Not about to let herself tolerate the tedium any longer, she gave a purposeful nod to herself and made up her mind.
Crudely interrupting her sister's tale, she interjected herself into the Chapter before it could even begin.
Waltzing purposefully to the front of the stage, a simple snap of her fingers brought about an appropriate costume change for herself. No longer did she sport a garb best suited for a lady of the evening, but changed it up quite considerably by looking like a sister of charity.
A benevolent, pious, innocent young woman of the cloth.
Why, this was almost as fun as a Masquerade!
"Chapter Seven," she announced, making a clear distinction between who she intended on narrating this portion of the story.
Kohaku would just have to take it up with her later. This was, by far, her favourite point in the story and she was certain that no one could tell it better than she. Particularly as her sister seemed to leave out certain, juicy details that were vital to the flavouring of this boring drivvel.
If they really wanted some drama, she would give them a heaping serving.
Lightly clearing, her throat, she gave a wave of her hand, summoning the pair in their Masquerade costumes to the forefront.
"Image, if you will, what it must be like to see your own death. To watch your mirror image writhe and convulse in the most agonizing of deaths."
The thief placed a hand across her stomach and another over her mouth, as though she were about to be sick, while the Prince turned his head as though he couldn't bare to watch another moment.
"Then imagine, my dear poppets, how it would feel if the whole world turned it's back to you. Even the one you imagined would come to your defence, in the name of your precious love?"
Folding her hands over her heart, Saera looked into the audience rather wistfully. After a moment, she turned around toward the back of the stage - a sweep of her hand causing the Prince to mimic her movement.
A faint backlight lit up Dia's profile, her sillhouette accompanied by a shadow of a man in what appeared to be a touching embrace.
"Oh dear," Saera pouted, "Instead of stopping this heinous execution, it seemed that the Princess was celebrating it. In the arms of the man who would become her fiance, no less."
The 'Prince' turned back to the audience, and dramatically raised the back of his hand to his forehead.
"Such rejection!" the witch announced, quite indignantly. "Here our pretty, pretty Princess had the power to stop his death, and was so preoccupied by her beau that she could not even give a 'hang' about his affections."
She paused in her narration, with a giggle.
'Hang'. That was clever.
Kohaku wasn't the only one with a gift for words.
"In fact, not a single soul in the crowd had begged for mercy, or called for a halt to this tasteless affair. Well, maybe one had."
She extended her arm, bringing the spotlight to the now unconscious Aarlym, dangling from his strings.
"But a mute bard was just as useless then, as he is right now. Give him a round of applause, ladies and gentleman."
With a haughty little sneer, Saera lightly tapped her fingers against the palm of her hand, in a mocking clap.
The audience remained remarkbly quiet, with a few straggling claps from people who weren't sure if their participation was a prerequisite for keeping their lives.
"Well, the cold, cruel actions of the nobles, was simply too much to handle. It was such a bitter pill to swallow, that our dear thief simply could not keep it to herself."
With a brush of her hand, the thief lurched forward, as though to be sick, before turning and feeling to the far end of the stage. With back to the stage, she fell to her knees, her body jerking and twitching as though she were being violently ill.
"Oh my," Saera pouted, like a sympathic nursemaid, "Seems we will need a clean up on aisle seven."
Shaking her head, she brought her attention away from the irrelevent commentary and back to the story. She did have a point to make after all.
"The Prince, however, reacted to the chill of the crowd in another manner. Waiting until the crowds had disbursed and retreated inside for the festivities, he went to pay his respect to the soulless creatures that had died in their place."
Stepping back, Aeon walked up and took her spot on stage. His rather serious look wasn't quite what she had in mind for the tone of this moment, but it was good enough.
"Our dear Prince looked upon the two bodies, and was rather shocked to see what the people of Brassaneth had done to them."
Aeon's face contorted into one of complete horror, and in an exaggerated movement, he placed both his hands on the side of his face.
"Their bodies had been broken and bruised beyond comprehension. How could anyone do this to another living being, and for nothing but entertainment!"
The 'Prince' bowed his head, shaking it in silent judgement.
"He couldn't leave things like this, oh no. Not even these poor dolls deserved to die in this way. So with a stroke of his knife, he cut the bodies down."
