Time: Sola 28th Late Morning
Location: Edin Theatre
Interactions:
Mentions: Anastasia @princess, Kazumin @samreaper, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy

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Laced inbetween the degenerate behavior from the Caesonian public and its head of state were not so bad performances. Kazumin's puppet show was clever. A typical tale of a woman's friendship with an inanimate object with a dark and sad twist. John wondered if it was something of a personal story to this otherwise goofy jokester he remembered. It was not a sad twist for the sake of a twist. It was handled well and beautifully, he found it hard to believe the dance of emotions were just pure inventiveness. But whatever the case was, he gave the man a clap. He deserved it. Hopefully the guy wouldn't get himself killed in the king's court.

He didn't know what to think about Lorenzo's performance. The Duke did put his heart into it, but it came off as a bit cheesy for John's taste. He tried to overlook it and find empathy, and the result was somewhat middling. Perhaps he was biased against Lorenzo due to his theatrics before the performance, or his nonsense John had to deal with the other day. John remained quiet like most of the crowd, simply choosing to blend into the background.

John suddenly felt an itch. A sixth sense, if he were to describe it. He glanced back and forth around the theatre to nothing unusual. Everyone was just enjoying the show in their own way. But he couldn't shake off that feeling that something bad might happen. He comforted himself with the fact that it wasn't the first time he felt this, and most of the times nothing happened. He hoped the only drama here would just be Anastasia's gripping cello performance.

Speaking of, John could felt her performance to the very bone. This wasn't just music. This was a story, told without a single spoken word, and it was a sad one. He could also feel his own story, his own feeling of loss and grief emerging from within, entangling with her own in a empathetic dance. They said last but not least, but this was certainly the most he felt in this event so far. It made all the trouble, the annoyances he had earlier in the day all worth it.

By the performance's end, John was among the applauders. Solemn just like everybody else, but one of the loudest.

Time: 12pm by the end
Location: Edin Theater
Interaction: @Helo Callum @Silverpaw Wulfric @JJ Doe Morrigan
Mention: @FunnyGuy Lorenzo

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Edin's laughter boomed through the banquet hall, loud and obnoxious as if Callum had just uttered the most profound wisdom ever spoken.

“Ah! Now that is a thought, boy!” he guffawed, slapping his meaty hand on the table hard enough to make some napkins fall on the floor. “A dancer and a jester, all in one! Entertaining and obedient! And people say you’re useless, Callum! Ha! Not today, not today!”

Meanwhile, Alibeth grimaced, her expression tightening. She had no interest in the so-called jester, nor did she appreciate Callum's amusement at the idea. “Must you encourage him?” she muttered under her breath

“I wonder how long this one can last before he lands himself on the execution block.”

Edin’s laughter faltered, his goblet pausing mid-air. His drunken amusement dimmed just slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing through his glazed-over eyes. For a brief moment, the air around him seemed to shift as if he might turn his ire toward Wulfric. But then, just as quickly, he scoffed and threw back the rest of his wine in a single, gluttonous gulp.

“Hah! You say that as if half this court isn’t already skating on thin ice,” he muttered, setting his goblet down with an audible clunk. His fingers drummed against the table, his amusement returning, “But I must admit, that would be an entertaining way to end the show. Imagine the grand finale—" he smirked and flicked his wrist theatrically, “a lovely little dance… right off the edge of the gallows!” He roared with laughter again, as if his own jest had brought him back to life.

Meanwhile, Alibeth’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression momentarily unreadable.

As Lorenzo then took the stage, Edin let out a deep, exasperated sigh, already bracing himself for whatever nonsense was about to unfold. His fingers drummed against the armrest. “Oh, great. This idiot again,” he muttered, barely bothering to lower his voice. His patience for Lorenzo Vikena was thinner than the strings holding up Kazumin Nagasa’s puppet earlier.

At first, Edin was delighted as Lorenzo summoned an entire marching band from the audience. His eyes lit up, his grin stretching wide as he clapped his buttery fingers together. His amusement only grew as the ribbon dancers came on stage, and the poppy petals rained down upon Lorenzo like a self-proclaimed war hero.

Then he heard them.

