MM-Music of the Spheres [Invite]

[NPC]

~~~~~

The curtains would soon be drawn. The name of the play was a very plain one, easily forgettable, which explained why no one present remembered it. A crowd was flitting in, taking their seats, talking softly amongst themselves. Hatire and Argyll wound up sitting next to each other. No one around them was paying them much mind, which forced a bit of bonding if they chose to talk, and a good deal of introspection if they didn't.

At the foot of the stage, an orchestra was tuning up. It changed from a discordant montage of sounds into a pleasant and soothing wave of harmony as the conductor brought them together. The theatre itself was tall and rounded, with one wide balcony - within which Hatire and Argyll sat - and two personal ones besides, and very comfortable seats that even reclined a bit.

The orchestra entered a long pause, then launched into an overture, an ethereal, dreamy sound floating from the pit. The curtains had yet to open, but already there was a sense of calm and serenity as befit the beginning of a play.

~~~~~

[Hatire Carrington]

Hatire sat quietly as he waited for the play to begin. It was the first time since his trip to this time that he had decided to partake in theatre. It was not without a certain amount of pain that he had decided to do so, for even though his wife was no centuries passed, Hatire could still see her face as plain as day. For him it was just two years since he had last seen the woman he had come to love, the woman who had been the mother to his children, the woman who had become his world.

It was not something that he had found a way to talk about with anyone. How could anyone know what it felt like to know that the person you had been committed to body and soul was gone, had thought you abandoned them to their dying days. Hatire had did the research, to see how his wife and his children had turned out, even found where his lineage now lived. It had taken some hand wringing, but he had been able to get a box of possessions of his wife's, which had included her diaries.

Perhaps it was a false optimism that he had decided to read through them. It would have been better to have merely kept the chest and its contents as a monument to their love, to the memories that were still fresh in his mind. Instead, he had foolishly gone through them, read the hurt, the confusion, and then the distaste that his wife went through. She had died thinking that he had left her and their children with nothing, had been nothing but a scoundrel in the end.

Hatire had yet to go through the rest of her things since that day, the wounds of what his wife believed him to turn out to be reaching deep inside of him. This gift that had brought him here had done nothing but cause him trouble and heart ache. It was not a gift but curse wrought with grief and despair, there was no benefit to having it when it resulted in such a catastrophe. His family was long in the grave and yet he sat here at one of his loves occupations in memory of her, of the time that they had shared irregardless of the pain it caused him.

The orchestra paused and Hatire looked up from his seat as the rest of the theatre seemed to have an eerie calm about it. Perhaps it was not eerie at all, but he had been to lost in his introspection to appreciate the serenity of the company. If so, it was going to be a night that would likely not pass quickly. Enduring the pain though was what men of honor did and he would take each act as a blow to endure and recover from. It would be his comeuppance for leaving her alone like that, for abandoning the family to this terrible gift of his.

[Fallon Daugherty]

There were grumbles of displeasure of annoyance around Hatire as the lights dimmed and the orchestra moved into a grand overture that would open the play. It would not take long for Hatire to place where the grumbles were coming from and why, if he did perceive them. A shape, hidden by shadows for the moment, was making its way through the aisle Hatire was sitting in, stepping on feet and shoving legs aside. The shape stopped just short of Hatire, specifically, in front of the seat directly next to Hatire, the one that was not occupied by Argyll.

"Get up."

The figure that had been occupying the seat looked up and frowned.

"Get up."

This time, she did not wait for a response. She extended one hand, and the other being rose out of his seat, unnaturally, then flew backwards, tumbling over rows of seats behind them. She turned to Hatire and smirked, her hands on her hips.

Jael - Fallon - was dressed in a long, almost sheer black gown. Black opera gloves and high-heeled shoes completed the look. But that was not what was unusual about her. As the lights onstage began to brighten, it would become obvious that she possessed a set of large white wings. They flapped behind her and folded in somewhat as she plopped into the now empty seat next to Hatire, although the wings still extended a bit into Hatire's personal space.

Only then would it become obvious to Hatire and Argyll that they were the only humans in the audience. Every last one of the others - below, behind, ahead, in the wings, were angels, all possessed of wings just like Jael's. Nevertheless, Jael treated the whole scene and the two mortals' presence as though nothing was amiss. She nudged Hatire and grinned, almost as though she did not notice Hatire's distress, although she did. "This ought to be good."

[NPC]

With a dramatic swoosh, the play began. Although the audience was comprised mostly of angels, the actors on the stage were all human, and were dancing around to the music of the orchestra, which had transitioned to the theme of the first act. They greeted each other, all in happy tones, bowing and curtsying and nodding from one to the other, against a backdrop that resembled the heart of a small town. Overall, the mood of the play was all of cheer and excitement, seeking to draw its viewers into that same feeling of joy.

