Event Log: September, The Price of Revolution p1

[faileas]

Event Log: September, The Price of Revolution Part 1

I. The Freedom Festivities Behind the fortress-like walls of Dorchacht, what was once a gloomy, imposing city is lit up for the festivities to come. Septeril brings with it many mixed emotions for the citizens of what used to be called The Black City, though the overwhelming atmosphere is positive - this is a celebration of freedom hard-earned and prosperity hard-fought-for. The triple stars of the Resistance, now the current reigning party, feature heavily in decorations and in clothing: in pins, on hats, golden stars enchanted into fabric to dance merrily across skirts and cloaks. Stars light up the streets in decorative strings hung from lamppost to lamppost, flickering gently over the cobblestones. Mirrors, as well, feature into the decor, tiny round ones hung in multitudes from awnings and in windows like ornaments, catching the light and playing it across the otherwise-utilitarian architecture, lending it a sort of understated beauty. Much of Dorchacht has been rebuilt and repurposed by necessity since the uprising last year, and many new small businesses and restaurants are being featured at the festival - their goods or their foods on display in markets of street-side stalls or on the feast tables. Local handmade wares and crafts are out for sale for modest prices, and every sale helps out both the small business, many of which are started by former slaves, and helps the local economy, which is better these days but still recovering. The festivities go for six days, almost a full week, with feasting and bonfires every evening, and tours and tales of the city by day, as they display the changes for the better they have all made. And then, on the final evening, all are invited to watch a grand fireworks show that will be put on in the skies over Dorchacht, presided over by the Circle of Three themselves. Mirrorbound are welcomed warmly, whether they were present last year or not, and treated much like family - get ready to be pulled into activities and plied with food left and right. a. Join the Fun The children of Dorchacht are out by the dozens during the festivities, excited by all the freely-offered, special sweet treats and the magical sparklers and poppers being handed out by the fistful. The poppers explode when thrown to the ground in bursts of bright colors, completely harmless, and the sparklers are enchanted not to burn little (or big) hands if mishandled. Mirrorbound passing through may find themselves roped into elaborate pretend games of revolution by eager faces: the children name themselves either Resistance members or Mirrorbound, and 'do battle' with their magic fireworks against scarecrow-like constructions cloaked in dark bed sheets as 'the bad guys'. Depending on one's perspective, it may seem dark, but this is what these children have known very recently in their lives, and their caretakers or parents (there are more of the former than the latter, especially for the young Monsters) let them play as they will. If asked, they'll just explain that some of those kids even remember the fighting when it happened; this is just another way that they try to understand how the city has changed. More organized, family-friendly reenactment performances are also common, with several of the orphanage groups putting on small plays about the uprising, or moral plays about kindness and togetherness between Witches and Monsters. This includes a prominent set of performances by the Mirrored Hearts Home for Children - maybe you're helping out with their sets or costumes, or maybe you assisted with their scripts and songs. Those Mirrorbound volunteers will want to see the kids do well, right? They'll be heartbroken if you don't show. Of course, kids aren't the only ones doing reenactments. The newly formed Dorchacht Historical Society, dedicated to protecting Dorchacht's history going forward, puts on several - and may drag in passers-by to play different roles! Only the luckiest are begged to play the role of The Dragon, who valiantly rose up against their cruel former master, Morgana, and helped lead Dorchacht to where they are today. b. Forget-Me-Not While the overall air is celebratory, among the adults who are old enough to understand just what was lost as well as gained, there is an undercurrent of sombre remembrance. Many visit the burned-out Old Coven, left as damaged as it was when the fighting ceased, as a monument to how freedom fighters suffered and fought. Plaques dot the grounds and buildings there seemingly at random, until you realize that each metal plate bearing names is laid where someone died. To decorate these plaques, and homes and businesses as well, there are tables set up in the yard of the New Coven, heavy with a rainbow of small magical flowers called Forget-Me-Nots, and the supplies to make remembrance wreaths. In this new tradition, the flowers are chosen with a dead, missing, or simply absent loved one in mind, and woven together with glass beads, small wooden charms, and a spell written on a slip of paper. The enchanted fragrance of the Forget-Me-Nots allows whoever smells them to witness short, happy memories of the person the wreath was made for - whether they knew that person or not. The memories come from the wreath-maker, and are only short flashes (less than a minute long) or mere impressions, but all are pleasant or warming. With the spell woven in, they'll last for an entire year without wilting or losing their effects, a souvenir from the festival to take home. Mirrorbound are encouraged to join in, and make wreaths of their own, whether or not they lost someone in Dorchacht's uprising. It can be for someone who has disappeared from Geardagas, someone who died long ago, someone living they miss from home, anyone who is not currently with them.