The instant the trumpets blared, Edin’s fingers went rigid around his goblet, his knuckles whitening. His entire body stiffened, his breath caught mid-sip. It was as if the very walls of the theater had collapsed, and suddenly, he was not here.

Edin’s jaw clenched as his breathing grew shallower. His grip on the goblet tightened, then he slammed it down onto the armrest with a force that sent wine sloshing over the edges. Alibeth, already irritated by Lorenzo’s display, turned at the sound of his goblet slamming down.

“Edin?”

“...A Danrose does not flinch.” Edin exhaled sharply and shoved the handful of popcorn into his mouth with force, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. His jaw worked harder than necessary, his fingers drummed against the chair’s armrest.

However, he finally did turn his attention to his family with a look of fury. “Who in the hell allowed those damnable trumpets?! Who approved this?!” He began to rise, looming like a storm about to break. His body vibrated with unchecked fury, his nostrils flaring as his dark eyes burned with something nearly unhinged.

The trumpets still rang in his ears. “I will not sit here and be subjected to this assault on my ears! My court deserves better! My kingdom deserves better! I deserve—”

His hand lashed out, goblet nearly flying from his grip, but before he could send it crashing onto the floor below—

Alibeth’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising force. Her amber eyes burned into his, and her grip was firm.

For a moment, he looked at her as if he might fight it. But then, something in her expression made him hesitate. His chest heaved, his lip curled, but he did not pull away. Instead, he yanked his arm back with a huff, slamming himself against his seat.

“Damn trumpets,” he muttered under his breath, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Grumbling, he crossed his arms, shifting uncomfortably as the wretched music continued. Every time a trumpet sounded, he flinched slightly, his fingers tightening around the chair.

Finally, the infernal noise stopped. Edin exhaled, far too loudly, as if he had just survived an ordeal.

And then Lorenzo opened his mouth.

“‘The Duke of Vermillion is here!” Edin mocked under his breath, sneering. “Like anyone gives a damn.” His eyes flicked to Wulfric, as if seeking confirmation that he wasn’t the only one witnessing this absurd display. Then, Lorenzo dared to mock the Varians and Alidasht!

Edin’s eyes widened slightly before he barked out a short, humorless laugh. “Oh, this will go well,” he muttered. “Although… He’s right, for once. We are much better than them.”

“Does… Does he think this volunteer charity event is a competition?” Alibeth’s tone was light, almost amused—almost—but the slight tilt of her chin and the flicker of irritation in her amber eyes made it clear she was certainly anything but amused.

As soon as Lorenzo dared to summon Anastasia as though she were some common musician at his beck and call, Alibeth’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing into cold, piercing slits. “How dare he,” she murmured icily. Edin, still muttering about Lorenzo’s idiocy, seemed surprised by her sudden intensity.

Then, without looking at him, she spoke again, louder this time. “Anastasia is a princess, not some performer to be summoned at a fool’s whim.” She exhaled, though irritation flickered in her gaze as she scanned the stage.

“If she indulges him in front of everyone—” she shook her head, unwilling to finish the thought. The disgrace of it was unthinkable. Instead, she turned to Edin, her voice deceptively light yet laced with frost. “Tell me, Edin, how much longer must we tolerate this fool? Is it really all that necessary to keep the tradition of the Vikena family as members of the nobility considering the risk they present? ”

“Until he dies, I suppose.”

And then, right on cue, Anastasia took the stage. Alibeth exhaled slowly, her gaze darkening. “Of course she went up.” The words left her lips in a cold murmur, more to herself than anyone else.

Edin scoffed loudly before Lorenzo could even start his poem, leaning forward with a self-satisfied smirk. “Love? I’ll tell you what it is—expensive.” He gestured broadly, nearly knocking over his goblet again. “Costs a man his coin, his freedom, and if he’s really unlucky—his peace of mind.”

Then after the first few lines of Lorenzo’s poem, Edin spoke up once more, “Love this, love that—where’s the part where he trips over his own feet and makes this worth my time?” He lazily gestured toward the stage. “I say we speed things up. Someone toss a banana peel in his path.”

The king then let out a long, exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms dramatically before slumping further into his chair. “This is getting dreary. Someone wake me up if he starts making sense… or if he actually throws himself off the stage or something.”

