[Bouncy, playful strings. A light, almost dancing orchestra. Signor Sammartino's voice — warm, mischievous, unhinged:]
"Ladies and gentlemen. Signore e signori. They say women are fickle. They say women change their minds. They say women come and go like the wind."
[A soft laugh. Ice clinking in a glass.]
"They're right. But I've found a way to make them stay. Their faces. Their faces never change. Their faces are always with me. On the shelf."
[The orchestra swells. The aria begins.]
---
[ARIA — SUNG, OPERATIC, PLAYFUL]
La donna è mobile! The face keeps spinning!
One day she's here. The next, she's grinning
At someone else. At someone new.
But I kept her face. I kept her too.
La donna è mobile! The voices say
"She's gone. She's gone. She ran away."
But she's not gone. She's on my shelf.
I kept her face. I kept her to myself.
---
[CHORUS — CHORUS OF VOICES, SOPRANO, EERIE]
Spin, spin, spin, little face.
The tenor keeps you in his space.
Spin, spin, spin, little eyes.
The tenor loves your pretty lies.
---
[VERSE 2 — SUNG, BUILDING, PLAYFUL]
La donna è mobile! The faces change!
But I have a system. I have a range.
I catch them when they spin too fast.
I keep them. I make their faces last.
The voices sing. The voices cheer.
"The tenor's collection is finally here!"
La donna è mobile! But not for me.
Their faces are mine. Their faces are free.
---
[BRIDGE — SPOKEN OVER SOFT STRINGS]
[Signor Sammartino's voice, quieter, almost tender:]
"You ever love someone who couldn't stay? Someone who looked at you and saw the blade before they saw the hand? That's every woman. Every face. Every name. But I found a way. I kept the face. I let the rest go."
[A pause. A soft laugh.]
"The rest didn't need it anyway."
[The orchestra returns. Bouncy. Playful. Terrifying.]
---
[FINAL ARIA — SUNG, FULL ORCHESTRA, TRIUMPHANT, TERRIFYING]
La donna è mobile! The face keeps spinning!
But I am the tenor. I am the beginning
And the end. I am the blade.
I am the promise the voices made.
La donna è mobile! The faces fall!
I keep them all! I keep them all!
The shelf is full. The shelf is bright.
The faces are my only light.
La donna è mobile! The song is done!
The faces are mine. The faces have won.
I sing for them. I sing for me.
La donna è mobile! The face is free!
---
[OUTRO]
[The orchestra fades to a single, playful string note. Signor Sammartino's voice, warm, breathless, satisfied:]
"That was 'La Donna è Mobile.' The aria. The face. The thing that makes the voices spin."
[A pause. A soft laugh.]
"The faces are still spinning. The shelf is still full. The voices are still singing. They're singing about you."
[The string note fades. Silence. Then, a whisper:]
"La donna è mobile. But not my faces. My faces stay. My faces always stay."
[Silence.]
AsheTheHyena
