I dreamt I dwelled in marble halls

[Christine Daye]

The theatre is humming with conversation as the party of Kindred arrive. The lobby is thronged with mortal patrons, knocking back glasses of wine and spirits, necks craned to see and be seen.

A bell rings, a single chime. The feeling of anticipation rises another notch, and patrons start moving towards their seats.

An usher approaches, and politely escorts them all to box 3. It has an excellent view of the curtained stage, and plush and comfortable seats, upholstered in dark red velvet.

The auditorium itself is sumptuously decorated, gold leaf vying with painted murals to catch the eye. This far above, the audience in the stalls hums like a swarm of bees.

The bell chimes again, twice. Those who have been to the theatre before know that the third chime will signify the start of the show.

[Regulus Grey]

Regulus slowly moves along the row to the to his seat in the stalls, muttering a apology as he squeezes past a large gentleman and his petite wife. Taking his seat he ensures that his sleeves are pulled down over his scales before looking towards the stage. Music was the greatest luxury one can have and he intends to enjoy every moment of it.

[Mrs K. Saunders]

Katherine strides into the box and gestures to the rest of her clan mates.

"Come quickly sit down everyone. The performance is about to start. I can't wait to see Christine sing in theatre again. How wonderful!"

She beams and looks out over the crowds below through her opera glasses. She is slightly surprised to see Mr Grey amongst the throng. She did not expect it to be his sort of entertainment. She shrugs it off, what does she care?

"Hurry, take your seats."

[Christine Daye]

Three chimes, and the audience hushes in expectation. There's a hunger in the atmosphere, thick with desire. The audience is waiting, and they want. It's visceral, that hunger. The taste, thick and cloying, of bloodlust on the back of the tongue. Layered with gentility, a thin veneer over a deep craving.

Those who have been to Christine's performances before, they know what's coming. The anticipation is a clench in the gut, a sweet addiction, the aching need about to be filled.

Ushers lower the lights, and the audience fixates with single minded intensity on the stage, with its heavy red velvet curtains closed. Their breaths synchronise.

(For those who have felt it before - it's that moment when the crowd goes from being a collection of individuals, to being a mob - a single creature, united in emotion and passion, poised on the knife edge of violence or terror or ecstasy.)

Slowly the curtains open, revealing a stool and a beautiful gilt concert harp, lit by a single spotlight. The audience buzzes in confusion, whispers spreading like ripples through the stalls, up through the balcony, the gods. Here and there, those in the box can see patrons in the stalls ignoring the stage completely, scanning the boxes, the gods, looking, searching.

Then - a single note - high and sweet and aching in its perfect purity. Cutting like a scalpel through the murmurs. The audience falls silent, entranced, heads turning this way and that to try to see her.

Perhaps it's the glint of light from the crystals that adorn her green gown that catches the eyes of the Kindred. Perhaps it is the movement as she steps from the shadows on to the balcony, right at the edge of the circle. Perhaps it's the simple fact that their Beast feels the presence of another predator. Regardless, they just have a moment when they spot her before the rest of the throng. Then the spotlight swings up, and the audience roars its approval with one voice.

She nods at their applause, gracious, regal. Waiting for their silence once more. Sure enough, the crowd hushes, waits, obedient. And she sings.

Her first verse and chorus is unaccompanied. Just the pure clarity of her voice, filling the auditorium perfectly.

"I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.

But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same."


The orchestra, hidden in the pit below the stage take up the accompaniment, and the spotlight sweeps away, allowing her to depart the balcony, make her way to the stage. With impeccable timing she steps into the spotlight around her harp to finish the song.

"I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
That knights upon bended knee
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,
They pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.

But I also dreamt which charmed me most
That you loved me still the same
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same."

((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1J7n52gpjSY0))

[Christine Daye]

There's eternity in Christine's voice. Longing and heartbreak and wonder and magic and that feeling of newness, of freshness, of the sweetest of agonies and and the brightest of ecstasies. Pain and pleasure, delight and grief.

Her songs last forever, and never long enough. She holds her audience in her voice, wraps them tight in the resonances of her harp strings. Takes them with her on journeys of love and desire and passion and loss and sorrow. Old familiar songs pull on heartstrings. New songs stir the blood. Old songs become new and new become old, and all of them speak to the very centre of their souls. That guttering flame, or fading spark, or blazing coal of what they once had as human.

(If the Kindred think to look, they can see some of her audience moved to tears.)

Her voice soars effortlessly above the orchestra, always perfectly pitched and at the right volume to be heard by the entirety of the theatre. Some of the notes she sings - well, it can't be possible for a human voice to have that range? Can it? To sing those notes? She must have the lead violin supporting her - mustn't she?

