The singing was beautiful, there was no word that did it justice. If the melody was incredible, then there wasn't a way to describe the words. She might have been moved to tears, if she had had any left to spare. But she didn't, and so she was not. A few of her companions allowed emotion to trail down their cheeks; however, it seemed likely to Mercedes that much of it was for show. They loved being able to walk into the lobby after a performance and have tearstains for everyone to see. They loved drama. Especially the kind that was not at all meant for theatre. It was sickening, and yet...It made it easier for her to take what she needed from them. No cycle was simpler, or more cruel.
The secluded vampire had really outdone himself this time...She glanced to the balcony. But the musical was short...Surely there had to be something more? She set herself upon discovering what it was.

[Jesus, people, that wasn't it. xD]
[font=Times New Roman, serif]The reclusive vampire felt eyes on him on more than one occasion, this was not rare, yet it only fanned the flame of his enigma. The moody creature threw a glare down at the female vampire, Mercedes. She seemed to be one of the only ones who did not have her emotions on her sleeve--and this both intrigued and annoyed him.

Meanwhile, the Musical was proceeding flawlessly. The raven-haired singer's voice had drawn itself to an unnatural low, dramatically emphasizing the anticipation of action. Two or three light keystrokes were hit and then suddenly the stage blazed with light.

The heroine who had 'till this point played the damsel in distress...in woe over the misery of her enslavement to an unrequited love was now the light of empowerment. Foreign instruments from the Eastern lands added to the effect as they chimed in with the chaotic sweep of violins.

She now had her chains wrapped around the cloaked man who did not love her back, choking him.

This was something new..and promisingly disturbing for those who were sheltered, and it roused a contented smirk to Sebastian's lips.[/font]

Dorielle moved a little closer subconciously to Tristain. her hands went up to her face as the woman bound the man. she was a little afraid. she really had never seen a play like this. she looked around at everyone else and saw that most of them were not as startled as her. she felt a little childish for her act of fear.

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Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.
Victor Hugo

music is my life, my love, it's apart of my very being, it's what keeps my heart beating
~Raelyn

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.
Walt Disney

All who call on God in

Mercedes tilted her head curiously to the side, smiling slightly. This was certainly an unexpected twist...I wonder if the actor will actually be killed...? Now, that would be exciting. Unlikely though...Pity.

She turned to look at her companions, most of their eyes wide in shock. They'd never seen theatre like this before, and were not likely to see it anywhere else.

Fantasia watched the scene unfold with rapt attention. She allowed the melody to flow through her and sweep her into the world of song. She closed her eyes again smileing slightly as she listened to the thoughts of the now startled audience. Magnificent... hauntingly Beautiful....

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Tristan's face blanked into a mask of intrest. He was being watched; he could feel it. Of course that was nothing new, he was Tristan d' Lacey for gods sake, but this felt diffrent. So he only tightened his grip slightly around Dorielle to comfort her.

At his side Maria was positivly blubbing with fear. Oh God....she was going to be hard to re-model into a perfect woman. he sighed to himself, passing over his handkerchief and letting her bury her head on his shoulder.

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Made by Lembas

Dorielle looked over at Marie and hoped she didn't look that rediculous. she straightend up and tried to act brave.
she watched the stage losing her fear with ever step the actor took. she was becoming intrigued with this play now. she was being inspired. <i> maybe i could write something like this.</i> she dared to think.

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Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.
Victor Hugo

music is my life, my love, it's apart of my very being, it's what keeps my heart beating
~Raelyn

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.
Walt Disney

All who call on God in

Tristan had not lost his look of polite intrest in the play and annoyance at Maria. Inwardly however, he was deeply intrested. This was inovative stuff, he couldn't think of another musical that was quite so graphic.

Who was watching him though, that was the most important thing. He looked around, everyone was watching the play with rapt attention. His eyes flited up to the boxs, nothing...wait-no-there...yes there, box three. Somone was watching him at that very moment. He turned round and looked up into the curtained darkness. he couldn't see anything, however he continued to stare at it for a few moments more beofre settleing back.

