Aracind sat in his reserved seat at the theatre as he loved musicals, operas and plays and would not miss one for the world. Opening his programme he read the cast and noted the director Ken Caswell who had directed the show around the world.

The theatre was not too shabby, but could be improved with more seating perhaps, Aracind's mind wandered to when he had last watched a musical of this measure, it was in 2000 in London, for the fist production of "Martin Guere" by the same composers of Lés Misérables. Aracind was dressed smartly in his suit with a red tie and clean polished black shoes, his hair slicked back as usual and a gleaming smile on his face, he attempted to light a cigarette but was told by a patron that was sitting near that there was no smoking in the theatre.. Aracind should have really known, after all he wasn't human.

Lés Misérables was indeed Aracind most treasured musical, it had appeared in the early 1980's and Aracind had seen the very first production in France. The curtain came up and the chain gang appeared on stage, Aracind was in his element. He sank into his seat and savoured the intoxicating music. Sitting next to him was a girl that Aracind seemed to know... but could not place...

The theatre was a place that Llhena made it a point to visit. Acting in and of itself held a fascination for her. Mortals had such short lives, yet they were lived with so much variableness, that it was a constant amusement to watch them.

To see them act, for a moment, a few Acts, another person altogether was curious. Did they see how very like vampires they were at that point? When the audience saw the actors in their various roles, so short and yet so full of significance, symbolism, and vitality, that the roles were like the Mortals' short lives...

And music... Music was many things to Llhena. Once she had loved it, and still she did. She sang very well, though rarely to anyone but herself, or occassionally her victims.

This particular musical was a favorite, and she had had a limousine pick her up at a nice house in Demaitre, which she owned, but lent to wealthy Mortals through an arbitrator, so that no contact needed to be made. The old style in which the theatre was built made each experience all the more inviting, and she looked forward to the visits there more than most anything else.

Her pale green gown was fitted to her form, and flared slightly at the hips into cascading, but close-fitting layers. Ribbons of the same translucent green colour adorned the bodice (which was decidedly low) and the waist. On the right side the fair layers were slitted to allow a glimpse of smooth, pale skin when she walked.

Leaving her wrap and bag at the door, she took the arm of the usher and accompanied him up to her seat. She had run a bit late due to traffic, and so did not have time to inspect her fellow theatre-goers. Settling into her private box, she watched the opening, flicking a dark curl from her eyes and causing the emerald jewelry on wrist, neck, finger, and ears to glimmer in the faint light.

Arranging her skirts, her mind drifted to the English theatre... Shakespearean dramas had always been her favorite - he had been an excellent playwrite, but for musicals the French and the Italian far excelled all others...

Breathing deeply and finally relaxing frm her flustered pace to arrive before she missed anything, she let her eyes drink in the scene... And then a sort of nagging at the back of her mind alerted her to the presence of someone like herself...

"Before I speak a single syllable i wish to apologise for my abrupt departure of our last meeting my lady" Aracind whispered into Llhena's ear before moving closer so that they may speak silently without disturbing the performance that was taking place.

He noted her beautiful elaborate dress and smiled at how much he found her a vision of beauty and lust for mortals and immortals alike. He stopped his trail of thought at once and spoke clearly to her.

"The theatre inspires me so, as a child i would always go to the theatre, it opens ones mind and the composers are my idea of so called "immortals" how they can combine the lyrics and the scores to make the ideal symphony of notes that silently wavers over the audience and whispers in ones ears as they sink deeper into the composers mind

"Think nothing of it."

Llhena tilted her ear towards his mouth to catch his words, surprised to find him hear, but not letting that ruffle her complexion any.

"Victor Hugo gave playwrites and directors much good material to build off of, it would appear."

Her eyes moved over the stage, implicating that the musical before them was the product of someone using the genius of the original author. She had read many of the classics, this musical's origin not excluded.

He was looking at her, she knew, but she did not mind it - why else would she dress the way she did? True, it was more beneficial for her to lure Mortals when she needed to feed, though she tried not to unless she had to, and was subtle about it when she did.

"Composers are immortal, it is true. Their thoughts, knowledge, passions - all continue on in their music or writings... Although music outpaces writing and spoken words. When the lyrics are lost, the tune is long remembered... Why do you suppose that is?"

Aracind nodded and turned his head away from Llhena and watched the stage, Javert arrived fiercely on the streets of Paris in pursuit of Jean Valjean, Javert has always been Aracind's favourite character.

" Javert is sometimes portrayed as the antagonist in the production and can be seen easily as one. But if you look behind the character you can find that he is the most sympathetic of them all, and the one with which the audience falls in love with and stays with him from beginning to his end. It is because of his unchanging approach on society, that there are two types of people those who follow the law, and those who disobey, it is because of his never changing mind that the audience sympathises with him, and in some instances...... relates"

Aracind straightened his red tie and turned to look at Llhena, He had missed such company in the past years, such moments where to be savoured of course.

Her eyes followed the same actions and lyrics, but she took from them quite different things than Aracind seemed to.

"Javert's death is regrettable because, naturally, Mortals are sad to see someone succumb to that Mortality. However, the only admiration is in his devotion to what he believes. Passion is commendable - even when it as misguided as Javert's. Devotion to his cause... Admirable, but not enough to change his status as antagonist. Most Mortals do not hold so strongly to their beliefs - we are dwelling in an age of compromise."

Another smile to him, and she returned her attention to the stage, still inclined to him slightly.

OOC: Sorry this has been so long, Busy with the girlfriend and writing a script.

OC:

Aracind admired the girl for he enjoyed her company, her words in some ways comforted him.