As the words “wipes her juices from his chin” rang through the theater, Edin’s half-lidded eyes shot open. A slow, lecherous smirk crept onto his face, and he suddenly sat up straighter, one brow arching with interest.

“Well, well, well…” he murmured, his voice a deep purr as he leaned forward, fingers lazily tapping against his knee. His mind began to drift—no, plummet—into a vivid daydream, his expression shifting to something disturbingly pleased. The theater faded from his senses as a sultry haze overtook his mind, transporting him to his bed chamber filled with his adoring concubines.

In his vision, they surrounded him, their hands tracing over his body, their voices breathy and eager. “Oh, my King… our god among men,” one whispered breathlessly against his ear.

Another trailed fingers down his chest, tracing patterns through the remnants of oil smeared across his skin. “Your Majesty is perfection… untouchable… desired by all…” she purred.

Edin grinned lazily, arms stretching over the pillows beneath him, letting his women fawn over him. “Of course I am,” he murmured, licking his lips as one of them placed a grape between his teeth. “The greatest king who ever lived… the most powerful… the most needed.”

One of his favorites settled beside him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “No man could ever compare, Your Majesty.”

“Mmm… Say it again,” he groaned, his grip tightening in her hair as he tugged her closer.

“You are the only King… the only one we could ever love… ever serve,” she whispered.

This was where he belonged, where he deserved to be—adored, worshipped, exalted. Every sigh, every touch, every desperate murmur of devotion fed his insatiable hunger for admiration.

The women giggled, scrambling to please, hands smoothing oils into his skin, lips brushing along his knuckles, down his arms, over the slope of his belly. His head lolled back against the pillows, a satisfied chuckle escaping him as he basked in the overwhelming adulation.

“Yes, yes… that’s it…” he murmured.

But then a sharp voice through the haze. “Edin.” His eyes snapped open.

Edin groaned in frustration, rubbing his temples as reality crashed down. He shot a sour glance at his wife before huffing and slouching back into his chair, arms crossed over his chest like a spoiled child.

“Ridiculous poetry,” he muttered under his breath.

Alibeth, however, had been listening intently the entire time. The poetry itself was competent, perhaps even moving, but what truly fascinated her was what it revealed. Lorenzo’s so-called art was nothing more than a self-indulgent confession, a carefully veiled lament of a man who did not lose to love, but destroyed it. A man who had no control over his vices, no self-awareness, no accountability. And yet, he stood before them, holding power, speaking as if his suffering were profound rather than predictable.

Her fingers tapped idly against her glass. “A tragic tale,” she mused, voice cool, detached. “Though I wonder if the woman in it would agree.”

She took a slow sip of wine before continuing, her words precise, razor-sharp. “A Duke who romanticizes his own ruin. Who stands before his King and people, not only admitting to drowning in drink but reveling in it—as if self-destruction is something to be applauded.” Her gaze slid over them all and she presented a smile devoid of actual joy. “Forgive me if I don’t weep.”

Finally it was time for Anastasia to perform. Her voice carried through the theater with anything but the grace of a princess. Alibeth’s lips pressed into a thin line as she watched her bring up the Darryn dilemma. “In front of everyone,” she murmured.

Meanwhile, Edin, who had been half-lost in his own thoughts (and, perhaps, his daydreams), initially paid little mind to the performance. But as the music swelled, something strange happened. His chewing slowed, his expression shifting from vague amusement to something harder to define. He stared at the stage, and for the first time in a long while, he was silent.

She is just like her father—impulsive, indulgent, driven by whatever feeling seizes them in the moment.

Alibeth felt naive to have thought she might be impressed tonight, that perhaps Anastasia would at least wield her artistry with dignity. She was talented but what use was talent if it was wielded with such disgraceful abandon? She exhaled slowly, setting her glass down with measured grace.

“Weak,” she murmured to no one in particular, watching as her daughter let herself unravel for all of Sorian to see. “She makes herself look weak. And worse—she makes us look weak.”

