yes, i admit my defeat (semi-open!)

[amurder]

Who: Salieri, Amadeus and y o u.
When: Late May, full moon.
Where: The Shopping District
What: First changes.
Warnings: Mild body horror, not so-mild mental distortions.



— closed to Amadeus (quam)

[The moon hangs her body against the dusk- exalted, luminous.

She at first compelled Salieri to keep to the safety of his new home, away from lights and noise. It was a tempting offer given his recent illness, and a mercy when he felt the tumultuous energy of his own body finally fitting into place. Despite that ready comfort, despite the urge to stay inside and shield away from what was inevitably coming to take place-

—He takes his coat and leaves.

The freshly swept roads and color-tinted sidewalk of the District lead him to a bordered music shop with fanciful musicians painted along the walls. Trumpeters and violinists pose within its windows and inside a seamless phonograph fills the shop with a mild concerto consisting of strings. Salieri's demeanor barely warranted even the most subtle glance and like smoke he glided through each room with a haunted, hooded gaze. Patrons of the store come and go, the hour wanes into night. One can still hear the phonograph playing merrily as the store illuminates its showrooms and light candles with flicking wrists.

But another sound carries just beneath the merriment.

The gradual crescendo of keys float up from a distant corner of the shop. A small hallway past the winds leads to a grand parlor room with ghostly curtains swaying in the night breeze. In the middle of the room Salieri sits, hunched over the shop's only grand piano. His hands diligently follow each note to memory, strike each key with a flow that seems nearly mechanical. The music is low enough that its managed to go undetected all this time, but another sound is steadily climbing its way above that pitch.

It's the sound of Salieri's ragged breath as he plays and clings to the keys as though his survival depended on the sounds they produced.

Something heavy and sharp scrapes across the polished floorboard. There are muted noises now— crackling bones, fabric tearing. Something beneath the piano grows until it can barely fit. The thud of a great, weighty paw resonates as it slams down on the pedals beneath the bench. Claws protruding from the fur catch the wood, graze it with razor-like tips and leave wide carved streaks in their wake. Salieri stifles a groan— keeps the noise lodged in his throat and lowers his head even more. Sweat drips from his bangs and splatter on the ivory keys.

There's certainly no doubt about it now— with Salieri's pants in shreds and newly grown legs bent painfully under the bench, it's all too clear. He is changed— indefinitely.

And he continues to play— until he suddenly doubles over what seems like a sharp spasm of his chest.] Gngh...!

You've— you've finally answered, h... haven't you, Signore?

[Salieri lets out a wheezing laugh, thick and hollow at the same time.] Damn you— I still— I still have my fingers. You cannot take that away, aha.... gh—


— OPEN.

[And then life goes on!

Somehow, at least. For Salieri, this night certainly started off a bit differently. Painful, elongated limbs aside, it seems the full moon simply hasn't had enough of manipulating the dour Maestro. He's made quick use of his new furred legs and for good reason, considering the glares the locals were giving him. It's quite obvious that Monsters aren't welcome on the more posh side of town— newly changed ones more so. Salieri makes himself scarce, barely keeping an eye on the trail itself as he focuses on simply walking. The rough pads beneath his paws barely register the texture of the road underneath them— it's unsettling, to say the least, but so long as he can make it back to his room then all should be well.

But of course, it simply isn't that easy.] Ah...!

[God, not again.

Salieri shuts his eyes against the splitting headache, sways as he narrowly avoids running right into a couple in his way. He can feel the wary stares and hear the whispers— Really? Out here? No, don't look- those things are bad luck, you know how it is.

How easy it would be to turn and snarl at them.

He almost considers it too, whipping his head around to scan which eyes were currently pinned on him. He feels a growl build in the back of his throat—

and feels his head jerked to the side.] —!?

[He's... caught on something. But not just something— a plant. A long, thick vine protruding from an apothecary's stall has reached out and entangled itself around him.

Or rather, his newly curled horns which he... didn't even realize had taken form. He takes a moment (or two) to consider the idea that he'll more than likely become an abomination by the end of the day, then finally considers on how to untangle himself from this extremely stubborn vine. It clings tight, as though it wants him to stay. With a long suffering sigh Salieri reaches for his dagger.

