Center Stage

[Laszlo]

Winter 32nd, 511 Approximately twenty bells. For being the dead of Winter, it was unspeakably hot this evening. It wasn't helping that the sun had been shining for several consecutive days, a cruel joke played on Leth by Ionu's love for disarray. At least, it must have been days—one could hardly tell when the sky refused to change. This was where being an Ethaefal played an advantage. Even if the sky lied in Alvadas, the two brilliant lovers still continued to chase each other across the heavens, and Laszlo's appearance shifted as normal. Much to his dismay. During what was supposed to be night time, Laszlo assumed his Symenestra guise, equipped with a set of highly sensitive eyes (along with a certain inherent impatience for many things which seemed to be firmly ingrained in all Symenestra). Syna's light was especially unkind to them, and the only mercy was that even in the day, the Sun and Stars tavern could be particularly dark inside. Even still, the searing light and its accompanying headaches had gradually become unbearable, to the point where he'd bargained with his two compatriots to earn a night off from serving drinks and doling out pointless small talk. Leaving the tavern's comforting shadow seemed an ineffective solution, as the weather outside promised to be as piercingly bright as the days before, but Laszlo was convinced that there must have been some part of the city caged in some other quaint illusion. Perhaps he would stumble upon a shifting city quarter experiencing just the opposite of his dilemma. It didn't seem unfathomable: Ionu forcing Alvads to literally travel in search of the night, controlling their own daily cycle. It was as warm as high noon on Summer Solstice, to boot. Despite that, Laszlo walked under the shadow of his heavy woolen cloak, primarily for two reasons. The first was that Alvadas was fickle and a snowstorm could arrive at any moment. The second was more practical; it shaded his delicate, amethyst eyes from the sun's glare. It helped shroud his identity too, still leery of being identified as a Symenestra, the equivalent of bogeymen in certain tall tales. The cloak obscured his frame and gave him the illusion of volume, looking only to be a tall, moderately slender man who was unusually light on his feet. Indeed, the only indication that Laszlo was anything other than human was the way he seemed to glide across the street rather than walk. People could think what they like about the Symenestra, but the grace with which they carried themselves was undeniably beautiful. After about an hour of walking, squinting, and perspiring through the ever-shifting, ever busy streets of Alvadas, Laszlo happened upon an old stone archway tucked away at the end of a city block. It opened into a hall, encasing a stone staircase that led underground: the entrance to an amphitheater. The Crooked Playhouse, Laszlo observed. He was familiar with it, especially after meeting Ifran, one of its more present performers. The Ethaefal headed into the theater without another moment's consideration. There was no promise that he could find the night elsewhere in the city, and under his thick cloak, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand to keep searching. Perhaps Ifran would know a way to cool off. If anything, he was sure to know how to find a dark, comfortable location. Failing everything else, perhaps observing a performance would help take his mind off his petty ails. Passing through a brief labyrinth of halls and passages, Laszlo emerged into the air again, thick with a salty, seaside humidity. He took a seat upon one of the wooden benches near the front, noting that the theater was mostly empty this evening (he estimated the time to be roughly two hours past sunset). He immediately did away with his cloak, unclasping the silver chain and pulling the article off his shoulders. After rolling it into a lump and settling it snugly at his side for a convenient armrest, Laszlo fixed his violet eyes boredly at the stage. There were a few actors rehearsing, and someone was practicing a song. Nothing nearly as riveting as he'd hoped, but it was something. As he observed their work, Laszlo fished a hair-tie from one of his pockets and began to pull back his long, silvery tresses. Despite the bandage over some of his left hand, with a splint along one finger, he remained adept what mobile parts of his hand he could still use. He'd done this a thousand times before.

[Shai]

Dreams, wishes, goals; call them what you will, are powerful tools when seeded in a dynamic mind. The fact that this particular castle in the sky belonged to the mind of a child from decades past, who had long grown into a woman, lessened its strength to merely that of an affable impulse. Shai, following her adolescent whim, was stalking along a moonlit alleyway. Having only been in the city of illusions for four rigorous days meant she really ought to be spending her time resting. Instead, the spider had descried, from a strange little bird, that Alvadas had a theater. And once the spark had ignited in her imagination it was possible to ignore. Setting out without direction was of no concern. Even in her brief visit Shai had learned that you could never find a way in Alvadas; it finds you. The notion only as logical as anything else in the city.

