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Grandiose halls unraveled before the Green Prince, the path lit by chandeliers and lanterns that loomed over those who walked it. The lights blinded him, having been years accustomed to the dim atmosphere of his prison. Any and all inhabitants were as violent as can be.
He’d wished he’d never have to step foot on these gilded halls. Had avoided coming here at all for so long, like a coward, running for as long as he could until even his freedom was lost to him. And yet, he still found his path leading here. For as much as he’d ran away, in the end, his journey had still taken him to the Citadel of Song. Alas, he couldn’t postpone his mission any longer.
He wanders the Choral Chambers, searching his way up to where he knows that vile parody resides. He knows he must ascend, yes, but that doesn’t mean that’s the path he takes. Certainly not avoiding it, of course, but just taking any path that doesn’t go up. Not yet. He has no respect for this place and he’s not here to sightsee, that’s for sure, but… If only for a moment, a second, he can just have his legs take him somewhere. Those imitations aren’t going anywhere. And he has no rush to face what’s become of his home. So for now, he walks.
A grand hall opens before him, with buildings towering on each side. The light was still just as blinding and bright. There were a couple signs around that marked the buildings around him, and he recognized the one in front of him as that of the old bellways. Better not roam there he thinks, lest those creatures have built an appetite after spending so long without a purpose. There’s a couple of citadel guards around that he dispatches swiftly, moves not forgotten even after an age. His blades still pierce shell as if it were the soft membrane of a plasmium cocoon, and he couldn’t forget this dance, not even if he were to perish.
A flying guard descends upon him and as he leaps up to strike a peculiar sight catches his attention. Right next to some hanging bells and platforms there appears the entrance to a building, an odd sign standing just outside. But what makes him stop and watch is the floor. When the blinding lights of the Choral Chambers hit just right, bright pink-red spots would shimmer on the floor, the glittering color contrasting greatly with the white and gold of the Citadel. For such a dissonant sight to exist, something interesting must have gone down on those floors. It would make for a good distraction at least, anything other than pristine halls and white light.
He makes quick work of the guard, then climbs up to that odd place. The sign is just as puzzling as the rest of the entrance of the building, entirely blue, with 3 identical masks painted in white. Odd. He leans down to investigate the glimmering floor and he finds it’s littered in small specks of some shiny material, which he quickly discovers sticks to the body quite easily. Then he looks a little farther away and notices how the trail of the glimmering substance leads straight into the room. His interest piqued, he cautiously steps into the building.
As soon as he’s inside the first thing that hits him is the scent. It smells of smoke, faded, but still quite strong. And it’s accompanied by both a bitter scent he cannot place and the sweet smell of flowers. He stares at the ground and finds that the trail of shiny specs only becomes thicker the further inside he goes. It glimmers ominously from deep inside the room, beyond an archway decorated in curtains that must have been quite grand in a distant past, but were now just faded and eaten away by the drapemites and drapeflies. There’s a sign too, but this, just as the shiny dust, doesn’t show the same age as the rest of the room. It’s decorated with feathers, which are the same color as the glimmering specs, and arranged in such a manner that they imitate the shape of the wings of a bug taking flight. The words on the sign are no less cryptic than the rest of the room, although they clue him in a little better to what he’s facing:
‘Great bugs! You who weep as your kingdom fades, join me upon the Stage. Together, we shall enflame the passion of Pharloom!’
Ah, so it’s a theatre. He’d heard word of the artistry and performance of the Citadel, though he never had thought he’d see it up close. It could never rival that of his people, after all, and he was quite certain all that was performed in these halls were mere imitations of beauty that once belonged to those unlucky enough to find themselves at the mercy of the Citadel. He wonders, if at any point his own dance was presented in this very room, passed as the creation of some other bug whom it didn't belong to. Then a flash of metal invades his thoughts, and suddenly he knows the answer all too well. His throat tightens, and his heart feels heavy. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and decides to investigate the theatre further. He just needs to think of something else. His mission will come in time.
Wearily, the Green Prince steps into the Stage. It’s a grand thing, an enormous hall that must have fit so many bugs in its seats in older times. Yet it clearly shows its age in many places, just as the rest of this cursed city. His gaze moves back to the glittering specs on the floor, and he finds this is quite clearly the source of it. And while the curtains and the seats are in multiple states of disarray, its plain to see there most certainly is someone who still walks these halls. Someone who is likely unaffected by the sickness which ails the bugs outside. Or at least, just enough so they're able to keep this place from falling completely into ruin.
The floor is polished, so much so it's mirror-like, behind the small shiny material. But what catches his attention the most is a grand set piece standing proud on the back of the stage. An intricate model of the Citadel. It's detailed to perfection, to the point he's immediately able to tell what it represents, even with how little he's seen of the city itself. Clearly the bug who made it was mad, but perhaps it was exactly that which had managed to keep the haunting at bay. He takes a step closer to examine it further, but suddenly, he hears a whisper. Then an ominous scuttle. And before he knows it, the doors to the stage close shut.
