Orc and Satyr (preview)

I pull away from the glass, clutching my chest as I listen to her sing. The Stagger Soprano they call her and I must admit in my defeat it is an aptly given title. I manage to rip myself away and go to the stage where I cannot hear her. I know I have to collect myself. I cannot let her get to me or see me weak. If I am to hold any leverage over her and keep so decorum in our performance I must keep my cool.

We wait for her to finish greeting her fans before she comes in. She walks on stage, bright eyed and massive grin on her face. The producers greet her and she hugs them. Hugs them! Great big hugs like she’s known them all her life. She then turns to me, still smiling. 

“I am so honored to finally meet you Signore Ettoro,” she holds her hands out, clutching both of mine. She squeezes them and I stare up at her. Her long, dark hair is tied up in a long, cascading braid decorated with gold and trinkets. Her tusks are banded in gold. She is tall and broad shouldered yet maintains a delicate waist.

I frown and nod. “Thank you,” is all i say.

She pulls away, still smiling but looking down. The producers then start their rabbling. They pass out music and squak at the orchestra. They move everyone into places as the music starts.

I always hate this part, where my costar and I have our first practice together. It is always painful, always awkward. That is why I always insisted on working with the same soprano. I was comfortable with her and didn’t have to worry about this initial pain. I take a few breaths as the music swells from the orchestra and then I hear her.

Her voice is melodious and beautiful, she trills when needed and flourishes when it is unexpected. I cannot react though, I refuse to let myself fall like everyone else. I join her singing and she looks at me. Her eyes are wide as if she is shocked. What is so shocking?

As the song ends she clutches her hand to her chest and smiles. She compliments the orchestra and then looks to me.

“As beautiful as ever Signore,” she sighs. “I cannot believe I get to perform with you finally.”

I look away and down at the music. “Thank you.” Once again that is all I say to her. 

I make my way back to my apartment. It is close to the theatre and I always stay there during performances. I travel between France and Italy, my home being in Italy. I do so miss it, I miss the countryside and the wine. I miss seeing my vineyard from my windows and hearing my mother sing to the grapes in the morning. The apartment is nice too, the scenery at night is breathtaking. But nothing compares to Italy in my mind. 

That evening as I am preparing myself for a bed with a glass of wine from home, I hear something from outside. I step outside onto the veranda, listening to the breathtaking singing. I then see Palmyer, standing on the veranda of the apartment next to mine. She is singing, going over the music she had been given today.

She glances over and sees me, she jumps to her feet and clutches her robe around her. “Signore Ettore,” she gasps.

“You,” I tilt my head.