Normaly people watching him wouldn't be a problem, but this felt diffrent; it felt as if he was being tested, measured...not just the way he acted, but his very soul...celestial judgement. Angrily he pushed these thoughts away. It was hardly likely that an angel would be hideing in box three.

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Made by Lembas

(( ok were tryin...))

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Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.
Victor Hugo

music is my life, my love, it's apart of my very being, it's what keeps my heart beating
~Raelyn

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.
Walt Disney

All who call on God in

(It is hard acctually. I just made a 6 para post...so i now have no insparation. I'l edit it though...)

((Edit: That better?))

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Made by Lembas

( no problem)

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Sebastian's countenance was one that was skillfully hard to read. The coldness in his large dark eyes mirrored only detachment as he levelled his gaze on the actors below. You didn't need to speak French to understand the story that was being played out...The herione had desposed of the lover, yet not before making him beg for mercy. Yet this did not get her into a better predicament. She was still shackled, supposedly symbolic of the hatred and contempt she was crippled with for the poor dead man. It was her fate to drown in her own resentment, collapsing next to the one she killed, the dainty chains glittering brilliantly from the candle-light that played off them. Deep crimson curtains swept across the stage, the crescendo had elapsed. And now only the simple soft keystrokes from the unseen piano reverberated off the walls of the auditorium, accompanied by a single violin aiding the end of the song. Finally, the Musical was over. Yet for some..it would be a night to remember yet..

The faint clap of thunder that erupted from outside just then could only be detected by an immortal ear, for the auditorium was so far beneath the earth, all elements from above were muted. The sconces along the walls brightened in unison, swamping the great hall with a warm gothic hue. Meanwhile Sebastian finished scribbling a list down onto a red-dyed parchment, waiting. Jean-Gerrard approached him noisily from behind, as would any clutzy mortal, and he dipped his head in a brief respectable bow, taking the parchment from Sebastian's slender-gloved fingers.

By this time, most of the guests were exiting the hall and filing somewhat stifly into the lobby above. The play was scandalous, perhaps obscene. They'd love it. Or at least they'd grow to.

Two invitations, and two alone had been sent out for the secret party with Sebastian, if you could call it a party. Red sealed envelopes were handed to Mercedes and Fantasia:

Good Evening,
Please wait until all guests have left the Theatre before following me to your secret carriage. ...Congratulations...
~Jean-Gerrard.

Outside a light rain began to pour, and the lights from the lamp posts glittered off the wet-slicked streets. Ushers were guiding the guests into the black carriages that awaited..the very same that were hidden in the alley. They were all aware now, of the ball that was to take place just two blocks away. Some had declined the surprise invitation, blaming the weather or exhaustion. But many were intrigued. Tristan, Dorielle, and Maria were to be in the same escorting carriage.

As usual, Sebastian waited in his box, hidden furtively by shadow. The vampire folded his arms, canting his head back as he watched through slitted eyes..the two women below.

Fantasia accepted the invataion handed her. She looked down at the sealed parchment. This was not written by any mortal hand. She thought smileing briefly.

She opened it as was expected of her and read the invitation carefully before following its instructions. She collected her cloak and handbag slidding the invatation into it before pulling her cloak securly around herself.

Fantasia turned slightly feeling eyes upon her. She turned back to the guests allowing their thoughts to drift through her mind like tattered pieces of shreaded cloth blown upon a chill breeze.

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Mercedes took the invitation without a word, her impassive expression revealing none of the smug satisfaction that dimly clouded her so heavily guarded thoughts. She glanced up, telling her friends that she would call on them at a later date. With feigned regret, they left the auditorium, and she took up her mantle and tucked the invitation into a pocket.

With effortless grace that had taken no less than a hundred years to master, she left the row that her seat had been in and paused in the aisle to cast a final apologetic glance at the stage. She wished the Musical had been longer. Only someone who had experienced such pain and horror could have well appreciated it...or produced it. With disgusted reproach, she chastised herself for being caught up in memories again. Immortality was a bitter gift, for she would always carry them...while creating many, many more, possibly more terrible...

She leaned quietly against the marble walls with a sigh, waiting, and glad that walls could not speak to her.