He’s immediately on alert, scolding himself for not recognizing the signs of a trap in time. Claws raised, he awaits the attack. There’s more scuttling around him, although he’s unable to pinpoint where they come from, followed by a series of clicks he hears clearly coming from the roof. But as he looks up, he's blinded by a strong light that shines straight towards his face. And just as he covers his eyes and looks away, a booming voice envelops the room.
"Trembling squib, you who stumble upon the Great Stage! It appears fate has called for an encore! Prepare yourself, and join me as my partner, as we liven the embers of the true flame of Pharloom!"
The blaring lights move over the stage as drums sound in the distance. The prince’s eyes sweep the room, once, twice, as many times over as he can, just to spot the threat as quickly as he can, while blinking rapidly to try and remove the white spot that has invaded his vision. Then a sizzling sound emerges from the very floor, which opens slightly to reveal multiple nozzles which shoot out that very same shining dust which had brought him here. That solves that, then.
The lights come to a slight stop at the very center of the stage, drawing his attention to it just as a bug shoots out of the very floor with a practiced battle cry and an explosion that leaves him blind once more, unable to examine his enemy properly.
He dashes away from the explosion to recover himself, as well as in preparation for a possible attack. That same bitter scent he hadn’t been able to place before comes back with a vengeance, and he realizes it probably came from the explosion itself. As he recovers his vision, he quickly spots his foe- a brightly colored bug. The fluff around his neck is the same color as the shiny dust, a bright pinkish red which also makes itself present in the bug's eyes and wings, which he uses to flutter above the Green Prince. Handsome, dramatic and flamboyant. He already hates this guy.
As soon as the bug lands he dashes into a slash, but he's too slow, and he retreats into the spaces in the floor. He scans the room once again, and he realizes the blaring lights are chasing a spot in the floor. A spot in the floorboard which appears to be raised and moving around. He prepares himself when he realizes, charging up a strike as close to the raised floor as he can manage. The very moment it opens, he goes for his attack. But what comes out isn't his foe, and he doesn't react quickly enough to dodge the bright pinkish red ball. It explodes on impact, and it's strong enough to throw him into the wall, knocking the air out of him. His shell is strong enough to withstand the impact, but the combination of the scorching burn in his front and the shame of falling for such a cheap tactic makes the pain sting just a little more. He gets up again, and he tracks the floorboards once more. It comes to a halt. He takes a deep breath, gets into position, and waits.
The floor opens once more, and as soon as he catches a glance of pink fur and a white mask, he dashes. His strike hits his target, but he already knows he'll need more for this guy than he did for the guards outside. The steps for his dance come to mind as he's turning to catch his foe once more, so he changes his trajectory last minute to hit the other bug as he dashes diagonally- just as he'd do when dancing with…
He stays for a beat in his spot as he watches the enemy recover from the blow and move back a few steps, then he dashes back to the floor to continue his dance. His moves may not seem rational for one fighting a single objective, but he knows the focus of his dancing isn't to target the enemy. The dance is a performance, and therefore, a distraction. Their- His enemies, are meant to be thrown off by the rhythm, which is precisely what brings them to make the mistake of getting in their way. As soon as they can't manage to dance around him, he strikes with all his might. He falls into a familiar rhythm, slow but constant. He plays a song in his head, but he knows it sounds in his heart.
He dashes forward to the performing bug, but as he's moving forward the other takes flight, opening his arms and flaring his wings as he screams something at the same time as an explosion goes off where the bug is. The Prince dashes away blinded once more, and as he opens his eyes he must force himself to dash again, for a series of other explosions start sparkling around the stage. He manages to hit his foe again, but with half strength due to the sudden manouver he had to make. The pink bug moves and suddenly he's turning at neck breaking speed across the stage, forming a tornado-like wind around himself. He dodges by continuing his dance, dashing upwards. The move comes to a halt, the bug posing as he comes out of his turn, but the wind is released in an upwards arch that catches the Prince by surprise. He falls to the ground next to the performer, who sees him and laughs, a snobby and exaggerated laugh.
"What a dazzling performance! Your dance isn't quite like anything I've seen before" the bug exclaims "but it's plain to see you're no match for the great Trobbio!"
"Do not speak to me, performer" he spits, getting up.