II. The Uninvited Guests On the 25th, the final day of the celebrations, the partying lasts all day. Food and drink are abundant on every corner, upbeat music is played by street performers and over the radios that can be found in nearly every household and shop, and the bonfires have been enchanted to let the flames take fanciful shapes. Drinking games and dancing, storytelling and general partying all last clear into the evening, but once dusk falls, everyone gathers in the center square of the city for the fireworks show. The Three are there - the Witches Bryn and Hilda, and the Monster known as The Dragon, Starlight, or formerly Fafnir - with Nessie and Mhairi as guests of honor, and Hilda is the one to set off the first enchanted fireworks, after a brief speech thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate a year of freedom and independence with them. It's with bursts of colorful light in the night sky behind her that she seems to appear from nowhere: tall, dark and imposing, a sharp-eyed Witch that exudes power. Morgana Drummond is not alone, either, flanked by a dozen rough-worn Witches and a host of others. The chaos that ensues is immediate and violent. "All of this for me?" Drummond sneers. Attacks bounce off her, no matter how powerful - even Nessie's considerable spells. Witches will be able to sense the strong barrier spell close-fit around her body, and the others around her will not let Monsters get close. It's The Dragon who speaks, voice rough from disuse but loud enough: "How dare you return here-" "I built this city in all the ways that matter. I was never going to let you have it. You burned away my Dorchacht, so now I will make sure there is nothing left of yours but ashes." a. To Sleep, Perchance Unreachable, Morgana Drummond's form limns in a sickly violet light, the circle of a spell forming beneath her feet, steadily growing as her power gathers. So much magic gathered in one spot is bound to be felt by all the Mirrorbound, Witch and Monster alike, oppressive in nature as if it could steal the breath from your lungs. Perhaps it truly was a fluke that she was driven from Dorchacht, a happy accident caused by a timely distraction. The spell circle spreads, glowing, until it envelops the entire city, and it pulses once, blinding, before it sears itself across Dorchacht's streets and buildings in burnt lines and symbols. The fireworks continue to pop and burst overhead, casting shadows that seem suddenly sinister. Nothing happens for just a moment - and then all the people of Dorchacht collapse in waves. Next to a stunned Nessie and furious Mhairi, Bryn, Hilda, and the Dragon fall into a heap as well, the final three bodies to hit the ground. Mirrorbound and citizens of Aefenglom do not fall prey to the sleeping spell despite being in its area of effect. It happens in the span of just a few minutes, and then Morgana is gone in the blink of an eye, leaving her people to sow terror on the sleeping city. b. Battle on the Streets While she brought with her only a dozen Witches from her former Coven, she's collected a force in the Wilde. Blank-eyed rogue necromancers, mind controlled the way the Monsters of Dorchacht used to be, storm the streets controlling in turn their dead Monsters and creatures. A few even have with them dead Nuckelavee, which will require multiple fighters to take out. Wilders from Dorchacht gone missing on expeditions in the last year bear the signs of mind control as well - the ones who aren't dead, shambling around the necromancers. Maybe you recognize them, maybe you don't. Maybe you can help them, or maybe you can't. The mind control enchantments can be dispelled with a lot of effort or with the specific spells used often by the Resistance a while ago, for those who still remember it. In the slums of Dorchacht, the people who were convinced of Morgana's return, those who want to return to the days of slavery and terror, break free from the now-sleeping guards and failing wards that kept them contained and join the fighting, manic in their glee. The spell that put the rest of Dorchacht to sleep seems to slip right off them, perhaps sensing their loyalty to terrible causes. It is chaos, as the insurgents set fires and attack at will with magic, claws, weapons, anything they have. Mirrorbound will soon realize that they and the visitors from Aefenglom are not the only targets. The sleeping people of Dorchacht are ripe for the killing, unable to react or defend themselves. The fighting will continue into the night until the invaders are all dead or captured.

