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"A near millenia ago, a man named La Mancha claimed he would treat the High Elder of the Luofu and the Zhuming's Furnace Master to a view of Benzaitengoku's classical performance arts..."
Ashveil pretends to wipe an invisible tear from the corner of his eye, admiring the sign crowning the theater's entrance while monologuing to his audience of four.
"Much has changed since... Yet, today, I feel like I can somehow make right by that promise."
"...We paid for your ticket with the Express' funds." Dan Heng reaches into his bag, searching for said tickets. "Doesn't seem like you're treating anyone to me."
"Such pragmatism!" Ashveil turns back to their group with a smile that actually reaches his eyes in a way it rarely seemed to in the short time Dan Heng had known him. "Admirable. As is your fashion sense, young man."
"Thank you." Dan Heng hasn't felt 'young' since the thousand of years he had traveled within the scepter, but he accepts the compliment regardless, comfortable in the loose silks of the white dress shirt covering a form-fitting black turtleneck. Colors and decorum are coordinated in through the patterned jacket known as a haori in ancient Benzaitengoku fashion that rests on his shoulders, which he had been gifted by residents of Seafeld City after safely seeing their fishing boats to harbor during the recent Fulwish incident.
Dan Heng had thanked himself for taking the time to put together a new look when he went to pick Caelus up in his room earlier today and saw just how handsome his favorite person looked in the monochrome, oversized fabrics of the outfit March had coordinated for him.
("Now you'll have no choice but to think of me even if I'll be too busy cheering for cute girls at this idol concert to join you guys!!!")
The grays of his blazer, tee and pants each have their own distinct hue yet harmonize to perfection, while a delicate gold chain proves distracting, constantly drawing Dan Heng's gaze to Caelus' sharp collarbones.
Beside them, Sunday had made just as much of an effort, although theater-appropriate styling likely comes much more naturally to a child of The Harmony — A carefully tailored powder blue suit accompanies an impeccable tie, but the dress shirt underneath shows a colorful arrangement of blue and yellow patterns that somewhat step out of their friend's usual comfort zone and shows more of the eclectic, artsy flair favored by the people of Planarcadia.
"All three of you look fantastic, in fact! What an honor to be accompanied by such charming boys!"
Ashveil continues on to compliment Caelus and Sunday, as he should, ruffling Caelus' hair with a familiarity Dan Heng might have envied if it weren't for the lingering warmth prickling his skin, Caelus having discreetly twined their little fingers together for the entire length of the train ride to the theater.
"Thanks daddy. Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. I mean. Daddy?"
Any tender thoughts are interrupted by the sigh Dan Heng has to let out from hearing Caelus recite that internet meme so shamelessly while Ashveil takes it in good humor, laughing heartily.
Sunday turns to Dan Heng with a polite smile but slightly bewildered eyes, the confidence in Caelus' tone no matter the lack of common sense in the words he speaks occasionally making it difficult for Sunday to parse his jokes.
He's quoting something he saw online. They don't actually have that kind of relationship. Dan Heng sends that thought out to his friend, soon feeling the tremulous tendrils of The Harmony grasp it. Sunday nods, smiles for the consideration.
"You, however..." Ashveil's cane and heeled boots clack sharply on the colorful pavement as he finds his way to Blade, who had been making himself as inconspicuous as he possibly could while following their group. "My dearest Yingxing! Is this... what you're wearing?"
"...It's of no consequence."
"I think it will, in fact, be of consequence when they don't let us in because of your... shirt omission."
Dan Heng takes the tickets out before the older men make a scene, the harmonic tuning used to shroud the Supplicants' identities having its limits. "Let's find our seats. Row one, seats nineteen through twenty-three."
"First row! Is this a benefit of going out with the wonderful crew of the Astral Express?"
Having successfully diverted the detective's attention, Dan Heng is about to deny any connection when both Blade and Caelus speak at once.
"Silver Wolf."
"Alpha Wolf!" Seeing as Blade doesn't elaborate, Caelus continues explaining their friend's contribution. "She snatched peak tickets to every last damn thing in my bookmarks. Still had to pay out my own pocket, but, y'know. Pretty cool."
"Pretty cool, indeed!" Ashveil exclaims before turning back to Blade to fuss over dangling fabrics and attempt to close his crimson jacket.
Dan Heng had been tasked with printing their tickets out at ∞-Eleven and had kept all five of them safe since, lest they end up burned, soggied, lost or resold in the others' hands.
But seeing Caelus' refreshing excitement in the shape of his sweet smile and fidgeting movements coaxes Dan Heng into handing the tickets over to him, and they soon make their way inside.
