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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]
[color=ab274f][b]Interaction(s):[/b][/color] [@Helo] Callum, [@princess] Anastasia, his parents, [@Lava Alckon] Farim, Drake, [@Samreaper] Kazumin, [@FunnyGuy] Lorenzo, [@JJ Doe] Fritz
[/sup][/indent][/cell][/row][/table][color=00F8FE]"That is how this all works, right?"[/color]

Apathy. It was a strange experience to hear it from his brother. From Callum, who only a few days ago spoke so impassionedly that he could never doom an innocent to death. Who had been so pained by the notion, who had fought so desperately against it. Was this just a temporary reaction to Darryn’s murder? Or had that been the straw which broke the camel’s back, and he had finally lost the piece of him which [i]cared[/i]? If he did, did he feel its loss, or had it burnt out entirely unnoticed, like the feeble wick of a candle exposed to the mercy of a storm?

[color=ab274f]“Indeed,”[/color] he confirmed matter-of-factly. What else was there to say?

Edin, meanwhile, did not appreciate his pointed dark joke. Oh, his father was still [i]peeved[/i] at him, was he? A dark smirk crept across his face at his father’s hilarity. Seemingly in agreement, he retorted, [color=ab274f]“Anyone would dance with a noose around their necks, wouldn’t they?” [i]Including you.[/i].[/color]

He was intrigued to note the king’s reaction to the blaring trumpets. He well knew the man’s distaste for the instrument, but he had never had the chance to witness his reaction to a veritable ensemble of them. His father appeared downright [i]tormented[/i], a tidbit he filed away in one of his numerous mental folders. 

By the time Lorenzo came onto the stage, Edin’s mood had ameliorated enough for him to seek his approval. [color=ab274f]“The duke certainly wishes he were grand,”[/color] he threw Edin a bone, something small to placate him. He did not comment on Alibeth’s expressed desire to depose the duke, though privately, he agreed.

[color=ab274f]“He does not laud his fate, he laments it,”[/color] he opined mildly. Largely, his mother was right. [color=ab274f]“Now, if only he did something [i]productive[/i] in response…”[/color]

As for her assessment of Anastasia’s performance, it struck him that she had a shallow understanding of strength. [color=ab274f]“Weak…?”[/color] his head canted to the side, brows arching slowly as he echoed Alibeth. That was when Callum decided now would be a good time to flaunt his budding savvy for manipulation (if one could call his attempt skillful), and addressed him. Wulfric’s glance slid to him, [i]past[/i] him, and settled on his mother. As dismissive of Callum as his brother was of Alibeth. [color=ab274f][i]You’ve much to learn yet, brother.[/i][/color]

[color=ab274f]“Do you truly believe that she is weak?”[/color] He questioned Alibeth, tone genuinely wondering. [color=ab274f]“There is power in music, even in honesty. It may be difficult for us to understand, but the ability to influence is clear,”[/color] he gestured to the audience. One could tell by their expression that the people were moved. For some, it was because they [i]understood[/i]. For others, those who were without the personal experience of loss, it was because they could [i]feel[/i] Anastasia’s emotions, and were swept along in their wake. [color=ab274f]“Do you not see their admiration? Their awe? Their [i]recognition[/i]?”[/color] It was not so much recognition of talent, but the recognition of [i]connection[/i]. The soulful impression that there existed a commonality between them and the princess. That she, who could mourn the death of a commoner so, was someone worth rooting for.

[color=ab274f]“You might protest that theirs is only a transient experience, but what is esteem built upon if not a stringing of such experiences, one after another? If that does not convince you, I suppose you could compare this to the manipulation tactic of appearing weak to elicit sympathy and acts of compassion.”[/color] He delicately raised his shoulder in a shrug. [color=ab274f]“Of course, she does not do this intentionally, but the effect is more or less the same. You needn’t worry we will somehow be devalued in the people’s eyes due to her performance, that much I am sure of.”[/color]

His attention returned to the stage then, where something was occurring. He practically ignored his brother, but then again, Callum had his answer. [color=ab274f]“How curious,”[/color] he commented when Count Hendrix took to the stage, springing on them a surprise performance.

The song was familiar, though for the life of him, Wulfric could not recall when he had heard it. Hendrix sang like he was calling out to someone. Gradually, the audience responded. By all accounts, the count was successful in his aim, and yet…

Why was there such a sense of solitude about the man?

The song was followed by a dance. Fritz mingled among the skilled performers, a part of them yet not. If Wulfric had not been tracking him so closely, he would not have noticed his departure.

The curtain call commenced, and Count Hendrix, the peculiar, [i]bold[/i] man that he was, requested the royals’ commentary. A smirk played about Wulfric’s lips, stretching into a sharp grin as a glint of challenge danced in his eyes. 

