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

[fordeath]

[ amadeus can't say he's unused to the sight — of the otherwise orderly and conscientious hofkapellmeister throwing inhibitions to the wind and entering that whimsical world of his own, populated simply by him and his dessert — but it never quite loses its charm.

especially when not but a few hours ago the man was without leopard legs. and when not a mere month ago the avenger was brandishing his blade at him.

so forgive him if he can't help watching – and smiling a smile that clearly says he's holding something back. it's the same smile he hides behind his coffee before taking another drink in the easy silence.

and ... oh. was that it? really? ]

... Kapellmeister, you have an impeccable memory for the stupid nothings I say on a whim. [ there he goes again. ]

[amurder]

! [There's a fleeting risk that comes after those words— the risk of Salieri biting right through his tongue, that is.] Amadeus!

[The leopard-legged man scowls from where he sits, defiantly returning to his cake and yet again slicing another little section.] At that, Herr Mozart... all I can say is that someone has to.

[Otherwise, how would they be able to have significant conversations such as these? Salieri may or may not feel as though he's admitted something rather personal now, and the thought of continuing this topic seems less desirable than before.] Never mind that, then.

[Maybe they can get back to it later...] What is it you had to say?

[fordeath]

[ well, now how is he supposed to move on and ignore a sentiment so profound?

someone has to, he says.

as much as those stupid nothings serve to haunt him in the worst ways imaginable (see: the very first conversation they had here), amadeus can't deny that it's ... nice, in some ways, to know that salieri hears all of him.

no, more than that ... he respects all of him. most of him! to some degree, at least. if for once his words — which would otherwise, and so often garner him grab-bag looks of pity, shame and distaste — could follow back to him in a meaningful way, in a conversation between two full moons and cake and coffee...

—then perhaps he's reached the avenger in more ways than he could have hoped in this precarious, second life.

amadeus huffs a quick, conceding laugh, shaking his head as he does. ] Don't back down now, Salieri. I was only observing.

I figured it was obvious. "The story of a musician turned monster" ... Well, it could actually fit quite a few of us, couldn't it? [ was that salieri's true problem? too many musicians, too many monsters borne from them? the passion of an artist is a dangerous thing indeed. ]

[amurder]

[He listens carefully— to Amadeus and his mannerisms, to the sounds of distant livelihood beyond the market, to the wind ever so slightly scattering leaves along the sidewalks. When he finally does receive his answer, it's...

... not quite what he was expecting.

But then again— what was it that he wished to hear? Did he mean for Amadeus to admit something then and there? To admit some secret of himself? What secret would Wolfgang Amadeus possibly keep that he hasn't already shown like an open book?] ...

[No, it hardly matters now, does it?

Why force the Maestro to admit the existence of the monster he knew in the past? Salieri shakes his head as well— raising his fork stuffed with cake.] Some more than others.

I suppose it's true. Do you apply yourself to that, Amadeus? [As if he needs an answer. As if he doesn't already know.]

[fordeath]

[ why force it indeed.

it makes little sense to him – having these existential conversations about him, of all people when he's long since made peace with the demons from his past life. it's not as though it's difficult to speak about, just plainly pointless. as a one-star caster, he's the last in the gallery of heroic spirits whose existence is at all confusing ... especially compared to the avenger next to him.

(but what would salieri say if he knew that he included him, even more than himself, in that theme?)

all trammels of mortal life can bother him no longer. all stupid-nothings of another summoning should be left in the ether.

... but the very existence of the avenger here with him says otherwise. how ironic, and poetic that salieri embodies the ghost of his past to his very core. without meaning to, without trying, even now. where he goes, salieri follows — and had been there, all along. ]

Come now, Kapellmeister, you know the answer to that as well. You saw it for yourself, after all. Don't you remember?

[ antonio salieri — not the avenger, not in the man in grey, not even the imperial kapellmeister — antonio salieri, as a colleague, as a friend, knew him better than ever in those last months of his life. one of the few intimate members of the audience to his spiraling crescendo into demon god-induced madness.

salieri knows already – and amadeus knows that he knows.

yes, it makes little sense to him. a long, contemplating sip from his cup follows. ] But that's all in the past now. [ he finally directs his gaze back at the other, a creeping smile on his lips. ] I find your story much more deserving to be set to stage.

