Me: doesn't even bother to look up Tintagel castle and makes up a description on the spot, using 'alternate universe' as an excuse
Also me: looks up history of caffeine to see if it had been named and discovered as of the late 1800s so that I can have Daisya use the word 'caffeinated'
Sorry for the irregular updates, but it's not going to get much better soon - I can't quite get this section as I'd like it to be, and right now I'm sewing scraps of arcs together instead of bothering to write a coherent narrative. Oh well, I hope you guys enjoy, read, and even review!
Daisya sat back comfortably in his seat, and fiddled with the pair of binocular-things they'd given him. They called them opera glasses, but they were nothing like the old man's glasses. They were just a pair of skinny binoculars on a stick, with a bunch of blue and gold enamel. He could see why you needed them, though. Even with younger eyes, he had to squint to properly see what was on the stage. And most of the people here were as old as the pale-skinned finder.
Of the three of them, he'd had the deepest voice and been the tallest, so the old finder had kitted him out with one of those nice coats and a fancy mask, to hide the tattoos. He was rushed up, and seated in one of the boxes they could afford not to sell. If anyone was acting fishy in the audience or on stage, he was supposed to notice. Kanda was downstairs, in a dress serving drinks, and Lenalee was wearing a small version of the smooth-voiced man's black outfit and was running around the stage with the rest of the stagehands. They'd decided her small size and nimble feet would suit the job better than Kanda's brute strength.
Hopefully it wouldn't come to anything, but the three of them had agreed that if an akuma came out, Daisya would be the first to attack. He'd send out a low-level wave of damage, and Kanda and Lenalee would try to take it out. The thinking was that Daisya could paralyze it first, so that they could prevent collateral damage, and have an easier time of fighting in such an enclosed space.
As for the Innocence, it was a toss-up as to whether or not there even was any. There hadn't been a whole lot of disappearances or deaths, so there might not have been any there, but there were enough for it to be a possibility. Akuma normally didn't show themselves so brazenly unless there was some involved.
Lenalee had the best spot to try and figure out if there was any Innocence, but Daisya was also supposed to keep a lookout. That's why Kanda had made him go ask for some opera glasses in the first place. They were pretty to look at, but when you were actually using them they looked damn stupid. It gave all those high-class old folks the air of stick insects.
This show that they were putting on tonight was a ballet. Daisya had learned just a few minutes ago that it was actually spelled with an "et" instead of an "ay." Anyhow, the ballerinas were the ones with the fluffy skirts and skintight trousers. Try as he might, he couldn't imagine either Jeanne or Kiki in either of those. Jeanne couldn't be separated from her baggy old trousers. She liked them with lots of pockets for interesting rocks, and she always tucked them into her boots to keep the ends from getting mud on them. Kiki, on the other hand, really liked leather leggings and a long chain mail tunic. Said it was practical. She was probably right, after all. Kiki normally was.
He brought his mind back to the present, which was actually pretty nice. The seats were comfy, even though they were dusty, and they had someone pour you a nice coffee at the intermission apparently. Daisya liked tea best, but anything caffeinated would do in a heartbeat.
A quick dimming of the lights across the hall caught his attention, and the murmur of patrons' voices hushed. Two circles of light veered over the seats before coming to rest on the tall curtains at the front. Daisya guessed this signaled the start of the show, and watched expectantly as the curtains were drawn aside, and the spotlights came to rest on centre stage.
The ballerinas came prancing across the stage now, and a couple of boy ones came on wearing those trousers that looked really painfully tight. They probably called them "tights" because of that. The dancers drifted between lines and circles, then clusters, then duos, hopping around and waving their arms. It was all very nice, but the music was too slow, and it all felt a bit stale.
The stagehand had said that there was one ballerina, the Prima ballerina, who'd be wearing a better costume, and that she'd be coming on later. Apparently she was the one that was noticing the weird stuff first, before the akuma started to attack. Maybe her dance would be more interesting.
He sat back in the red velvet, watching the ballerinas on stage and the curtains at the edge of his vision. Akuma were attracted to exorcists, just as they were to Innocence.
The music had changed, and now was pretty damn nice. Sort of familiar, though. Maybe the same composer as what Marie played, or something.
Something…
A burst of music signalled a change in tempo, and a ballerina came spinning out from in the wings, wearing a more elaborate dress from the rest of them. The Prima, probably. Her moves were more elaborate, and there was something else about her.
Music forgotten, Daisya whipped the opera glasses to his face, and winced as he accidentally hit himself on the bridge of the nose.
She was certainly dancing, just like the others. But that wasn't what made her stand out.
The dress.
It had been in that room. The weird one.
Daisya watched intently as she swirled in time to the music. For just a moment, her movements seemed stiff, arms moving perfectly in time, but with a hint of jerkiness, of mechanical movement. When the other ballerinas fell slightly behind, she stayed perfectly in place, not affected by anything on or off the stage, not even a small lag in the tempo of the music.
Without time. That was what it was like. There was only the ballerina, the music, and him, all alone.
The ballerina, whose room was haunted.
The music, hauntingly familiar.
And Daisya, trying to remember who had once played this tune.
Marie? Yes, he played music on his strings, echoing up and down the hallways, and warm and liquid as sunshine, no…
Not Marie.
All he could hear was Marie's strings, but there was something beneath it.
Something that was only as distant to him as where he'd put down his jacket, or where the old man had left his glasses, but that seemed too important to forget like that.
He wasn't supposed to go to this place, his mind warned him, don't turn down that corridor don't–
The stones of the hallway melted into each other. His mind was his own version of headquarters, complete with endless pale grey hallways, the colour of a rainless cloudy day. He didn't like it all that much, but it was how he found things. In the broom closets, in the room that could have been Lenalee's. Kanda never let him in, but there was still a closed door that might have been his.
