(closed) it should be enough, to make something beautiful.

[amurder]

Who: Amadeus & Salieri
When: 16th of Octeuril
Where: Bond ceremony garden
What: In which something intends to happen and then Doesn't
Warnings: Drama and angst on a grand scale

[Something light and airy fills Salieri's head and makes him dizzy even as he sits perfectly still.

With the city still picking up the pieces from the chaotic nights before (how thankful he is that he's a regular Chimera again—) Salieri was almost tentative to approach the Coven and ask for a ceremony to be held. What a relief it was then— to hear the Witch's assuring words. We will always make time to oversee a Bond, my dear. Yes, truly it was a weight lifted from his heart.

From his heart...] ...

[From the middle of the courtyard where he sits Salieri takes in the various rows and sections of bushes and flowers. A spell, he assumes, keeps this small area blooming all year round— for the sight of the various fauna and the welcoming calm they bring supposedly brings luck to all potential Bonds.

His tail lays limp— completely still.

From the corner of his eye he watches the Witch tidy up the circle he and Amadeus are meant to step into. He's arrived far earlier than their agreed time... for sitting in his room and waiting for this moment seemed like a new type of torture he could only inflict on himself. He could not wait. He and Amadeus were to finally... finally be Bonded. Truly Bonded.

Bonded, for the sake of our sanity. For the sake of our influence. For that... alone.

Salieri sighs raggedly, runs a hand through his grey hair.

The time has finally come. His chest feels fit to burst- but with what? With what?

As he silently wrestles with that thought he sits. He waits.]

Comments

[fordeath]

[ all rehearsed things work swimmingly in theory. for every perfectly followed cue there is a botched execution lying in the paralyzing realm of possibility. amadeus walks with a confidence of a man who's been through it all, in the hundreds of performances, auditions, vulnerable sales of his talent that preceded the high successes of his life, as well as the crushing failures.

yet, every once in awhile, a sense of amateurish uncertainty weighs heavy on his mind, brings him back to his days of scrounging for work along the broad map of european courts. there are– were, entirely, very few in his life whose stare could make him falter in such a way.

yes, curiously, lately, inexplicably – salieri's has such a quality.

no matter the amount of thought (or, inappropriate amount of money) amadeus spends finalizing this consummation of their hard-earned good standing relationship ... he's no match for the tenseness salieri exudes. like the imperial kapellmeister stoically withholding his opinions.

amadeus laughs, full of breath, and shakes his head, as though attempting to expel the strange pang of something he felt just then. ]

Don't give me that look. [ salieri and his shyness! ] You won't hate them, I promise!

[amurder]

[Even the smile Salieri musters feels small compared to the brilliance that is Amadeus's presence.

A litany of visions begin to unfold before them even as he reaches to take the one of the gifts. In the place of the benches there are pews, in place of the courtyard there is a cathedral. Towering stained glass windows scatter color across the scene where petals now flurry about. In this vision... a future long dismissed becomes crystalline clear to him.

But there is nothing like that here.

Salieri feels as though he's just stepped into his body for the very first time. Even the way he weighs the gift in his hand feels foreign to him. His chest rises with emotion— one that could easily be mistaken for gratitude.] Wolfgang...

[You still even now have no idea—] You're spoiling me, Maestro.

You've gone too far! [A soft chuckle leaves him— every bit of his nerves weighing the sound down. He holds the box close to him and swallows a pressure down his throat.

Behind them the Witch waits patiently.

We need this. Otherwise—

What would be the point?] ...

We shouldn't idle, Wolfgang.

