brickyardbabe
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Calista giggled. “Gods, I hope so!” She exclaimed, wiping tears from her lashes with one immaculately manicured hand. “Otherwise my entrance was a bit overdramatic, don’t you think?” She placed a hand on Robyn’s bicep. “I will do my best not to embarrass you, love, and I’d be happy to socialize with you.” She sighed theatrically. “Alas, I am working a job here tonight, and I may have to vanish from time to time in order to help oversee it. It shouldn’t be long, and I won’t leave the grounds without telling you.” Calista generated an ARO and flicked it to Robyn’s PAN. “Here. My new commlink address, personal file, the usual. I still maintain the old comm, but I don’t always carry it. Until a few days ago, I couldn’t even remember I had it. But with this, you can reach me once more, darling.” SHe gestured toward the crowd. “Shall we?”
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Noir sighed. Trust the old lech to put it into a phallic contest. She wasn’t trying to measure dicks here. Empirically speaking, Ms. Jones was more powerful than she. Ichante might be too, for that matter. But the circumstances obviated the power differential, and she was only trying to explain to Al the probable outcome of any attempts at reconciliation. She didn’t want to flat out murder anyone.
Well, she very much did, but she was resisting so far.
considered for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “My mother always told me not to make promises I couldn’t keep.” She drawled. “Granted, she was usually talking about boys, but the point still stands.” She raised her hands, palms up, the universal gesture of ‘I don’t know.’ “You’re asking me to try and put my professional ethics above a simmering hatred of a person that I absolutely cannot respect, and essentially fake it.” She shook her head. “I would like to. Really, I would. But I can’t respect someone who will cheerfully choose violence as their first option when other options are available.”
Noir turned her wrist, lifting one finger. “Yes, I know how that sounds, considering how I joined your merry little band.” She said, forestalling any comment. “The difference is, I didn’t have a choice, not if I wanted to fulfill the terms of my agreement with Maria. Sure, everything Ms. Jones was offering sounded reasonable on paper, but its not what I said I would deliver, and to back down would have been to let her walk all over me.” She shook her head. “Now that you know my reputation, what its for and what I’ll do to protect it, you can see why I wouldn’t let it go. Was I high-handed and unreasonable? Sure. Absolutely. But I couldn’t compromise, not without compromising my reputation. If Maria wanted to accept any of Ms. Jones’ offers back then, she would have told me so and I would have backed down. What the client wants, the client gets. But talking to those gangers? Letting me palaver for another two minutes could have netted useful information, and it would have cost your team nothing. They weren’t moving, not getting any closer, not threatening the team. They were talking. To me. Peacefully.”
Noir let her hands fall back down into her lap. “I’m seething, Al. She wants respect, but she won’t get it until she’s earned it, and operating like she’s come down from on high to lead us mere mortals is insulting. I know Ichante doesn’t listen. Obviously you don’t always listen, or you’d not be taking me to get my car. And yet she thinks she’ll be obeyed. She doesn’t ask, she orders. She doesn’t converse, she tells. I won’t respect someone like that, and I’m not likely to mask my distaste.” She shrugged. “And if Ms. Jones wants to make something out of it, nothing short of attacking me will draw a reaction. I’ve determined not to speak, in order to prevent making any waves. I’m running crippled here. Anything I do, she might undercut. Anything I suggest, she’ll ignore if she thinks she knows better, even when she demonstrably doesn’t, as with the gangers. She said they wouldn’t talk, that there was no point. I went, I talked, I was getting somewhere. Clearly she didn’t know what she was talking about but she isn’t going to learn from that mistake, I’m sure. So all I can do now is sit silent, try not to fucking kill her, and watch the artifact for signs of imminent astral catastrophe.” Noir’s voice was rising again, and her eyes were glowing again. “What you suggest is simply me doing all of that, taking your money, and playing nice with the slitch. I’m doing the one, I don’t want the other, and I’m pretty sure I’m incapable of doing the third.”