[amurder]

[As he swallows down the sweet morsel of his cake, Salieri feels himself becoming all too attuned to Amadeus's posture, his energy... and the all too careless way he brings up that shadow. That darkness from his past. Salieri sits straighter, concern briefly flickering across his gaze.] Amadeus—

["But that's all in the past now." ... Yes, it was- wasn't it?

Have you finally drifted to a place where the beast can no longer reach you, Amadeus?

Such rotten luck it is then— that now he's saddled with another monster entirely. Salieri knows the irony all too well there, the twisted humor that lies in his existence being so intimately intertwined with the Maestro's. Destiny some might call it, fate they may say—

But all he sees is a curse. A curse now taken tangible form... and given a fitting animalistic form.

(Although, judging by that smile on the composer's lips, one must wonder who out of the two truly has seen the darkest of shadows). Salieri gently drops his fork.] ... If you insist, Herr Mozart.

Then I will go along with your script. [He locks onto that smile with a firm, piercing gaze.] So long as there are no more discrepancies between us.

[fordeath]

[ at that, he gives another, casual shrug. ]

Outside of the professional realm, right?

[ a joke! which serves to move them along both tonally and topically from that dreary conversation — ]

Heh. No, but ... that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Salieri. [ he streeetches his leg out along the step he's sitting on. ]

Music. [ he drops the word, as though testing the proverbial waters of salieri's attitude with it. ] ... Well, the theater here, to be more precise.

[amurder]

[Dreary is definitely the better word for it. For all his foreboding omens and presence to accompany it, Salieri is all too happy to move away from the topic— opting instead to take another bite out of his quickly vanishing slice of cake. He glances at the boot that's made itself known beside him, lets his lips purse at it.] ?

["Music."]

... What are you on about now, Amadeus?

[Is Salieri's very careful prelude to the obvious dam of questions he's clearly holding back.] I've heard even less than a peep from the districts in regards to theaters. I was begining to think this world was duller than I believed.

[fordeath]

[ in stark comparison, it's as though the excitement of the full moon made its way to him, all bright enthusiasm in his eyes. finally they're getting somewhere!

(because of course, progress is measured in musical endeavors – not heart to heart talks.) ]

Right? Well, that's just it, isn't it! [ he sets his coffee down now, abandoning it in favor of exasperated hand gestures. ] They're all closed and boarded up! It's a painful sight to see here. And they call it the Entertainment District.

It's dreadful. There are music halls, but no semblance of musical theater, as far as I can tell. [ he makes a face that conveys all sentiment of "what kind of idiots run this place?" that he can muster in one go. ] It must upset you, too.

[amurder]

! [Silvery brows shoot up as Amadeus- quite literally- springs to life before his eyes. Well, he was wondering where all that energy went... and now it seems to have made itself known (finally).] ...? "Upset" me?

[His tone is dismissive, almost callous in the way he tests those words. He sets his fork down again, proper and final—] Worse than that, Amadeus.

It infuriated me to no end. [The sharp edge lacing his tone says it all. Finally, he can let out his true feelings on the whole matter.] But what else was there to expect in a place that primarily focuses on what it sees and not what it hears? For such a world to rely on the constant flow of magic to sustain itself... there's very little inspiration to be found here. Senza vita.

It's simply too pitiful for words. [He scowls. And once again, they've met in the middle for this one constant in their continuous lives.] But... I have a feeling that's not all you have to say on the matter, Amadeus.

[fordeath]

[ for all of a moment, he truly thinks that perhaps the man in grey was successful in hiding that passion of antonio salieri's, far away and never to be seen beyond its terrible and warped battle variation.

... so as salieri continues, amadeus can't help the amused little smile that lights his face. ] Ah. And there he is! The strict, Imperial Kapellmeister.

Your words bite, Excellency, as usual. And a little sharper now that you've got the fangs [ he thumbs at his own, much less impressive canines, exposed in his grin ] to back them up. [ a short giggle. ]

Ah, but you're right. You do know me well, Salieri. [ he decides to say, just before moving on. ]

[amurder]

[And with that he feels himself snort.]

Hmph. So long as they don't prevent me from enjoying my desserts... I have no complaints.

[And if they just so happen to make him look all the more fearsome then that's simply something else he cannot help.

With only a small piece of his cake left Salieri decides to wait until Amadeus has finished with his decorative tirade to end his moment of indulgence.] Well then? Let us hear it, Herr Mozart.

