A deluded illusion?

By: Keegan Posted on: July 12, 2008

Elisaz spat into his hand, slicking his long blonde hair back out of his eyes. With a nonchalant grin, he swung his pack from his shoulders, dropping it softly to the side of the Scarlattan stage. Already he could hear the murmuring of the audience, concealed only by the thick burgundy red curtain. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of Elisaz' mouth as he toyed with the ideas of further fame and fortune. He knew very well that behind the curtain, opportunities awaited. City Senators mingled with Order heads. Prominent merchants sat alongside accomplished hunters. Each and every audience member, an opportunity to further his own wealth and social standing.

Placing his lute carefully on the stage, Elisaz began to rummage through his pack. His supple hands quickly found the small mirror and he held it from his body, admiring what he saw. Long blonde hair framed his face, emphasizing his captivating oceanic eyes and perfect complexion. His lips drifted apart in a broad grin, revealing pearl-white teeth. A smug smile lingered on his face as he paused to admire his perfect features. Swivelling on the spot, Elisaz positioned the mirror in such a way to examine his large white wings. Reaching back, he hummed contently and preened his wings, ensuring they were in optimum condition. A final precaution, Elisaz quickly brushed down his perfectly tailored suit, and rearranged his handkerchief so it protruded from his jacket pocket on just the right angle. His eyes sparkled with confidence and as he dropped the mirror back into his pack, he scooped up his polished lute from the floor.

Sensing the possibility of a restless audience, Elisaz sauntered out on to the performing area, standing immediately centre stage. A lone wooden stool stood at his feet, but otherwise the stage remained barren. Elisaz let his whole body relax as he slid on to the stool. He closed his eyes and softly let his fingers run across the lute-strings. Without obvious intention, his mouth opened very slightly and all that was pure and innocent seemed to escape from between his lips. As his voice rose and strengthened, the stage began to transform. The empty stage became a bustling city square. His voice grew stronger and the stage changed once more. Vines climbed up from beneath the wooden stool, wrapping around a Viridian which appeared seemingly from nowhere. Lush grass appeared to sprout up from between the cracks on the stage floor. His fingers slowed dramatically until soon, it was only his voice, growing stronger and full of vitality. Still, the stage was transforming, an elaborate illusion designed to deceive the audience, to make them see something that was not there. As Elisaz let his voice slowly and elegantly die, he opened his eyes to survey his wondrous handicraft. The empty stage now appeared to be a majestic forest, flourishing trees and lavish surroundings. The backdrop, created only with music, showed a crystal-blue sky with the ice-capped Vashnar mountains in the distance and a smattering of wispy clouds.

Elisaz grinned and turned to see Spalding, the stage manager, standing patiently at the side of the stage. With an arrogant nod, Elisaz signalled for Spalding to open the curtains. The audience hushed suddenly as the curtains peeled apart and Elisaz threw back his head, bursting into his opening song.

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Spalding shook his head, sadly watching the strange fiasco play out on stage- a small wiry man sitting on a wooden stool, an unstrung lute lying to his side. The man's mouth hung open, a deep mumbling groan exiting his lungs. The man, dressed entirely in rags, looked up from his slumped position, his gaze falling for a moment on Spalding. His eyes seemed empty, deep caverns of hopelessness. He grinned a toothless grin before suddenly heaving into a guttural cough. His long, dirty, matted hair placed his face in shadow, but his mud-stained limbs told clearly of his social standing. Spalding pulled his gaze away from the man and out into the many empty seats of the Scarlattan Theatre. A sad smile lingered on Spalding's face. For him, this was a common sight. Most days he saw Bards who would proclaim they were of elite status among illusionists. He had no doubt they were right. Only the very best could deceive even themselves.