The young man removed an imaginary knife from his belt, and slashed his arm across the thin air.
On cue, two shadowy figures fell out of the air and landed upon the stage with a sickening thud. It was enough to render the audience silent.
"The first body, was the doppleganger of the thief. Our dear Prince was so very startled to see how closely it resembled her in looks, as though he gazed upon her true corpse. So sorrowed was he, that he slipped the noose from her neck and tended to its broken body."
The boy knelt to he knees on stage, sliding his hands beneath the shady apparition. Hunching over it, like a grieving widow, he pulled it to his chest and coddled it like a sobbing child.
The shade lolled limply, in a manner most befitting a body recently denied its life.
"He wept over this broken toy, knowing well that without the intervention of the two kindly women, his foolishness in trusting his heart to the Princess could have replaced this doll with the real thief's body."
Aeon laid the shadowy figure back onto the stage, fiddling with non-existant ropes that bound its hands, before he laid them across its chest.
"Then, he saw what would have been his own body."
In a motion that startled a few in the audience, the 'Prince' fell back and began to peddle from the sight, shielding his eyes with his arm.
"Here he was, face to face with his own mortality, and nothing he had done with his life proved enough to stop it. Not a single person he thought he could trust, spared him this sight."
Aeon was pulled to his feet, marching promptly back over to the shadowed figures.
"This, made our handsome little Prince very, very angry. At Brassaneth, at the Princess, and at himself."
The crowd gasp as the silver haired boy balled up his fists, and in a very violent motion, sunk his boot into the side of the shady apparition.
Blow upon blow, this tantric tirade played out in horrific accuracy. Even the audience seemed to smart under each landed hit, as their charming lead suddenly revealed a side of himself that was distastefully dark.
"He screamed aloud, to the empty night air."
With a devious smile, she waved her hand and a voice that was clearly different from Aeon's echoed out through the square.
"Why did you have to be such a fool?!"
"Tell me, why did you have to play the hero?! Tell me, why did you think she loved you?!"
"Why?! Why?! Why?!?!"
Aeon stopped in his assault on the figure, as a missed kick landed him squarely on his behind. As if he were an exhausted child having a tantrum, he drew his knees into his chest and rest his head in his arms, upon them.
The voice echoed eerie over the dumbstruck crowd. Saera lapped up the response like a cat in a vat of cream.
"Oh dear," she frowned, pressing a hand to her cheek. "This can't be a good sign, now can it?"
Crossing the front of the stage, she folded her hands to her chest, clicking her tongue.
Looking up from his weeping, the Prince held up his hand - his palm facing the audience. His head tilted this way, and that.
"The Prince was startled when something glittery caught his eye. It was his Father, the King's, signet ring. A sign of who he was, and where he came from. It reminded him of a time very, very long ago."
Rising to his feet, Aeon kept his eyes fastened to his fingers.
"This ring, was a symbol of the person he was. The one that did not matter. The one that no one cared about. The one who died that very day. He could no longer be the King's son, nor the military man, nor the thief who fell in love with a Princess. Those men were dead, now. He was dead now."
With a slow and deliberate motion, the former Prince made a show of removing the ring and holding it up in the air. Once the intention was clear, he knelt down next to the shadow, and made an equally dramatic production of placing the ring upon its finger.
"This doll, would take his place. His identity, became its identity. . . his memories, became its memories. - ones it would take to the grave. Today, he would need to become a new man, with a new name."
She was almost ready to let the shoe drop, but not quite.
After all, what was a story without a little juicy emotion and some erotic suggetions? Or in this case, a delightful implication that would serve no more than to fuel her late night fantasies.
"But something else worried the former Prince. What if someone discovered that these dolls were not human? What if someone found out that these dolls were not the two criminals who were supposed to die?"
With a puzzled look on his face, the young man scratched as his chin and tapped his foot in obvious thought.
"He was wondering what to do, when the answer came in the form of a familiar face."
With a twirl of her wrist, as though she was twisting a baton, Saera Rose grinned mischeviously as the handsome elf marched into view, stopping just short of where the Prince was.
"The good Captain Hrun arrived, to pay his respects and bury the bodies with the dignity he felt they deserved."
In a forced motion, Kaine turned with a jerk toward the audience, and drew himself up to attention as he provided the crowd with a mechanical salute.