[fordeath]

[ oh. well, don't mind him for a brief moment, because that reminds him that he still has his coffee here. it's easy to get distracted when music is involved. he takes one long sip before continuing — ]

Well, the truth is, I went to Parliament. [ what else does a masterless servant do in a world without opera, after all? ] About the possibility of reopening one of the theaters. If no one else was interested in running it — I'd get a loan, of course — and run it myself.

Ahahaha, I don't have the cleanest reputation in the world, but I've no record here, right? [ listen to how completely free from guilt he says all that. ] Well, something seems to have tipped them off, for the representative there may as well have become an immovable bull. She drilled me rather brutally with questions, and warned me that all the performances would be heavily monitored — and worst of all: altered if necessary.

[ censorship ... his apparently immortal enemy. ]

She was hellbent on discouraging me away from it the entire time. I was really just inquiring for the future, so I committed to nothing and left. [ over the top of his coffee cup, amadeus sighs a heavy, frustrated sigh. ] It was a horrible interaction, Salieri! It seems there's some conscious effort to keep the theater art suppressed, and I've no idea why! [ oh, now he seems pretty upset. this is really beginning to feel too much like he's back home in vienna again – struggling forever with the avenues of his passion. ]

[amurder]

[Ah, and there it is.

Somehow, even after becoming intertwined with Amadeus's line of fate, Salieri still thought to foolishly believe the composer would remain idle during their time here. Why was it that he chose to think such things? To avoid needless friction between himself and the Maestro once more, consisting of words and debates?

... Or perhaps he was simply too afraid of becoming wrapped up once again in Amadeus's passion.

Just as he sits and listens now he feels the reciprocating swell of indignation at the Maestro's words. Altered performances. Suppressed performances. Was there no place safe from the tasteless guile of the politicians? Was there truly no world in which music could breathe without having restraints before it could draw its first breath?

Never mind that Amadeus actually went on his own to seek Parliament... the reception he was given leaves a far bitter taste in his mouth.] And knowing the delicate operations of politics, I doubt you will for a while, Amadeus.

[Salieri sighs. So much to be felt from one simple exchange... it truly feels as though they've returned to Vienna— and the sensation is both surreal and bittersweet. Ah, he must keep himself afloat...] Really, though. To think you went to Parliament by yourself. Yourself! One man against a cabinet filled with high noses and stuffed necks.

[Despite himself, and despite the situation- the Kapellmeister cracks a slight, crooked smile. That is too like you, Maestro.]

Well, [He begins closing his cake box.] Now that you received your answer, I suppose you'll have to work within their guidelines somehow.

[fordeath]

[ once again, he feels as if salieri is hung up on the completely wrong part of what he said here!

and yet, somehow, he doesn't mind... a little huff of a laugh escaping him, made of something quiet and ancient: humility. the imperial kapellmeister, so diplomatic, so stately – the perfect mediator between the powers that be and the flurrying storm of this genius' creative passion.

perhaps there are some things they truly can't escape, servant or not. as it always has from the older man, that calm and objective reaction serves to mellow his mood a little, and hold him back, as not to get too overexcited. he leans forward on his knee, conceding humbly but playfully. ] I suppose I'm used to it.

[ but ... "you'll have to work within their guidelines somehow" ... he sighs deep afterword. ] ... Used to both things, in the end.

Ugh, I shouldn't have to accommodate stupid rules anymore, though! Well — I never should have had to, I'm a genius! But it's especially frustrating now. [ the huff he lets out is a pouty one, before he takes another, grumbly sip from his coffee. then, he looks up, quirking a brow at the avenger. ] What about you, Salieri? Don't you want to write for the theater at all?

[amurder]

[Despite the way Salieri calmly finishes tidying up and seems to allow Amadeus's words bounce off him entirely... he agrees, he truly does. They did their share of diplomatic favors, after all. They paid their dues to the censorship that would eventually tighten its choke hold on theater— saw it towards the end and contributed the best that they could.

So the fact that they are once again faced with the same dilemma... the fates surely are laughing at them, aren't they?

And perhaps him even more so—] —Write?

[The word comes quieter than any other he's spoken so far. It seems almost entirely too ridiculous for Amadeus to even suggest such a thing. Him? Return to writing? To composing?

(Yes, ridiculous, isn't it? A little voice hisses. You know very well you are no longer that man—)] ...

[After a brief second of tense muscles and a locked jaw, Salieri finally eases and shakes his head.] This is not about me, Herr Mozart. You've cast the first stone and now know your limitations. What little we know of Parliament we know from what they've allowed us to see.

