"We think caged birds sing when indeed they cry."

-John Webster

Magdalene DaFoe was a woman of undeniable talent. She received a stage name, Blind Mag, simply because of her past. She climbed her way up the ladder just as Rottissimo Largo had. Her voice was a gift given to her by the Gods. She held beauty and charm. It was no wonder that she was the voice of reason, the one of GeneCo. Her face graced the wicked island. Air Raid Sirens and floating screens displayed her image and music for all to hear.

She pours her heart and soul into each song. Each song makes her grow more weary by the moment. Slowly, she is withering like a decadent rose. Soon, her contract will expire. Magdalene is bound by the chains of fate, having no choice but to sing for the Devil, Himself. Instead, she continues to excel through her talent. She sings... And sings... And sings... Each opera. Each concert. Each charity event. They all blend together, though the lyrics and languages differ.

Tonight, she drives home from a charity event in the black limousine. Tomorrow, she will go perform at an opera. It is not her last, but one of many more to come. Her contracts has but a while longer. The chauffeur glides past the graveyard as Mag solemnly gazes out the tinted window, resembling her tinted life. She can see a cloaked man with her GeneCo prized eyes. Without a doubt, she dismisses it as a grave robber. The vehicle passes Marni Wallace's mausoleum. A wave of grief plagues her mind, though she can't comply herself to look away.

Mag was Marni's best friend.

Marni had meant the world to Mag. She misses her friend terribly. They had done much and shared much throughout their time together. Marni had been the one to grant Mag these eyes. These disgusting, repulsive... Inhuman... Glowing orbs...A sick feeling swirls in her gut as she pushes the feeling deeper into her very existence. Alas, the limousine pulls up to the familiar building that holds sway over all. GeneCo happens to be the biggest biotechnological corporation out there these days. Every time that name is mentioned, it chills Mag's blood. It's a work of monsters. She's sure of it by now. She keeps her spirits high for some foreign reason.

Her eyes connect with Rotti's children and she looks away. There was a time when they were very young and innocent, prone to this world. Not anymore, however. The world and their father molded them into what they are today. They only became cruel, ill-hearted creatures to put up with the world's brutality. Pale fingers move to comb a lock of dark hair behind her ear. Her chest heaves with a fragile sigh as she makes way to her room. There's no need to bid adieu to the King of GeneCo. She holds no feelings for the man. She never did. That had been Marni's case. Never Mag's.

As she walks, she can't help but to feel as if God made her of blown glass. Each movement she makes is one of a tedious nature. Pain seems to be her companion these days. Now, it seems as if one thing will make her fall to pieces, shattering like the fragile being she is. Magdalene closes her bedroom door behind her. She's sure to check it, knowing if she does not, someone will be bound to barge in. She knows Rotti's kids far more than he could ever come to comprehend them.

And so she sits in her gilded cage. Her life may be glorious to others, but it is Hell for her. Her elbows remain propped on her ornate table as her hands rest on the back of her neck. Her eyes connect with the stranger in the looking glass. A blueish hue like the medical drug, Zydrate, emits from those orbs. They are not her own. They never were nor will they ever be. Her heart remains pinned to her sleeve for all to sneer at. She's fragile, yet she manages to cope from Marni's loss much better than Nathan could ever. He's a broken man just as she is a broken woman. Though the stranger in the mirror... She can connect to the forlorn, lost look on her face.

The tears slowly pour down her face at first. They make a point to highlight her cheekbones and she almost curls her lip at the thought. Mag lowers her head. She can't bear the thought of confronting that stranger any longer. Her cries steadily crescendo just as her songs do. She cannot control her sobbing. After years of pain, it all manages to slip out on this night for no reason other than having passed that dreadful mausoleum. Muffled cries pass through the threshold of the door.

A new recruit roams the halls of GeneCo. They're eerily silent. Truth be told, it frightens the youth. Her heart ensues an irregular pace. She's heard stories, rumors... All revolving around the Largos. She's a young GenTern, still so naive, and she pauses. Gosh. I sure hope that Miss DaFoe is alright. Hope Mr. Pavi Largo didn't try anything... A haunting tune rings like a church's bells. The GenTern, quivers, edging towards the door from which the noise emits. She raps upon the door once, oblivious as to whom sobs from within.

Again, she knocks. This time there is a response. The threshold is broken and the door opens. Blind Mag gently wipes at her eyes with a black cloth. The GenTern shifts in her footing. She didn't know who Blind Mag was. She'd only heard her voice on the monitors that held sway over the island. It expresses her naivety all the more. She shyly glances away from the opera singer.

"Is something the matter?" Mag inquires gently. Her voice is smooth, tinted with an accent.

"Uhm... Uh.. Well. Golly, Ma'am. I heard some noise. Made me a bit nervous. I didn't know that you were crying. Are you alright? Mr. Largo didn't try anything, did he?" She's a true Southern Bell. Mag can't help but to smile at the girl. She hasn't been tainted nor maimed by GeneCo. It's obvious which leads Mag to ponder. Why in Heaven's name is the girl here?

