An experience set in beauty

I sat gently within a familiar darkness, lamplight bathing a soft-orange glow upon the seating of the theatre. It was a different feeling, however. There was not a hint of silence within the building, for dozens of people had gathered simply to hear Theresia’s words.

Within the audience, Kitsch Yulier had made his presence known. Simply sitting down was enough to invite eyes to gaze upon him. His elegance was nauseatingly pervasive.

Together, I saw the old merchant Elin and the man whose cart I had helped repair. Amidst the audience were dozens of people who I had assisted throughout my time in Crelle.

Even the newspaper organiser December had appeared from their shadowy office to listen to Theresia’s play. Rather, she had arrived in her capacity as Cassea Forger, a simple woman within the steam city.

“You invited all of them here, didn’t you?” Cassea asked of me with a softened tone of voice.

I did not speak in response, for it did not deserve one.

I had said it before. I had wanted to bring Theresia’s works to the forefront of the bronze city. Inviting many people was simply the first step.

During my time at the ball held by the familiar white-haired nobleman, I had spoken to the guests in my capacity as a poet, and had invited them to the theatre.

I glanced over towards the nobleman Kitsch once again. I was hoping with the whole of my heart that he enjoyed Theresia’s works. I did not have doubts about the wondrous nature of her play, but I was not sure that it would be something he would be interested in.

On the chance that he was however, he could have been a large proponent in spreading her name.

Suddenly, the lamplight was cut short, and a large spotlight focused down heavy upon the stage. The theatre crew that operated the system of mirrors stood amidst the rafters, focusing the bright sunlight towards the stage.

Amidst the bright light, Theresia emerged from amidst the satin curtains.

What she saw then was not what she had expected. For the first time in her life, an audience had gathered to hear her words.

Theresia stepped towards the edge of the stage, her eyes bright and excited as she stared upon those that sat before her. It was as if she had stepped into a completely different role. Now, she simply existed as ‘the playwright’.

With a smile full of passion, her lips parted as she began to speak.

“Everyone, I want to welcome you here today, although I didn’t expect so many for you to be here...” Theresia laughed softly. “In all honesty, this play was made with one person in mind...”

She let out a soft sigh, refocusing her gaze as she stared upon the crowd with new expectations.

“Although, I hope you will all enjoy it regardless.” Theresia smiled. “Please, keep your hearts open as you listen to ‘Endless starlight’.”

As the spotlights shut off completely, a new light emerged within the theatre. The eyes of the crowd turned upwards in unison, and hearts were stopped in a single moment.

There was silence, for a time. Only quiet, shuddered, and gasping breaths could be heard lurking in the air. 

Upon the roof of the theatre, thousands of glimmering crystals had been slotted gently into the framework. They twinkled dazzlingly, a gorgeous spectacle that encapsulated my lifelong joy.

Theresia had recreated the stars I had shown her, with the expectation of her heart being that I would have been the only one within the theatre.

She had done it all for me.

I knew then as I saw her expression of passion that I had fallen for Theresia Hayes. I knew then as I stared upon the ceiling of stars that it was a simple truth.

Alike snowfall, my heart had descended towards budding emotions for the playwright.

It had started out as a simple love for her works, for as a creative she was akin to my own heart’s passion. As I had spent time with her however, I grew to realise it was not a simple respect for a playwright that had been leaving my heart to beat so quick. It was not the admiration for her words that set my face hot like forged steel, and as red as carnelian.

That was because it was not the playwright I had fallen for.

Over time, I had grown to love ‘Theresia’ as a whole.

That love wasn’t wasn’t a feeling I was ready to accept, however.

It was a feeling lined by the guilt of my past.

It was a feeling lined by lifelong aversion.

I simply stared at her admiringly from afar, a simple man within a crowd of many. Yet, as if her eyes were magnets, they were drawn towards my gaze in an instant.

Seeing my expression, Theresia’s twisted into a face of shock.

Looking towards me, her expression was filled with abject confusion. When she gazed upon me, her face was flush with reddened apprehension. As she finished her introduction to the play, she quickly adjourned to the backstage without paying me another glance.

I wondered then, had it been a look of disdain upon me?

Had I done something wrong?

Had my love for her been wrong?

/////

Theresia walked gently in silence, her gaze turnt down towards her slow-stepping feet. Her face felt hot, and her heart a mess of tangled emotions.

“All of this... just for me?” She spoke, her tone holding a mixture of an awestruck whisper, and the dissatisfaction of her undeserving heart.

She could hear clearly the joyous cries of the massive crowd that had gathered for her words.

Theresia enjoyed having such a large audience. However, ever since she had put on ‘The man with the mechanical eye’, there had been only one person within the crowd whose heart she had wanted to move.

There had been one person that had torn her from her writing.

Theresia stood within the darkness of the backstage, glaring down at the floor with widened eyes. Her fingers gripped tightly upon a countertop, her knuckles white in indignance.

“For my sake... you showed me your ‘stars’...” She spoke softly, her eyes furrowed. “For my sake... you bleed. For my sake, you fill my theatre so that they may hear my words...”

There was silence amongst Theresia’s mood, for it was so radiant upon her that it bathed the room in tragedy.

It was a clash of passions.

It was a division of her heart.

Theresia gripped tightly at her blouse, unable to tear away the aching within her chest.

“How could I not have noticed...” Theresia grimaced, her expression reddened and indignant. “My heart had strayed away from my passion, and has begun to beat for you instead...?”

Over time, she had noticed how little attention she had been focusing towards her writing. It was all because she had been spending more and more time with Agreste.

“All I know is my passion... Is it truly okay to commit my heart to two parallels?” Theresia asked herself aloud. “Can I begin to love you, and still grasp at my own dreams...?”

Tears began to stream down her face, for new emotions were confusing.

Theresia had never felt loved, or felt love.

To her, this expansion of her own sky was terrifying.

Yet, at the same time, to her it was terrifyingly beautiful