"So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness dancing."
~T.S. Elliot
The Hedonist sat cloistered away in the lower bar of the Shanachie Theater; the lone, raw boned figure sitting with a gentlemanly cross of legs at a small table for two just off the thoroughfare which led to the auditorium. The opposite chair remained empty as the man had sought solitary entertainment for the night amongst performers and strangers. Such conviviality was best enjoyed alone sans the constricting restraint of companionship. The Hedonist found it far easier to sow and reap with esurient glee when not weighed down by the expectations, judgments and myopic limitations of transient and evanescent intimates.
One might even be forgiven for assuming such a prolonged absence had transitioned into a permanent departure yet the devil's hands were never truly idle were they' Needed in many parts, his flock was ever growing and needed proper tending if they were to thrive and multiply. A sardonic glance towards the ceiling as the Hedonist was forever keeping score and though one might remain sequestered...for now...there were many others crying out for his salvation.
There was a certain energy to opening night...a frenetic siren's call to one of his nature...that proved as irresistible as the productions themselves. Emotions and, consequently, passions ran close to the surface with such performances...the music and dancers a poultice helping to bring repressed desires and sentiment to the surface. He would begin where they ended and ply libertine strings with profligate fingers until a proper harmony of temptation and desire fused inexorably with wanton need. And then, with such wicked notes still echoing, he would drift away in search of new compositions and notes to play...his tune forever on the tip of the tongue yet never recalled with any precision. Such things were in his nature and like the other name he went by, the Scorpion was compelled to fulfill it.
The golden green smear of leonine eyes prowled over the rim of his glass, chosen drink nearly finished as the appointed hour neared, to those assembled alongside him in the bar as well as the souls who moved beyond the etched glass windows in the theater's foyer. There was something else in the air tonight. Something beyond the excitement of artistic anticipation. He felt it along the skin as it seeped through the ruthlessly tailored threads of his chosen suit and soaked that portentous energy through the pores to absorb its very essence.
"My my..." The Hedonist murmured to himself, glass paused in its tilt for a scant moment before its contents were drained. "Just what is behind such tumult I wonder." The purr of prurient prose revealing the enticing timbre of his voice. There was a presence, a presence which seemed to toe the line of oppressive whilst simultaneously remaining unobtrusive in the form of security. The Hedonist had enjoyed performances at the theater before and had never felt the press of such an aegis. Intrigued, the man stood and gave a single twist to the iron banded ring on a finger before claiming the silver headed cane and joined the building flow of humanity as they filed towards their crimson seats.
Snippets of conversation were sifted through as he found his seat, panned for any gold hidden amongst the mundane though none gave clue to the shift in energy about the place nor did they offer temptation to the tempter. A mystery left unsolved...a Gordian Knot to unravel as he gave a glance of chartreuse colored eyes about the buzzing throng of the audience. Nothing. It was the dimming of the house lights and the first plucks and puffs of instruments which finally drew and kept his attention upon the stage.
An amused grin formed as the prologue opened to find Lord Wilson and his manservant beguiled with opium whilst taking shelter within a pagan monument. The Hedonist had an affinity for such tales...ancient cultures with foreign faiths slowly ground to the same sand which swept across their civilizations. He settled in, primary focus on the beginning of Act I though fingers continued to read the invisible web within the room...precise touches in search of any tremors which might spike his curiosity or interest.
Quality dance and music were expected at the Shanachie Theater and as the Numidian King gave chase to close Act I those involved failed to disappoint yet again. Forbidden love was a livener to his senses for the Hedonist removed the shackles of the forbidden, made available all the debauched desires a conventional and restrained society sought to silence, and so he sympathized with Ta-Hor and Aspicia, easily done thanks to the performance of both dancers. His attentions roused and focused as Aspicia threw herself into the ancient river of crocodile and hippopotamus, the convergence of the great rivers in the Underworld joining the music to pull his attentions to the stage.
It was a nubile little naiad that danced one of the Rivers which captivated the Hedonist. The Scorpion had been tracking the trajectory of his little star's career as it was on the rise. He'd seen her first as the temple dancer Nikiya in La Bayadere at the suggestion of the illusionist La Roque, enjoyed her as a pretty little French doll in Coppelia, and had been captivated by her deliciously dark swan, Odile, in Swan Lake and now as a vision of Conrad's dark river given life. He found it arresting...the contrast in the girl's light and the river she embodied. Not unlike the waters themselves, the dancer revealed great and secretive depths which beckoned in her own language of dance yet it was one his marrow translated into his stygian dialect. It was the raw natural power that transfixed the eye...the untamed energy which venerated nothing but itself while simultaneously giving guise to the civilized word above. He felt the connection of the performance, felt it touch the very heart of his inner darkness. Enthralled, he could feel the deep currents threatening to carry others away as well...felt it call to the crepuscule within all men and women no matter the masks they wore to brand themselves as virtuous, principled and righteous, and invite them to step beyond.
As the ballet came to its conclusion the Hedonist felt as if lifting from a dream world himself. He stood with the audience and lent the sound of his own applause to the rising celebration of a performance well done and equally well earned. Leonine eyes stalked the stage...aware he had other games to play beyond the walls of the theater...yet they failed to land upon intended quarry. No stranger to temptation, the Hedonist felt the incessant pull within to relent and tarry yet he was needed in fallow fields...the prospect, thankfully so, as equally enjoyable as the ballet.