His parents shared their sentiments, Edin’s self-indulgent, Alibeth’s brief, true to their character. [color=ab274f]“I do believe there is still some fun to be had,”[/color] he pitched in, watching his mother leave. Clapping Callum on his shoulder, he encouraged, [color=ab274f]“This is a good chance to practice your rhetoric.”[/color] Standing up, he approached the railing, gazing down at the performers. [color=ab274f]“You wish to hear my opinion? Certainly, I can oblige.”[/color] He pointed towards the lot of them. [color=ab274f]“Since you have called on me, I shall join you [i]right there[/i]. Do take care not to run away, now – or worse, faint from the shock,”[/color] he chuckled under his breath. That said, he turned on his heel with flair, swift and sleek. He wished he could do something as dramatic as vault over the railing, and jump or fly straight down, but alas.

He exited the royal box with a nod to the remaining family members. [color=ab274f]“Enjoy the applause, father. More is soon to follow.”[/color]

He took the mundane route of walking down the stairs, but savoured each step. The amusement as he left an eager audience in suspense, the thrill of an awaiting contest and a match well met. He strolled onto the stage with confident steps, a winsome smile in place. The excitement among the observers was palpable, but he raised a calming hand to prevent a standing ovation.

He stepped to the first performer. Conveniently, they were still arranged in a line from when they had taken their final bow. [color=ab274f]“Shahzade Farim,”[/color] he reached out for a handshake. [color=ab274f]“You have shown us a singularly beautiful bond between beast and man, and dazzled us all with a unique part of Alidasht culture. Thara is a glorious falcon, deserving of all praise.”[/color] Clapping emerged, and Wulfric drew the man into a loose half-hug. For his ears only, he imparted, [color=ab274f]“I hope you are not too offended by those less verse in ornithology. Oh, and do not forget about that chat with Anastasia, if you have not had it yet,”[/color] he let him go with one last pat to the shoulder, and proceeded to the next man.

[color=ab274f]“Lord Drake,”[/color] he smiled at his friend with a rare warmth. [color=ab274f]“Well done.”[/color] They shook hands, engaging in a firmer hug, back clap included. [color=ab274f]“I always find myself enjoying your playing, and today’s was a moving performance. You have once again managed to elevate your level of skill. If you have not yet found your limit, I rather look forward to when you do.”[/color]

He approached Nagasa next, initiating a handshake as well. [color=ab274f]“Mr. Nagasa, despite your lacking resources, you have arranged a captivating play. You have a talent for storytelling. Polish it well.”[/color] He clapped the man on the shoulder, and once again took the opportunity during the applause to disclose a message just for him. [color=ab274f]“If you do not find my father’s offer appealing, you might want to make your escape soon.”[/color]

Lorenzo was next in line. [color=ab274f]“Duke Vikena, you are a fine poet. Do not do yourself the disservice of insulting fellow performers.”[/color] Another handshake, another shoulder pat. [color=ab274f]“Meet your fate head on, for [i]you[/i] are the one who can change it.”[/color]

Then there was Anastasia, whom he approached with a smile, though a hint of concern lined his brow. [color=ab274f]“My sister has reached you all without words, so I do not believe words are necessary.”[/color] He hugged his sister, whispered to her, [color=ab274f]“It hurts, doesn’t it?”[/color] He brushed her hair, stroked her back, then released her, holding her shoulders long enough for a bracing squeeze. [color=ab274f]“You are stronger than some will give you credit for.”[/color] He let her go, and turned to the last but most certainly not the least.

He stalked up to the man with all the grace of a leopard in hunt, that sharp grin appearing once again. [color=ab274f]“Count Fritz Hendrix,”[/color] he announced. He presented the man to the spectators, motioning with his hand as if unveiling a gift. [color=ab274f]“Organizer, announcer, and entertainer all in one. He had a fun surprise in store for us at the end, did he not? Do let him know if you enjoyed his contribution.”[/color] Applause and cheers rang out, though Wulfric wondered if it meant anything to the count at all. When the sound petered out, he turned towards him, smiling in invitation as he held out a hand. [color=ab274f]“You were one of the many who made this event possible; [i]you[/i] were instrumental in its fruition. Congratulations on a successful charity drive.”[/color] They shook hands, held, released.

Wulfric turned towards the audience with a final line. [color=ab274f]“To the gods, the king, the people!”[/color] he called out, and a cacophony of noise erupted. He swept a bow, and gracefully exited the stage. He sat amongst the audience, a kind stranger letting him borrow a seat in the first row for these last few minutes.[/color]