III. The Aftermath When the fighting ends, the work begins. An entire city deep in the throes of an enchanted sleep is a worst-case scenario that none of them could have predicted, even those who had a hunch Morgana didn't die out in the unexplored Wilde. Miss Nessie and Mhairi will remain on the scene helping to direct the aid efforts in the aftermath of the battle. Fires must be put out, corpses must be rounded up to be buried or burned, captured attackers must be secured and questioned, sleeping citizens must be whisked from the streets to safety and shelter, and buildings ensured to be safe in the meantime. Aefenglom's Coven are called in to assist, anyone who is available, and Mirrorbound help is more than welcomed. They will need everyone they can get to make sure not all is lost in this tragic attack. Nessie herself will ensure the Three are taken to safety in Aefenglom until the people of Dorchacht can be woken. Action needs to be taken quickly. Morgana needs to be found as soon as possible, and capable hands will be needed to search the Wilde far outside Dorchacht, the most likely place for her to go. More urgently, however, are the sleeping citizens. Nessie announces late the next evening, the normally-bubbly woman gone solemn and serious: "I believe I've found a counter-ritual for the spell that nasty woman used, I have. I will need your help, though, Mirrorbound. Volunteers only, of course, of course, as it's likely to be quite dangerous, though the Dreamers and I will take every precaution we can. Discuss among yourselves, decide if you're willing. Those who are, meet at the Coven at midnight on the 27th. It's not right to just leave them all like that, not right at all..."

Welcome to September's event log, Part 1 of The Price of Revolution! This event will continue in the TDM posted on the 21st, with a foray into purposeful dreamwalking. It will be a hybrid test drive and event that current characters will be allowed to top level on as well. Quests into the Wilde to search for Morgana will currently bear no fruit beyond small clues, but Part 2 in early October will deal with her whereabouts and her final fate. As always, direct your questions about the event HERE! And finally, for those who are wondering what's up with Dorchacht, we have a Setting update for you.

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Antonio Salieri | chimera | ota

[amurder]

I. Join the Fun.
[It had been some time since Salieri allowed himself to relax within the company of several celebrating strangers. The whole thing brings about a mood of quiet contemplating for him— one that surrounds him with an air of moodiness that not even the children's pealing laughter can shake off. Of course, that's not to say he isn't trying to put a damper on the evening. No, one can surely find Salieri and all his terrible Chimera self aiding with the music and dance of the plays. Someone had shoved a guitar into his arms and a minute later he was strumming away, humming along with the rest of the band, an underlining harmony steadily joining the flow.

Salieri notices you then, and in a brief moment of repose he extends the instrument your way.] Would you like to try?

[Whether you're proficient or not hardly matters. He's looking at you very expectantly!]

II. Battle on the Streets
[It was, at first, a mere thought that things were going far too well.

He hardly thinks to curse that time now, when he looked over the smiling crowds and wondered if such precarious happiness would continue to last. He's not always so pessimistic, but with the way this world seems to give and take— to flourish and to burn... it was hard not to doubt.

Now Salieri wonders why he bothered.

Morgana's magic is like heat rising from fractured volcanic grounds. It bristles his fur and sends a restlessness throughout his entire being. There's an inherent need to defend his own— to protect his Bonded, their home and their neighbors. But once he realizes the impact of their attack and the true victims behind it— well... he simply cannot let it lie.

One can find Salieri aiding in the efforts to keep the amount of aggressive dead to a minimum. Fire licks at his claws each time he sends out an attack and brings down yet another shambling dead Monster. To know these were once fellow inhabitants of their city does nothing to quell the growing frustration and disgust rising in his chest. Not even the dead can rest here. Not even the dead are safe.

