[ToxicShadow]

[The theater, in all respects, is somewhat similar to this.]

Things around the theater was business as usual, both in the secretive reality of it and in the oh-so-apparent "truth," of it. Nearly every seat in the audience was filled and, in moments, a show would begin. At the very same time, other residents of the theater were out to preform their duties. In this case, they were after a wealthy man that had attempted unspeakable things to Aros' darling daughter, Suicide. Her fiance, Ziede, was none to happy about it and, thus, he, Aros, Sucide and a few others were out for sweet revenge. They would both dispose of the man, all of his house keepers and all of his guards, then they would collect a sufficient amount of his things, until Suicide and Ziede felt that their revenge was complete.

Even being short handed would not stop the play. St. Darek had sent his well wishes with the lot of them, not as spiteful as the rest, but just as upset that anyone even dared to treat his sister in such a manner. He would not join them, but he would certainly cover for them in all the ways that he could. Lady Luck must have been on his side, for he was cast in a major role while they had only chosen a temporary actress for his co-star. The roles that the others left open were only minor and easy to fill with temps or other members of the theatrical mafia that hadn't been cast or weren't normally cast at all. It left them short handed in the back, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

As the sun finally set, the lights of the theater went down and all the voices of the audience hushed. The prologue was recited,

"Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend."

The curtains pulled back and and the the tale of two star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet, came alive on the stage, with Darek playing Romeo.

[Jessari]

Namaste stumbled as she and her escort made their way down the row into their seats, catching herself on the back of the row of seats in front of them. "Are you alright, darling?" he asked, laying a hand on her bare shoulder. "You're looking rather pale." His hands were free of callouses, a gentleman's hands. They were soft like the rest of his body, so unused to real work, soft like his mind, which had been child's play for her to manipulate. But he was very well-to-do, as evidenced by his horrid name (what mother would name their child Atticus, after all?), and Namaste was more than willing to overlook his many flaws if it meant she got what she wanted.

"I'm fine," she murmured. "I'm just feeling a little tired tonight." She put as much persuasion into her voice as she was able, which was hardly anything at all. She'd put this off for far too long, and it showed. Her powers waned as her current body did, and this body felt as if it was going to collapse at any moment. She'd barely been able to convince Atticus to bring her to the theater tonight, and if she couldn't hold it together, she didn't know if she'd be able to convince him to stay through the entire play. He'd probably insist on running her to the hospital or some such nonsense. Like the doctors there would know how to treat the daughter of a goddess. But he didn't know what she was. No one did, save the mother and father who'd left her to fend for herself in the human world.

Suppressing a sigh, Namaste settled into her seat, pleased to find it comfortable. She didn't protest when, after settling in beside her, Atticus placed his hand upon hers. That she would quietly put up with his fond gestures was a sign of just how rotten she was feeling. Raising a hand inconspicuously, she touched her forehead. Hot. It was much too hot. She would have to act soon - during the intermission while everyone was wandering around. For now, she leaned back and watched with fever-bright eyes as darkness fell and the play began.

* * * * *

As a connoisseur of the arts, Namaste had to admit that the acting was pretty impressive. Her attention was drawn to the actor who played Romeo. Of course Romeo was a main character, so it was natural to notice him more than many of the others, but it was the quality of acting that set this particular Romeo apart from the others she'd seen in numerous versions of the play. Although she tended to despise the character for his foolish heart (something he and Atticus had in common), something about this actor's portrayal of him almost made her feel sympathetic. But that was ridiculous, only a silly emotion brought on by the fever.

The intermission couldn't come soon enough, and when it did, Namaste excused herself to go to the restroom. She had been observing the other patrons, and there was one young woman a few rows down from them who seemed to be sitting by herself. From what Namaste could see, she would be a perfect choice. The woman was small, delicate, and although she wasn't dressed as well as Namaste herself, she was very attractive. To be honest though, even if she hadn't been, Namaste was in no position to be picky. The switch had to happen tonight, now, or else things could get very complicated.

As a good part of the crowd got up to stretch their legs, she shadowed the woman into the restroom.