Wandering the streets at night was generally considered poor behavior for a woman. Shai was already a monster in the eyes of the humans, especially given the proximity to the woven city. How could stalking the shadows really worsen her reputation? Compared to Sunberth Alvadas hardly seemed to understand what night life ought to look like anyways. She’d already passed a stumbling cadre of inebriated drunks moseying down an avenue who were left completely unmolested. Ludicrous.

Shai had almost given up for the night, promising one more corner before seeking out her temporary quarters. Unfortunately the very next turn didn’t have a normal ending. Rounding onto the next street Shai’s eyes were assaulted by radiant mid-summer sun. Squeezing her eyes shut the thief leaned hard against the nearest wall; stunned momentarily. After long moments of cursing and allowing her eyes to readjust the Symenestra woman dragged her hood far over her eyes. Hurrying into the nearest non-residential building, at least as far as she was able to tell from her ground-locked gaze. Shai had no way of knowing that the building she had stumbled into was in fact The Crooked Playhouse, but it wouldn’t take her long to learn.

As before, the woman internalized the concept that in Alvadas only the city could decide your way. Lightly treading the staggered steps, Shai happily allowed her vision to return and seek out secrets in this strange underground tunnel. Perhaps someday someone would tell the spider just how stupid it was to explore unknown and sunken corridors in the city of illusion, but today was not that day and no one could say the woman didn’t possess an unhealthy dose of curiosity. As luck, or Alvadas, might have it Shai unwittingly sauntered right into the theater’s house. Standing near the entrance, eyes darting over the scenery, the svelte spider tried to keep her excitement hidden; it was unbecoming for a shadow. But buried deep the child that wanted to perform, to tell riddles burbled with immense joy. Maybe, just maybe she’d get to see a performance while in the horrible ever-changing city.

In her estimations of the theater, the Symenestra stalked through the benched rows her gait painting a portrait of disinterest while her eyes shone the truth. Without paying much heed for anything but the performers on stage Shai nearly planted herself upon the first bench she encountered. Instead, she had noticed a man sitting among the pews. She couldn’t be certain, but hair like that and in that shade was uncommon among humans unless they were aging and his figure did not seem decrepit. What could one more change harm? the spider mused to herself. Continuing onward she delicately placed herself upon the same bench as the man hoping her reasoning wasn’t obvious. Shai was many things but a trollop was not one of them. The farce was for naught, as subtlety all but fled the room as she caught a glimpse of the man’s face.

Slipping into her own language as deftly as a dancer fits a favorite dress she spoke, “Vikenti? Of web Orthilia? Why are you here? Where is Sanvis?” How could she be wrong? That face and stature; who else could he be but Vikenti Orthilia? She ought to know him well, he had married her younger sister. It had been almost a dozen seasons since she had left Kalinor, perhaps Sanvis required surrogates? But that should have been Vidavis’s duty as eldest son. “It has been a long time; perhaps you do not recognize me? I am Shai…” cutting off Shai peered around the vicinity warily although the chances that another spoke Symenos were rare it still made her nervous. But Vikenti was family; he would know her web regardless of her stating it so there was no use hiding it. “Shai of web Nerium.”

[Laszlo]

Laszlo straightened as the Symenestra woman addressed him, wearing a mildly stunned expression as she addressed him in smooth, natural Symenos. His grasp on the language was precarious at best, but he understood most of what she had said. It wasn't that which made him hesitate. It was that name. For a moment, he was candidly nonplussed and at a loss for what to say in return. He was bewildered that she'd approached him at all, but there was a certain kinship among Symenestra—particularly outside of Kalinor. Even Laszlo felt it, though being truly an Ethaefal, it was for more complex reasons. It was the very reason he and Seven Xu had gotten acquainted at all. However, the woman who'd introduced herself as Shai… she mistook him for one of the Orthilias. It would have been quaint if the idea didn't drudge up some severely unpleasant memories. Collecting himself, Laszzlo allowed his posture to relax a little, and his angled features hardened into something more cynical. He regarded her as if she were a child. She was about Vikenti's age, after all. Some of the light and patience seemed to slip out of Laszlo's violet eyes. "I'm not Vikenti," he replied in his unaccented Common. He assumed she knew the language. No Symenestra could ever hope to survive outside of Kalinor without understanding its basic structure. Many Symenestra even in Kalinor spoke it well. "Sorry, but you've mistaken me for someone else." How well did Shai know the Orthilia Web? Would she recognize his (current) name if he gave it to her? "I'm Laszlo," he revealed after a moment of deliberation, deciding there was no harm in being honest. He turned his eyes politely back to the actors on stage, who were rehearsing their lines and practicing their volume. Of course, he wasn't paying attention to it. His thoughts were in two different directions: had he heard the name Nerium before, and had she heard about the brutal murder of a Symenestra woman early last fall? Laszlo certainly hadn't forgotten about it. Not one, bloody detail. "I'm pleased to meet you in any case, Shai Nerium. The Symenestra make better company than most."