"When he saw that someone was leering over the bodies, he became quite upset."
The elf turned on his heels and stalked up to Aeon, shaking a threatening fist in his face.
"The former Prince was certainly afraid of this man."
The younger of the two shied back, raising his hands defensively over his face.
"But it was not the Captain's strength or threats that frightened him. He was afraid he would be recognized."
Not sticking to Kohaku's boring single-tone narration, Saera decided to shake things up a bit. While the verbose prose was not her specialty, she was a natural at the visual arts. So, naturally, she had a passion for costume changes. . . and lots of them.
With a snap of her fingers, the present attire of both boys fell away, leaving them dressed in sharp, crisp, very familiar military uniforms.
"Mmmm. I always loved a man in uniform. Am I right, ladies, or am I right?" she posed to the audience with a wink.
Craning her head over her shoulder, she admired them both in their new gear, fanning her face with her hand. Kaine looked remarkably rugged and masculine in his garb, which got her pulse racing, but to offset it with the pretty boy to his right? Oh, it was enough to make her want to break to intermission right here and now.
However, one look from Kohaku made her realize that she had better refrain and keep this show moving along.
"Ahem. Right. He was afraid of being recognized."
She tore her eyes away from the two and tried to remember where her train of thought was headed, before it was so violently derailed.
"Our former Prince had served under the good Captain for many, many years in the Legaeafin..nnn..ica...nn army."
The two young men turned toward the audience, shoulder to shoulder, and began to march in place.
"They fought together. . ."
Kaine and Aeon moved so that they were back to back, striking at invisible foes with imaginary weapons.
"They worked together. . . "
The puppets hunched forward, as if they were pouring over a map or some other type of document. They motioned to points of reference with their fingers, and made other gestures indicating they may have been contemplating plans of attack.
"They socialized together. . ."
The elf and the Prince stepped back, and raised their hands together as though they were clinking mugs together. In unison, they tipped their heads back as though chugging the mugs down. After a moment, they lowered the 'drinks' and stumbled against one another. . . a clear charade that they were drunk.
"And they were so close, that they considered the other family.
In what might have resembled an almost touching moment, the elder slung his arm over the shoulder of the other, who in turn slipped an arm around his waist. They leaned into one another as two brother's might.
It sent Saera's mind spinning for a moment. So much so that she almost forgot herself, and left the audience in a very awkward pause.
"Oh. Right. Sorry. Hot brothers. Yes. They were close."
Blushing a little, she pulled at the collar of her sisterly robes.
"Ahem. As I was saying, our poor little ex-Prince feared that this man, who knew him so well, would surely recognize his voice or his manner."
Another snap of the fingers, and their clothes were reverted. Aeon to his masquerade formal wear, and Kaine to an outfit that vaguely resembled her recollection of his father's clothes.
With a few minor improvements, that was.
After all, she wouldn't let anyone believe she designed something that ugly.
The two young men pulled out of their embrace, and faced one another, eye to eye. Or rather, with the height difference, eye to chest.
"But to his dismay, the man treated him coldly as though he were a complete stranger."
At her words, Aeon stepped back slowly as Kaine gave him a single digit salute.
"Oh my!" Saera gasped falsely, "Mothers, do hide your children's eyes."
She pretended to hide her own, although by now, the question of her innocence had been clearly answered.
"This hurt the former Prince very, very much."
Turning away, Aeon grabbed at his chest emphatically.
"This brother, who knew him better than anyone else, could not even see his own behind this mask. And so, this being far too much for our dear hero to accept, he fled as the thief had."
With a quick pivot on his heel, Aeon turned and vanished into the darkness.
"Worry not, poppets. Our story does not end here. There is much more to be told. But first, let us pay a little tribute to our minor characters, shall we not?"
As she paced back across the stage, the shady apparitions vanished and in their place lay Aeon in the clothing from the beginning of the story. The Captain was kneeling by his side, with a hand pressed to the young man's neck as though searching for a pulse.
"Devestated by the death of his dear lover. . ."
A freudian slip perhaps? Oh, this was entertaining even by Saera's standards.
She giggled, and pressed a guilty hand to her lips.
"Did I say lover? I meant brother."
No, no she didn't.