[Hatire Carrington]

So caught up in his own introspection, Hatire nearly missed Fallon's entrance into the seat next to him. The unfortunate victim of her display of attitude was tossed aside like a rag doll, several rows behind where Hatire had chosen as his seat. Fallon had dressed quite elegantly Hatire could tell, he especially liked the way the opera gloves brought a certain regal look to her. He had always liked how those long, sleek gloves just brought out a certain amount of beauty in a woman, and with one as already naturally as beautiful as Fallon was, the effect was exponential.

Yet what really caught his eye was the appearance of what appeared to be wings sprouting from Fallon's back. No one else had made mention of it while she had scooted her way down the row and yet there they were as plain as day. Just to make sure he was not dreaming or hallucinating, he reached his right hand up and stroked a few of the feathers. They were soft and supple, a tad ticklish to the touch, and felt all too real. Why then had not a single soul gasped at the sight of such a thing, that Fallon appeared as an angel before them?

Fallon herself acted as if nothing was amiss, a smirk on her face and a little nudge against him as she suggested the play was going to be good. Perhaps it would be, Hatire had not done much research into it when he had decided to attend the show, it was merely a means to an end. One had to grieve before they were able to move on it was said, and so this had been his way of grieving, of trying to absolve himself of all the pain and guilt he felt over what had become of his family, of his love.

The curtain opened in a dramatic swoosh and Hatire let his eyes look around him and forward at last. As he did, he was lost in disbelief, all of those in attendance, aside from himself and the man on his opposite side, bore the same wings that Fallon had. His eyes went to the stage... and were surprised to see that the actors themselves were human as well. His mind could make no sense of it though, there was nothing rational or logical to explain what he was seeing with his own two eyes.

"I have fallen through the very fabric of reality into some land of make believe." He whispered to himself, as he tried to concentrate on the play. Its melodies and act were kind, happy, and joyous. A part of him wanted to let those feelings wash over him, sweep aside the distress, despair, and disbelief, but the reason for his coming to his show were still very fresh on his mind. It may have been a scabbed over wound, especially with a friend beside him, but there would be blood if it was picked at just now....

[Fallon Daugherty]

Hearing Hatire’s whisper, Jael frowned. “What? Make-believe? I have no idea what you’re on about. You came to see a play, and here’s a play. Relax. Enjoy yourself.” She leaned back in her seat and propped her feet up on the top of the seat in front of her. Her heels connected with the back of that person’s head, and when that angel turned around to glare at her, she just smiled back sweetly.

The humans acted out some fun stuff, singing and dancing around and moving their hands and things like that, Jael observed. Kind of like watching humans in real life. Always flailing and wailing for someone to listen to their whining. “So realistic,” she said to Hatire. “Don’t you think so?”

[Hatire Carrington]

Hatire was surprised that Fallon was able to hear his whisper to himself, he did not think that he had spoken that loudly. Perhaps his friend merely had exceptional hearing though, he really did not know that much about her despite having lived with her as long as he had. All the same, he then felt a bit bad at her slight admonishing of him. She did not understand though, not that she really had the chance to, it was not something that he had allowed himself to share with anyone. She did not even know that he had collected the diary in the first place...

Her question was an odd one though, realistic? What ever did she mean by that, especially the way she had scoffed at his comment of make believe. It did not seem to add up at all in his end, but who was he to judge what was logical at this point?

"As real as it ever was and yet not as beautiful." There was not the apple of his eye, the keeper of his heart among the actors and actresses. He, the world, and the play were all lesser for it.

[NPC]

The actors on the stage danced along merrily, their songs drifting up high, to the rafters, as the scenery changed behind them and the music changed with it. As with any other plot, there had to be a conflict, and here, the actors switched gears, with strange creatures hung from ropes and controlled from above swooping down on them, and the actors scattering around the stage. Some tore at their hair; others grabbed at each other and cowered, or looked for cover; some crawled under props and mimed acts better left to the imagination.

Suddenly, from backstage, a massive shape appeared, as red as blood and teeth to match - or perhaps the teeth were simply smeared with blood. The actors looked over at it, breaking character, seemingly surprised for real. And then, as the thing bounded toward them, they ran, but never quickly enough. Around the hall, gasps and sobs filled the room; the orchestra had stopped and abandoned their instruments, but they, too, were consumed.

The worm made its way all about the stage, its appetite never satisfied, always moving and striking until every last human was reduced to nothing but blood and gore. And when it was finished, the stage’s curtains swooshed down, and the audience rose, their wings hanging low behind them, their paces pale, looking at each other and nodding in sadness.

~~~fin NPC~~~

[Fallon Daugherty]

As the curtain fell and her brethren rose around her, Jael did as well. For her part, she looked equally disturbed. However, she also seemed expectant, and hardly surprised.

“The play is the tragedy, ‘Man,’” she whispered to Hatire, “and its hero the Conqueror Worm.”

fin Fallon

[Hatire Carrington]

"What is life but one tragedy followed by another?" Hatire answered Fallon as he watched very much in disbelief as the events unfolded. It was the most truth that one could ever muster in a moment as audacious as this turned out to be. Whose sorrow was drowned in this event, his or the world's?