He dashes again, hitting the other bug with precision. He turns to prepare to dash again. The strong bitter scent of the explosions and the smoke is making him dizzy, and the constant blinding lights are giving him a headache. But he dashes again. He counts. Then dashes again. Keeping to the rhythm in his heart, as regret starts to build up in him. He should be fighting those copies. He should be returning home. He should…
The performer starts spinning again before he realizes it, catching him in his path. He- Trobbio, he supposes- pauses the movement after hitting him to leap into the air again, unleashing a chain of explosions once more. He dashes backwards to dodge, then up diagonally to complete the movement, then back down. And as Trobbio descends from the air in another spin, he dashes to the center of the stage for his grand move… only to spin once and fall to the ground, getting hit once more with the wind unleashed by the performer. He scolds himself. He's not here. He won't be caught in the movement. There's no one to spin with him. He's dancing alone.
He's dancing alone.
As he dashes again to continue his dance, and again, and again, he realizes he's lost his rhythm. His slow and constant movements have somehow shifted to a swift and short motion. The song of his heart plays strong but he can barely hear it over the explosions. His strikes miss, again and again, or he barely gets them to connect with his foe with enough strength. He's starting to feel weak, and his shell might not withstand another explosion. He looks at Trobbio then. He moves with confidence, a mark of a routine well practiced. His moves are exaggerated, but also elegant and precise. But what's most important is he doesn't look tired. It makes sense, he's running circles around the Green Prince, and he hasn't been able to hit him properly, or even enough to do considerable damage. Then there's something else. After slowing his movements to really analyse his opponent, he focuses on what's going on around him. The performer moves, throws explosives around, dives into the floor. The Prince dodges, rather than prepare an attack, and keeps watching. The floorboards move. The bug comes back out with a flash of light, then he flutters over the stage. There's a rhythm to his movement. And when he finally focuses enough, he hears it. There's music playing. Energetic, bright music. Just as the performer in front of him. Of course. All this time he's been trying to dance his own rhythm, just as he's always done, all the while a different song had been throwing it off. The music wasn't loud, just there. Enough for his own song to start synchronizing with it unconsciously, and throwing him off enough to where he was dancing steps meant to linger in a rhythm that jumper from place to place. His own strategy was to throw off his opponents rhythm with his own. But the rhythm was already set. And dancing… alone, it was harder to change it to his own.
He had to adapt. Improvise a dance to a rhythm he hadn't known before. Something new.
He gets into position as he sees Trobbio dive down into the floor, taking that time to fully grasp the song playing. He breathes in. And as the bug jumps back out, he releases a battle cry. Trobbio's eyes widen for a moment, then he gets a playful glint as he follows him with a scream of his own. Immediately he dives back to the floor, but now as the Prince dances around the stage he notices a change- the floor opens in multiple points, releasing an explosion straight upwards. He changes the steps again, dashing back and forward to dodge. The last explosion ends and out comes Trobbio, but he's prepared. He dashes diagonally, catching the other bug as he leaps, then he dashes back down, and forward through the performer.
Forwards, up, down, left, diagonally, he flows with the music, dodging attacks, hitting back the explosive balls. His heart beats louder, faster, synchronized with the new sound. His shell doesn't ache anymore. His legs don't feel strained as they have since he left his small prison. And his mission suddenly doesn't feel as a burden anymore, but a silent promise. The fear replaced with a freedom he hasn't felt in an age. Like, for a moment, his life is his own again.
Without noticing, he's charging blow after blow into Trobbio's shell, throwing him back, making him reposition, only to catch him off balance again. Again and again and again. As he dashes once more, he comes face to face with the other bug, and their eyes meet for a moment. He sees something in Trobbio's eyes, something he's seen before, but he can't quite place what it is.
The music grows in intensity, and he closes his eyes for his final move. He charges. He dashes, his form disappearing from the speed, then he comes back, and he dashes all around the stage in a continuous move. His ending strike leaves him behind Trobbio, and as he turns, he finds the performer on the ground. Their eyes meet again, and the actor looks shocked as he holds his injured body. His eyes still glimmer with that feeling he can't quite place. What an odd bug.
He should kill him, some part of his mind says while his eyes stay fixed on the other's. He raises his claw for a moment, but then hesitates. Trobbio's eyes don't leave his as he finally looks away. He realizes the music cut out long ago, and there only remains a single light cast upon them both.
"I take it your little act is done" he says "you would be wise to let me leave now, performer"
Trobbio stays quiet for a moment, which feels unlike him.
"I-" he musters, finally.
"I have more important matters to attend to" he cuts him off "I've been kept from my duties for long enough"
The doors unlock by themselves. He hums approvingly, and begins to leave.
"W-wait!" He turns his head a little to look at the actor "your dance, you- I- never in my life have I seen such a performance. Tell me, great bug, how- how may I call you?"
The Prince frowns. Then he turns away.
"You, citadel scum, may only address me as the Green Prince"
And as he leaves the stage, picking off glittering specs from his fur and shell, he can only hear the sound of the blinding lights switching off.