It was somewhere above the dining hall. Somewhere in a little alcove, this music that sparkled like snow, like ice, like the frosted branches he'd seen for the first time a year or two ago that were so beautiful.
The room was tucked out of sight, just under one of the buttresses.
The strains of the orchestra filtered through his ears, and the sparkling noise became that of a piano, played with fire as well as the ice this piece required.
And with the piano, a voice.
"People don't love people like us, you understand?"
Daisya's fingers tightened around the opera glasses, and the lady dancing in front of him seemed to force her way back into his sight.
Now the seat was uncomfortable itchy, and the red was seeping into his vision.
Antonina…he'd nearly blocked her out for good. It was a trick they'd learned in class. If you repeat a word over and over again, it stops meaning anything. Snow. Snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snow, snowsnowsnowsnowsnow. Now it just looked weird. Same with people. If you think about them over and over again, break them down into components - Antonio, like the Italian composer Marie liked; Nina, like Isaac's nickname for Jeanne; tangled hair, like tree branches; sunken eyes, like the witches in fairy tales - they stopped existing.
Antonina moved jerkily, like she was always stumbling from one foot to the next, held up by flimsy strings.
The dancer looked so wrong. She danced perfectly, but like a marionette. As if each move was made by someone else, someone far away that she tried to copy.
The curtains were too red and the light was too bright and the dancers spun. A shadow rose up in front of him. Daisya could barely think straight.
And that thought made Daisya whip around and drive the Charity Bell through the akuma behind him.
These ones got into your head. He hadn't seen that before.
And besides, he'd found the Innocence.
He controlled the waves of sound, slowly wearing away at the akuma instead of destroying it in a single blow. He didn't want to interrupt the show, after all.
Eventually, a new layer of dust settled over the box.
Now that the akuma was taken care of — the Bell could work without the verbal trigger on low-level ones like his — he turned back to the stage. There was work to do, in the dust and the curtains and the music that he could swear was like what Antonina had played months ago, on a cool, windy autumn day. Even in the middle of a snowy February, the music still reminded him of when he'd gotten to know the others at the Order.
All that aside, there was work to be done.
…
"Kanda! Psst, Kanda!"
The shout-whisper seemed to carry across the servers' waiting room, and the short young lady standing shyly in the corner shot him an exasperated glare before navigating her way to the door. Daisya knew well enough to stand lightly on his toes. Kanda was probably in that kind of mood.
When Kanda reached him, he grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him out of sight, behind the curtained walls of the room. Yep, as was becoming more usual, Daisya's prediction was correct.
"You're supposed to be watching," Kanda hissed, letting go once they were out of sight.
"But I found the Innocence!"
"Yeah." Kanda looked doubtful. "And what about the akuma?"
"I took care of it," Daisya replied, rolling his eyes. "Listen — it's the Prima ballerina whatsitsname. Dress thing. I saw it before, and she was dancing a little weird. Probably someone's ghost got stuck in it."
The curtains shifted to the side as a servant scurried past, and then scurried back, holding a bottle of amber liquid, not meeting Daisya and Kanda's stares. Once she'd gone, the conversation resumed.
"Yeah, right."
"No! I mean yes! She's the only one that's acting weird, and the akuma decided to come out when she was doing her solo whatever thing."
Kanda raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but didn't turn away.
"You better be sure. I'll take care of the lower levels, you stick to the upper ones. Just take care of the akuma for now."
"Hey, I'm older than you. I should be giving the orders."
"Whatever."
Kanda stuck out a hand, and pushed him backwards with all the effort it would take Daisya to knock over a doll.
"I'll tell Lenalee what's going on."
Daisya rolled his eyes. It was a losing battle.
"Sure thing. Let's meet up down there when everything's over."
…
The three exorcists huddled in a circle in one of the wings off stage, trying to avoid getting in the way of the black-clothed workers scurrying to and fro.
"So what now?" Daisya shouted over the sounds of applause, "Do we wait for her to get down?"
"You're the one who pointed it out," Kanda retorted, "You come up with a plan—"
Lenalee raised her hand to interrupt him, and spoke clearly.
"I'll talk to her. She won't want to talk to you boys."
"Why not?" Daisya asked.
"Do you really need to ask?" muttered Kanda, not quite under his breath.
"Kan-da."
Daisya tried to shove Kanda to the side, and nearly fell into the head stagehand when he dodged. The guy had just sneaked up behind him — he didn't make a sound when he moved, in those slippers.
"Sorry," said Daisya hurriedly, "We were just—"
"Have you three made any progress?" the stagehand interrupted.
"Yes," replied Lenalee, "We were wondering if we could talk to your Prima Ballerina when she comes offstage?"
Daisya could have sworn that Lenalee managed to make her eyes even bigger-looking and shinier than they already were, but whatever face she'd made, the guy seemed willing to help.
"So long as she agrees," he said softly, "You'll have to wait for her somewhere, so you don't get in the way. Please follow me."
With that, he turned on his heel, and walked off into the shadows, down a small flight of stairs, then along the low-ceilinged hallway. Daisya had trouble keeping up with the guy — he was having to run a bit, even though he was pretty tall for his age.
More rooms flashed past. More stories. Daisya didn't have time to notice them all.
They pulled up to a small room, near the other side of the stage, and the man ushered them inside.
"Now wait," he instructed, "And don't get in the way."
Before leaving, the man shot a pointed glare at Daisya.
"See?" said Lenalee softly.
"Hey, you're not supposed to side with Kanda!"