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“Of course, songbird.” Calista cooed into Robyn’s ear. “I have some business to attend to here myself, actually. Mingling would be good. Is there anything I should know? A different name, affiliations, where we met, a story I should or shouldn’t know about you?” The questions were all very standard…for a ‘runner, and it sounded like Calista had done this before. Sometime between Robyn last seeing Cali and now, the banshee had apparently found her way into the shadows.
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Calista’s tongue met Robyn’s, and her aura flared in response, a storm of emotion coloring her magic, her illusion exploding into a riot of color and light at the same time before fading away. She stood, drawing Robyn up with her, her lips never leaving the blind elven woman’s. She pulled Robyn close, crushing her body against her lover’s. She was warm, and soft, and exactly as Calista remembered. Sure, a few pounds had moved, there were a few more scars, a few new hurts and idiosyncrasies of movement, but they were so minor compared to the blazing warmth of being together again.
It was another twenty seconds before Calista could draw back enough to look at Robyn. “I missed you.” She breathed. Then she laughed, a laugh like the sun coming out, full of joy and warmth and light, and it echoed off the walls all around. She took Robyn’s hands in hers, intertwining her fingers with the other woman’s and squeezing gently. “So now what? Off the stage? A song together? Catching up?”
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@adamu I’ll trade like for like.
Yeah, no need to read it for those not inclined to do so.
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“I say that if we try to hash it out, I will kill her.” Noir said softly. “Here’s the problem, Al. I am not a shadowrunner. I am, at best, an occasional mercenary. I have a reputation as a straight shooter who would rather talk than use violence, but one with enough potential to do damage that its in everyone’s best interest to let me say my piece. I don’t welsh on a job, I don’t get pushed around, I never screw the client, and I play it straight.” Her voice was calm, almost serene. “Word gets out that I got used to stage an ambush, it won’t matter that I didn’t have any part of it. That’ll be years of work down the crapper, and I’m not just going to start taking on any job that comes my way from a fixer. That’s why I’m so fucking pissed off, Al. Sure, she could have killed me, but she may also have destroyed my life even though I don’t have a scratch on me.”
Noir cracked her knuckles. “I’m no stranger to killing. After my daughter died, I spent eight months hunting down the vampires that murdered my baby girl. I killed them. I killed their friends. I killed their families, their acquaintances, their blood dealers, their connections, their dogs. I burnt their homes, wiped out their holdings. I destroyed them, Al. Root and branch. But that isn’t what I do, its what I am. I have precious little to live for anymore.” She held up a hand. “I’m not saying that to be dramatic. Its a simple fact. No close friends, no pets, no family anymore. I have a cause, and the fleeting satisfaction of helping people with this case or that case. That’s all. If Ms. Jones antics disrupt that, then all that’s left is the hunting and the killing. You’ve seen my spirits, my magics. I know what happens when a powerful mage goes rogue. Can you imagine what I would be like if I were toxic? With my power, my looks?”
Noir turned in her seat to look at Al. “Self-control is something I don’t really have. My rep usually keeps the locals in line, so its not as much a struggle as it once was, but I’m about two steps shy of going full-on Gallow and burning everything in sight. My way has been working for me for years, Al. And now your precious little ‘roided-out slitch rolls up and thinks she can give me orders? Well, here’s the thing. You’re not my client. Maria is. I’ve done right by her. I really, really don’t care that Ms. Jones doesn’t like me. She ponied up the money, so on that front, we’re square. I can chalk it up as a win. But she thinks she can order me not to talk, not to try and help and not use violence? No, fuck her.” Noir turned to look back out the windshield. “If we talk about it, she’ll think she’s being reasonable and come across as a high-handed, holier-than-thou shadowrunner, always mercenary, expecting to be obeyed, all that crap. And I’ll tell her to take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut, thiking I’m justified, and come across as uncooperative at best and petty at worst, and we’ll fight. She’s fast, and strong, and magically powerful, and well-armed. But the difference is that she probably wants to live, whereas I simply don’t care, because my anger will override any self-preservation, and I have a pocket full of fallen angels on my side.” She smiled thinly. “Before you point out that you outnumber me, I will allow as to how you are correct about that. And you guys can probably get me in a rush. I’m good, and my allies are good, but I’m not that good. But I assume you all want to live too. And you can bet I won’t go out unscathed.”