Time: 28th, Evening
Location: Edin Theater
Interactions:
Mentions: @princess Anastasia/Ani @Funnyguy Lorenzo, @Potter Seph/Olivia/Percy


With the closing of the curtains came a round of applause further amplified by the staff joining in. And amidst all the clapping, a low raspy wheeze gasped from the hunched-over figure slowly lumbering his way. A hand extended reaching blindly at the air, his head hanging low as the clapping drowned out the panting wheeze.

“ Wa–wuh– *wheeze* ter!” The figure rasped out pitifully like a dying beast.

And yet on they clapped and cheered… almost mocking him, were that he was able to revel in it but there was only one thing on his mind.

Then his hand finally grasped hold of something; a quick inspection revealing it to be some staff’s shoulder pad. There was a small tilt of the head to see the man’s mouth moving, but all he could hear was clapping.

Gods the clapping!

“ W-wa–wuh--!” Gasping out with a coughing wheeze, Kazu sprung his head up only to have those around cringe back in shock from his sudden shout. But, more specifically his face appeared an almost melted glob of sweat and smudge make-up, and his eyes much like his body twitched erratically as the other hand clutched at his chest above his heart.

A look of confusion on the stranger’s face at the exclamation.” A wha? I’m sorry fella, but you got to el-”

Cut off by the hand on the shoulder suddenly shifting downward to grab at the neck sleeve to pull himself closer.” W-Water Blast it! Clapping…stop the clapping…fucking drums…get me water for Pete’s sake! Pounding like drums!” Kazu finally mustered out after managing a gulp of air.

The effort nearly caused him to collapse had the man not stepped forward to hold him up. In doing so, he would feel the farmhand’s heart was pounding erratically as if someone were pounding drums beneath his chest. Every loud clap another vicious drum towards having it explode from his chest.

Now that the state of distress was discovered, those who could quickly scramble to get the wheezing blonde water—and plenty of it.

Almost two minutes passed before a stagehand came running as quickly as they could with a big jug of water and reaching it to his extended hands followed by a loud splashing.

*Gulp Gulp Gulp*

Kazu drank deeply and greedily, having it splash down his face and drench him, the soothing elixir cooling his body and the boundless excitement beneath his now aching chest… course at this point what wasn’t aching on his body?

“ What in the..-that must have been some thirst you worked up there. Are you alright?”

*GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASP*

The deepest gasp he could manage.” I can breathe! Fuck! “ Kazu panted out in relief, no longer feeling like he was suffocating.” Wheeeeew…hahaha! Got damn, guessin it was all dat hoppin around..and coffee…think they enjoyed the show?” Turning his attention to the gathered crowd staring at him with mixed confusion and concern.

“ Is that a no? I admit it wasn’t my best on short notice, but you try jumping and spinning while going through a big coffee hyperdose. You got any idea of the pain on the joints moving like a puppet is?” Strained to lift his arms up only for them to flop to his side, the last of his strength used to guzzle water.” Not to mention the faceplantin..don’t see anyone else willingly kissing the stage for their performance.” Kazu said while attempting an angry pose. His body refused to listen.

“ Tch..just envision me glaring with my arms crossed..but then again you brought me the water so I su-”

The guy who helped him stand placed a hand on his shoulder to cease his rambling.” You misunderstand, the crowd seemed to have enjoyed it. Don’t you hear the clapping?”

Kazu with a confused arch of the brow soon a look of understanding, where he then pinched his nose and with a strong inward blowing puff of his cheeks until..pop!” Ahh..so the clapping wasn’t just from my chest then?!” His grouchy demeanor instantly perked up with a wide smile.

Now that his body was no longer threatening to go boom, Kazu allowed the last bit of clapping to wash over him, like being doused in a wave of aloe vera.

Though for a brief moment, amidst all the praise; a certain king’s unexpected praise sent a spine-tingling chill to tremble through his body ending with a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, as if an impossibly chilly door opened behind him, an ominous unseen forboding sense lurking just off in the darkness behind it.

A chilly rub of his arms, figuring it to be a bit of shock from cooling his body down so quickly, gave a dismissive shrug of the shoulders.” I got a theater to clap for a cheaply made dancing puppet. Not bad for this farmhand, can’t wait to tell the folks back at ho-” Trailing mid-way of his bit of showboating, his smile faltering, cursing himself for bringing them up now of all times.