[fordeath]

[ when it's only the two of them (and the patient, barely noticeable visage of the officiator) narrowed down to this sacred garden, this space and this time — its not impossible to discern the presence of deep ruminations in salieri's mind. and more than that... the presence of heavy emotions in his heart.

since the beginning, the notion of a bond has been — as much as he attempts to pretend otherwise — inherently attached to something romantic, the ceremony so closely resembling a union of another kind. their culture of romance colors this perception and this, he guesses, is the culprit behind salieri's nervous chuckles. they don't mean to imply that here, after all. the bond they're solidifying is that of mutual trust, and a friendship that bloomed where all the odds were against them.

of course he knows this. the undeniable atmosphere of the bonding ceremony being like a small wedding is strange to him, too.

but, perhaps unlike salieri, amadeus combats the absurdity of culture shock with humor. and the urge to joke is persistent as an imp. ]

Don't say that. It's the closest you'll get to a dowry here, Kapellmeister, so cherish them!

[ a laugh at his own, deliberate wording. ]

... Well, after the reception, of course. [ since salieri wants to wait to open them to begin with. ]

[amurder]

[Amadeus- whether he intended to or not- carves the hole in his stomach deeper.

It's a gnawing maw now— emptied of its contents, leaving Salieri with only an unyielding anxiety which buries deeper into his core. This is nothing like a true union, he wants to argue. There is no hint of that here- not with Amadeus as languid and carefree as he seems now, not with this tension coiling in his every limb. All of his doubts and misgivings have come to lay bare before him— shown in his face, in every wrinkle and frown. He manages to keep his face neutrally calm and yet—

Behind him his tail twitches sporadically.

He cannot withstand this waiting—] I would be a fool not to, Maestro.

[Cherish them, that is... for whatever remains hidden in these boxes will be Salieri's undoing, he can feel it. They are gifts Amadeus picked for this very occasion.

...]

[With a breath he turns and quickly makes for the circle.] Then let us not wait a minute longer.

[They should start now. Now.]

[fordeath]

Right. [ nerves — he can't seem to shake them through his own volition, but salieri's non-reaction certainly doesn't help.

but the kapellmeister is right, and he's stalled long enough.

following that, amadeus takes the boxes from salieri's arms and hands them to their officiator, followed by a polite exchange of "would you?" and "thank you"s. he, too, steps into the circle, adjusting his cuffs and ribbon and briefly wondering if his being overdressed was part of the joke too. his usual breezy confidence seems to sink to the ground as his song comes to its end.

too late to wonder if he truly has gone too far, though.

one last dusting of his suit and amadeus turns to face his bonded. ] Ready when you are, Antonio.

[amurder]

[The sweet smelling breeze, the last lingering notes hanging above them as Amadeus's song closes to an end grounds Salieri like nothing else. It keeps him pinned to the floor, unable to move, unable to do anything else besides step into the circle alongside the Maestro. A hundred clamoring voices (some his own, some not—) claw through his psyche, force themselves through and reverberate against the once fragile barriers of his mind.

He doesn't know.

He doesn't know!


He never knew and still doesn't know!

A touch to his arm breaks Salieri from the beating drum of his pounding temples. The overseeing Witch gives him a patient smile. This is the part where you join hands.

Ah, yes.

Tension tightens every crease in his brow, his lips and eyes. Try as he might to banish the cloud steadily shadowing his very demeanor... there simply is no way to go about hiding his true feelings now. His affections for the man across from him. The adoration. The admiration.

And yet he must hide them still, for the sake of this false ceremony.

Salieri releases a breath. Slowly he reaches across the circle and takes Amadeus's hands into his own. Every beseeching nerve in his limbs begs him to pull the Maestro close, to tightly squeeze those fingers until every admission of guilt pours forth from his lips. It's what Amadeus deserves, what he needs to hear—

and what he needs to say.] ...

[They remain lodged in his throat.

Once again, the Witch hesitantly offers: You can say your vows now.] Ah... of course.

Of course. [Salieri chuckles, the sound hoarse like scattering leaves.] Amadeus...we've—

[Another brief, swift breeze tousles their hair and silences him briefly before he manages the effort to speak again.] ... We've endured quite a bit together, haven't we?