There's suddenly the sound of a rifle firing quite close to you— enough that you may feel compelled to run or dodge. Soon there's another and another—

A necromancer falls near your feet. Hovering close is a strange white-cloaked familiar floating a few feet off the ground. Strange skeletal arms protrude from their cloaks, but perhaps even stranger are the rifles they seem to wield with ease. The familiar seems to acknowledge you and gives a cordial little wave.

Salieri approaches, looking worn out but otherwise mostly unscathed.] Ah, apologies if you were startled. Pay no mind to them.

Are you injured? [Turns out there's quite a few of these floating guys around! And maybe thankfully, since it seems there are more dead still stalking about in search of sleeping victims.]

III. Wildcard.
[You can find Salieri either attempting to protect the sleeping residents or carrying a few to safer places. He'll be using both his Servant abilities as well as his Chimera fire abilities to keep the necromancers and their muscle at bay, so feel free to message for any ideas or simply leave a starter here!]

i

[tothemetal]

[the big day of the play's debut has kept Styx pretty busy, even if his part in the thing was technically done - how could he leave the kids on their own when there were still set pieces to move into place and little butterflies that needed quelling? but now even that has ended, and he can stand back and enjoy the fruits of everyone's labors. it really was something, wasn't it?

of course, his gaze inevitably travels down to the musicians, and it's how he ends up making eye contact with Salieri. the big guy laughs good-naturedly at the offer, shaking his head in friendly dissent.]

Ah, thanks, but - can only do drums, you know?

[the guitar required skill. he knew that very well from home.]

Could give you some backup if you wanted, though...long as you don't mind improv instruments too much, haha.

[amurder]

[At that Salieri must huff, because one as high-spirited looking as this fellow shouldn't refuse his elders!]

Improvising is perfectly acceptable given the opportunity. Performing with what you have and creating... that is a talent all on its own.

[As he situates the guitar again on his lap the Chimera gives the fellow a glance.] Pray tell. Did you have some part in this?

[He seems quite a home among the sounds and sights in the aftermath of the play.]

[tothemetal]

[he's sorry!! it just feels like the less rude thing to do when the other option is ruining this really lovely melody everyone has going here.

Styx would hum shyly at the indirect compliment involving talent, his cheeks coloring very faintly for a moment or two as it temporarily diverts his desire to find some makeshift percussion equipment. rather than try to brush the words away as perhaps being a mistake he instead nods at the question, happy to talk about something else. (and for his hair to shield his face from the movement, just for a few moments)]

Mm, yeah! They were pretty shorthanded so they were asking a lot of people for help if they could...must've asked a lot of people before they got to me. [he smiles good-naturedly] But uh, did some of the music 'nd lyrics.

[amurder]

Very good. [Judging by the way he nods it seems as though Salieri approves.] It seems everyone enjoyed the play quite a bit. The children are particularly lively tonight.

[After a beat Salieri's claws strum a single tune. He doesn't mean to fluster the young man too much, but he only ever speaks the truth.] We must find joy when possible. We musicians have a duty to bring happiness to others when life is otherwise dour... hm. But don't mind me.

[There he goes, being a 15th century old biddy again!] Do you play in a band?

[tothemetal]

[he'd done well? so it seemed! that brings a gentle air of pride to his bearing, even if he still can't quite bring himself to attribute even part of the success to his own skills. although it had been the children's hard work and efforts that inspired anything noteworthy in his score...Styx had put his all into that music. it was like seeing yet another kid he'd grown fond of be praised.

...mm. that was a nice snatch of a song that Salieri had going there. without even really realizing it the big guy's fingers are tapping against the nearest wall, starting up a backbeat to support the melody. it was too bad they'd packed up his kit already...]

Nah, I get you. Feels good to do what you love 'nd make people smile, yeah? Kinda why I said yes after a while...everybody's been this happy through the whole thing.

[from conception to rehearsal to the main event, it's been excitement and smiles all around. who could regret having a part in that? his gaze drifts for a moment or two, watching the people wrapped up in their own little celebrations ebb and flow around them. it really was nice.]

'Course I got a band! Or, uh. Do at home, anyway. 's only me here so I've just been trying to keep in shape 'nd stuff.

[he'd also been stymied for nearly a month and a half thanks to having to custom build a drum kit, which had been agonizing. sometimes this old timey world was kind of a pain!]