Noir sighed. “Its not a threat, Mr. Guthrie. It’s a realistic projection of what will happen if you try to force us to reconcile. I’m not enjoying this any more than you are, believe me. But I understand my limitations. If you think me being around is going to half-ass everything for Ms. Jones, then say so. If not, then let me hold my goddamn silence and try to do my job. But don’t try to be the wise old folksy man, dispensing wisdom with his lucky strikes and his rotgut. Because a wise old ‘runner would have known that play back there was bullshit in the first place, so I’m not really buying it.” She nodded at the side of the road. “You can drop me here, if you like. I won’t be offended.”
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Calista wept freely, fervently hoping that the tears wouldn’t run red again. At some point during the song, her masking had fallen. She still didn’t look a vampire, but her power blazed brightly, and anyone with a lick of assensing talent would know the extent of her magic, what a weapon it could make her. All eyes were upon her now, for a variety of reasons, just as the team had planned. Now everyone would want to know their story. Everyone would want to know who Calista was, why she was here, how she knew Robyn. She had made herself the center of the social scene. All she had to do was keep breathing, and her part of the job was done, unless things went sideways in a truly colossal manner.
She was free.
Calista reached up, holding Robyn’s face in both hands, and the words came out in a rush. “I’m sorry I’m so sorry I ran I wasn’t thinking and then they took me and I’m not sure what happened to me and then they made me forget and I was running and I finally came back to myself and…and…” Tears kept pouring down her face as she drew her head back and looked up at Robyn, taking in every detail of the face was sure she’d never see again.
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As Robyn sat and bent forward to take her bow, the herald announced them Colibri had elected not to be named, and so the herald called out, “The Lady Anguish de la Courcel, and escort!” The room went momentarily silent, and it was into that silence that Calista stepped, a single, loud, echoing click as she brought one heel down just so, and began to sing.
Think of me, think of me fondly
When we’ve said goodbye
Remember me, once in a while
Please promise me you’ll tryCalista let her voice off the chain. Foxglove had heard her sing, and Robyn had heard her sing as well, but neither had heard her at the full, concert-level reaches of her talent. She was on pitch, each note perfect in every way. It resonated from the walls, the floor, the very firmament, even the cut crystal on the long tables ringing with the music of her superbly-trained voice. It was beautiful and pained, Calista pouring two years of pain and fear, and longing into the song, and she began to walk down the stairs in time with the music, her wings flared out, the sparkling lights in the gold-and-silver dancing to the music.
When you find that, once again, you long
To take your heart back and be free
If you ever find a moment
Spare a thought for meShe reached the bottom of the stairs and made an imperious gesture. It was an illusion, but an impressive one, and a carpet of roses rolled from her feet, all the way to the stage. Empty cups and glasses and pitchers sprouted more flowers, and the illusion was full sensory, encompassing smell and sound as well as sight, filling the air with the rich scent of the blooms, and they were even tangible enough to be seen by electronics.
We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But if you can still remember
Stop and think of meShe walked through the flowers, white and golden and red, and each step past the flowers caused them to sublimate away into smoke and licks of flame in the color of the flowers, turning into butterflies that faded away at the edges of the room, all in jewel tones. It was beautiful, eye-catching, and dramatic as hell. Which was exactly the idea.
Think of all the things
We’ve shared and seen
Don’t think about the things
Which might have beenThink of me, think of me waking
Silent and resigned
Imagine me trying too hard
To put you from my mindRecall those days, look back on all those times
Think of the things we’ll never do
There will never be a day
When I won’t think of youCalista reached the base of the concert dais, looking up at Robyn, her face shining and eyes alight, colors swirling around her, tears streaming down her face, but nothing could stop her singing now, even though she was almost ready to collapse from the simple fact that she was in Robyn’s presence again. The mindlink pressed at her now, almost overwhelming her control, and as the song crested, she simply gave in, letting the emotional and mental bridge open again, only keeping the actual vision shut down, and that only so that she wouldn’t distract Robyn’s playing.