In my opinion... it's best not to garner too much of their attention. [Salieri's eyes close. It's as though the words were being forced from his mouth. He knows, he understands the frustrations Amadeus feels all too well... but that was then, and this is now.

He is merely grateful that he is able to talk to the composer so casually. Why press his— their luck?] Do you understand, Maestro?

[fordeath]

[ it's disappointing, to say the least. he imagined within him a growing flame of purpose flared to life, briefly waning when he sees that his fellow composer's was nothing but smoldering ash. did they not share this after all? must he go this alone, in the end?

after all that they've revealed to one another ... after everything tonight? amadeus frowns at salieri, a beat of silence passing between them. ]

No. [ he finally says, looking away. defiant, like a child. ] I don't understand.

[ in theory, he knows what's holding salieri back: the sheer uncertainty of his nature, his status as a servant and what this new world is doing to him. what he doesn't understand is why, if salieri had the opportunity, here and now, to pursue music if even for just one moment before the madness took him again – a year, half, a month, a week, a day! – he wouldn't take it? he can hardly sympathize when, in his life, he threw himself into those haunting, sleepless nights for the glory of music and music alone. ]

I can't stand for this. You shouldn't either! We're artists, Salieri, not politicians — we have a more fulfilling purpose to serve, and a duty to serve it. [ but ... maybe he's the only one who feels that way. yes, he never really was like any other artist, was he?

amadeus scoffs, resigning then to speak only for himself. ] How am I meant to enrich this world if theater as a whole is in shambles? I refuse to be censored. [ yet, how to go about it? ... ] I'll have to think of something.

[amurder]

[Amadeus— his words, his actions, his anger— it all strikes Salieri like a tempest strikes waves into seaside cliffs. He couldn't promise anything to him now, no sooner than he could promise anything to himself. There would be little point in stirring up the composer even more than he already is... there is nothing he could promise just yet.

Maybe soon, but not now. Salieri feels his fingers curl deeper into his palms, his dark gaze lowering as he feels himself submerged into hopelessness.

That is, until he hears—] 'Something'?

[Bit by bit, that morose mood sharpens into something cautious.] Amadeus, by staying away from Parliament I did not mean think of an alternative. I still suggest you keep to their standards if must.

[Don't... do anything they may notice. Amadeus better be listening!!] Am I right? [He needs to hear him say it!]

[fordeath]

[ he remembers shared stories of small scale childhood rebellion. descriptions of broken spinets, tales of violated curfews and insolently blunt remarks of the town's organist — all motivated by a true, unabashed love for music that amadeus recognized immediately, knew like an old friend. between the laughter and the snide jokes made at their mutual librettist's expense. as they finally, after being released from the unforgiving and all-seeing hold of the viennese courts, saw eye to eye.

he knew then that salieri wasn't entirely the rigid, unforgiving man that his position made him out to be. he wasn't clueless in the ways of music – his sense for pure, divine talent, as it turned out, as potent as his own. he thought, then, that he had an admirer in salieri, sympathetic to the plight of an artist who wrote for a deaf public.

he hoped that if the ex-kapellmeister had a chance to help him now, that he would. in the end, he doesn't blame him for not doing so, given the circumstances of his spirit origin, and the dismantled state of the theatrical world here. it's an intimidating endeavor to tackle an entire nation's attitude on art and the societal rules of expression.

but, in his opinion ... that's what an artist is meant to do. and if salieri means not only to refuse to help, but to stop him completely ... to lecture him and discourage him? then has this man become any better than the pompous officials he was just mocking? maybe he should consider that things are fundamentally different now, and that salieri's unruly passion is wholly in the past.

amadeus closes his eyes for a moment, contemplating all this, and the answer he wishes to give the man, before he finally speaks up. ] No.

In fact, you're completely wrong, Salieri.

If you believe after all this time that I'll let my work be butchered by idiots, or sit merely in my head unperformed, then you're a fool. ... —Ah, oops. [ he frowns, at salieri then away. at himself. at all of this. ] Well, I haven't changed, you know. I'll always be this way — impudent, obstinate, incorrigible! [ that's his excuse. but salieri has to see, that he can only ever be utterly dedicated to music, whatever that may mean. ]

But I no longer have to worry about being in debt, or dying. I don't have a wife or kid to provide for either! I'm a composer and a Servant with the chance of a lifetime. [ as he speaks, the heat simmers down inside him, until he's considering all things as a matter of fact. because really, it is. just the nature of things, and the nature of himself. he glances at salieri now, eyes searching for some understanding in the other man's expression. ] Salieri, you should know that if I can make music without having to kiss the ass of another slimy statesman that I'll do it. Unquestionably.