And the vine clings on tighter.] Nn! Wretched little—

[There's no possible way this blasted thing is alive... is it?]

Comments

im here

[fordeath]

[ the bright glare of moonlight that swallows the stars in the night sky means much the same to him here in the inner city, absent of even the smallest theaters, that vienna's humbly (comparatively, of course) singular-mooned witching hours did.

opportunity – in the simplest terms, found in the world that wakes when all good, simple souls are resting. when the operatic season trickles into its last late-hours, and the streets silently teem with a different, unseen shade of life. mischief, secrets, darkness, themes carefully tucked in plain sight where only those with an ear for the polarized tones of humanity – and the demons lurking within – could ferret out. his familiar muse in the creatures of the shadows.

to him, the sisters beckon unrest in the way that they light up the roads, spill pale blue from the edge of his doorstep to the gallery of windowpanes in the shopping district. they illuminate the city as though to say what a shame it would be to let the night go unexplored, to have all occurrences of mystic chaos unwitnessed – and all the beastly inhabitants charged by their power, unmet. yes, in spite of the way that those celestial siblings in the sky null the senses he's worked so hard to attune to this world, amadeus cannot refuse such an offer.

for the one thing that they can't take away, embedded in his very core, senses more than a lifetime of magic-practicing could ever allow him.

from a block away, amadeus hears him: salieri. the piece he recognizes in but a few notes, and the hand at the keys he determines in the phrase, playing in the style so distinctly antonio that the man may as well be singing it. his own work – slow, meticulous, personal and heavy-handed. the volume is both curious and amusing. though he hears it clearly from the street corner, he has to wonder if salieri is intending to blend in with the charged noises of the town like that.

well, stricken by fate, amadeus has, of course, no choice but to personally assess how much the night has affected his friend. and so he does, making his way through the front (greeting the employees there who are already far too acquainted with his face), until he's just outside the avenger's dwelling. no point announcing himself, he thinks — and then very strikingly knows when those words spill from the other side.

he pokes his head in and immediately zeros in on the new ... additions. it's been a good few weeks since he last saw salieri, but judging by his tattered pants and the discarded shoes, new means just now. ]

Salieri— [ he approaches the musician still playing the piano. ] Hey, hey! Come now, this is a terrible time to indulge in a little midnight inspiration, don't you think?

[amurder]

[Salieri's shoulders jerk as though a brand had been seared between them.] —Don't.

[The choked out sound finds the lapse in his concerto, and even then he continues to stab his fingers into those keys. There is a taut, tense strain in the way he keeps his head lowered, back bowed as though worshiping the music which flowed from the keys. Salieri's labored breath stutters, and eventually his piece begins to slow.

Little by little he feels himself unwind from the keys.] Do not... be mistaken, Herr Mozart.

It was He who decided this. [He seethes out his words– and with that upper lip curled a flash of a very new and prominent fang appears.] He that decided not to spare me. Not in my last life, or the next, or the next–!

[And finally his fingers still.

With visible effort Salieri finally lifts his head from where he had nearly dropped it completely between his shoulders. His withering stare remains on the keys.

The bench is moved back suddenly with a terrible screech that most likely makes the both of them cringe. With thick silvery bangs obscuring most of his expression Salieri peers his red eyes through them— their color all too bright and blazing.] But I...

I... [He breathes, his gaze finally focusing on Amadeus, as though he had been merely staring down in a daze this entire time. One heavily padded foot presses hard into the wooden floor— causing the wood to cry out as he attempts to slowly rise.] Amadeus...?

[One trembling clawed hand reaches to press against his own forehead.] It... it happened so suddenly, how could I have... possibly stopped it?

[fordeath]

[ the sweeping, merciless critic that he is, finds the sight of those paws (perhaps a bit too soft for so somber a setting) to be rather undeserved of such drama! oh, but those fangs are another story entirely, barely visible when the pained screech of the bench harmonizes terribly well with salieri's foreboding words. ]

... You weren't meant to. That would be my guess.

It's happening around the city — folks transforming into beasts. There were warnings, and from what I gather, it was predicted to be gradual. But... hm.