We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But please promise me that sometimes
You will think—Calista mounted the steps as she sung through the aria, and she was within arms’ reach as the last notes came, and she drew one last breath and let it out in an explosion of sound, nearly as loud and sharp as her banshee wail.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOF ME!
The last note died.
Calista reached out, placing a hand on Robyn’s face.
Then she collapsed to her knees, weeping, and in a choked voice whispered, “Hello, songbird.”
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“It’ll only be dangerous if someone else starts shooting.” Noir said calmly. “Yes, I would like to get my car back, thank you.” She told Al. “If only so I don’t have to use the services of a spirit if I elect to part ways with your merry band.” She carefully didn’t look at Ms. Jones or the supine form of the normally icily composed mage, Ichante. That one would break her silence, or not. Noir wasn’t in the mood for another argument. Well, she was, but she wasn’t in the mood for the throwing of death spells and copious quantities of violence that her current mood would turn any argument into. So she didn’t bother saying anything to her. Instead, she nodded to Al and said, “Lead on.”
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Colibri read, considered, nodded. +Here we go then.+ She sent back. She took one more look at Lace, Robyn, Lace’s escort, and the layout of the room. Then she touched Calista on the arm, nodded once, slowly, and stepped back. Calista gave Colibri a questioning look and raised an eyebrow, tilting her head in the direction of their fellows, and Colibri nodded again.
Calista grinned.
Walking to the head of the stairs, Calista took a deep breath. The stuffy, officious type who’d been introducing the guests as they came in, a herald of sorts, greeted her with a small bow and asked for her name and any titles or ranks by which she wanted to be introduced. She smiled and gave him one, but when he turned to announce her, she stopped him and made a request. The herald drew up, affronted that this nobody would have such temerity as to ask for anything from this august institution, but then she turned on the charm, smiling and simpering just enough, and the stiff old bastard relented.
A few seconds later, out on the floor of the gala, a waiter in immaculate black-and-whites approached Robyn and bowed his head. “My apologies, ma’am, but you have an unusual request. A guest has requested that you honor us by playing Think of Me, from the twentieth century musical, The Phantom of The Opera. The herald tried to dissuade the guest from being so brazen as to disturb you, but the guest made a most convincing case.”
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Colibri watched and waited from the doorway, seeing Lace finish speaking to Robyn and move away, trailed by her escort. She didn’t like this, didn’t like the new variable. She considered dropping the job, calling a bugout and fading into the background, but she owed Fox, and she and Calista had been plenty competent on the extraction jobs in Kingston, even with limited resources and a lot of improv. Ryoko was plenty slick herself, they’d pulled a couple of jobs together on the east coast about a year back.
No, they could do this.
Colibri pinged Ryoko and Fox again. +Sitrep. Do we let her go in?+
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Alessandra nodded along as Sian spoke, then said, “Probably better than mine. My talents lie elsewhere. I can set up an area thought recognition to make sure we know if we’re spotted, but that won’t make stealth easier except as to tell us who is suspicious and where. I can create an illusion to draw them off, but I have no way to make us less obvious except for a spell of invisibility, and its one at a time. I don’t fancy trying to hold it two or three times and cope with Mr. Shrike’s effect on local mana.”
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Calista watched Lace stroll into the party, and past her, watched Ryoko and Foxglove swivel almost simultaneously to look at the new arrival and her lightly-cybered, dapper companion. A small tag appeared over his head that just said, +Decker+ and Calista almost laughed. Boy, wasn’t he going to be in for a surprise! Ryoko wasn’t exactly the most subtle of electron jockeys, but she got results, and the combat deck in her skull was some bleeding-edge tech. Calista only understood half of it when Ryoko had described its functions and capabilities, but she got enough to know this wasn’t exactly a Sony CTY.
