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Ending a travesty (Erik)
BLOOD AND GORE AND MURDER WARNING.
The performances, for the most part, had gone off quite well. Hannibal had great pride in his orchestral companions. He also had great pride in Erik's skill of putting things together, of finding the right parts for the people that he employed, of knowing their strengths and weaknesses.
There was only one issue in the whole night, and he couldn't be positive why it had happened. Hannibal was sure that if this was a regular thing, that he would have noticed before now. It took a little investigation to discover that the target of his ire was an understudy. An understudy who did very little in the way of study, from what he could gather. He supposed that not being ready could be forgivable, if one would just admit to it, most of the time there weren't things that kept the musicians away from the stage. He'd seen a flutist play through a persistent cough without making a single mistake. Whatever had happened to the regular bassoon player had to be fairly significant. But what it came down to was a man who was not in any condition to play as a replacement.
At the best of times, the tone was flat. As if the understudy didn't fully grasp the nuances of the instrument he held. To make it worse, there were some decidedly sour notes that hopefully the audience didn't pick up on. They had, thankfully, more than one bassoon, and the argument could be made to himself that the others had done enough to drown out the horror of the one. But he heard it. And no doubt, if he heard it, Erik had too.
It was a humiliation that Hannibal was not willing to shoulder. He would not allow Erik's beloved opera house be sullied by somebody who was less than worthy of being there. He would not allow himself to be grouped in with a person who did not see playing as a craft, and did nothing to hone the skills that needed to be present in order to play well.
Hannibal stalked his prey easily. He knew that he likely shouldn't be doing such things within Erik's domain, he didn't want his friend to get into trouble, but he was also unwilling to risk that there might be somebody waiting at home, or that the man wouldn't go right home. The blight needed to be ended swiftly. As soon as possible. Which meant the monster needed to devour the lamb before it had a chance to escape, or bleat out and alert anyone else to the danger.
He was kneeling in a prop storage room, a knife in his hand, and a body leaking blood when he heard the door open. Despite the imminent threat to his freedom and possibly his well being, Hannibal did not panic. He stayed crouched, and looked back over his shoulder to see who might be intruding upon his delights. If they, too, needed to be removed from the world.
The performances, for the most part, had gone off quite well. Hannibal had great pride in his orchestral companions. He also had great pride in Erik's skill of putting things together, of finding the right parts for the people that he employed, of knowing their strengths and weaknesses.
There was only one issue in the whole night, and he couldn't be positive why it had happened. Hannibal was sure that if this was a regular thing, that he would have noticed before now. It took a little investigation to discover that the target of his ire was an understudy. An understudy who did very little in the way of study, from what he could gather. He supposed that not being ready could be forgivable, if one would just admit to it, most of the time there weren't things that kept the musicians away from the stage. He'd seen a flutist play through a persistent cough without making a single mistake. Whatever had happened to the regular bassoon player had to be fairly significant. But what it came down to was a man who was not in any condition to play as a replacement.
At the best of times, the tone was flat. As if the understudy didn't fully grasp the nuances of the instrument he held. To make it worse, there were some decidedly sour notes that hopefully the audience didn't pick up on. They had, thankfully, more than one bassoon, and the argument could be made to himself that the others had done enough to drown out the horror of the one. But he heard it. And no doubt, if he heard it, Erik had too.
It was a humiliation that Hannibal was not willing to shoulder. He would not allow Erik's beloved opera house be sullied by somebody who was less than worthy of being there. He would not allow himself to be grouped in with a person who did not see playing as a craft, and did nothing to hone the skills that needed to be present in order to play well.
Hannibal stalked his prey easily. He knew that he likely shouldn't be doing such things within Erik's domain, he didn't want his friend to get into trouble, but he was also unwilling to risk that there might be somebody waiting at home, or that the man wouldn't go right home. The blight needed to be ended swiftly. As soon as possible. Which meant the monster needed to devour the lamb before it had a chance to escape, or bleat out and alert anyone else to the danger.
He was kneeling in a prop storage room, a knife in his hand, and a body leaking blood when he heard the door open. Despite the imminent threat to his freedom and possibly his well being, Hannibal did not panic. He stayed crouched, and looked back over his shoulder to see who might be intruding upon his delights. If they, too, needed to be removed from the world.