Open An Imprisoning Finale
The first show was a bit rusty on its ending's hinges, and as he banged abuse upon the harpsichord he spied the corners of the windows fill up with snow. Surely next time would be better...

The final note he made sure to be loudest, and did not stand to bow with the cast as it gathered. He crept back stage and listened to the audience's reaction intently, then went to shove things around on Vatsalya's dressing table in search of cigarettes.

He wasn't looking forward to going home in this weather. They'd have to stop in the market for additional firewood. Or they could squat in the wings of the theatre if they were quiet enough. He did so enjoy the work done in the... backstage's backstage; Under the spiral staircase leading up to the catwalk was a cupboard room for storing props, but it had been outfitted instead with linens and pillows and incense burners. For 'relaxing'.

Ellis only observed the storm's beginning, and as the revue ended and its attendees rose to exit, they had trouble with the doors. Only the stronger of the crowd could manage to push them open, and when they did, snow poured in by the bucket load and threatened to flood the foyer.
Colette had stared at the stage after the last notes played. She wasn't sure exactly what she was feeling except disappointment. It was fine, though she had expected better for their grand opening. Perhaps she'd make some suggestions to Anatole later. Her lips tightened into the smile making her lips thin. It had been bad enough that she had come without Kelvin as planned. She didn't like sitting alone, it didn't look proper in her eyes as if there was trouble in the marriage.

When she noticed there was a bit of a commotion at the doors did she finally rise to look. The snow pouring in made her finally drop the facade of having a pleasant evening and she frowned sharply and gripped her skirts to walk towards the door though still kept her distance. The snow, there was so much of it, was keeping them in. Just the idea of trudging through it made her shudder. She shook her head. No. No. No. This couldn't be. She started to make her way back to her seat, but there was a bit more of an urgency to her step as she sat down. Her eyes immediately started to scan the place for her little assistant. Anatole wasn't the most competent, but he was the only one she would depend on in this moment.
Although he had slipped into the building partway through the show, it seemed to garner the boy's approval.  He clapped enthusiastically, assuming the racket others were making would mask his own.  He didn't have much to compare the show to, and he was easily entertained, so he was probably the worst judge of quality.  

When others headed for the door, he elbowed himself into the crowd of people, intending to slip out on the heels of a tall audience member.  However, when the group stopped, he crashed into the poor villager and toppled gracelessly to the ground.  Noah squinted between a cluster of legs and eyed the snow that had spilled inside.  How did it get that high so quickly?


A boot trod on his hand, and he quickly tugged it away with a wince.  To avoid being trampled, he quickly crawled toward the nearest chairs and clambered to his feet in the middle of the row.  He observed the commotion from his new vantage point and cursed under his breath.  Now what was he supposed to do?  That snow was at least to his knees!  Maybe he could hide backstage.  He glanced about to see what others would decide to do, anxiously chewing on the skin surrounding his thumbnail.

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