The audience sat in anticipation in the large room. Those near the stage muttered quietly while the rich in their private boxes sat quietly, waving fans to cool themselves in the warming room. Backs were held straight by corsets, skirts made large by layers of petticoats. It was the talk of the town.
She was Japanese, half at the very least. You could tell by her face and structure. Her hair, however, revealed that some sort of European rested in her ancestry. The curtains parted and she walked onto the stage, the audience quickly going quiet. Purple eyes gazed across the goers, glancing at the milk maid who saved her earnings and the duchess on holiday alike. Utau Hoshina was currently all the rage. Those lucky enough to sit in the audience that night held the opportunity to hear her sing before anyone else.
A violin began to play and she opened her lips, glancing down before gazing out at the audience once more. Strands of flaxen hair fell on either side of her face, as was the fashion. Her voice was sweet and lingered in the air even as she moved onto the next lyric. She sang of sweet things, butterflies and diamonds and moonlight.
When the song ended and the audience erupted into applause she glanced over at her violinist. Blue tinted hair hung down in his face, partially obscuring similarly shaded eyes. Half of his mouth curled up in a smile, which she returned.
She curtseyed before walking back behind the curtain, the hem of her black gown brushing the floor as she walked. Utau stepped into her dressing room and pulled the pins from her hair, letting it fall down her back. Her violinist knocked on the door, and with a few spoken words she invited him inside.
He smiled as he took a lock of hair between his fingers, feeling it and comparing it to gold, her to an angel. His angel. He smiled again, sharp teeth exposed in his grin, and she kissed his cheek like he knew she would. The violinist leaned forward and kissed her chastely, he did not want to smudge the red paint that still glistened on her lips. She had another part of the show to do after all, these good people did not pay for nothing.
She smiled and regarded him fondly, watching as he kneeled down and pressed his lips firmly against her neck. She gasped as she felt his tongue and teeth ghost over the skin. Her gloved hand flew to his lapel as she groaned quietly. He pulled away and regarded the pink mark that seemed to glow against her.
She pouted at him before taking a puff and powdering the mark, reducing it's vibrancy, and arranging her hair so much of her neck and collar was covered. He smirked as he followed her back to the stage. The violinist simply glanced at her before raising the bow and dragging it across the strings. Utau took a deep breath before beginning to sing once more. The mark throbbed and color rose in her cheeks. She looked passionate. She looked beautiful. And she was the violinist's to behold.