[ a hesitance weighs his movements, inappropriate given that he very willingly bounded his way to this room where it was almost certain that he'd be alone with the avenger. he watches salieri with more parts shameless curiosity than honest concern, but he steps forward to peer into salieri's face when he stands, subtly offering his hand if the man needs it regardless. ]

... Does it hurt?

[amurder]

[A quiet indignancy- as natural to him as breathing- rises in his chest when the proffered hand makes itself known. Yes, of course he had known of the warnings— knew that the moon along with its heavy glow would bring about changes among the new population. But to think he would experience something so... drastic. His legs- now like weights all on their own- tremble just slightly as he leans forward to test the strength in them.] ...

[It surprises even him— how he senses the hesitation in the Maestro before him. This man- all too careless and carefree with his movements and intentions... now stands tentative in front of him.

No. That is not something he wants.] There is no pain. It's only... far too strange for words.

[A gloved hand reaches for Amadeus's then. Visible effort creases Salieri's brow as he grits his teeth and struggles to stand.] Yes, too strange. Hn, perhaps when this is said and done you'll find a libretto here to write your newest piece— a story of a musician turned monster—

[His breathless grousing cuts off when shuffling is heard down the hall behind them. A growl- quick and instinctive- erupts from his throat.]

[fordeath]

[ a withheld, hopeful little smile lights his face when salieri takes his hand without any noticeable problem. for the significance it plays upon their past interactions, of course – but, honestly, more importantly: it gives amadeus a free pass to be as morbidly curious as he actually is, now that salieri is confirmed to have no pain.

and, oh, what a moment for it.

he's no stranger to salieri's sudden bouts of aggression – sounds thundered out of him that one would never imagine the genial hofkapellmeister uttering behind closed doors. yet ... that growl...

(maybe it's the double whammy of the bared fangs—)

was distinctly animal-like.

being right in front of him, amadeus can't exactly hide the quick snorting laughter that escapes him, despite his best efforts. ] Ah. [ no, no, don't bring attention to it yet, they're about to have an audience, it seems. but ... in the meantime: ] Mmm, I'm usually not in the mood for something so dark. [ amadeus keeps his hand nice and steady as he takes a few steps back to lead the maestro out from the bench. ] But, who can say? [ especially now when the inspiration sits just before him. ] It would resonate nationwide, there's no uncertainty about that. It's not an unfamiliar story to me, after all.

[amurder]

[As he shifts like an old spinster with a bad hip toward Amadeus he cannot help but read the subtle humor in those words. Salieri's eyes flicker up to Amadeus, unflinching and watchful— and now, given the circumstances... almost predatory. What is it the Maestro meant by those words? He deigns to ask him much later, when he isn't struggling to stand and compose himself. When his hips finally muster enough energy to lift his body up Salieri grips that hand even tighter as he finally, finally comes to a full stand—

—and finds himself looking down at Amadeus instead.] —!

[The sudden view of the composer pointedly below him as well as the influx of balance has Salieri stumbling back- his furred leg hitting the bench with another stark skid against the floor.] Ah... [Why... does he seem so ridiculously high up?

This is...

Salieri breathes.] Amadeus—

["Oh!" And just in time, their fortuitous audience. From across the room he looks at the man at the threshold, along with the timid-looking store employee hiding behind him. "So this is where the ruckus came from." Distaste curdles the manager's expression. "Sirs, this piano... is not meant to be toyed with lightly. Especially not from... well..."

Salieri can feel it— that averting gaze, the recoiling disapproval... all focused on him. A much softer, quieter growl rumbles in his chest.]

[fordeath]

—Oh.

[ he says, almost at the same time – but his tone, in total contrast is a simple and awed one, humor laced in the way he smiles up at the other. ] No fair, Herr Salieri. Weren't you satisfied with the one centimeter—?

[ ah. the manager? as well as the rest of the staff, amadeus is familiar with him – likely in the way he's pleaded with the employees to search the back for a brand of reed here, a record there. he's known as no less than a friendly, enthusiastic, talented! face, despite his over-exuberance, and he hopes to petition those previous, pleasant encounters here when he raises a hand in greeting. then,

"especially not from... well..." briefly, amadeus's expression falls dangerously neutral – knowing but not totally admitting to it: the sentiment he'd just heard.

he huffs, his practiced bravado wrapped in formality on display when he steps forward and presses a hand to his own chest, and the obligated smile finds his face. ] The man's just undergone something traumatic! Be reasonable, now. [ "yes, but—" ]

Give us a moment, won't you? As a favor from your most loyal customer?