Regardless, she sings. And the audience love her for it. And she takes that love and magnifies it a thousandfold, reflecting it back to them in every note. It's in her every movement, her every breath. This is where she truly comes alive. This, on the stage in front of hundreds of adoring mortals, this, where she only exists for her music, this, more than blood or passion or glory, is what she hungers for. The adoration. The music.

But all music comes to an end, whether in a glorious crescendo, or simply by fading away. She takes her bows, one hand resting on the curved neck of her harp while the other gracefully acknowledges her orchestra, the conductor. Flowers rain onto the stage, some with notes attached, thrown by hopeful fans. She steps back, the curtain falls, and the audience roars "Encore! Encore!" The noise builds and builds, almost as if the audience could command her presence once more through sheer volume.

It seems that they can, for once again the spotlight lights the balcony, finds her there, shimmering and bright, her red hair gleaming. As soon as the audience sees her, they hush, expectant.

As was the beginning, so the end. Once again she sings a capella - with just the power of her voice filling the room. She sings, losing herself in the music, ecstatic and transcendent. Blinded by the spotlight, she doesn't care. She sings for the music. For those moments, nothing else exists.

My love said to me
My Mother won't mind
And me Father won't slight you
For your lack of kind
Then she stepped away from me
And this she did say
It will not be long love
'Til our wedding day.

She stepped away from me
And she moved through the Fair
And fondly I watched her
Move here and move there
And she went her way homeward
With one star awake
As the swans in the evening
Move over the lake

The people were saying
No two e'er were wed
But one has a sorrow
That never was said
And she smiled as she passed me
With her goods and her gear
And that was the last
That I saw of my dear.

I dreamed it last night
That my true love came in
So softly she entered
Her feet made no din
She came close beside me
And this she did say
It will not be long love
Till our wedding day.

Her voice fades to silence, and the audience holds its collective breath. Then, a roar of applause once more. She curtseys gracefully, her expression bright and fae and otherworldly.

The spotlight turns off, and she vanishes like a creature out of legend. Her audience make satisfied noises as they chatter, politely, but firmly escorted out by the ushers.

((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30z9HhpvX2A))

[Regulus Grey]

As the final song comes to an end, Regulus blinks slowly. A smile spreads across his face as he moves with the crowd towards the exit from the theatre.

My soul has flown tonight, now my body must fly.

He stays at the back of the crowd as they depart, taking in the empty theatre in one long look before turning towards the exit once more.

[Mrs K. Saunders]

"Wonderful," thinks Katherine.

She rises, and forgetting the others in the box, makes her way to Christine's dressing room. A place that she has visited many times before.

[Christine Daye]

"Ma'am!"

There's a polite, but emphatic shout from behind Katherine as she reaches for the door that leads from the auditorium to the backstage areas. It's a young usher, tall, and impeccably turned out, but still gangly and with traces of acne on his face.

"Ma'am! That's for performers only! You're not allowed back there!"

*

Meanwhile, Christine has arrived at box 3. She smiles happily and says:

"Oh, hello! I hope you enjoyed the show!"

An expression of puzzlement crosses her face.

"...where's Katherine...? "

[Mrs K. Saunders]

Katherine turns and smiles widely at the usher,
"Well aren't you good at your job! I hope you are paid handsomely for defending the privacy of my darling friend Miss Daye. I frequently visit her dressing room, I am surprised that you have not seen me before. Oh of course, you must be new. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mrs. Saunders, very pleased to meet you."

The young usher is completely overwhelmed by the woman before him, she takes his breath and for a short time also robs him of his voice. Katherine loves her newly aquired ability to control both kine and ghoul, the only good thing to come out of her time away.

"Mrs. Saunders, you are most kind. Of course you would be welcome to visit Miss Daye's dressing room but I am afraid she is not there. I believe she mentioned something about going to see some friends in one of the boxes? I can escort you there if you wish?" He looks at her imploringly.

"Could you? Well that would be most helpful of you. Please lead the way." She offers her arm to the poor lad.

[Christine Daye]

Looking not unlike someone who has been smacked around the head by a velvet glove containing a half brick, the usher escorts Katherine back to box 3. His heart is beating fast, and a flush of blood has risen in his cheeks.

He doesn't speak as they walk, but she can feel his hand on her arm shaking slightly.

Christine turns as she hears them approach. Her bright smile of greeting at Katherine fades abruptly as she notices the usher.

"Thomas!" she snaps. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

Thomas flinches, and lets go of Katherine's arm.

"Escorting Mrs Saunders to see you, Miss Daye."

He looks at Katherine adoringly, and Christine's eyes narrow.

"Thank you, Thomas. You may go."

It's an order, not a request.

Thomas obeys slowly, with a sigh, and many backwards glances to Katherine.

"Go, Thomas! Or do I need to inform Maestra?"

At that, his pace picks up dramatically, and he disappears.

Christine looks at Katherine then, tight lipped.

"What have you done to my staff?"