Mag inhaled the cleansing air as the last traces of her voice faded into the darkness. She needed no accompaniment to guide her, but she didn't object to it either. She was seasoned and it showed even in the way she moved, the ethereal grace and the presence she commanded despite her petite stature. But she had been born to music, much like a bird was to fly or a fish to swim. And none had ever seen her so raw. At least not until now.
Finally the echoes died away and she closed her eyes. Basking in the silence she allowed the aura to overtake her and only when her ears picked up the faintest traces of movement in the shadows beyond the curtain did her smile begin to return.
He was here. Mag had a feeling that he would've but she couldn't say why. Perhaps it was the thought that he might be watching her from the darkness beyond. From some place in the shadows like a ghost. A phantom. Mag knew nothing about Erik beyond what Hannibal had mentioned, which was little, and Mag, in turn, had only offered Hannibal but a sample of her own story. Hannibal was keen, though. He was observant and sharper than the blade of a knife.
"Er-ik," Mag sang in a breath. She pretended to be a finch, a songbird and twittered pleasantly at him. "Why do you hide, Erik?" Another small snap of a song and her eyes opened. They cast about at the empty stage and the vacant seats beyond as if she might catch his presence in the rows or balconies.