#((even as a grown-ass man randall is *still* creeped out by the idea of fairies tricking or bewitching or otherwise stealing someone away))

[theheadlessgroom]

https://beatingheart-bride.tumblr.com/post/714272738944155648/beatingheart-bride-theheadlessgroom

@beatingheart-bride

The opera went off without a hitch for its two first acts: No disembodied voices echoing around the auditorium (nor did the new chandelier, installed at the beginning of the year, rattle precariously above the audience’s heads; the police took great care to put men up near it, lest they have a repeat of Il Muto’s curtain call), no rats raining from the rafters, not even a whisper of a ghost being around. There was still tension felt among the cast, the crew, and the managers, but so far, all had gone well.

And all continued to go well as the third act began, as the Don, draped in a hooded black cloak, sought to seduce the beautiful Aminta, exuding confidence from his anonymity-at least, until Aminta herself proved to be just as bound and determined to seduce her mystery suitor, taking her would-be lover by surprise with her forward flirtations, as they together approached The Point of No Return.

Randall gulped from behind the veil as he watched Emily skip out onto the stage, singing cheerfully as she flounced around, spritely and light-footed (a small showcase of her dancing talents as well as her vocal ones): Truly, she was beautiful in the peachy tones of Aminta’s dress, evoking spring-turning-summer (especially with a rose blooming in her blonde locks), with her tall black boots and black trim of her gown hinting at a mature streak many often overlooked. She was everything he dreamed of in the role and more.

Am I a fool? he thought to himself as he watched her, preparing for their long-awaited duet: Was this even a good idea, putting himself out onstage in front of an ocean of people, right under the noses of the police? Should he have just stayed in the attic like Emily suggested in her letter? An uncertainty began to creep into his gut...

…but as soon as Emily looked at him, and he began to sing, none of that mattered to him now, as he found himself melting effortlessly into the role of Don Juan, just as she had so beautifully melted into the role of Aminta. To be quite honest, the title character was the only one he hadn’t made any casting suggestions for in the libretto, as a part of him had always longed to play it himself. He never, ever imagined that he ever would, granted, and yet...here he was: Singing for a captivated audience with his angel.

And right under Morgan’s nose too! he thought delightedly, catching a glimpse of the pianist in the pit as he turned all of his focus on Emily and their performance.