Calista watched and waited, only occasionally looking at Robyn. She had found that if she paid too much attention to her onetime love, she forgot that she was on a job, and that was dangerous. So, despite wanting to simply stand there and bask in her radiance, Calista only looked at her enough to track her movements, make sure she wasn’t going anywhere.
Colibri, on the other hand, watched Robyn and the new arrival, their mark, like a hawk. She trusted Ryoko and Foxglove to identify any threats, and while she thought that Calista’s bringing personal drek to the job was…not wiz, she had to admit that the winged vampire was a hell of a distraction in that dress and those shoes. Colibri had entertained a few mental vistas already, fueled by the novacoke roaring through her system and the excitement that always came before the lead began to fly, and she wondered if Calista was exclusive with the pretty blind chick with the ink. Still, she could count on her team to do their parts, and that left her with threat assessment, analysis, and possibly removal. If this little keeb with the dress and the ink was the target, then Mr. Man with the ‘ware and the twitchy look to him was not just arm candy. She watched him move for a while, checking for weapons and ‘ware. He didn’t have enough metal to be a cyberknight, but too much to be a mage. That was good. Anything that would make him fast enough to compete with her or Cali or Fox or Ryoko would leave heavy signs.
Girly there, though…she had some juice. Not as much as vampire-lite or she herself had, but plenty enough to be dangerous. Colibri wished she’d gotten a better read on her, enough to know which way her power lay. Colibri could tell it was all focused inward, which meant at least they wouldn’t have to worry about lightning from on high, and that dress didn’t leave a lot of room to carry a gun, but she’d once seen an adept punch through a steel plate, and Colibri resolved not to get into arm’s reach. She didn’t want to see what an expensive heel looked like when it was knifing through her rib cage at an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound.
Watching the girl meant that Colibri saw it when Lace walked through the room and stopped next to Calista’s girlfriend. And stayed stopped. And exchanged greetings. And went off to talk for several minutes. And exchanged cheek kisses.
Well, drek. This was going to be a problem.
+Drek. It looks like our mark is actually a friend of Calista’s piece. This could make things complicated. Any ideas?+
Colibri considered, then sent it to Foxglove and Ryoko, leaving Calista out for the moment. In a rare second of empathy for other people, Colibri didn’t want to compromise Calista’s nervous excitement at the prospect of meeting Robyn again. If they could find a workaround, that would be best. Besides, pissed-off banshee was not a natural disaster Colibri wanted to be next to.
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In a reversal of earlier events, Calista and Colibri arrived at the gala after Ryoko and Foxglove did. Again they did their dance with the valet and the tickets, again they were ushered inside with minimal fuss. Security was better here, but not better enough, and Colibri managed to pass through the scans and obligatory patdown with her guns and her B&E gear intact. Calista, being unarmed and her clothing being both brief and see-through, was subjected to neither. She had her masking wrapped tight around her, as did her escort for the evening, and they proceeded into the foyer unmolested.
It was a stuffy sort of black tie gathering. Oh, sure, all the rich executives and arts patrons and more philanthropic criminals and their partners were here, dressed in the latest fashions from Laurentis de Lion, Zöe, Vashon Island, and RhineGold, but it was all very subdued, lots of black and dark blue and green, sober suits and floor length A-line gowns. Calista drew quite a lot of looks as a result, her short white dress worlds away more daring, and her golden wings were the subject of many a comment.
Calista and Colibri mingled, Colibri surreptitiously checking other guests- and their silent escorts- to identify possible threats. Calista chatted, her natural charm and effortless beauty coupling with her unusual styling and her accent- on full display for the evening- to lend her an exotic air, and suddenly it seemed as though everyone needed to speak with her, even if it was only in passing. Colibri picked up on it quickly, and used the many brief pauses to check guests and bodyguards and flag them with little ARO tags listing possible threats, weapons, likely affiliations, and any notable weaknesses, such as a limp, lame limb, or impaired vision. Calista in turn looked at them all through dual-natured eyes as she swam through the crowd, tagging those with magical potential and as much detail on their abilities as she could muster, as well as indicating who was heavily cybered or a vatjob in disguise. They’d been there for a solid twenty minutes, and Ryoko and Foxglove had already passed by into the gala, when Colibri touched Calista on the arm and wordlessly nodded at the door.