“ You sure you ok? Seems like you pushed yourself too hard…maybe hit your head a bit too hard on one of the falls? Might be good to get you to the infirmary or take a seat with all…whatever you may be going through, sir.” The same stranger had stepped over as he spoke, doubting the man could hardly stand, and had moved closer to offer help if needed.

An offer Kazu took without hesitation, limply flinging his left arm over the guy’s shoulder.” No no no! No need, just..just overwhelmed is all.” A forced wide grin and awkward laugh, thankful for the kind input putting an end to his family fretting spiral.

“ Just not used to such applause, is all. But It wasn’t just me, it was a team effort so all those claps aren’t just for me. Naw, they’re for everyone here too..you too, er..” Turning his attention to the man he was hugging in a chummy manner, motioning to introduce himself.

“ Oh! That’s Glenn, sir..Glenn Smitty. And I couldn’t just sit back when a fella is….dying of thirst?” Glenn introduced with a chuckle, a touch of waryness at the blonde’s manic energy, was this guy living coffee and just didn’t know?

A friendly pat against Glenn’s chest by his right hand.” Good to meet ya, Glenn Smitty, by the way.” His face suddenly appeared close, eyes squinting.” None of that sir crap. That’s Kazumin or Kazu to you, my new pal.”

“ Er..pal? I don’t…”

“ Stick with me Glenn, for that was merely the beginning. This puppet’s story is far from over, but he can’t do it without you. Without all of you!” He called out vigorously to the staff.” Were it not for each of you, I..no..none may make the stage truly their own without a good crew behind it. They, the audience may not see it, but I do, even when flung on the blue with a dance play as I did. Y’all still managed to help me to deliver the best damn performance this meager body could! So clap not just for me, but for all of us and performers alike!”

Kazu attempted to stand in a cool, dramatic pose while pointing at the ceiling to finish his inspiring speech of thanks. Instead clung to Glenn staring upward seriously.

“ I-I…um, we appreciate..”

“ Psst..Glenn…make me look like I’m clapping or I’ll look like an idiot…well more of an idiot.” Whispered Kazu.

An incredulous look from the stagehand as the crowd who, while appreciating the speech, weren’t sure what to do. With a shrug of Glenn’s shoulder and a tired sigh, reluctantly moved Kazu’s limp arms miming him clapping.

Seeing this, the crowd awkwardly clapped along.

“ Aye, you’re all amazing, truly! I look forward to working with you all again and next time we will go bigger and harder! Till this theater trembles in the wake of the most explosive performance yet!” The cowlicked blonde claimed boisterously; despite his aching exhaustion, the man’s enthusiasm showed no sign of relenting, merely hampered by all the strife and stress.

A slow, steadying inhale from Kazu turning his gaze towards the curtains, the stage lie past them and the countless unseen faces.” Do you see it, Glenn?”

A curious tilt of the head.” See what? The curtains? Look, Mr. Kazumin, the next performance will b-”

“ I see a story. A story unfolding that shakes this very kingdom. You, I…all of us in this theater..nay everyone in this whole blasted kingdom working together to weave a tale of such epic proportions, the whole world will feel its magnitude. The land itself shall quake with thunderous applause that the heavens are drowned amidst our cheers and tears.” Kazu’s eyes all but sparkled, lost in his outrageous fantasizing, mind brimming with ideas to tell the biggest story possible.

And much as he hated the things Calbert had done to torture him or to admit it. The grief and pain fueled his motivation. His dance here may have started as an outlet to vent; now saw a way to not only screw with Calby, but to give everyone a damn good show on top of it.

Shortly after, the announcement of Lorenzo on stage would be heard.” Ooh! But enough of that, no way I’m missing the duke’s poem.” Excitement filled him, but sadly not enough to walk.” Dang it…erm, Glenn. Mind doing me one last favor? Please?” Giving a pretty please smile.

“ I really should get back to work, Mr Kazumin. Maybe you should just take it easy back here-”

His right hand shot up to cut him off.” It’s nothing big, really. Just need ya to carry me to the end of the curtain. I can hang on and watch from there, I’ll not be in the way.” A bigger pleading smile.

