.

Gothika: Well, you saw a peek of me then, surely you saw something you liked?
There is much more of me to see.
Give me permission to climb on top of your pier, and I can give you more than a peek.

Narkissos: Ehu! Please! Your ripples make it hard to see!
Unhappy sight, reflection mine. Inside this bowl, your form I'll find.
Please do not take my love, myself, my only companion from me!

As for you! Echo of my fate. To you I'll say this!

From up close, tis true, your eyes I find bewitching.

But as to your shape, your form -- to me -- seems udderously barbaric.

Tries to climb up on the dock and fails.

Gothika: Udderous!
Invite me onto this dock so you can say that to my face, prettyboy!

Narkissos gets up, cradling the cup in his hand 

Narkissos: Oimoi! My love! My self! My heart! please do not look at me like that. When I spoke of her eyes, I meant nothing by it.

Narcissus runs away while speaking to his reflection. Leaving the Chorus and Gothika. Gothika climbs ashore.

Philanthropos [Chorus]: Handing her a large cloth to wrap herself in. Take his towel as some compensation.
And the lovely view from the rear
What compelled such behavior, we hardly know either.

Chorus of Perverts: Don't give up Gothika
There is more you can try.
Take some comfort in his words, and what he found in your eye.

Gothika: I'm in no mood for your Meters. Chorus cease your rhymes. Naked, rejected. I just want to -

Gothika weeps and flees the scene

This Ends Act I