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.
Kel wasn't used to bowing for a show, the cramped space at Madman's left little room for it, and who bowed after a set in front of Madsmoor's most prolific drunks, anyway? So he made his brief and stiff before dashing backstage with his instrument. He had a mind to go straight home, out of engrained duty rather than active purpose. So he made for the stage doors as soon as he could.

As he got there, he saw a sprog got up-skelled and somebody step on his hand. Kel winced for him, and almost didn't see the snow as the thick of the crowd blocked the door. But the biting air went right through him, and he backed away, shivering.

"Erh, alright lad?" He glanced at the child who now was sat in the audience. then to the door again where the attendees struggled to pull the door shut again. "That storm, real flaysome..."
As the performance came to its eventual end, Felix was wracked with regret and self-recrimination. He should never have thought to debut his compositions. And certainly not here. They were too untried, too daring, too Art Nouveau and Bohemian for this audience. Perhaps Lady Madswitte would have appreciated them, if they weren't so rough around the edges.

When he'd first dared to look out over the faces in the audience, failing to find the one face there he had been looking for, Felix had been hurt by his father's absence, though he had not requested his presence. It would have meant far more should his father attend unprompted. Now, in the aftermath of his failure, he was relieved.

Felix bowed automatically, wincing slightly as he feared Tachibana was about to break the harpsichord, watching Kel dart off and wondering if he ought to follow, if he had time, or if he was needed back at the Manor. It was fairly late, and with an early morning again, Felix reluctantly returned back stage to retrieve his overcoat.

It was only then that he realized the tempest outside.
Noah continued to stare at the doorway while he nursed his hand, even though he tried desperately to pretend like he wasn't doing so.  How the heck was he supposed to get back to the hospital now?  The theater wouldn't be the strangest place he had spend the night, but he hadn't exactly paid to see the show.  Would they boot him out into the cold if they found out?  He wasn't exactly dressed for the weather.  At least he had boots now.

The young man speaking had him staring about, trying to figure out if Kel was referring to another lad standing behind him.  When he spotted nobody, he turned back and bobbed his head once, hiding his hand behind his back.  It wasn't broken, just slightly bruised.  "A...Aye."

He followed the direction in which Kel was peering, and he ogled at the storm once more.  "Ain't never seen so much white."  He paused and blurted out the question that weighed on his mind, "Ya fink we be trapped?"
Having not caught on that it had been injured, Kel wagered that hand had something stolen in it, judging by how he knew Madsmoor boys, but he had no right to interfere with that business. Despite being a paid employee of this establishment.

"Nor I." Not getting worried yet, but it did seem odd that snow had such weight to it. It was just flakes of... something. That became water later. "Can't say, lad. Best to stay a while. Just... maybe we oughtta clean thy nose before Marchioness sees." He'd made such effort to clean his own face, seeing as he'd be on a stage proper and not in dim light in the pub's little seedy entertainment dais. He straightened up and motioned for the boy to come with him. He'd go back stage and they would find the right nice sink what had been installed, it had a pipe and everything, going under ground so you didn't have to go to a pump. No expense spared on this place.
Backstage, Toal had been trying to make jokes and keep himself well liked by the others in the circus. He heard that familiar voice though and turned to his brother, his bright smile instantly dampening. His eyes glanced from him to the boy, one of the many delinquents that he didn't recognize. An air of mischief came to his presence as he chuckled.

"O, ye've pick'd up ah child. , ye'd make ah wond'rful pa." He grinned playfully as he brushed back his hair to make sure he looked well as he was hoping to look dashing and impress the lady who owned the theater. It would only help to get him the stage time he so desperately wanted.

Toal was quick on his feet to move away, as he didn't want to incur his brother's wrath. It didn't matter if he rightfully deserved it. He barely glanced behind him to make sure he didn't follow,  hoping the urchin kept him busy. A small laugh left him before he moved around the back of the stage to glance out towards the front of the theater. His pleasant mood dashed as he noticed the coldness and there was some sort of trouble going on.
Noah slowly nodded in a way that made it apparent that he didn't quite understand what Kel meant about the Marchioness.  However, he did reach a grubby hand up to pat at his face, as if he could tell how dirty it was by doing so.  "Why?  Wha' would she do if she sees?"  He wasn't really in the habit of impressing people or being around wealthy folk, for that matter.

Although the boy most definitely didn't want to clean his face, he assumed Kel must know what he was talking about and perhaps it was truly something of importance.  With an anxious sort of head tilt, he scurried along after Kel backstage, staring about rather curiously at everything.

When they happened upon another, the ragamuffin quickly glanced back and forth from one brother to the other, trying to figure out if they were related, but he didn't have time to ask before the older one spoke.  Toal's joke had Noah blinking in confusion and edging a little bit away from Kel, just in case.  "...uh?"
He'd hoped Toal would move along when he saw him, sighing. Though Kel knew the idea of his being a father was supposed to be a joke, he did feel some sadness at the impossibility of it. Sighing, he waited for Toal to move on before he went to the sink and wetted a cloth for the young one.

"We wants to impress the Lady, so she'll keep givin' our village money." He took the cloth over and began wiping the boy's face and checking his clothes for pocketed trinkets. "I think I know thee, you go to school wit Ennis and Manus? They's me brothers."
Noah eyed the wet cloth warily. He wasn’t one to keep clean. He often begrudgingly washed his hands or his face when he was pestered about it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He had spent so much of his life dirty, that it was strange not to be so.

“Money for wha’?” He questioned, having no idea what one woman’s money could even do for the village. He didn’t exactly keep track of village affairs. “Only when they catches us ‘n makes us go! But aye, I knows ‘um, ‘n--”

Anything else he had been trying to say was drowned in a grumble as Toal cleaned his face. He didn’t make it very easy for the poor guy, since he fidgeted about, trying to avoid it. At least, he was suitably distracted that he didn’t quite realize Toal was checking his pockets.

Noah hadn’t stolen anything from the theater, at least. He had truly just wanted to see the show, even if he didn’t want to pay to do so. He did, however, have some poor soul’s pocket watch, a bit of food, and a rather random assortment of what other people would consider junk. The boy couldn’t quite shake the habit of snatching things that weren’t his and hoarding them.
"For nicer things. Maybe more money for farmers. Who knows." He hadn't really moved past the idea of what the hypothetical money would go toward. But more was always good?

Kel seemed satisfied with the cleaning, though his personal standards might not be on par with that of anyone who did not toil with a trowel all day, and let go of the boy. "Then what tha name be? I'm Kellan."
"Oh."  He definitely had no idea what more money for farmers would really end up being, so he just nodded as if he understood.  Either way, he knew none of that money would trickle down to the likes of him.

"'M Noah," he stated simply, not supplying his last name since Kellan hadn't.  When it seemed his face was done being cleaned, he swiped his hands at his cheeks as if willing them to dry. 

"Ya was t' one 'oo played tha' thin' weren't ya?"  He questioned, referring vaguely to the instrument Kellan had played, not quite sure what it had been.  He wasn't all that educated about musical instruments.  "Ya was good."  Then again, it didn't take much to impress the boy.

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