1

[turmoiling]

Ah. A 'guitar', isn't it?

[Jin Guangyao asks curiously, though not refusing the foreign instrument turned his way. Instead, he imitates the way Salieri was holding it, and lightly strums one string at a time, getting a sense for the sound of the thing. His right hand might be a mechanical prosthetic now, but his left is still fine, and he tries a chord, again imitating the other Mirrorbound's earlier motion.

He's not unfamiliar with stringed instruments. Just not this exact one.]

Like so?

[amurder]

[He relinquishes the instrument easily. The man is an unfamiliar face in the crowd but his garb reminds him of someone else he may have crossed paths with. The strumming turns a few of the younger heads, as though they were anticipating a song, but soon enough their attention is directed elsewhere.

Salieri watches and hums, his hefty tail curling at its tip. He's a Chimera with all of the disjointed attachments you'd expect from one, but he looks all too content with the sound of the guitar.] Quite. With enough practice I daresay you could perform for the next play these youngsters will hold.

Are you a musician, sir?

[turmoiling]

[Jin Guangyao smiles a little, though his reply is humble as he hands it back:]

Of only a very modest ability, I'm afraid. Some time ago I did play the guqin -- I think the closest instrument here would be the zither. I've thought once or twice about taking up something new, but the business of adjusting to life here has certainly kept me busy.

It's very pleasant to have these lighter moments, isn't it? Perhaps you could play a little more.

[amurder]

'Lighter moments', you say... [Yes, everything does feel rather pleasant, doesn't it? Asides from the communal mourning of those from the other city things truly have seemed to turn for the better. The children are laughing, the adults are making merry.

It seems almost too pleasant. Salieri hesitates to tell the stranger this.] Perhaps next time I will play something for the crowds. Until then I am merely supervising these youngsters.

—You play the zither, then? [Let's not get too moody!] Interesting. I would like to hear that for myself... if you would indulge me sometime.

[turmoiling]

Unfortunately, I am not in such condition to give a good showing, I'm afraid.

[He replies, apologetic, flexing the fingers on his prosthetic hand. It's quite a nice piece of work in bronze, with intricate mechanisms, good enough for everyday tasks. But Jin Guangyao rather doubts he'd be able to do well at more dextrous plucking of strings with it.

Which, despite his appearances, still is a bitter point to dwell on, especially when a means for exacting revenge for his maiming seems impossibly far away, even when the culprit is in this very world.

Instead he rests his gaze on the youngsters.]

From what I had heard of this city when I arrived, I'm surprised to see that some have rebounded so well already.

III. wildcard

[fordeath]

[ he used to romanticize revolution. the bravery of worn, beaten down men in their rags taking up dulled muskets and overused tools against the armies that oppressed him. nothing brought him catharsis quite like the stories of men breaking free from their chains, false equivalencies abundant when he thought of the suffocating presence of his father, of the choked creativity in the royal palaces.

as a servant, he abhorred it. when the holy grail taught him his history lessons in cold, objective passing he could only look on marie's execution from a place of powerlessness, and he suddenly understood the true folly of men driven by self-interest and a taste for blood.

as a mirrorbound, he looks on, now, at the colorful remembrance wreaths, beautiful yet devastating. he remembers the way his piano echoed in the square, his strings sang to the hearts of the caged residents who'd never heard music like his before. that time it had been him shattering the metaphorical chains shackling other's spirits down, tearing down their bleak, bleak world, consequences be damned.

and now he realizes, that it was all much more complicated than he ever wanted to understand.

it feels odd, wondering whether or not anything he did back then led to the existence of another wreath. he was never meant to be that kind of servant. he was an artist.

for now he sits — too cowardly to confront the faces of family members and the magical memories of those no longer here — at a bench just within view of what once was the coven. he shakes his head, his fingers itching to do something. ]

[amurder]

[In a similar fashion Salieri is also straying from the communal mourning, opting to instead give the grievers their space and allow the sounds of merriment to fill his ears instead. And still, despite their laughter and wistful story-telling... he still feels as though the melancholy will not yet fade. Like a cloud it looms over and has him moving from place to place, until finally he sees a familiar head of gold beyond the crowd.