She wasn't knowledgable on the bonds of comraderie and the friendships formed between male counterparts. In her opinion, it was just more exciting to think of them all as secretly longing for one another. Seriously, was there any other reason they'd slap each other's asses and pat each other's backs so often?
Not in her books.
"He mourned over the poor, broken body."
With a motion that was a little too tender for two comrades-in-arms, Kaine hunched over the young man, stroking his cheek and then his hair, as if he could coax the life back into him.
She tried to mask her cheshire grin, as she manipulated the poor puppet of the Captain.
All in the name of drama, of course.
"He could not figure out why such a tragic event had to happen. He did not even have a chance to tell his friend, goodbye."
With a wiggle of her fingers, the elf swept the silver haired boy into his arms, and pressed him tightly into the crook of his neck. Cradling the small frame, in an almost sensuous embrace - were it not for the telling limpness in the limbs of the deceased one.
"Believing that the monarchy would desecrate the bodies more than they already had, he decided to steal them away."
Lifting the boy into his arms, Kaine rose to his feet. His footsteps seemed sombre and hollow as he crossed the stage.
"He found a place that had meaning to them both, and it was there he laid the bodies down."
Guided to the near edge of the stage, Kaine stood before the members of the audience, with the lifeless body of Aeon in his arms. Slowly sinking to one knee, he laid the young boy before them like an offering - arms crossed over his chest.
"It was then, that he noticed the glimmer of something shiny."
Similiar as to what Aeon had done, Kaine took the young man's small hand in his, as though he were examining it. Head tipping this way and that, he also made a show of removing something from the boy's finger and holding it up in the air.
"It was a ring. And while some of you may consider this grave robbing, I think it is really rather sweet that he put it in his pocket as a keepsake."
She wasn't far from lying. She certainly didn't think it was sweet, but she would be damned before she let anyone be shoved into the ground while they still had pretty jewelry on.
Stifling a yawn, as Kaine pocketed the imaginary ring, she found herself getting bored already.
Here, she had two very lovely playthings, and a chance to destroy the reputation of a man she both desired and loathed. Not to mention, twist the dagger into the heart of the despicable woman lurking in the front of the audience. Why wasn't she doing something about it?
Seriously. Why wasn't she doing something about this?
With a definitive nod to herself, she decided to take her own little creative licence here.
"So with the final memory of his dearest friend safely in his pocket, he said his final goodbyes and bade him farewell with a kiss."
Turning quickly in place, as not to miss a moment of this action, she anxiously awaited her puppets to do her bidding.
But to her dismay, her words were taken with a touch of censorship - rather obvious as the elf leaned over the body of the silver haired young man, and kissed him on his forehead. A touching, and unfortunately appropriate, gesture.
"What the hell?" she mistakenly muttered aloud. "No, no, no, no, no. Not like that at all. Sheesh! He's dead for gods sake. It's not like he can say no."
Stamping her foot, she stormed towards them.
"This is my chapter, and we're doing things my way. So for the sake of all that is evil, give these people a Goddess-damned show and kiss him like you mean it!"
Suddenly this stopped being about reputations and truths. She was in charge, and there was no way she was going to pass up this soap opera moment. Particularly when it would leave the audience in a state of such revolt that they would be talking about this Chapter for years to comes.
It was her duty as an artist!
And if it just happened to humiliate and insult Kallima Nightengale at the same time, so be it.
Crossing her arms under her chest, she tapped her foot impatiently.
"We're all waiting here."
Under the forced control of the witch, and the uncomfortable eyes of the audience, Captain Kaine leaned over the lifeless form of the Prince.
Slipping one hand behind the boy's head, and the other bracing the small of his back, the silver haired boy was raised to meet the body of the elf.
Balling her hands together and pressing them to her lips, Saera could give a rat's behind about the audience. This moment was for her and her alone.
She held her breath as the scene played out like one from 'All My Minstrels', where the beautiful Rowina was dying and the only way to save her was for the incredibly sexy Bin Basenforth to suck the goodness from her lips.
Only this wasn't mere words being spit out of a homely Bard's mouth. This was a real life reinactment.
And a definite possibility for a potential threesome in the future.
Oh goddess, was it getting warm in here?