An annoyed exhale and pinching of the nose.” Don’t think that’s a good idea. Here, why don’t we p-”

Again cut off, this time by Kazu roughly grabbing at his necksleeve once more.” Sorry for the harshness, Glenn. But either you carry me or I’ll claw my way there. If you think I’m gonna miss the duke’s and Ani’s performance after the princess’s amazing kindness even afforded me such opportunity to be here..you gonna have to toss me out otherwise.” Kazu stated with promise.

Glenn, taken aback by Kazumin’s abrupt aggressive confrontation, stared back with surprised shock.” W-What? There’s no need to get so drastic. Besides, there’s no way you’d try that in your state. Le-”

His attempt to guide Kazu would be met with air as Kazu had started to let his body slide down to the ground, but was caught mid-way.” You can’t be seriously trying-”

A sharp head turn and fierce gaze from Kazu.” Want to bet?” A challenging glare.

A reluctant grunt of defeat, Glenn hoisted back up to his feet.” Fine Fine! But you better not disturb anyone else.” Shaking his head, the man helped carry Kazumin to the right side end of the stage where Lorenzo could be seen standing atop the stage.

Then with a grunt and a small hop, Kazu jumped onto the nearby curtain to hold onto.” You’re a real good one Glenn. Many thanks and know going forward, I want it known that Glenn Smitty is my lead stagehand. Together, we will make a tale for the ages.” He finished with a thumbs up.

Rolling his eyes with another small shake of the head.” Right. Sure, sure. I got to get back to work. You just..hang here and don’t cause trouble.” Glenn warned with a stern look. After a quick check that he was fine, would depart to resume his tasks.

Waving to the departed stagehand, Kazu turned his attention to the stage, where Lorenzo was in the middle of some speech.” Whew, didn’t miss it.” Leaning forward in anticipation.

“They could not even share the stage with a young man who was likely raised on a farm! And don't even allow me mention the young lord, Drake Edwards…”

*Gasp*

* Raised on a farm?? That’s me! Lorenzo acknowledged me!* Thought Kazu grinning, unbothered by the fact the duke had insulted the performers and even challenged them.

Were his body not feeling like silly putty, he might have stomped right onto that stage much like he did and accepted it, but he already had his moment.* Yes! Yes! This is the way of the stage!* Spurn on all the more to hear the man’s poem and wow us with just his words. And someday hoped to follow through with a proper challenge.

That had only been the beginning, however, for the duke had invited Princess Ani to join on the stage. This left Kazu floored with surprise and excitement at the chance to see the prince and duke performing together.

Even before they started, already felt outshined.* Hmph, that’s cheating but damn it who cares!* A hint of jealousy as he waited with abated breath, only to cover his mouth to keep from laughing at the way the princess stomped her way onto the stage, seemingly not so approving of the insults.

Once the exchange between the two was finished, most likely discussing what they were going to do, the mood of the room quieted in preparation, and then the dour cello music filled its space with its dark melody.

Closing his eyes, Kazu hugging the curtains, allowed himself to be enveloped and engrossed in Ani’s music blending with Lorenzo’s poem, each word spoken with such conviction and emotions.

The duke spoke of love, but his words, he could only sense pain and sadness. A man who had suffered a heartbreaking loss and as he went on, it was apparent he had been unable to move on. How he exemplified love as a drug; and like any drug, can lead to addiction. An addiction that ruined countless like the man standing before us.

The splendors and wonders of love, but the dangers of it too. A boon. A poison. And how it can bring one immense joy, but if careless, can be one’s curse.

For Kazu, who seldom held thoughts on the topic of love, struggled to understand and relate to the sorrowful meaning of his words. But the way the words flowed out, enhanced by Ani’s playing gave him a glimpse into what it could only feel like to have endured such loss.

His mind found its way to his family, to Percy, his right hand clutching at his chest. For a moment he felt like he was back there at the tree, the suffocating atmosphere when he thought they were…

How suffocating that had been for him already… the idea of losing someone he loved fully….

Images of Calbert and the pinned dolls flashed in his head, both hands clutching together as his chest felt as if being compressed.

The tightness worsened until Kazu finally managed to shake off the unpleasant visages.