“Mark.” Colibri whispered a second later. The woman who had just entered was young, willowy, and frankly rather forgettable. She was a minor adept, which didn’t really jive with what she seemed capable of, but Calista couldn’t see any deception. Colibri could, however, and a little ARO popped up over her head, saying she wasn’t as strong as Calista or Colibri, but only by a thin margin, and Calista privately resolved to get more practice with her assensing. Calista and Colibri returned to their simultaneous examinations, noting the daring designer gown, cross-cut to show off ribs on one side, hips on the other, and a flat, toned stomach in between, the playful expression, the dangerous looking, unnamed fellow escorting her.
+Target is here, and she has a watchdog. Betting on at least one more, more likely two or three. Her employer is one of the top infobrokers in the city. These guys ain’t gonna be nuyen-a-dozen bullet bait+
Calista read Colibri’s message and nodded to the other woman, and they broke off from the pack, following her towards the grand ballroom.
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Awesome! Thanks, Aria!
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Noir’s reply to Al was terse, and her expression hadn’t flickered from that simmering-anger, calculating look, even with the brush with explosive death they’d just had. “It counts for nothing, because if she’d not pulled that goddamn stunt, there might not have been anything to save, and she just as casually pursued a course that could have gotten me killed.” She glanced at Al, and her tone was flat. “You’re right. I’m here for the artifact. Just the artifact. Once it leaves your control and loose ends are tied up, I’m out. Likewise, if it looks like the artifact is going critical and your team can’t handle it, I’m calling in the qualified experts.” Noir clenched her jaw, the muscles standing out. “And Mr. Guthrie? The next time you all start shooting into a crowd that I’m a part of and don’t tell me,” she looked back out the windshield, and her tone grew even icier, “you’d better hit me first.”
When Ms. Jones spoke about the waste of time that was talking to them again, Noir’s hands curled into fists and she snorted derisively, but she said nothing. Arguing with her or pointing out the flaws in her reasoning would lead to a fight, and if they fought, Noir knew she would do her level best to kill the other woman, and that might be counterproductive. So she tuned out the dryad- she was never going to refer to the woman with the familiarity of a first name, even in her head- and glanced over the live gangers. She could probably get them to sing like canaries, but she didn’t bother. She’d get what she needed from the dead. So much simpler to talk to.
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Hmmmm…Well, we can move on the party and Calista can make her entrance, allow the others to get into position. Since the scene will get split into the run and the social, we’ll just have to freeze the run side of things. That’ll allow Cali and Robyn to catch up, and then when you return we can roll the other half.
Enjoy the holidays and time with family/friends/bound servitors!
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The Seattle Sirens
Evening, Saturday, December 25, 2077, Seattle Performing Arts Center, SeattleAnd so did the four assassins; the Electric Knight, The Bean Sidhe. the Fallen Seraph, and The Gunslinger descend upon Seattle society. armed to the teeth and load for bear, troll, and all points in between. All four were excited, all four operating at the peak of their games. Calista was nervous, of course, to go home in a way after so long apart, but a few words of encouragement from Christine and a reassuring squeeze from Foxglove helped stiffen her spine, and by the time she climbed into the Mitsubishi Shadow- now a deep crimson with white accents and underglow- the fear had melted away. It was time to face the music.
The ride passed in silence. Colibri and Calista were professionals. Conversation was a luxury when not on the job. Instead, Colibri drove and Calista ran a comms check, fired up her power focus, and went over the plans and contingencies one more time via DNI comm chat. All four were running hidden, naturally, and carrying open, mid-range commlinks as digital camouflage. With any luck, spiders on the premises would see the Renraku Senseis and Shiawase Jishis and not investigate any further.