She didn't have time to answer herself, before an unsolicited squeal escaped her lips as the dark, angry, mysterious man touched lips with the small, fragile, enviously-pretty one.
Suddenly, she realized that she was the only one making any sort of noise.
The rest of the audience had become as quiet as a church on judgement day.
Saera's eyes turned to them, suddenly feeling every gaze rest upon her. And for once, it wasn't the kind of attention she was hoping for. This one felt all cold and prickly.
Clearing her throat, she straightened up and brushed out her robe.
"Of course, it was just an empty doll. And maybethisreallydidn'thappenbutitcouldhave. . . anyway. . . he buried the body, and left an unmarked grave for both the thief and the former Prince."
Setting the boy down and rising to his feet, Kaine picked up an invisible shovel and went through the motions of scooping dirt on top of Aeon's body. Then the light upon them was extinguished, and the transition to the next scene was ready to begin.
But Saera still had some damage control to do, judging by the look on Kohaku's face.
"B-back to the story, then. While our good Captain was burying the bodies, the real former Prince and the Thief, had snuck into the gala Masquerade being held after the execution - a celebration of the Princess' engagement to a suitor of her Father's choosing."
The spotlight returned, illuminating Aeon and Eilir, in their formal attire, arms linked in a dance without music.
"They watched while the nobles danced, laughed and toasted their deaths in regal exhuberation. The last moments of their lives being relived in jest, and followed with mocking laughter. It continued to eat away at the pair, from the inside out."
Both Eilir and Aeon doubled over as if in pain, one hand clutching at their stomach, the other at their heart.
"How could these people be so flippant about their death? They believed they had done nothing wrong! Then, the evening took a turn for the worse."
Reaching into the sleeve of her robe, Saera procured a mysterious parchment.
"One of their kind benefactors received some terrible news. Proof that the very woman who claimed to love the Prince with all of her heart, had been the one to demand his death at her own engagement party."
With a quirk of the eyebrow, she examined the parchment nonchalently.
"I guess that's one way to dump your lover."
Turning around, she slowly sauntered up to the pair and tapped the boy on the shoulder as if she was cutting in.
To him, she handed the piece of parchment, which the puppet eagerly shared with the Thief.
"Upon seeing her signature upon the page, the former Prince's heart was shattered."
Aeon raised his head, the parchment dropping from his hands. As though his knees had been kicked out from underneath him, he collapsed on the stage. Eilir knelt by his side, looking just as defeated.
"The woman they had defended with their very lives, was the one who had betrayed them most cruelly."
Hips swaying, she paced back to the front of the stage once more.
"So is it any wonder that they wanted to allow these nobles to share in the fear of facing their own mortality? To allow them to feel the terror and cold finality of a death where no mercy is shown them?"
She spun around, the spotlight appearing over Dia.
"And what of her? The woman who started it all? The one whose existence he would live to regret, every waking moment of his life? The woman who broke his heart, and left him to die? The one who abused and used her power and position to destroy lives on a mere whim?"
Peering over her shoulder at the crowd, she grinned a creepy type of grin.
"So many questions. But what was a powerless mortal to do? Seek power of course."
Examining her nails, she figured it was time to shed this whole mess into the glorious light it was intended.
"And so, realizing the power of their benevolent benefactors, our dear ex-Prince and thief, begged a bargain."
As she spoke, her words were as eloquent as a sharp blade, piercing to the ears of the audience.
Raising a hand in the air, she snapped her fingers and the two puppets under went their final costume change.
She, now bore a suit of almost military nature, with ruffle, leather and strap creating a rather fetching design. Sleek and agile in movement, it was accompanied by a glove bearing a most amazing type of power.
He was now garbed in a mixture of dark grey cloth, and tight, fitted leather. Straps and buckles housed weapons of many sorts, and upon his back was a rod of ebony.
"In exchange for the power and the resources to exact their revenge on the monarchy, and the nobility of Brassaneth, they pleged their allegiance and service to their two, benevolent benefactors."
A broad smile painted over her lips, with such chilling undertones that she could feel the shudder resonate through the immobilization spell.
"Together, with the help of the two kind, beautiful women who saved them, your beloved Cassius and Christine were born. But wait - the tale doesn't end here. In fact, your story is only beginning. Stay tuned, because this brings us to. . .
"Chapter Eight."