The interior of The Songdance Gathertheater blends Ahatopia's different eras like inventive patchwork, the building a reconstructed depiction of a theater that once stood proud in ancient Benzaitengoku and had now been extracted from the World In Canvas by The Preservation.
The walls are adorned with tapestries that represent historical scenes, yet various comical details — Such as warriors confronting one another with pool noodles or a banana substituting the infamous crescent at the helmet of a warlord known as the One-Eyed Dragon — betray the touch of Elation that had woven itself into the textile.
Wispae that stand a little over a foot tall wear headlamps to cheerfully guide any enquiring patrons to their seats, while large emoti gathered in the halls to offer creatively-inclined visitors the chance to decorate the emoti's faces (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, their entire forms...?) in traditional stage makeup, large paintbrushes dipped in the white, red and black paint of the buckets surrounding them.
Dan Heng notices Caelus eyeing one of the photo opportunity spots, cardboard cutouts allowing guests to insert themselves as performers in colorful outfits, grandiose wigs and the dramatic poses typical of this specific form of classical theater, born as kabuki in ancient Benzaitengoku.
"I can take your picture."
"Yes, please! You read my mind!" Caelus beams at him, even though Dan Heng finds it second nature to watch for his wants and answer each of them, no matter how simple they might be. "You in, Sunny?"
Sunday startles ever slightly, drawn out of what must be a slightly overstimulating situation, what with all of the thoughts and feelings emanating of the people crowding the venue halls — Not to mention this likely is his first time visiting a theater since the events that had transpired at Penacony's Grand Theater.
But Caelus' invitation makes him smile, gives him something to focus on, the two of them choosing their cardboard cutout of choice... As does Ashveil, who beelines towards the female role.
After taking half a dozen of pictures of the unlikely trio of Supplicants, Dan Heng hears a smart phone's shutter sound nearby. Rather than onlookers who might have seen through the tuning veil, he turns to see Blade holding his phone up.
There's no need for him to ask anything, Blade casually wording his justification. "...For Kafka. And Firefly."
Dan Heng nods, soon feeling Caelus bump a shoulder into his arm when he runs back to his side, his huge grin telling of his satisfaction over the photoshoot. "I'll send you the pictures later."
"Thanks. Wanna go sit?" Caelus and Ashveil likely could have snooped around the theater's lobby until the bells rang to announce the impending start of the performance, but Caelus had likely noticed Sunday's apprehension as well, his offer thoughtful.
The golden seats of the main hall are already half-occupied, mostly by excited interstellar visitors, but a few imagenae and local families also make their way in.
The amount of pairs that seem to be couples on a romantic outing isn't lost to Dan Heng, either. His gaze shifts to the back of Caelus' head, a selfish thought for how deeply he would enjoy sitting next to him for the length of the play, a thought he keeps to himself as his favorite person leads their group to their seats.
Only that willful hope seems to gift itself to him, Caelus letting the two older men walk ahead once they reach the front row before giving Dan Heng a toothy grin.
"Didn't think you'd get out of loredumping me before the play starts, did you?" Caelus sounds so proud of his scheme, as if he doesn't actively give Dan Heng all he wants, always.
"Wouldn't dare dream of it." He takes the twenty-second seat, ignoring the vaguely villainous chuckle Caelus unleashes as he sits to Dan Heng's left, right in the middle of their group.
Sunday sits on Dan Heng's other side, their friend's quiet enthusiasm as he immediately starts poring over the theater program heartening.
"Most historical plays shown in Ahatopia's theaters are actually not that historical. They're known to have two different scripts — The original retellings of fragments of history from before the Cindearth Age... And the plays put on since the birth of Planarcadia, which tend to require much more extravagance, action and dramatic turns to captivate modern audiences and their ever-growing need to feel excitement, with little concern for historical accuracy."
Dan Heng gives Caelus the 'loredump' he asked for, although the tip of his ears admittedly burn a little, always self-conscious that he's taking too much space when he talks this much.
But Caelus looks at him so sweetly, his chin in his palm as he props his arm up on the armrest between the two of them.
"That checks out. This girl I've been working on recovering Floating Grease Era poetry with, Charing, she told me history's not the most popular subject in Planarcadia."
"Ahatopian tales, like the world that composed them, have undergone countless deconstructions and reconstructions." Ashveil follows up on Caelus' comment, his intervention welcome as someone who has resided in the Consternation Starzone for some time. "Like with everything in this arcadia, fact and fiction's one and the same."