Salieri doesn't immediately call for him yet. Instead he approaches slowly, taking in the remains of the structure before them, the way his Bonded sits poised as though tightly coiled. He cannot possibly reach into the hearts of the people tonight, but in this case he can find his bearings here.

His heavy footsteps are fairly clear by now. Salieri's gloved hands find Amadeus's shoulders, and as he bends to speak close to his hear he drones:] Senti, la notte è giovane.

And yet you're looking to escape, Amadeus.

[fordeath]

[ padded or not, amadeus could tell those footsteps anywhere, always aware of where his chimera is even if he didn't have the aid of the bond to tell him.

still, he's too lost in thought to make himself appropriately casual before salieri spots him, and something like embarrassment crosses his expression before he responds.

ah, salieri caught him brooding... ]

Escape? [ the line of his defeated smile is as flimsy as his shoulders in the shrug he gives. ] Nothing like that. There's an orchestra pit calling my name at a certain orphanage, after all. [ instead he's here at this wrecked building... stuck between the shame of being here to begin with and some misplaced sense of responsibility to not carelessly goof off like he always does. ]

... I just thought I would listen awhile.

[ he continues, with an openness he only ever shows to the man before him. ] My father would always tell me to listen when I could think of nothing to play or compose, and defer to those with more experience. [ experience. he had none in revolutions before this. ] But I suppose that was just another way he suffered to get his son to listen to him. [ a humorless laugh. chin in his palm, amadeus leans against the arm of the bench, watching the procession all the while.

he might be speaking too abstractly for salieri to understand, but ... that's fine by him. he just needs a moment to dwell in this feeling, this guilt by remembering the other deaths in his life he felt personally responsible for. ]

[amurder]

[Salieri's wings stretch ever so slightly, a tremble running through their frame as he hones in on those words and listens. Almost impulsively he thinks of scolding the Maestro— because really, denying those youths the sounds and sensations that only his gift could incite was worthy of a tongue-lashing. If Salieri could make it so everyone would be able to experience that divinity at least once... to experience that joy for the first time.

But Amadeus's voice does not carry this time. When he mentions his father Salieri instinctively squeezes his shoulder. At this moment he's impossibly human, completely bare before him. It makes Salieri want to shield him— to gather him in his arms and encase him with every animalistic appendage at his disposal. He feels a fierce protectiveness, and yet at the same time... how does one protect someone from their own mind?] ... Astounding.

So you make time even for an audience such as this. [He murmurs, low and musing.] A Maestro that composes even for the dead... there is truly nothing you cannot do, Wolfgang.

But perhaps, [Salieri looks out now, toward the ruins.] You needn't give them a full length performance.

[Ah, he feels a little silly. Surely Amadeus understands... ?]

[fordeath]

[ the squeeze is comforting on its own, somehow, reminding him of the bulwark that was his bonded by his side, but he gives a short huff at salieri's words, shaking his head. ]

Don't you see, Kapellmeister? This is the opposite of composing and performing. [ listening, understanding the feelings of those affected by the revolution and his actions when he performed for them the first time. ] I've already performed for these people, and excited their feelings in a way I can't possibly take back.

[ he stops, because he isn't like the selfless heroes in stories. he's not enough of a martyr to think he alone is responsible for anyone perishing in the uprising. those who rose up did out of their own feelings, and if he took credit for that in any way, he'd simply be insulting them. he knows that, yet ... ]

Back then, I was woefully ignorant of where this all would go. [ he had his apprehensions from the beginning, but still participated in the ways that he could. with his music. ] I'll never regret anything about my music, [ composing it, playing it, abandoning his humanity for it ] ... but I suppose I just wanted to offer them my silence for a time.

[amurder]

[With Amadeus's words acting as a perfect cue Salieri recalls that moment at the square. The way the crowd watched- apprehensive, tentative- as he and Amadeus took to the proverbial stage and showed them the very first true performance of their lives. He remembers their slack-jawed expressions, their wide eyes and tentatively swaying bodies. He remembers the joy he felt then... and the empowerment he felt, side by side with his Bonded.