1/2

[amurder]

[As he sits and listens— waits and braces for the change in pressure surrounding the tense atmosphere between them... Salieri realizes he is watching an Amadeus from long past.

Ah, perhaps that is not the way to express it. He blames the creeping nostalgia, thinly masked familiarity in their words that makes him relive these conversations from centuries ago. He remembers it all too well— sees himself with his back straight, arms crossed as he patiently listens to a ranting Amadeus. The anger and unrestrained distress in his voice reflects the tirades they shared before all this, before the discovery of Singularities and the capabilities that would come with becoming a Servant. Salieri detects the beginnings of Amadeus's scathing indignation, the sharp edge of it cutting through his words as though he meant to cut through the very air itself—

—then you're a fool. And as naturally as his own passion is stirred, so is his own anger and retaliation. Ah, but he mustn't focus on that. Even now Amadeus plays a dangerous game, flaunts all of his fluctuating emotions for everyone to see—

And knows not what Salieri is capable of taking in.] Amadeus—

[But the Maestro continues and near the end of it Salieri feels his own teeth grinding. The hairs at the nape of his neck along with his new appendages stand on end. Wrong... wrong, he says!!

Does this man... have no inkling of fear? Of reservation or caution? Anger churns hot in his stomach, boils and steams through him as he looks up at Amadeus— heedless Amadeus, selfish, incorrigible Amadeus! And even has he thinks this he's reminded: Salieri always knew of the words used to describe the man before him— such underhanded, muttered things behind pristine gloves and sneering lips. How he despised their filthy gossip, their blatant jealously and animosity towards Amadeus, who dared to—

—] ...

[...

Salieri's gloved hand comes up to his mouth. For a single, silent moment of befuddlement he replays those last hardy words in his mind. "—I'll do it. Unquestionably."

He... Amadeus...

... to think with just those words, he stirred up such intensity inside him. Unthinkingly, without lifting a single finger, he brought back the very moment when Salieri realized Amadeus was too fearless for his own good, too brazen and impudent for anyone to truly understand... even at times, himself.

Without realizing, Amadeus- in that moment- truly made Salieri feel as though he were a mere man once again. A mere musician... a soul taken up again and again by his violate love of music and disregard for authority and everything else.


And all it took was for him to call me a fool.]

[amurder]

[His hand presses tighter against his mouth. Head lowering slightly, Salieri keeps his response silent until a shaky exhale manages to escape through his fingers. His shoulders quake— from emotion, from the pressure welling up within him, threatening to combust—

—combust with laughter, that is.] Pffthehehe....hahaha...! Hahahaha!

[Hefty shakes of his shoulders finally release the hoarse barks of laughter that escape him. The very action of it exerts his energy, leaves him struggling to catch his breath as he shakes his head.] Amadeus.

You... are truly beyond incorrigible. [With minimal effort he slowly lifts himself off the steps and stands to full height.] And I must admit, that frankly... I would prefer you no other way.

Ah, scusi. Perhaps I wouldn't forgive you if you were any other way. [A slow, tired smile spreads Salieri's lips.] Now there is no doubt in my mind. You are that man I knew... the one I heard above all others.

And I am... [A hand silently spreads across his own collarbone.] ... Salieri. I must be Salieri... for you to sway me so effortlessly.

Honestly. [A slow huff and another shake of his head. Finally, he turns to the Maestro— every bit of that dark humor reflecting in his gaze.] I suppose if I wish to hear that music once again, I'll simply have to go along.

We'll find a way through the loopholes... but it will take time, I imagine. Be patient, Amadeus. [Although, whose to say Amadeus should take his word for it now? Salieri understands well enough his first response was unsavory... but will Amadeus believe him now?] And until then... I'll be on your side.

reviving this for bean touch

[fordeath]

[ with the rise of his temper, he expects the reflection of salieri's own to increase in magnitude. they were both incredibly stubborn creatures when it came down to it – immovable in their ways and they rose the ranks of courtly popularity and public perception respectively because of it. he's not foolish enough to believe their personalities wouldn't clash and continue to clash on this point. salieri, like his father, was a prudent man, a cautious man, content to stay within sets of written and unwritten limits both if it meant a secure position.

amadeus ... had never been that way. no — advice like that has its place, of course, but never in a world that censors theater to this degree. amadeus is prepared, then, to continue to argue salieri on this point when he inevitably scolded him again, allowed his anger to flare, when.......—

the man .... laughs? ] —?!

