Private Tales A night at the Theatre

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer


Character Biography
*Tack tack tack*
Salak's cane announced him as he and Alistair entered the theatre. It was a pleasant and well lit space with high ceiling and marble floors. The House of Masks was where a great many shows were held and troupes often competed for the privilege of performing in the space. Tonights show was the Heir to the Empire. A rather tasteless (and Salak would say shallow) depiction of the Empress Medja's rise to power but the show was not important while the company was good and Salak found Alistair to be good company indeed.
"I have not been in years but it's just as I remember it."
Salak allowed himself a moment of sentimentality.
"We have a private booth upstairs but if you'd like to hit the bar first we can."
He waited for Alistair to make his decision.

Alistair Krixus
"Me neither."

Alistair was not a big fan of the theatre. For starters, he did not get to experience many performances in the Academy. Then, his first outing to the theatre after his graduation had been some story about a son killing his father...A little too on the nose for him. Ever since then, he had largely stayed away from the place.

That wasn't the case for others in his family, his mother was an avid benefactor of the arts. So much so that she had insisted Alistair go to this upon the invitation, which he would have done anyone considering it was offered by a compatriot.

The performance tonight was about Medja, a fact that made Alistair smirk seeing as he had met the Empress once before and was interested to see how to outside world viewed her.

For the night, Alistair had chosen to empower magic through his runic eyes to see this night, rather than bring his walking cane. Frankly, it was to avoid making him and Salak look like a failed rendition of the three blind mice.

"A drink certainly never hurts when enjoying the arts."

Alistair responded with a smile leading them both over to the bar where he planned to grab a glass of wine for himself.

Salak accompanied Alistair to the bar area and they ordered. The wine selection was excellent and he only ever drank for flavour so he chose absinthe the molten sugar added kick. While he waited for it to melt and seep in he addressed Alistair.
"I must thank you for allowing me to take the lead with Edric. After Byron I don't think either of us would have come out the better if he was challenged again."
He stirred his mixture slowly, allowing the sugar to dissolve completely. His air was relaxed, his tone candid. Salak did not allow himself the luxury of relaxing much and the release of tension almost made him faint.

Alistair Krixus
"Oh, it was for the best. Edric and I may have respected each other, but we often did not see eye to eye on certain things. It would have only led to an argument."

Alistair gratefully nodded towards the bartender as he took his own glass and took a sip...not bad at all. It was clear that this theatre did favor a partially higher clientele in the least.

"While I'm proud of my oration skills when compared to many other Dreadlords, I know when I would be a hindrance. You handled it well. Let us hope that will be the end of it."

In fact, Alistair spent more and more of his days talking about his assignment. He knew it was a necessary job, but he was raised to be a weapon. However, he felt more like an unused sword of Damocles that threatened those of Vel Anir...

He needed to blow off steam.

  • Wonder
Reactions: Salak
"Yes, let us hope so..."
His thoughts trailed off to Miss Grey and the odd journey she was on. Idly he wondered what she was doing with Edric but trusted her to know her own path and the part Edric had to play in it. Then he reminded himself of Miss Quinnick and her present danger.
"I'm glad you trusted me. It's a seldom seen thing since the Revolution. Trust I mean. We turn on each other all too quickly."
He was one to talk of course, his habit of assuming the worst was well known but it did not mean he did not see the err of it. Sometimes he wished he could be more trusting. Taking a sip of his absinthe his body warmed as it slid down his throat.

Alistair Krixus