Altair Laurent (shotinthedark) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-04-01 18:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !thread, altair laurent, arielle chiaro |
I can't very well play my own piano at dawn. I'd wake the entire household.
Who: Ari and Altair
What: A rude awakening
Where: Bard's Guild Hall in the Theater District
When: Backdated: five-ish months ago
Rating: PG
Status: Complete!
It was early enough that the lanterns were still lit along the relatively quiet streets of Emillion. People still bustled about, of course, but in smaller numbers than would be out later in the day. In the Bazaar district, stall owners swept their stalls and counted their inventory. In the Commoners district, the bakery did brisk business and children sold newspapers on street corners.
The Theater District, most active at night, was somewhat empty. Here and there, people could be spotted stumbling home, but Altair supposed most of them were already lying abed somewhere, sleeping off hangovers. Entertainers and bards tended not to be early risers.
Ordinarily, Altair preferred not to travel in the Theater District any more than he could avoid it. He'd been given some trouble from time to time for his fancy clothes and noble accent, and although he believed himself equal to any trouble that might cross his path now, he preferred to avoid it. This early in the morning, he didn't expect to see anyone, but he'd still taken some basic precautions. He'd left Coco stabled in an inn near the edge of the Commoners District, and he carried nothing but his pistol and some useful odds and ends.
He arrived at the building labeled the Bard's Guild without incident and took out his key. The front part of the guild was fairly innocuous, run as it was as a legitimate business. Inside, however, there were surprises for anyone who wasn't supposed to be there. He opened the door, stepped over a tripwire, and went inside.
The piano had pride of place on the first floor, in the corner of the room. It was there Altair went, out of habit. He lifted the cover and slid onto the well-worn bench. He curled his hands over the cool ivories. He had a piano at home, of course, but it didn't have the gravitas of the one at the Bard's Guild. Taking in a deep and slightly dusty breath, he depressed a key, breaking the still silence of the empty building.