[ the vibration of that laughter dislodges all the fight from his heart and replaces it with sheer ... confusion! he watches the man, stunned (and when salieri stands without pants, he's inclined to look away) ] Wait... Salieri– [ and takes the rare, speechless moment from himself to listen. until salieri has said all he's said, each word striking him harder than the last. ]

Do you ... mean that? You understand very well what you're saying, don't you ... ? You haven't succumbed to lunacy, have you? [ there are two full moons here, but ...

"i am salieri," he says! so easily! as though the avenger hadn't spent the entire span of his servant existence battling that question! it was the obvious conclusion from the very beginning, but still! "i'll simply have to go along." "i'll be on your side." ] Salieri — you'll overload my ears.

... And my eyes, Kapellmeister. [ kindly ... sit back down with him for now it's very distracting ] Pray, do you mean it? Truly?

[amurder]

[Salieri understands the Maestro's hesitation all too well.

The vision of himself from long ago was all but diminished in history– not only forgotten in the overblown fiction that would become his legacy... but also in the form which consumed his spirit and changed it permanently.

Or not so permanently.

He feels an unbidden giddiness as he huffs at Amadeus's befuddlement. Yes, he could never have admitted such a thing before– could never have readily agreed to stand by the Maestro's side. He could he? Such irony now that he's become- quite literally- a true beast, and yet his thoughts are as clear as ever.

Yes, he was distressed at first... but to speak his mind now with such confidence, it was too good to be–] —!!

Amadeus, truly?! [He barks, a bit of red returning to his face as he finds his seat on the steps once again. He simply forgot! He could at least look away...!

After a second to sort himself again, he pins him with a wry stare.] As I was saying... I have no reason to deny myself this now, Amadeus. Not when a chance to— [He pauses, silently grapples for the right word.] ... reacquaint myself with the man I used to be.

And you brought him back, Maestro. [His voice falls. Salieri looks away, mutters into the street.] I am ready again because of you.

[fordeath]

[ that's not right, he thinks.

there's much to be said about whose fault it truly is that salieri's reputation ended up warped so. in truth (and as much as he may be slow to admit it), not all blame can rest on the shoulders of a cold, gossiping public. all the terrible dramatics in his life that led he and his father to fantasize quite descriptively about italian cabals and all their conspirators played their part just as well.

no, amadeus is the center of those rumors — fabricated by a populace who thrived on tragedy, who revered the genius posthumously better than they had in his years of living — but is the reason nevertheless, that salieri was forgotten as the esteemed hofkapellmeister and remembered as mozart's killer.

so then ... what could salieri possibly mean when he says he's "ready again"? because of him? what did he do other than call salieri a fool? ]

... I think you're underestimating yourself a great deal, Kapellmeister. Yourself, and the nature of the world we find ourselves in.

[ leave it to him to strip the moment of its romance. ] You were always capable of it, Maestro, but the Sisters seem to have given you the form to act on it. [ form, like a style of musical expression, but form like the way this world and its magical properties deconstructed them as servants, and rebuilt salieri ... in this way. ] Perhaps practicing some paganism is due. Hahaha. [ ha ha ha ]

[amurder]

['You were always capable of it, Maestro.

The lines of Salieri's eyes deepen as he watches the man across from him– observes the air about him which remains light and fanciful even now. A look of deep pensiveness overtakes his expression and from behind him his tail quietly brushes over the steps.

Was he always capable of it? Did Amadeus truly have such confidence in him that he would think it possible for Salieri to admit such feelings whilst still in the throes of his rage? Or did he mean that Salieri would be capable of producing music even when the only sound to reach him then was dissonance?

... Perhaps Amadeus truly is that naive then.]

Hn. You will not find me kneeling before any alters anytime soon, Maestro.

[Hmph. Salieri glances down at the cake box in his lap.] As for this form... I suppose it's a suitable shell for now.

Even with its features. [He grumbles the last words, and takes the opportunity to lightly extend the claws beneath his paws. Such... a strange sensation, truly.]