"Right. And what we call history rarely is objective truth regardless, even without any Aeon or Pathstrider's intervention."
As I'm sure we all know. Feeling the crowd grow and movement behind the colorful curtain, Dan Heng steers the topic back to today's tale.
"The play we're about to see focuses on two brothers who forged their life around the hope to one day avenge their father's death. I'll let you discover the rest of the storyline for yourself, but you'll see that while this is one of ancient Benzaitengoku's three great revenge tales, the growth of The Elation's influence on Ahatopia gradually turned these into cautionary tales, if not outright parodies of the choices made by followers of The Hunt."
His eyes shift beyond Caelus for a second, wondering if this explanation might come as insensitive in Ashveil's presence, but the former Galaxy Ranger still nods along.
"In any case, I'll leave the 'loredump' of the artistic aspects of kabuki theater to Detective Ashveil. I understand that he's a fan."
Dan Heng passes the yap baton to the older man, who enthusiastically starts telling Caelus of tense sword fights, graceful dances, bold red face paint, laughter and tears within a breath...
And Ashveil's self-proclaimed favorite element — The fact that in this particular tradition of classical theater, all roles are played by men, including those of mothers, daughters, wives.
"Once upon a time, I chose to follow my dreams and went right into an audition for The Snowbloom Princess. Know what they told me?"
"What'd they tell you?" Caelus throws himself into the detective's story effortlessly, always quick to improvise.
"That I lacked any chaste grace. Me!" Ashveil brings his prosthetic hand to his chest in a flourish. "Unchaste! Graceless!"
"Damn, that's crazy."
"I'm aware. And seeing as there's a scene where the titular Snowbloom Princess character, trapped under a tree, uses her feet to gather cherry blossom petals to imagenate a rat who could free her from her bonds, they told me I might have a better chance auditioning for a role that doesn't require delicate toes. I still don't know what they meant by that."
"Yeah, me neither." Caelus is clearly restraining his laughter, both indulging and teasing Ashveil at once.
Through all of this, Blade sits beside Ashveil in utter silence, but Dan Heng does notice him intently observing the architecture framing the stage, and even tilting his head back at a nearly comical angle to analyze the intricate designs patterned into the ceiling.
Dan Heng leaves the seat neighbors to his left to their progressively less coherent exchange, instead turning to Sunday to join him in his analysis of the play's program. They discuss the cited works they recognize, as well as the discrepancies between the local performing arts traditions and those of the worlds blessed by Xipe, until the bells toll to announce the five short remaining system minutes before the lights would dim and the curtain would part.
The very moment the hall turns to darkness, Dan Heng feels the knuckle of a finger graze the back of his hand. Caelus' quiet request is easy to understand, and even easier to answer, even if Dan Heng's pulse finds itself hastening as their fingers come to a weave.
Nothing unreasonable to his eager reaction, every blessing in the chance to feel Caelus' warm skin against his, their hands dragged to rest together besides Caelus' thigh.
The meek smile on Caelus' lips as he watches the curtain move aside is so bright to Dan Heng's eyes which could see in the depths of oceans and the night of the theater.
The tale unfolds as expected.
Once they've been familiarized with the brothers' carefree childhood in an unnamed, likely fictional corner of an Ahatopia that had yet to be visited by The Destruction, where birds sang freely and the smell of grass was no luxury, they're witness to the merciless murder of the father following his refusal to surrender this peaceful corner of land to a greedy warlord.
Rather than make use of imagenesis or other metaphysical means, The Songdance Gathertheater prides itself in putting on plays that still make use of classical staging tricks to emulate special effects — This insistence on projecting new beside old like the Planarcadia that sees giant robots walk beside bicycles and holographic projections accompanying cathode ray tube monitors.
Therefore, red scarves flow from the father's mortal injury, as readily as the tears that streak the white makeup covering the mother's face.
The father's sword becomes spoil for the victor, a detail that acquires depth when one knows of ancient Benzaitengoku's firm belief that swords were host to spirits, to hopes, to life. A belief that had spilled into fact after the world had been extracted from the Canvas and vending machines and tables now wished to discuss the weather with you.
The brothers age and change in front of their eyes. The actors' costumes grow in grandiosity, their hair is untied in the midst of a song, the strokes of red at the corner of their mouths and eyes convince the audience of their resolve to find the strength to avenge their father.
Soft hair tickles Dan Heng's jaw somewhere past the halfway mark of the story, Caelus resting his cheek against his shoulder, as if a crowd of thousands wasn't occupying the seats behind theirs. It's rare for him to be so quiet, so still, like he mostly only was when they slept in one another's arms. In this proximity, in the comfort of being loved, the play feels like a shared dream.