It seems like a far off memory now, laced with nostalgia and tinged with guilt.

"... excited their feelings in a way I can't possibly take back." Yes, everything leading up to this moment was irreversible. Where they stood now, it was all determined by everyone's actions... and their own, as well.] I see.

[What else is there to say? Amadeus was speaking freely from his heart, as he's always done... and yet it for once it pained him to hear. He allows the silence to stretch for a few minutes longer before he decides to step beside the bench rather than stand behind it.

After glancing over at his lover Salieri gives a small smile.] Offering your silence... that is good and well. But keep in mind.

When you're ready, we can return to the living together. Until then... I do not mind waiting.

[Just don't make him wait too long...]

[fordeath]

[ "return to the living." that earns him a laugh, heavy and thoughtful as the rest of him, but still honest. ]

I suppose we are that, aren't we? [ living. it's so bizarre — to think the two of them, spirits risen from the grave and given new life, are here for a second time while the ruins are decorated in remembrance wreaths of those who will never return to hear their music again.

it's almost too painfully ironic for him to say. ]

Well, you know me ... I don't listen very well. [ he finally looks at his bonded, peering up at those sharp red hues. ] Not for that long, anyway.

[ finally, he stands, dusting his pants. ] ... I'm going to play for them.

[amurder]

[He wrinkles his nose, though whether it's from the irony of his own words or from Amadeus's own admission he cannot say. His ears perk when Amadeus rises, and for a moment he hesitates. I don't listen very well, he says. How true those words ring!] Ah.

And leave me in the front row box? [He shakes his head.] I'm afraid not.

Allow me to assist, Maestro. [Whether Amadeus needs his help or not...!]

[fordeath]

[ he scoffs — playfully, playfully, he promises. ]

You know I could always use you, mein Schatz...

[ amadeus pinches his own chin between his fingers thoughtfully, quirking his head to the side ]

... but did you bring any instruments along with you?

[amurder]

[... !

At that Salieri looks away, his tail curling up close to his knees. In this lighting it's a bit hard to see the color in his cheeks... ahem!] No, I did not. The ones I did bring are being used or are still with the supplies.

[Of course, if he had known...!]

[fordeath]

[ he can't help it – he snorts loud at the kapellmeister's sudden fumbling. after his demand, too... there's nothing like salieri being endearing to soothe his aching heart.

"being used," though. what could that mean? ] Really? Yours?

You've always been so dangerously charitable, Excellency. Those instruments really eat into our budget, you know, and you're simply giving them away.

[ because he knows ALL about their budget. ]

[amurder]

The council asked for donations. They can always be replaced, but newfound talent cannot. [A short and to the point response! Salieri's eyes narrow slightly as he approaches his Bonded now, looking every bit the regal Kapellmeister he was all those lives ago.] Either way.

I'm afraid we'll need to improvise, Wolfgang. [Looking at him very pointedly now!]

[fordeath]

[ oh, so stern and practiced; it's an answer he can't rightly retort against. salieri commands such a leading tone with a diplomacy to match! that kapellmeister he knows so well puts him in a mood that's so much back to his usual self.

at that look, amadeus shrugs once again, this time full of ego because of course he can improvise. yet...

he was all raring to go with some new ideas in mind, but teasing a snow leopard chimera demanding to be included like a house cat is too fun to pass up. ]

Oh? Have you an idea, Antonio? [ pretending like he doesn't have fifty on hand. ] You do have one instrument at your disposal, you know. Though I suppose you're inclined to others at the moment, hm?

[amurder]

[Ah, that easy tone does wonders to ease the unrest that was stirring within him moments ago. Yes, perhaps Amadeus's mood may not fully recover tonight, but that doesn't mean Salieri won't put up a decent fight.

... Although judging by this new predicament he wonders how long his patience can hold out.] Do I?

[This is a trap, he knows it... and yet he doesn't quite understand. Endure, endure.

Salieri frowns, brow wrinkling as he considers, and even pats down his coat to see if he kept anything on him. No, nothing there.] ...

Hmph. [Fine!] What instrument do I have then, my Bonded? [He'll regret this.]