Chapter Text
The Balladeer was someone with immeasurable grace, and a face carved by the goddess of eternity in her own image with a loveliness to withstand all time and its horrors unwavering in its rapturous charm. There was an undeniable loneliness in his eyes, the crystalline teal that purpled down towards his pupil ever so slightly tinted, greyed with the weight of his sorrows. Finally face to face with the goddess herself, words failed him. His lips parted to exhale a breath he had held onto for a moment too long. “Mother,” the man whispered, the words fell into the stagnant air like both a curse and a plea, contorting his doll-like features with anguish as though the mention of the word would suffocate him. SHE only gazed upon him with a detached affection, neither acknowledging his presence nor his words despite seeing him - and he was unsure if SHE actually saw him at all. Gripped by the thorny torment that was HER cold, seemingly unfeeling gaze, the Balladeer grinned a smile most perfect, so beguiling it would have humanity on its knees, so flawless it was a mask - one that did nothing to hide the stream of tears that flowed down his cheeks like they were painted by an artist’s expert stroke in one fluid motion meant only to highlight the porcelain quality of his skin.
None of the audition tapes felt right. They were all talented actors, Albedo Kreideprinz was an experienced enough director to know better than to discredit their craft solely for their inability to look like a fictional character depicted by no more than a string of words, but it was nowhere near what he had in mind for the casting of the main lead. He was almost definitely asking for too much; if no one filled the role, he might have to scrap the whole adaptation altogether unless he was willing to settle on one of the actors he had already rejected. His reluctance to resort to that was not so much a matter of pride as it was his heart as a fan of the light novel series wanting desperately to do the author’s work justice.
Albedo himself had been blessed with a near ethereal beauty, which may well have contributed to his stubborn insistence that there had to be a suitable face somewhere to play the role of the protagonist he and so many others were absurdly fond of. Everyone involved in the project knew it was a massive undertaking to try to satisfy fans who were long time fans of the light novel series, Wordless Ballad, given how well loved of a series it was. It would be easier if Albedo had any means of contacting the author for their input, but they chose to remain anonymous despite the series’ resounding success and completion. The Wanderer. It was a ridiculous pen name to leave. Exactly where did they wander? If their work had not been so mystically brilliant that it seized him in a vice like a paralytic drug, he would have long forsaken the source material in favour of a smooth adaptation. For crying out loud, he had investors to please and reason with! Yet here he was, knocking back deadlines for the fading ember of hope that he might chance upon the real life Balladeer.
Word spread fast. Each audition, fewer applicants turned up. Albedo wondered if he should even bother going. He had personally attended every audition, seeing some promising actors that he would have loved to cast in any other situation as another character. Just what was he looking for so desperately that he could not simply settle for the best fit? Albedo did not think he knew the answer to that himself. A pretty face? The arrogant air the Balladeer carried that somehow never felt cocky? A soul so battered and beaten blue it could hardly be considered human?
“Immeasurable grace,” Albedo muttered to himself as he walked towards the studio. “Unwavering…rapturous charm…”
And suddenly, it was like he had found the answer he had not even known the question to. Loitering around the studio, casually striking up conversations with the hopeful actor who had yet to give up on passing Albedo’s unreasonable demands, was a masked stranger in a too large jacket and baggy pants. They covered up well, bucket hat hiding most of their hair and almost shadowing their face in unremarkable genericity. Yet there was no mistaking it. Their eyes, a sombre viridity in an azure sea dashed with violets and blues, seemed to reach for Albedo, pulling him in like a lead. There was no hiding eyes like those, with such a steadfast gaze, unfaltering in spite of the uncertainty that swam in them. Albedo’s feet moved of their own accord, like he were a clockwork soldier wound to go. He had unwittingly reached out for the stranger, who was rather bewildered at being approached despite approaching others themself.
Those eyes were even more alluring up close. It all made sense to Albedo why those actors could so amicably speak to a random stranger if their gaze was so enthralling he felt like he would stop breathing if it left him (completely forsaking that it was, in fact, normal to interact with people who speak civilly). All eyes were on Albedo instead though, as the crowd wondered why their esteemed director had yet to enter the building. It was unprecedented for him to ever call upon actors before their casting.
“Are you here to audition?” The question escaped him before Albedo even had time to process it. It was rude to the other actors, and frankly, quite stupid. What else would anyone be at that location for if not t-
“No, just…curious,” the stranger replied. His voice was a lilting tenor, gentle but firm, like a fresh gale breezing through a jogger’s hair in the evening. Albedo froze, disarmed by how fitting the voice was with what he had envisioned for the Balladeer. It was like whatever deity who had created the world in the novel (the author?) had descended upon this mortal plain to bestow upon the world its very own personification of perfection. The way the stranger’s eyes narrowed at him like a suspicious feline, his lashes framing the sleek curvature of his eyes, was nothing short of mesmerising, as he blinked like the gentle fanning of the flames at a temple’s altar.
