35th of Zi'Da 720
Woe stood outside of the house of the Dolizars. Olga wouldn't be there to see her daughter off, naturally, so Woe had little fear of overhearing some juvenile whinging from Augusta. The girl seemed to be on better terms with her father, at any rate. She was an obedient and well-mannered girl outside the orbit of her tempestuous mother.
In his time since he arrived back with some reluctance, using his portal boots to return from Nashaki, he'd picked up some further intelligence on the family of Dolizar. Apparently the mother had a well-known affair with the Duke of the Lair, and it was even rumored that Augusta was the fruit of that union. Such a scandalous and ill-intended rumor, especially to the prim and proper Augusta. Woe could understand given the circumstances why the daughter had such animosity toward her mother, then. She was torn between loyalty to her father, and incredulous anger that she herself, the prim and proper young lady, might be the offspring of such a debauched individual as the Duke of Lair.
Regardless, the Duke had passed in days since, having been found dismembered, his parts scattered to the various corners of Quacia and with select parts missing. Woe could guess where they ended up, but didn't wish to gossip or stir up his own curiosity toward the mother. This night was more about the daughter's enjoyment, and he intended to make a good impression.
Soon enough, after knocking at their front door, Filipe opened the door and smiled broadly beneath his bearded face. He stretched an arm out into his home as if to invite Woe through. But just as the torturer was to walk through, Augusta burst through the door. She left the house in a huff, and Woe looked askance at Filipe. He merely shrugged and tilted his head toward Augusta, indicating that he should follow her. "Well, have a good time, then. And send my love to Olga. Tell her to break a leg."
The door shut before Filipe, leaving Woe and Augusta alone for the moment. For the first time since they'd met. Woe drifted down through the walkway of their gleam manse and offered his arm to Augusta. She took one look at it, and then wound her own arm through his, and so they made their way toward the lair.
There wasn't much conversation to be had on the way. But Woe wasn't one to let an opportunity pass him by. He attuned to Augusta's frequency as they walked along, feeling her tremulous presence on the frequencies and notes that surrounded them. Once he'd managed to isolate it, he committed it to memory. He'd want to learn more about her daily life, and this would surely offer him a glimpse into it as well as ensure he was always aware of her location. For her own protection, of course. Quacia was a dangerous city, after all, now more than ever.
It wasn't a break before they arrived at the steps leading up to the Wounded Stage. This was where the production of the Assault on Quacia was to be held. Woe had to admit some curiosity as to the accuracy of the production. He'd only heard a few things about it, but being as this was opening night, he couldn't presume the accuracy of such rumors.
Woe paused for a moment before the lobby of the Wounded Stage and turned to look at his companion. He hadn't thought to say anything, perhaps his lack of etiquette was to blame, but it occurred to him he ought to tell her she looked... "You are the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight." Woe said, and truthfully it could be said. Not that it was much of a competition. But it was still worth mentioning. Only Augusta's mother Olga surpassed the young woman in beauty. Woe was surprised she didn't have more suitors but suspected he may find out why later in the evening.
She wore a long gown, conservatively cut as was her preference. It was of gray silk, coming up to a high collar in her neck, with only a little flesh showing beneath her jawline. Red accents and detailing were embroidered on the brocade of her gown, a fashionable color always, although Woe had rarely seen it paired with white or gray. It was a nice contrast if he could say so. Although he couldn't bear to wear light colors himself due to a mutation, he appreciated the shade's beauty on others.
Woe, for his part, was wearing a jacket of dark crimson velvet over black silk, button-up shirt with onyx buttons. Trousers of sturdy, brown leather with diamond pattern quilted stitching. A cloth of onyx cravat wrapped around his neck and tucked into the neckline of his coat. On his feet were a pair of polished dancing shoes.
Augusta turned to look at him with her customary chilly stare. As she did so, he let those honeyed words hang on the air for a moment while exploring the makeup of her tangle. He felt a conflux of emotions beneath the gray veneer. He only needed to allow one to show prominence before the rest could be bled out.