[amurder]

[No, it comes as no surprise to Salieri that Amadeus has already made his mark here, somehow. It is, of course, only in the Maestro's nature... to shine his brilliance wherever it may seep. The hypnotic, methodical bars of his work would surely find its way here— and ingrain itself into the hearts of those who were here before them.

—Of course, it can be said that some heads are thicker than others, and therefore just may be impenetrable. The mutual distrust shows in his own narrowed gaze as the manager hesitates all for a few seconds before nodding slowly. "Very well. For you, Mr. Mozart. But... just for a moment."

The man and employee both skitter away, leaving them alone once again to face Salieri's... predicament.] ... So it's true.

The distrust of beasts. [...]

[Taking a padded step forward, Salieri raises a hand to slowly adjust his cravat and lapels.] Perhaps now would be a good time to warn again associating with me... Herr Mozart.

[fordeath]

[ hah.

after all that? ] Right.

Anyway.

[ anyway! he moves on, simple, barely acknowledging that warning with even a slight raise of his brow. ]

We should take our leave, now, before you spook the staff any more with your growling. [ at that, he steps forward and turns toward the other, long, flashy layers spinning with a small flourish. ] Are you fit to walk, Kapellmeister?

[amurder]

...

[Fit?? To walk?? Never mind that Amadeus very pointedly ignored his (very ominous) warning, the fact that he plans on having them both simply walk out of here is enough cause for concern—] Amadeus...

[The name comes out a little exasperated and all too natural. Well—] If it's our only option... then I suppose I'll have to.

Won't I? [With that last mutter Salieri glances down and watches as he brings one heavy clawed foot forward— then the other... and the other. A twitch climbs up his spine.] This is entirely too time-consuming... [A low mutter.]

[fordeath]

Don't sound so convinced, now! [ with a shake of his head.

amadeus remains facing the kapellmeister, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head in unabashed curiosity while salieri cautiously tests out his new limbs.

and, of course, no matter how low the mutter, he can still hear it. ] Well, I'm afraid I can't carry you, Salieri. [ unless you want him to hold your hand again.

—his unchecked levels of wit are quieted suddenly, though, when he notices something at the piano's pedals. ] Is that… [ he walks over, past salieri, before crouching down and peeping underneath. there he clicks his tongue, reaches underneath ... and plucks out a stitched piece of leather that once made up the side of salieri's shoe. ] Your shoes, Maestro! They were so stylish… And to think I could have worn them. [ that there is the true loss of tonight, clearly. ]

[amurder]

...! [That comment literally has Salieri stopping in his short stuttered trek. His shoulders hike up slightly as he feels heat creep up into his face.] That... ngh, Amadeus—

[Urgh! That isn't the only thing he might have torn off. The former imperial Kapellmeister lets out a sigh.] I'll also be needing my pants.

[He shuts his eyes, having gained a newfound motivation to move his legs much quicker to the exit now. Maybe he just doesn't want to see Amadeus catering around his ripped up garments...] Hand them to me, if you would.

[fordeath]

I'm sure they were worth a small fortune, too... [ he mumbles to himself before salieri speaks up.

at the request, amadeus searches the immediate area for anything resembling pants ... only to find long, tattered ribbons of fabric scattered about. ] They're not exactly pants any longer, Salieri...

[ well, fine, he'll oblige. at least halfway, when he picks up what he can in one, sweeping effort (still leaving some pieces on the floor, oops!).

finally, he rises, and catches up to the other as they both exit out into the hallway. ] Here. Why do you want them, anyway? They won't be much use to you, now, and... [ amadeus, taking his place by salieri's side, peers over at the other — first assessing his face, then dipping low to asses... everything else. sneaky and quick. mostly. ]

... it appears the rest of your adornments are pretty well-hidden. [ there's that stupid, impish grin. ]

1/2

[amurder]

[A distinctly Salieri-like snort huffs from him. Of course he heard that! ] As if I would leave my shredded belongings behind... I am still a composer.