“You should consider it, we’re having auditions right now, actually. Give it a shot, come on.” Albedo was herding the stranger into the building, ignoring everyone else. He needed this person in the cast, even if he had to wring out whatever acting potential was in him, as little as it may be.
The navy haired stranger dug his heels into the ground, though not expressing any verbal protest - not that it even deterred Albedo. The stranger, his mask now discarded, made sure to display his discontent blatantly on his face, sleek, slender eyebrows furrowing into an undulating scribble of a fine fountain pen. The grey of his eyes seemed to darken in disapproval, yet he did little to defy the crew as they handed him a script. His fingers, willowy and svelte, grasped at the pages with delicate firmness, his gaze softening once he had shifted his attention from the director to the script. His pupils skipped across the page, scanning through its contents. Then, he walked towards one of the film crew and handed them the stack of papers. Albedo watched his every move with keen interest. Was he throwing in the towel? Or simply that confident in his memory?
“Then guide me,” the man said, slowly removing his hat and bringing it to his chest. His previous disgust was nowhere in sight, the furrow of his brows no longer as deep, but in a more gentle, pleading stroke, while his lips parted as though seeking a breath that was not there. “You who are so weary of the world…lend me your mind. Where you hadn’t dared to venture, I will go. It’s your choice if you wish to follow me or not, but I only ask for your experience.”
With every pause, the man took a step closer to Albedo, as though they were acting out the scene - as though they were living the scene. “I will return. And maybe once I have seen what you could not reach, I might have something to offer you for your friendship.”
Albedo was speechless, his teal eyes fixated on the man’s as he moved ever closer. Completely enraptured, Albedo thought to himself, surely, this must have been how helpless Ocho had felt under the Balladeer’s pleading gaze. Eyes like uncut lapis lazuli bore into Albedo’s soul, like they would peer into his mind, luring out the thoughts in the innermost depths of his heart. Ocho’s lines left Albedo’s lips before he had even recalled them.
“Spare me your pretentious drivel, Balladeer, and let this weary heart of mine rest. I have seen men bolder than you meet more tragic ends.”
Albedo froze, glancing at his colleagues. They had not seemed to notice him act out of line, excusing his impulsive act as a test for the newbie. He supposed it was passable as that much. The man did not seem the least bit phased though. A cold, steady hand met Albedo’s cheek, its thumb running along his cheekbone. Like a secret between lovers, the caress of the wind, the man uttered a promise Albedo was certain had not been part of the book. Originally, with a mournful caress, the Balladeer had swallowed tensely, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his lips parted for words that died on his tongue for he had nothing that might reassure his companion that he had everything under control. Yet the words of this stranger, improvised though they may be, fit all too well with the character.
“Rest here if you must, but you know I’ll go all the same. If you’ve no faith in me and can only envision me dead from here on out, will you not give me a sweeter parting?”
The man filled the role of the Balladeer like it had been written for him. Albedo found he was the one whose tongue felt like lead instead, drawn in like a moth to flame as he leaned in towards the man. Even up close, his skin appeared unblemished, like polished marble. Had the purple of his eyes been this intense the whole time? How daintily his nose rested on his face. His lips, though thin, had the unmistakable faint sheen of lip gloss; it was the palest pink, like a frosted cherry smoothie.
Albedo’s eyes widened at the sudden sensation of two digits at his lips, gently nudging him away.
“Save it for my return, my dear companion.”
“End scene,” Albedo managed to direct even as his mind blanked. He blinked a couple times. He had never been so grateful for his inability to blush before. How often had he fantasised about being the ‘dear companion’ the Balladeer so fondly regarded? To hear those words…to be his companion…would it be too selfish of him to cast himself as Ocho? He shook the thought from his head. He was hardly a qualified actor. But oh…what a dream it would be. Albedo had not even realised when the man had walked so far away. By the time he came to his senses, the man was already at the door, waving goodbye.
Albedo was about to panic when his assistant, Sucrose, grabbed his shoulder. “Mister Albedo, where did you find Mister Scara?”
“Scara?” Albedo echoed in confusion.
“The man who just auditioned. He left his details with me, but said not to call him unless we were desperate to fill the role of the Balladeer.”
Scara…an odd name for such a pretty face.