Odette could not believe what she was witnessing. A small yellowblood had broken onto the stage and started to perform, and clearly he was not a part of the intended orchestra. Her face softened from panic to awe as the little troll performed, but slowly it became clear that the yellowblood was falling out of tune, and losing his way.
Eventually, the audience erupted in noise and laughter, jeering at the young child. Hands balled into fists, Odette stood from her balcony seat, an obvious figure standing tall, where all the crowd could see her despite the dimmed lights. She shot a look down on the crowd, a silent look of judgement, then turned her attention back at the boy on the stage.
A whirlwind drew her up from her place in the crowd and daintily placed her beside Vitula. If the yellowblood still believed himself to be dreaming, the sight of Odette, floating in air, surely would aid that thought. Gingerly, she stepped toward him and picked up his instrument, offering it back to him. With a soft look, she nodded, urging him to play again.