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[indent][sup][color=ab274f][b]Attire:[/b][/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/6VFf0zb.jpg]Theater fit[/url]
[color=ab274f][b]Date and Time:[/b][/color] Sola 28th, Late morning
[color=ab274f][b]Location:[/b][/color] Theater
[color=ab274f][b]Mention(s):[/b][/color] [@princess] Anastasia, his parents, [@Samreaper] Kazumin, [@FunnyGuy] Lorenzo
[color=ab274f][b]Interaction(s):[/b][/color] [@Helo] Callum
[/sup][/indent][/cell][/row][/table]His brother was certainly behaving different all of a sudden. From asking him about falconry to buttering up Edin.

[color=00F8FE]“You like falconry, right Wulfy? Maybe you could give me a lesson. If you ever have the time.”[/color]

An eyebrow climbed up slowly as he issued a thoughtful hum. Memories resurfaced: Callum as a young boy, bedridden with illness. Wulfric asking his mother if his brother would ever get up and about. The concern in her eyes, hesitation in the pause before she answered. Callum later still, preferring the indoors even when he’d seemed to get better, keeping to himself, nose in books. His years of acting out, his descent into alcoholism, the growing resentment Wulfric had seen in his eyes. Yet, his avoidance of any type of violence had been a constant thus far.

So, what had changed?

None of his thoughts or questions were evident in his demeanour when he turned to regard Callum, a corner of his mouth twitching up into an amused smirk. [color=ab274f]“How could I possibly not make time for my little brother? I can pencil you in for the day after tomorrow, if you do not mind joining me on my usual hunting trip. If not, then perhaps I could arrange a lesson [i]just for you[/i] in week or so.”[/color]

He returned his attention to the stage and the performances acted out on it. Yet, the platform below was not the only setting to a show. In the royal viewing box, Callum was enacting a play of his very own.

[color=00F8FE]“Women ask the silliest questions, don’t they?”[/color]

Ah. His brother had finally realized that if he wanted [i]a reward[/i], he had to do his best impression of a loyal dog to get it. Just when had Callum learned to act?

[color=ab274f][i]So, he wants something from Edin, and from myself. But not Alibeth?[/i][/color] Or perhaps, he believed he could still easily manipulate her given his love for him. Either way, he was severely underestimating the queen.

The question was, what goal was Callum pursuing? Given his sentiments, it was certainly not to work for his family. For who or for what then?

[color=ab274f][i]Marek?[/i][/color]

How awfully ironic that would be.

[color=ab274f]“Our sister also happens to be a woman,”[/color] he commented mildly, pitching his voice low enough that only Callum would hear him. What great fun he was having, disparaging half of the population only to irk their mother. Did he even realize what power words such as those held? Wulfric rather doubted it. Short-sighted as ever, that was as true of Callum as it had been.

Caught as he was in contemplating the new puzzle his youngest brother had become, he paid only half attention to Nagasa’s dance. Even so, the peasant’s story rung a bell; the inept puppet scaring off a young woman reminded him of the whole Crystal fiasco. The play was not to Wulfric’s taste, the dance was too bizarre, too festive. He did not mind an ambivalent ending. Yet another unexpected choice from a man as simple as Kazumin. In the prince’s opinion, Nagasa yet lacked the mastery in his craft to truly strike his point home, and make the whole of his story shine. Even so, it hadn’t been too bad. [color=ab274f]“Creative enough, I suppose,”[/color] he commented. 

Edin lauded it as a masterpiece. [color=ab274f][i]Do you identify with the puppet, father?[/i][/color] His last conversation with the king replayed in his mind.

[color=DDB775]“[i]I MUST OWN HIM![/i]”[/color] he proclaimed for all to hear.

[color=#0B0205][i]Own.[/i][/color]

Callum immediately followed up with an idea recruit Nagasa as a court jester. How easily his brother handed out another’s life to appease the king, now. [color=ab274f]“I wonder how long [i]this one[/i] can last before he lands himself on the execution block,”[/color] he sneered.

[color=ab274f][i]You’ve changed, brother.[/i][/color] It wasn’t for the better. True, he had acted thoughtlessly before. Now? The foolishness was still there, but he had traded his principles for a dose of mediocre cunning, at best. A sorry excuse of a noble turned into the kind of aristocrat that was a dime a dozen, yet a sorrier excuse of a human being for it. Tragic if true.

Wulfric scoffed, his mood further souring as Lorenzo stepped on the platform only to mock his competition and called on Anastasia as if she were a common serving girl. 

Despite his unfavourable disposition, the prince soon found himself engaged with the following poem. He did not relate to the content, yet Lorenzo conveyed his personal experience with expertly crafted words, poignant and full of meaning. The prince did not comment, but he was one of the first ones to clap. 

Then, it was finally his sister’s turn. Her song was more than that – it was a message. An impossible wish. A dedication to a friend who was gone, an instrumental eulogy honouring that which had been and could never be again. Wulfric had no idea how his sister could express herself so freely, to reveal her rawest feelings before an audience. However, he was certain this was something she needed. And if she was strong enough to pour her heart out in this way, perhaps he did not have to fear that she would turn all that raging sorrow inwards, unto herself. She may not know it yet, but she could overcome this. It would leave its mark, but…that was only right. The death of a loved couldn’t – should not – ever be inconsequential.

The applause which followed Anastasia’s performance was far slower, a thing of solemn acknowledgement.[/color]