[Shai]

Shai inwardly recoiled, she couldn’t place why but something about his demeanor made her feel belittled. The female spider hadn’t felt such attentions since she was young. While vaguely insulting, more than anything this man had stroked her curiosity. This man, who refused the name which belonged to his face. This man, who spoke the baser tongue when Symenos would be more appropriate. And yet again even more amazing, this Symenestra who she had never met. There were so few of their kind it was rare that they ever made new acquaintances, and honestly she suspected most Symenestra were related if not by blood then by marriage. Lowering herself to common, Shai answered him. “That is a very unusual name for one of our kind. Please pardon my mistake.”

“It is nice to meet you as well Laszlo, and please simply Shai will do.” Shai replied cordially. If she hadn’t been concerned about the revealing of her web to a stranger she might have noticed his strange word choice sooner. Eventually though, she came to realize he had said ‘Symenestra’ as though he wasn’t one. The female Symenestra came to that assessment that Something is… off.

Turning her eyes to the stage, Shai used the actors as a distraction while she thought out the situation. Laszlo certainly looked like Vikenti, too much like him for a coincidence. Perhaps this man was simply another trick of Alvadas? That made the most sense by far. Laszlo might very well be an illusion and the city was finally getting to her. There was only one way for her to learn more though, keep him talking. Perhaps he could prove himself real. “I did not think before I spoke, surely Common is the better tongue in this situation I have been told by humans that our speech is quite disconcerting.” She didn’t have any desire to upset people, well at least not today. Her only intentions had been to satiate her inquisitive nature with the theater. But, for now the stage was all but forgotten, a new mystery had presented itself. The theater would most likely not cease to exist any time soon,and who knew when she might ever see this Laszlo again?

“Are you from Kalinor, Laszlo? I find it odd that we have never before encountered one another.” She trained her tone towards small talk though she was in truth probing for facts. For all that he appeared to be a full Symenestra, some Dra were difficult to detect. If he was but a half that might explain his oddities away. Her eyes continued to follow the practices on stage, she would definitely return to see a show at least once during her stay in the city of illusions.

[Laszlo]

Barely into their light conversation, Laszlo was already tired of this façade. He was tired of explaining, too, that he was not truly a Symenestra. Mostly he was tired because it was well into the evening and the sky was as bright as noontime. Picking from this list of complaints, Laszlo chose to draw from his reserves and resolve at least one of them. "I am not from Kalinor, but I have been there," Laszlo explained politely. He brought his arms to rest in his lap, one for each thigh, so that his long, slender hands dangled between his knees. The unseasonable heat licked at the back of his collar, but the air was cool on his neck. Perspiration had moistened his gray skin, and with his hair tucked away in a high tail, some of the heat was wicked away from his flesh. "I knew the Orthilias. Rest assured that you're not the first to mistake me for one. In another life, I was Vikenti's grandfather." His eyes hardened and shifted direction. "Or I would have been." Laszlo turned to the narrow framed woman, charmed by the softness of her features and the deep violet of her eyes. Their color was not as gray as his dark lavender. A clawed hand lifted and was offered to her; shaking hands was primarily a human gesture, but any Symenestra with knowledge of Common would be familiar with associated mannerisms. "It's lovely to see a Symenestra above ground, but you've been deceived by Syna. I'm an Ethaefal." A smile pulled reluctantly at the corners of his mouth. "My name is not so unusual, then."