"Oh, yes. I'm quite alright. I'm sorry," She chuckles, leaving the girl with a confused expression. Mag can't believe the concern that dwells within the GenTern. What the young woman had next to say, sent Mag into a small fit of girlish giggles. She wiped the lone tear of laughter from her eye, "No. None of them have tried anything. They'd be foolish to do so or at least I would hope that much, Child. What is your name?"

"Nancy, Ma'am."

"Well, Nancy. It's a pleasure to meet you," Magdalene bows her head and a warm smile crosses her painted lips.

"Oh! It's nice meeting you as well, Ma'am!" She beams happily.

"Tell me, Nancy. What brings you here? I can tell by the way you act you're not like most girls. You're... different, but oh! I mean that in the fondest way possible! What I mean is that you haven't been scathed by surgery... Or Paviche." the last of her words were quite low, practically inaudible. Nancy blushes at Mag's words, clamping her head together. Her red locks are in a boyish cut, bangs swept to one side. The GenTern's attire doesn't quite suit her nature.

Green eyes peer up at the figure, "I did it for my family, Ma'am. True, I don't need surgery and drugs disgust me. I figured by getting an appreticeship here in Sanitarium, I could slowly work my way up the ladder, y'know?" Mag nods, understanding quite well.

Nancy continues, "From there, I figured I could work my way up being a real nurse, helping a surGEN or two, Ma'am. I just want to support my family and we figured this would be the best way... You changed the subject, though! I came here to check on you! Not me!" She waved her arms excessively, speaking with her hands. Mag smiles. Nothing of this girl reminds Mag of Marni, but she feels the start of a friendship.

"I assure you that I'm quite well, Nancy. Some may consider crying a weakness, but it is a considerable strength. Remember that, Dear. I, do, thank-you for coming to check on me. Such kindness is rare these days. May I offer you a ticket to tomorrow's performance at the Opera? It's the least I can do to show my gratitude.''

"Gosh, that's mighty nice of you, Ma'am. I... I really look forward to it!"

Time is rather manipulative in it's ways. Now, the opera is here. The GenTern whom Mag met the previous night sits anxiously in her chair. She dons a simple, green dress that brings out her vivid eyes. She looks over to the gentleman seated beside her. He's regal and dashing in appearance. Handsome. Brown Hair... Clean Shaven... Grey eyes.. A chiseled face... Nancy quickly looks away, putting a hand over her face in mild embarrassment.

He speaks with a low tone, "First time at the opera, Miss?"

"Um..." How did he know!? He's gotta be a mind-reader! Oh wait... My facial expressions....She blushes fervently, "Y-yes. What about you, Sir?"

"Oh, I've attended a generous amount of times. May I ask your name?"

"Nancy Sovern. Yourself, Sir?"

"Nikolai Reise."

They shake hands and the conversation flourishes. It seems as if they share quite a bit in common. Namely, anything that happens to revolve around medicine or pharmacology. What seems like hours only happens to be a matter of minutes. Time happens to tinker in funny ways. It grabs a hold of people, adjusting their strings. Time holds true reign over people. It was nor never will be fate. Fate is for those whom are ill at ease with their lives.

The lights dim until the room is black. All remains silent. A bright light flares upon the stage. Blind Mag, so she is called, is perched inside a golden cage. The irony is rich. All eyes fixate on her. Mag knows, quite bitterly, that the idea was Rotti's doing. It is a reminder. Know your place. Keep your space. She mentally sneers upon recalling his words. She angles her head in a direction that compliments her. In all reality, she's shifting through the crowd, pinning familiar faces. Mag smiles upon spying the young GenTern, seated next to the surGEN. She's not typically the one to play matchmaker... Pain strikes her chest as they remind her of Nathan and Marni.

Magdalene tips her head towards the blinding lights, embracing them as if they were Heaven's grace. She sings a glorious tune. One that depicts her as a swan, captured by a brutal hunter. It seems odd, eccentric even. The swan goes on to sing about her gilded life and how she dreams that she will find her eternal mate. It truly is beautiful... Oh, how the tears stream down Mag's cheeks once more. She can't help herself. The audience claps, dismissing it as grand acting.

Nancy knows it's not. It bothers her. She tilts her head downwards, pursing her lips. The young woman neatly folds her hands together, taking this opportunity as a moment of silence. Nikolai looks over at the GenTern with an arch of the brow. He gazes back and forth between the woman on the stage and the one seated next to him.

He masks his mouth with a hand, "We think caged birds sing, when indeed they cry."

"...Golly." Nancy is stunned by Nikolai's words. He's right. She can't help but to pity Mag. She doesn't know a single thing about the opera star's history, but she feels the woman's heart. Her heart throbs as people shoot their cruel arrows. Nancy runs a hand through her crimson locks, eyes wide with the revelation. Nobody cares what happens behind closed doors. Nobody cares about a wounded soul. This world will eat you up if you expose yourself to it.

"Golly, indeed."