"And if you fall as lucifer fell.. you fall in flame" Aracind sighed "These lyrics are true in their own subtle way" He turned to Llhena and touched her hand and smiled.
Her hand reminded him of the cold nights they had spent in southern France, where they drank the blood of nobles and controlled close societies behind closed doors, he missed it so.

Llhena turned her eyes back to him with a softer smile on her face, eyes dropping to his hand on hers, and then back to his eyes.

"Flames... dangerous for a vampire to play with, even more so than a Mortal."

He removed his hand immediately and straightened his tie, a trait he always had bared.

"Musicals, plays, opera's their all good for escaping into but the reality of it all is there is no song and dance, there is no joy or a happy ending where a character such as Jean Valjean reforms and is welcomed by God, We are such creatures that will never be welcomed by him..... and such times i feel these people are condemned to hell as well"

His eyes scanned the theatre watching the people below, He scanned a mortal man's mind for an instance and bared an image of hatred and regret, but immediately stopped himself, as he was more interested in Llhena's words. The man exited the theatre with a confused expression.

" I do not know..."

Such a thing, the end... How could it not be in a vampires mind? It was what eluded them, what made the restless, unsettled, wavering. Mortals lived their life, considered it a journey, but for vampires it was weary, lonely, unending... They had no end to their journey, or no hope or sight of it to cheer them on their way, which perhaps is what accounts for the gloomy or melancholy aire that often pervades them, and their natures.

"I believe in God. What God... I do not know. There is something in salvation of men. I have seen the difference such beliefs make in men, but as you seem to imply, I do not believe we are capable of obtaining such redemption. Eternally damned..."

She studied his eyes thoughtfully for a moment.

"I wonder sometimes... It is hard not to be bitter about such things. In time, one might be contented with what they are - what we are... But the knowledge that the end is either never going to come, or come like a Fury and raze those of us already cursed is not an easy thing to take to heart. If indeed we have hearts..."

She chuckled.

"As far as your observation goes, I believe many of them are, but there are some in which I sense... a difference... I cannot explain it, though I have sought for it... Perhaps one day I will know what is behind it. I am learning slowly that correlation does not necessarily indicate causation."

Breathing, she exhaled in a softly audible sigh, letting ehr eyes follow the hero of the story.

"You know, I think my favorite parts in this play are not Jean Valjeans actions, but his reactions. His original reaction to the scholarly suitor for his adopted daughter were amusing to me, the young people's secret love affair sweet. Not many are willing to risk much for what they deem 'love', though perhaps not many of them truly know what it is. Oh!"

She leaned back in her chair a little, resting against the upholstery with eyes shut, a shade paler. One hand stroked her skirts distractedly and the other lay pressed to the side of her throat.

Aracind glinted a smile, and he turned and with his bright yellow eyes looked deep into Llhena's. He studied her for a moment and then turned back to watch the near ending of the performance.

"Llhena, Your words astound me, you are indeed one of culture and wisdom. For I hear it in your words, and see it in your eyes."

His smile faded, and Aracind watched as Marius embraced Cossete before the priest on the alter, He felt... Alone all of a sudden but was used to this.

"Llhena, I realise that you have walked as a vampire for many years, so I pose this question to you: Have you ever loved? Truly loved someone? These are strange questions for me to ask, but I am a collector of lives and I love to hear of peoples happiness, and sometimes... pain"

Her eyes fluttered open, but they did not go back to the stage, vestiges of old ghosts passing through her eyes in haunting shadows... But she refused to take in the scene further. A few of these plays she had long since abandoned seeing, having often tried to look on unaffected.

As for culture, she had pressed herself to rise through society early on, obtaining wealth, enough to do whatever she would, and leaving many of her roots far away from hee, but at times the years, the paths to where she was were cold, dead as she was.

"I have loved family, friends, strangers at times..."

A soft smile played over her lips, but she was still unusually pallid.

"I have loved, but the kind of which you speak... I have seen it tie hearts together, and I have seen it guide Men into actions best not done, not hazarded, but for the sake of the one they cherished, they gave all. And it angers me to see these Mortals who hold it in their hands, so closely, and cannot see it. Such love is rare, beautiful, unique, to be treasured... But, no. No, I have never felt this. I know what it is is, and I have seen it. It is here."

She touched a hand to her temple, indicating her mind.

"But it has never pierced here."

She brushed her hands over the swell of her breast, dropping it to her side. No, she had no heart, she reminded herself. Over a millenium late for love.

"I have never felt it, and I do not know if I even believe in it... Not for me. If you will... excuse me..."

Her voice was soft, and she sighed, her face losing the carefully crafted blankness to reveal a tumult of different emotions as she rose and turned away, sweeping through the curtains and waving away the hand of the helpful attendant.

She used one hand to keep her skirts from catching her feet, and the other ran lightly over the banister as she moved down the stairs, pausing once to smooth a finger conspicuously under her eye. She remembered at times like this why she hated the theatre. She loved it... she hated it... She loved to act, she could not, not risk exposure for what she was, what she had no choice but to be... No, she was content...

A little over halfway down she had calmed herself enough to begin reconstructing her outward aire of calm, stepping with less alacrity and more sedate primness.

Aracind nodded his head to himself as Llhena left. Love was a curious word and over the space of his life he had not loved, but yet wished he could. Obviously she was hurt by it and something from her past had provoked her to leave.

"Allez maintenant, parce que je sais que nous nous réunirons encore, et l'amour sera encore." Spoke Aracind silently to himself as he ran his hand along the front of the box watching the end of the performance, as Jean Valjean was taken into Heaven.

Aracind stood up and gazed into the crowd, Surveying everyone in it. There were children crying on account of how the entire musical was in music, there were college students ferociously scribbling notes on the production along with many other characters.

"Love, Love, Love... Love is just a word" He shrugged and almost violently disappeared from the box.