No. He can’t be concerned about such things, not as long as Calbert and Marek loomed over their heads. He couldn’t risk giving the bastard another target; a weakness he would crumble to.

A bitter thought to have, but needed as Kazu knew that a lone farmhand with nothing against nobles who have everything. Survival alone would prove nigh impossible for someone of his status.* Not too far from an unwanted puppet.* Kazu chuckled darkly to himself.

When Lorenzo’s poem was finished, Kazu applauded, still trembling from the onslaught of emotion that hit him. Though he felt the poem more so a careful warning of love, Kazu still could not help but feel a bit envious of the duke as one thing was clear.

The man’s love for his wife was truly genuine. Something which a lot of nobles failed to share with their arranged marriages and treating their children as nothing more than pawns to further the line.

Not that he was to talk, having no experience with it himself. It made his respect for Lorenzo rise and saddened at the way the people treated him like a jester, a clown. There, he could relate, and for him, either to be a jester or to be invisible. Such was the life of peasants. A life of unimportance; of boredom; meant only to serve, to be seen and not heard.

Shaking his head to cease the bitter reminders of his place, not wanting to let them ruin the duke's amazingly heartfelt and heartbreaking poem. Certainly not so with the princess now about to perform.

A quick slap to his face to get him out of that dreary headspace.* Enough of that. Princess Ani needs our undivided attention.* A sharp exhale, he turned his focus to the stage.

And hearing her talk of possibly doing an energetic performance had him inwardly regretting not asking the princess. They could have danced and knocked things over like a pair of chuckleheads. A smile, picturing their spinning around on the dance floor.

However, that was no longer the plan it seemed. A smidgen disappointed he wouldn’t get to see the song she practiced, but it was clear this was important for her.” Oh boy..hitting us with feels back-to-back…ah well. Can’t be that bad, can it?” He whispered under his breath, ready for more, and probably a good thing as he doubted his heart could handle any more big excitement currently anyway.

At least he thought that until she began playing, the sad, fragile melody hitting him like a train. Before he knew it, the tears were already gushing down his cheeks.

The princess’s memorium broke right through his dam of pent-up grief and frustrations weakened severely by the duke’s poem though would soon be crashed by Anastasia’s feelings as she poured it all into that cello, the hall its vehicle to spread the sorrowful good bye for all to hear.

Through it, he could feel her grief and pain, but of the care and love she had for Darryn. What made it truly moving, to Kazu was how much Ani genuinely cared for her friends and people. A shame this trait was not shared.

Unable to look away nor stop the tears, now swept into the storm for in this instance she was the world. Crying for us to listen..to remember…to not forget. An apology…to go back just to see your smile again.

Then, as the music soared, so too did his body, feeling as if he was floating adrift among the clouds, the tumultuous storm dying into a calm night with its finishing flourish.

Opening his eyes; face drenched with tears, a long drawled exhale blew from his lips having been holding his breath and his feet lowered back to the ground as if released from the princess’s musical spell.

“ Holy co- That was….like I just got tossed into an emotional hurricane!” It left him feeling emotionally raw but also cleansing like the storm had washed some of his own strifes trapped within him and hoped the same for her. Seeing her in that way hit him with an urge to run out and hug her. How badly he wished he could comfort and thank her and that for her, he would remember Darryn.

Sniffling, he had started clapping as much as feasibly possible, putting his all for her, and Lorenzo both deserved it.” Whoo! You got magical fingers, princess! And the Duke, what a way with words!”

Just as Kazumin finished his applause, shadows loomed over him. Two royal guards stood before him, clad in gleaming armor marked with the Caesonia insignia. Their expressions were unreadable, their presence heavy.
One, a scarred man with cold, piercing eyes, spoke first.
“Kazumin Nagasa.” The second guard, broader and imposing, shifted just slightly, blocking the nearest exit. His gloved hand rested lightly on the pommel of his sword. A reminder.
“The King requests your presence. You will rise and follow us.”
A beat passed. Then, sharper, he added, “Now.”

Momentarily engrossed in the cheering he noticed the two imposing guards suddenly surrounded him. Instead of a response, a wet pbbt as Kazu had used a patch of curtains the blow his nose and wipe the snot from his face, not realizing he had done so, still coming down from the emotional wave coursing through him.