They arrived at the new Seattle Performing Arts Center some five minutes ahead of Foxglove and Ryoko, and ten minutes ahead of Christine. A valet came for the car, and Colibri and Calista exited the vehicle smoothly, Calista’s dress showing off a lot of her legs, the short material riding up and the slit on one side revealing even more, and her body glitter and silver-and-gold wings, along with her gemstone combs threw back the light of a double-dozen camera flashes every few seconds. She smiled, nodded, posed in the right places. She was a mystery here, as was the sharp-dressed, striking and attractive woman who offered her an arm and escorted her into the concert.
The pair made their way inside, showing their tickets and being greeted with deference bordering on obsequiousness. They were shown to a box seat, the second one back, stage right, and were the only two patrons inside it. Calista laughed, seeing that it was box five. “That explains the price break.” She muttered as they were seated.
“Hmmm?” Colibri asked absently, her eyes scanning the room. She hadn’t been stopped, and only a cursory search and a pass through a wholly inadequate MAD scanner had been demanded of either of them, so now she adjusted her arm slides and watched the crowd, scanning for threats and hidden weapons and only paying perfunctory attention to the little vampiress who sat beside her.
“The box tickets. They were cheaper than expected and still available. I was surprised, but now I get it. We’re in box five, see.” Calista explained. “It’s from Phantom of The Opera. The opera ghost commanded box five be left empty, and a lot of theatres and theatre-goers have kind of adopted it as a good luck charm.” Colibri gave her a questioning look, and Calista shrugged, the motion making one wing flutter and setting her glitter to sparkling. “What? I like musicals.”
A few minutes later, Cali and Colibri saw Ryoko and Fox enter and take their seats in row C. Colibri had to point them out, Calista had completely missed Fox without her trademark purple-and-pink. Calista was about to send Fox a singularly unedifying message, something about seeing her house from up here, but she was interrupted by the lights dimming and a woman in an evening gown stepping out to join the mostly-assembled orchestra. Calista frowned, then gasped as the woman turned her head and she caught sight of the vivid tattoo, the mark of The Earl’s Court.
+Oh my gods, Fox, it’s her. The lady with the sunglasses and the gown and the tattoo. She’s here, she’s really here.+
Then she crossed the stage to take her place, and Calista felt that old, familiar feeling. Her mindlink was coming alive again. Calista clamped down on it, but it was like a persistent itch and she was having a hell of a time not scratching it, and she wondered if Robyn felt it, too. Robyn sat, and Calista couldn’t take her eyes off the older woman, drinking in every detail. She saw the limp, and it pained her to know she was the cause. But she saw the smile and the joy of practicing her craft, and Calista’s heart soared. Robyn was, despite it all, okay. She watched Robyn sit, adjust her gown, and draw her cello into position. She’d never seen her lover in a gown before, and a small but nonzero part of Calista was appreciating the sight of how good Robyn made it look.
Then the music started.
For the next two hours, Calista was utterly spellbound. She rode an emotional hurricane as she listened to Robyn play, at times joyous, at times nostalgic, at times bitter or even furious as the songs kept coming. She remembered her old life, remembered Below and the horrors and wonders and beauty and rot to be found there, transported back to London to see an entire life, an entire, magical place in a single note. She laughed, she wept, and she was one of the first on her feet, applauding wildly and using her vocal control to amplify her shouts for an encore to almost-deafening levels.
When it was over and the curtain finally fell, she turned to see even Colibri smiling, albeit without the tears- and thank god for waterproof makeup!- but with the flush-and-goosebumps of an emotional response. Calista looked surprised, she expected complaint or chiding, but Colibri just winked and said, “What? I like classical music.” Calista’s eyes narrowed and Colibri burst out laughing at the expression of mock-anger on the finely-featured banshee.
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@beta Oh, gods, I’m sorry hon. You have my deepest sympathies. I doubt there’s anything I can do, but if you think of anything, give me a shout.