Sarah Tintagyl Posted May 2, 2010 Report Share Posted May 2, 2010 The Production of Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades was the premiere opera being hosted at the Sydney Opera House in New South Wales, the city's entire elite had gathered around in their best to see the production begin. Men wore tuxedos and high top hats, it would be a sin to be seen without a golden pocket watch and a narrow collar, while their female escorts wore long gowns of white, blue, yellow, purple, and black that sparkled in the lights of the Opera House's foyer. Crystal chandeliers hung above them as they talked about every subject under the sun, politics, the war across the Pacific, city life and what was expected for this particular production. But for most of them, the worries and troubles of everyday life was left on the other side of the Opera House's doors. Here in this palace of art and culture, one was supposed to focus on anything but the gaiety of the evening and the calming music that was supposed to transport them to another world. With that mindset, the woman in black would fit right in. No one would notice her, she wore a wide brimmed black hat with a long black veil that covered her face, her dress was form fitting, a black gown with white sparkles that danced in the light, she had long black gloves, and high black heels, and if one could somehow see under the veil, her eyes were a sharp blue, bathed in rose water and the scent of lilacs surrounded her as she walked over to the usher at the front door and bowed, reaching into a small black purse and pulling out a ticket. "Darling I hate to disturb you. But if you would so kind as to take me to my booth, I have a private place to watch the production." The usher looked at the black apparition curiously, he dealt with eccentric aristocrats all day, but none who were so withdrawn as the woman in front of him. Taking the ticket, his eyes widened a moment and things began to make sense, foreign aristocrats with tons of money. Now it made sense and maybe there was a large tip in it for him as well. "Of course Countess. It must have been an awfully long trip from France to South Wales, I hope you found the city relaxing." "Quite, it almost feels like back home." "Oh." He narrowed his eyes. "I never knew France and South Wales had much in common, but I guess I learn new things everyday." He stepped aside and turned towards the stairs leading towards the upper levels. "If you would follow me Your Grace, your private booth is right this way." The usher led the Countess up the flights of marble stairs until they came to a wooden door, protected by two large men in black on both sides. In the booth, on the right of the stage, there was a couch, covered in velvet, a bucket of ice and a bottle of Pinot Noir and two glasses, along with a pair of opera glasses for the Countess' viewing pleasure. "I assume." The usher started as the Countess took her seat on the couch, "that you have a guest coming." "Yes." She said, not turning back once on the couch. "Brigadier Raglan, when he comes, if you could please direct him up to the booth. He should have his ticket. Oh..." She opened her purse and handed the usher a 100 $ASD Bill. "I apologize that its not your currency, but that should be a sufficient statement of my thanks." The usher nodded speechless. "Quite...quite so Your Grace have a pleasant evening." "I will thank you." She lifted up the glassed and leaned back, folding her scarf over her lap and leaning back, her blonde hair cascading over the back of the couch. --- Meanwhile, earlier that day, Gareth Raglan had received a mysterious letter in his mail. It was simple and too the point, he was invited to spend the evening at the Sydney Opera House, for the production of Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades, in the company of the Countess de Saint-Germain. The details of the letter, that included his ticket to the production, was to discuss matters that were of dire importance to the world, Australia, and to him specifically. It was cryptic to be sure, but that's how she worked and she knew that Raglan's curiosity would bring him to that private booth. Where she would be waiting, her silhouette illuminated against the darkness of the opera house, only her hair betraying the only sense of light. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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