[Shai]

Ah, an Ethaefal. Shai knew next to nothing about the creatures except that they had horns. Perhaps she should have questioned Eridanus about it but retrospective wouldn’t aid her here. The assumption on her part had been that they were some branch of the Vantha, since that is what Eridanus resembled half of the time. But, Laszlo was clearly a contradiction to that hypothesis. Well, assumptions are always already flawed… she admitted to herself. The following line of thought toed a razor’s edge between scientific and indecent; could he produce Symenestra offspring? It was a highly indelicate question to ask and most likely she would be misunderstood. Regardless it would be rude to distract from the actors with philosophical debate.

Further questions began to arise in the new illumination of the unorthodox situation. Did she treat him as a Dra or as a full Symenestra? If Eridanus is anything to go by, he is only kin half of the time. Would he know the difference in how they should be treated? Shai wasn’t one to hate Dra, she pitied them instead. Laszlo said he had been to Kalinor so she could only assume he might understand.Then again, they weren’t in the woven city. The safest course of action was to give him the benefit of the doubt and treat him as a full blooded kin. “No, I suppose that means it is not at all odd.” She conceded.

Shai eased her cloak off of her shoulders and folded it up in her lap. The heat was finally ore than she could countenance unphased. The observant might notice her cloak had strange lumps in it as though it held items within. The spider tossed her long charcoal braid over her shoulder, letting it trace down her back. “It was night when I left my residence. This city is so thoroughly unnerving."

Reaching her hand into the folds of her cloak, she revealed a closed hand fan. “Laszlo, do you know when they do actual performances?” She inquired politely and motioned to the stage with the fan. As soon as the question was out she flicked open the oversized cloth fan. As it released open it made an eerie noise, like metal scrapping on metal or a blade being released from its sheathe. It wasn’t overtly loud but certainly peculiar for a device that was usually light and delicate intended for gentle ladies. She had chosen to use her crimson fan with gold embroidery, for the most part it seemed an abstract design but there were hints of flowers and birds in the stitching.

[Laszlo]

But it was odd. Laszlo was not his true name. That, however, was something he could never wield in the mortal world. His true name was lost to the ukalas and the prison of his own mind. From the practiced look on Shai's face, it was difficult to ascertain whether or not she understood what an Ethaefal was. She had appeared to mull over it a moment, but she had asked no questions. Duvalyon had said that the Symenestra were learned. Laszlo assumed, then, that all Symenestra would understand the pious celestials of Syna and Leth. "They're intermittent. I believe a show just ended before I arrived." Laszlo spoke softly and with a mark of mild disinterest, indicating that he had come here rather to sit down and rest in the shade. Seeing a play would be happenstance, and then he would probably end up watch it with deep fascination. He turned his attention to Shai's curious fan, an attractive work of art and practicality. A silvered spark of envy glittered in his amethyst eyes. What a marvelous bit of forethought on her part. And in Winter, no less. "If you wait for the next bell, I think another is scheduled to begin." His eyes flicked back to her, accompanied with a faint smile. "I'll probably watch it." Laszlo looked away as one leg crossed the other in Shai's direction, a passive gesture of comfort and familiarity toward her. She was polite, and Symenestra. Even if he wasn't truly one of them, they all felt like kin to him after his time in Kalinor. "You'll get used to the city's antics. They're sometimes unpleasant, but after a while it stops surprising you." He stiffened and blinked twice. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I assumed by what you said that you were new here, but for all I know you've been here longer than me." A slender hand lifted, dispatching two blackened claws to unhook the top two buttons on the front of his shirt. Loosening his collar allowed the air to cool his skin, albeit briefly. "What has you in Alvadas, <my lady>?" Laszlo inquired politely, ending the question with Symenos. He gave Shai a solemn look, allowing the shadow of his eyes to silently extend his question. Is it the Harvest? Though perhaps she might assume he didn't know of it.

[Shai]

Shai nodded absentmindedly while she fanned herself. With no other pressing matters, waiting for the next show seemed like an excellent idea. That is, until Laszlo continued. Her gaze returned to the Ethaefal with renewed scrutiny. Who are you really? Thought in a different city her instincts still held every ounce of suspicion she had earned by living in the city of thieves, thugs, and murderers. Beginning with the safe information she watched his expressions looking for any reaction. “You were not incorrect. I am new to the city.”