"Thank you, Captain Morandi." She smiled finally. The dutiful daughter, eager to please her father came out again. He'd impressed upon her to try and get into Woe's graces, the mortal born suspected. Not that he was complaining, but before the night was done, he was determined to have seduced her to his side entirely.
So having exchanged pleasantries, they made their way to Dolizar's box seats, on the second elevation up from the commons.
There were a few chairs and a love seat. Woe led Augusta to the love seat, where they could be in close proximity. She picked up a pair of seeing glasses, to get a good view of the stage. Woe allowed this, but kept his focus on his companion, for the most part, ignoring the activity below. He had no interest in the mummery and antics of the stage tonight. The real show was in the woman's tangle, as she reacted and was moved by the spectacle.
The murmurs of the commons died down, as the lights faded and the spot was shone on the stage itself. In the middle of the stage, was one of the actors. He wore an outfit remarkably similar to Herald Vito's, a red and black robe of the theocratum. Woe's eyes drifted from him, to Augusta, who was busy staring through the glasses through to the stage. This disrupted her peripheral vision, allowinng Woe to stare at her for a few moments without alarming the girl with his interest.
He viewed her tangle as the singing began, the one playing 'Vivo' singing a song about this and that, the Wounded God jargon that bedeviled Woe's every interaction since he arrived at this city. Woe thought the city would be much better served to dedicate itself to a worthy deity, not some invisible cripple. But that was neither here nor there. What interested him in the moment, was the girl whose tangle began to show colors beneath the thin veil of gray.
He saw notes and hints of passion, devotion, and some sweet sorrow as she gazed at Vivo and listened to his song. All the warmest colors flooded to the surface of her tangle, punctuated by a strum of passion at the high note of the man's song. Woe's hand drifted to take hers in its gentle grasp, a small token contact made his manipulation all the more effective, as he began weaving through her tangle as the song ended, to rapturous applause from the commons.
"That was..." She began, and Woe finished her thought with his own honeyed words, laced with ether, "Beautiful." She turned away from her looking glasses to see him, and blushed despite herself. She stiffened, the gray returning to portions of her tangle, but she couldn't hide the flattery she felt at his attention.
This was what Woe weaved into other portions of her tangle, forming a sort of foothold on her psyche that he could manipulate through. He anchored this alteration by hemming in the small sensation of disgust she felt at some of his mutations. They did make him look older than he was, afterall.
As he formed this throughline to her heart, the next stage of the play began. That of the King's Court. This scene Woe knew well from memory, as he had been a Guild Representative during it. There was Olga, playing Duchess Callisto, playing it masterfully next to the man representing Woe, whose character was named Tristen in the play. There was Vivo, and the King and the Queen, played by mummers unknown to Woe.
The scene proceeded through the numbers, until Tristen began singing his speech, of what the stakes were, and how he had a gift for the Royal Court. This part Woe took special interest in, as he knew it well. The moment where he gave his impassioned speech to the court, and presented them with seven swords of Faldrunium, to defeat the creep.
By the time he'd remembered his purpose here, he took a look at Augusta, to see that she was looking directly at him. "That was you, wasn't it?" She asked, shyly.
He nodded, and shrugged, leaning back into the seat as he touched her fingers. "Yes." He said, trying to burrow deep into that opening he'd delved through her tangle. He rooted out and drew from the rest of the room, a palpable sense of awe and admiration, and formed a nexus in Augusta, in that raw wound that had formed in her tangle. He left it there for a few moments, dormant.
"I only did what I had to, to save our sanctuary from a world of villains, monsters, and saboteurs." He began to twist the nexus around the open wound in her tangle, trying to inject that admiration the audience felt for the character Tristen to her, as she looked at him. He used his intimate knowledge of human thought and feeling to impart it in a way that was believable, without alerting the girl to the manipulation.
In the end, it was a masterful spot of manipulation on his part, as the explosion of the Queen ruptured from the center of the stage, and startled poor Augusta. She nearly leapt, and clung to Woe's side, burying her head in his shoulder. Woe patted her on the head as he embraced the poor woman as if she were a child. "There there, the first act is over... Intermission begins."
Continued here...