“ Ah, pardon me, Gentleman. Wasn’t the princess amazing? Wait….” Their words and imposing postures finally hit him via a sharp beat, a dagger of dread to the heart” What? N-!!”

-To be continued….?

Stratya Durmand

Time: 28th Sola, Daytime
Location: Edin Theater
Attire: Military Formal, but in Caesonian colors
Family Dirk + Crest
Interactions: @princess Anastasia
Mentions: @samreaper Kazumin, @FunnyGuy Lorenzo

The moments leading in to Kazumin’s dance had Stratya wondering what the man would do. A play? She didn’t often see them. “Aye, ‘e’s been done up well,” the knight agreed with Anastasia, though, when he fell and she pleaded with no one in particular, Stratya had to turn herself away and stifle a giggle, pressing her fist to her lips. Her wooden son? Oh my.

“Aye, aye, up ‘e goes. Steady on.” The Captain was impressed with Kazumin’s ability to convey such emotion with his movements. The struggle of something animating for the first time was not a simple emotion.

The Princess’s quiet, whispered interjections were heartwarming. It was a reflection of the Princess’s goodly nature. When the Princess mentioned him being perfect, Stratya shook her head, “who needs ‘perrfect’? Just go ‘bout i’, yer grrand.”

Themes of loss. Difficulty communicating, letting your emotions run away with you, something beautiful lost before it could blossom.

Interrupting her digestion of the dance was the king’s bellowing. Ooh, he’d really gotten into that one, had he? Stratya’s gaze turned to the Royal Box for a moment, attracted by the noise, and almost got back to the stage when,

“I MUST OWN HIM!”

She almost, almost snapped back to the Royal Box. She caught herself. What would she do, glare? A careful breath steadied her, and while fighting the urge to go and hide Kazumin from the King, she realized.. had she seen- yes, there he was. Prince Callum. He’d be happy to hear the news she’d discovered yesterday. She’d have to tell him and Anastasia, later. Today, preferably.

In the meantime, Duke Lorenzo took the stage. H-.. how.. does a Duke have less decorum than herself? As Duke, he should be pretty good at this, right? She realized and wondered, then, how she kept forgetting his reputation. The princess decided to indulge him, and set the musical stage for the poem to follow.

Blink and you’d miss it, as they saying goes. It was wine. He struggled with drink. Stratya leaned back in her seat, taking a slow breath of understanding. And to admit it here, on stage, was this a sign from him? Was this, perhaps, his way of pushing himself to do better, to overcome his addiction? She would have to support him, if that were the case.

Before she could consider such things for too long, Anastasia announced Darryn’s murder to the room, expressed how important he was to her. Her emotional statement had a strong start, but as her performance ended, Stratya was dissatisfied. The Princess cared so much for her departed friend, and yet her purpose in this was so.. wistful and emotional. She had so much power and influence, to waste it like this, when she had the opportunity to make a stance of strength and command.

Right.

As Anastasia’s performance came to an end, and Stratya saw how the Princess was winding up, she rose from her seat and made her way to the sidestage. Once the performance was over, and Stratya was sure, she strode out, kneeling near the Princess and speaking softly, for her ears only.

“Prrincess Anastacia Danrrose. I ‘ave ‘eard yerr caring message. I do find it lacking. Imagine, ferr a momen’, tha’ t’ one tha’ did tha’ to ‘im is in this room, tha’ they’re listenin’. Wit’out lettin’ on wha’ ye do or donnae ken o’ them, withou’ scarin’ t’ poor innocent folk, what ‘ave ye go’ tae say t’ them?” The knight looked out over the audience before turning back to the Princess, “ye’ve said ‘ow ye feel wit’ a beautiful song an’ sta’emen’, now what will ye do abou’ i’? Can y’ musterr y’r strrength thrrough yer tears for y’ fallen frriend, Prrincess?” A beat, and the knight smiled warmly, “make ‘em jit’er in their shoes.”

Knight Captain Stratya Durmand, Defender of the Realm, was prepared to stand to the Princess’s flank, should she decide to make a more powerful statement.