Pausing, Shai analyzed the situation. What might Laszlo know and who might he work for? The parties that employed the thief and her partner might not wish to be known at all. Also, why had he spoken in Symenos at the end? Did he think she was here for surrogates? Flicking the fan closed decisively she finished her deliberations; hopefully the pause was not drawn out enough to be awkward. “I am not the eldest.” She let slip candidly. A Symenestra would know that the first born sibling handled the harvest. Sliding the fan open once more she ushered the cooler air against her face and continued, “I am employed by the Alvadas government. That is the reason for my visit.” It seemed the safest answer to give; it was neither a lie nor enough of the truth to hang herself with. The full truth was simple but most of her kin would consider it beneath her. Shai, the thief, was hired along with a handful of companions to hunt down her a rogue illusionist within the city. In essence, she was a mercenary; at least, that was her job this season. Who knew what she might call work in the next?

Attempting to dispel her trepidations about Laszlo, Shai attempted small talk. This was a horrible endeavor for the generally unsocial woman. “You sound as though you are not new to the city? Have you any tips about navigating it? Or particularly nice locations to visit?”

[Laszlo]

She wasn't the eldest. That was all the answer Laszlo required. He responded with a slight, courteous nod . What a curt exchange. I wonder if that's how real Symenestra do it. Leaning back in the unseasonably warm air, Laszlo turned his attention to one of the dancers on stage. She was trying to practice a complicated move—a leap, followed by a kick. It looked difficult; she wasn't doing very well. "Sounds official," he remarked without smiling, though a positive note pushed an upward inflection into his voice, betraying his genuine interest. Over a season here and Laszlo hadn't even known that there even was a government in Alvadas. They were probably an interesting lot. Ionu would be a hard man to please. Or an easy one. "There are certain ways to get Alvadas to work with you, if you want to go anywhere. My advice is: don't fight it. Alvadas is practically a living, breathing thing. If you treat it with disdain, it'll return your ire. Appreciate the inanity of the place, and you'll be duly rewarded." Laszlo glanced upward at the sky, where a mockery of Syna reigned overhead. She had long fled for the horizon, and every fiber of his being knew it. "Of course, even if you befriend the city, it still plays these games with you and makes you bloody miserable from time to time." A tentative smile crossed his gray lips as he turned his matching violet eyes back to Shai's. "Still, it beats complaining about the weather. "And don't let my arrogance fool you, I'm still quite new here. I'm new everywhere, but I've been in Alvadas since early last Fall. I own and run a tavern called the Sun and Stars, though it's nothing to brag about. It mostly just means that I'm an alcoholic."

[Shai]

Shai laughed cynically. Laszlo’s advice seemed sound but, “To me it appears more like the city has n agenda for us. Which is all well and fine, everyone has their own way… My concern lies with what happens when the city no longer requires us.” She trailed off following a dark avenue which her thoughts had turned down.

Returning to the present she cleared her throat, instantly and acutely away she might have sounded like a babbling lunatic. Laszlo had no way of knowing that Shai and her people were criminals of the most grotesque rank and file. Among them were assassins, thieves, murderers, and rapists; it was who you had to be into other to not become a victim yourself. Perhaps the city would not turn tables on them though, of the gang in Sunberth they had brought the very least debauched. Yes, only the blood-crazed burglar, the gimpy gambler, and the antipodal assassin. It could have been much worse for the city of illusions

Painting on the coy, charmed smile the Symenestra woman return to much safer topics of thought. “A tavern? I find ale detestable personally, no taste for it I suppose. But, I would like to visit, perhaps I shall soon. For all that I dislike the taste my company seems to live off the amber liquid on occasions.” She was once again grateful the barbarians had not come to Alvadas. They would have started a bar brawl for certain. “There is nothing to look down upon when you own a business. Even if you drink your own stock." Shai tried to sound reassuring but to her own ears it seemed patronizing.

Jumping to another topic, one Shai was intimately concerned with, she spoke with off-handed confidence to mask the true anxiety underneath. “Are there any others in Alvadas? Symenestra I mean. ” She left Kalinor for a reason, one that Laszlo was apparently ignorant of. The spider would very much like to avoid any more-informed souls.