Denouement (Mag)
The City Opera blazed with hot light on this night. The opening for Ignite had gone off without a single slip up. It was exactly what he'd wanted, and he'd worked hard to ensure that it was so. He made his appearances, brief though they were, at the masquerade beforehand, and at the gala afterwards. Through it all, he kept his distance from the lead soprano. The woman who pulled at him despite his knowledge that his heart had been reduced to ash in the destructive inferno of Christine's absence.
Yet, he wasn't fool enough to believe that all his heart was destroyed. The music was his blood and breath; it would come regardless of his heart. But the constant tugging he felt when he saw Magdelene gliding over marble floors or through the electric lights on stage... the way he found himself leaning forward in his box when her lips parted and her throat opened... There was something there, and he knew well enough by now to recognize it.
And there was the fact that she hadn't left. Even though there was the excuse of the girl at his manor, that firebrand Arya, Magdelene had very little to do with her now that she was mended. Arya stayed because he had promised to train her when he believed he killed his only friend. Now that Hannibal was returned to them the promise still remained - but it carried far less urgency than before. Not that he would betray his word; he never would. But it seemed that his services were no longer required. And the need for Magdelene's had long ago dissolved.
Yet, they both stayed - she and she. He was a solitary creature, and it was odd to him to find his home filled with life that was not his own alone. That, too, did something to the heart of him. He had not yet found a name for it. But he did not scorn it.
Now, he moved toward the long stretch of black and metal that would take him from his Opera House to his manor. His first thought had been to find Magdelene and bring her with him - but despite taking her on as his lead soprano,she was not his and he knew it very well. After the rush of his blood through the auditorium, he felt raw and worn and too full of wanting to trust himself alone with her. He descended the steps of the Opera House, then, alone - and his attention was focused only on the car idling at the bottom.