[Despite the grumbling Salieri gratefully accepts the tattered remains of his clothing. Shredded or not, he certainly doesn't want anyone else touching his things... he'll dispose of them later on his own time.

Until then he continues to glower, keeping his sullen silence until he perks up once again at the sound of Amadeus sliding yet another observation.] ? Adorn—

...? [Wait where are you looking— Salieri glances down, brows suddenly shooting up.] Gh... !

[amurder]

[Bright healthy red finally streaks across his face. With a quick scowl Salieri quickly stomps ahead, head shaking all the while as though attempting to forget the fact that he is, yes, essentially pantless now.] Hmph! I'm walking ahead. Keep up, Amadeus.

[And there he goes, practically dashing and disappearing down the hall with his heavy steps resonating against the walls. The sound of startled squeaks and yelps are head just moment later, followed by a rough series of "Scusi!" accompanying them.]

i typod asses in the last tag but it doesnt make it any more or less stupid

[fordeath]

[ it was a glance, a glance!

and amadeus is sure not to look again, eyes very pointedly focused up ahead despite the humored smile on his face, clearly holding back something. still, he can't help taking in salieri's scandalized expression when it makes itself known, and the meager barrier that was his too-wide smile erupts into snorts once the avenger stomps down the hall. ]

Ahahaha! [ echoes his sudden bout of laughter down the hall and into the main lobby, in total, strange contrast to the shrieks of employees and late-night customers alike. ] I'm sorry, I won't look anymore! I promise! [ loud, loud, amadeus persists, leaving said company more bewildered than frightened by the time he's trailed after the maestro. at least he offers them greetings on the way out. ] Ah, Salieri, you're so fast now...!

the context works all the same its fine

[amurder]

[Of course he is!!

After all— it's one thing to have partially transformed in a public place and (nearly!) make a spectacle of yourself, but it's another entirely to waltz around almost half-naked...! Half-naked, like a common beast!

Then again, Salieri has to wonder if the locals are all too accustomed to this by now- given by their unrelenting and wary stares. He wastes no time in navigating his way out of the shop, certainly much to the relief of the fidgeting manager and store clerks.] Hah.

[By the time he steps out into the open he's nearly breathless. A strange soreness radiates from the very balls of his heels to the heavy clawed toes keeping his balance on the ground. It's strange, but somehow walking has become much easier...

—"I won't look anymore!" The silver-haired Maestro grunts as he turns and waits for Amadeus to appear at the threshold. When he finally does he makes sure to place one hand on his hip and crease his brow— the very visage of one grumpy, unforgiving Avenger.] Is that so?

I must have been motivated to flee from straying eyes. [Hmph.

They may have just escaped from the shop itself, but now out in the open... Salieri feels more exposed than before. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot.] ...

So this is how it will be. [He says, after a beat.] Fitting, is it not?

[fordeath]

[ well, here he is. a content, thoughtful smile rests on his expression once he spots salieri waiting for him there. there's something poignant in the (relatively) patient line of the man's shoulders – not leaned forward to chase after him with a dagger, or tensed high and retreating in the mental strain of the men in grey.

having lingered long enough, amadeus briefly turns to bid the manager goodbye before stepping away from the store front.

and, to salieri, a shrug: ] Oh, you're asking for my opinion? Let's see...

[ well, then, more scrutinizing it is! with a hand pinching his chin, amadeus begins walking a circle around salieri. all for show, of course — he's taken note of all the man's minor changes already, after all. ] The claws and the fangs, certainly. But the paws?

[ hmmmmm. ] ... Yes. Those too. [ ha ha. ]

[amurder]

? [Salieri lifts a quizzical brow as he watches Amadeus make his slow round, a frown forming on his lips.] Hm... [Claws and fangs suit him? A begrudging agreement keeps the composer quiet, and he takes all but a minute to mull the thought over before he hears that—] !

[Salieri pauses, and lets out that all too predictable scoff.] That is where I beg to differ, Maestro.

[Paws! They're probably roughened up at this point... although admittedly it does feel as though he isn't even walking on the hard floor. Urgh, he'll think about it later. Salieri steps beside Amadeus, once again taken aback by the sudden difference in height.] ... Now then.

I don't plan on returning to my place just yet. [Yes, if he wasn't making it obvious enough that he'd like to keep moving.] So allow me to ask you something, Amadeus. If we could... [Y'know, leave.]

[fordeath]

[ a myriad of suddenly unanswered questions seem to pop up in one moment. how don't paws suit you, salieri? where is your "place"? did a little height difference always feel this significant?

... honestly, it's likely the way that salieri just sort of walked up to him, casual and completely free of murderous intent. ]

...

[ —murderous intent. yes, a different kind of intent is unfairly easy to read in those words. ] I'm flattered, Kapellmeister, but I'm sure my neighbors would complain of noise if I accepted that kind of proposition. [ when is he ever going to learn to shut his mouth. ] I didn't think the beastly urges would kick in so soon...

[amurder]

[No, no murderous intent here. And surprisingly enough Salieri doesn't even feel the lack of it. There's no misplaced rage, no anger that needs to be suppressed each time his eyes fall upon that face—] —...

[...]

...


[Ah, wait. There it is.] Wh— Amadeus...!!

[Salieri all but hisses the name- sharp fangs flashing, hackles rising and— yes, fur bristling even on the lower portions of his body. Above all else, however, is the bright red that returns full force across his cheeks. It's a stifling heat, one that traps itself beneath his collar and burns the very surface of his skin.

For Amadeus to just— joke of something so casually. Tease about that so casually!

Beastly urges...]

...Tch!

[With a last dismissive shake of his head Salieri picks up his earlier pace and stomps past the Maestro.] If you're quite done joking, Herr Mozart!

[He's being serious now!!]

[fordeath]

[ giggles — unlike the laughter that escaped him earlier, all methodical, all anticipating — flutter past his lips, a hint of embarrassment hidden underneath. something about the way salieri reacts to his teasing this time isn't quite as satisfying. no, it's ...

—sometimes ... he really does speak before he thinks. oops.

it was a bad joke...!

this time amadeus follows up with nothing, hand idly tugging at his hair as he allows the other to stalk past him for a few good steps. ] ... [ before he eventually turns on his heel and tails after him. ]

Right... Where is it we're going, Maestro?

[amurder]

[With his wavering mood significantly soured (maybe stomped would be a better expression—) Salieri takes his time answering. He's certain at this point he's now warranting the looks he receives as he passes by the various boutiques and shops which line the district. His glower is enough to part any innocent shop-goers that stumble upon his path.

Beastly urges... is that what Amadeus intends to call it?

A huff escapes his lips— and it's just in time to catch a whiff of something warm and baked nearby. Salieri slows his steps and hears the Maestro's voice clear beside him. A tinge of indignation still ruminates at that last comment, but for now he's able to push it aside.] ... Here.

[Here, in front of this quaint little bakery that may or may not salvage the remainder of their discussion. Salieri presses his lips tight together, hesitation flickering across his expression.] Just for a while, if... they'll allow it.

[fordeath]

[ right. the destination is clear before salieri confirms it — the sweet smell of sugary bread floating through the air as potently as mischief did not just earlier tonight. the clear indicator. the hofkapellmeister-brand.

amadeus simply shrugs, resigned to this route by way of ... well, digging himself this way. lest salieri kick him to the curb now.

without waiting, amadeus approaches the front door and opens it. ] How can anyone think to deny you, Salieri, with the way you look at sweets as though they were a long lost child?

[amurder]

[He doesn't quite expect it— the way Amadeus takes the reigns of his dubious yet hopeful reprieve in the form of a sweet smelling bakery. The bravado of his flustered anger slowly dies down— something tentative taking its place as he meanders where he stands.] Amadeus, we don't—

[But the smell hits him then— cocoa powder, chocolate moussee and whipped cream. The Beast bites his lower lip as he restrains the urge to simply stride in and demand his desserts. How long has it been now? Ugh. He just wants to talk to Amadeus! To be distracted so easily...]

... [Alright. Here he comes. He walks up slowly behind the Maestro, as though the smaller man will somehow shield him from view, and peers just above his head into the bakery. It seems empty enough that no one will bother them? Perhaps they could simply walk in...]