A bittersweet dream, to be sure, the older brother insisting he could carry out their revenge, wishing the younger stays safe, away from bloodied battles.
Sequences of action as thrilling as any Xianzhou martial art immersia or Astropolis car chase film unfold as the eldest infiltrates a grand hunting event hosted by his father's murderer. While the curved, single-edge of the iconic Ahatopian weapons wielded on stage were undoubtedly blunt props, the actors show exemplary posture and convincing sword-fighting choreography.
Dan Heng thinks of the masked superheroes who appear on television in the morning only to fight aberrations at night, or the magical girls that perform cheerful songs for the public before dismembering entities that break past the Department of Aberration Defense's lines. The people of Duomension City wouldn't even flinch if they saw these boldly adorned performers fighting to protect them, would they?
As the older brother finally comes face-to-face with the man he swore revenge upon, he finds himself struck in the abdomen. Many in the audience, Caelus included, gasp audibly as the lights dye the stage red.
Only then does the younger brother make his appearance, refusing to leave his sibling alone despite their earlier confrontation. In tow is their father's sword — Once stolen, now back in the youngest's hands. A full circle moment that transcends ages and worlds understood in the way the same sword would now bring about the death of its thief, of the murderer.
The story allows the brothers their revenge.
Yet, still, the eldest's blue robes show a crimson stain that only grows as he's carried by his younger brother, who smears streaks of the blood covering their father's sword onto his face, preparing to face all that remains of the hunting party.
They follow the bloodied, exhausted brothers through this final battle, until the two make it out alive only to collapse to the floor, facing the ocean, the audience. The live orchestra, which had been performing intense, passionate notes until now, falls into slow, melancholic tunes performed by keys and strings.
The youngest holds his older brother in his arms, asking if he hears the sound of the birds, the smell of the grass of the land that was once theirs, their father's.
The false blood that dyes their costumes a little more with each line of dialog exchanged feels real to the audience, restrained sniffles and stifled sobs resounding throughout the theater.
Caelus' own sniffing is unsurprising, seeing as March and him could scarcely go through any single film without tearing up, but Dan Heng squeezes his hand, still, ever enamoured by his favorite person's strong feelings.
Somewhat more unexpected, however, is the slightest of quivers in the exhales of the one sitting to his right.
He doesn't need to turn to Sunday, nor does he wish to fluster him by doing so. Even if their friend has far more control over his emotions than Caelus does, a storyline centered around siblings...
Dan Heng makes himself as discreet as possible as he reaches into his bag, soon finding the handkerchief March had gifted him after embroidering an approximate interpretation of Woof Woof Dan into — One of three of a kind procured when his best friends discovered Ahatopia didn't offer any means to dry one's hands after a washroom visit.
Thankfully, he hadn't made use of it in such a manner yet today, wordlessly placing it down on Sunday's lap instead.
He feels more than hears his friend bring the square of fabric to his eyes as the older brother speaks his last before falling limp in his sibling's arms.
Thank you. Sunday's voice visits his mind between two forlorn lines of dialog from the survivor.
For a mercy, the younger brother would not mourn for long. After singing for his avenged father, for his heartbroken mother, for his fallen brother, he, too, would die of his injuries, the brothers together in vengeance, in death.
Dan Heng has a thought for the two other members of their unlikely party. Perhaps, in their eyes, this is a happy ending.
Caelus only lets go of his hand as they stand and applaud, the actors alive and well as they take a bow.
"I will hold onto this and return it to you once it has been washed." Sunday looks up at him with a sincere smile as he says so, the experience thankfully seeming to lean more cathartic than outright depressing.
"Sure. Sounds good." It wasn't necessary, really, Dan Heng would have been just fine taking the handkerchief back and doing his own laundry — It's what he's come to be used to, seeing as either of his best friends would definitely have shoved any soggied fabric right back into his hands — but he knows that, much like himself, Sunday would rather make himself useful to lighten any thought of being a burden.
But while on the topic of sogginess...
A blatant sniffle sounds out of Caelus, followed by the reverb of the two firm pats Ashveil slams at his back with his prosthetic hand while Blade quietly reaches bandaged fingers out to squeeze Caelus' shoulder.
"So."
The detective clears his throat, looking a little bashful, either helpless when faced with weepy people, or covering emotions of his own.
"Perhaps I should have made mention of the fact that this theater is particularly favored by Mourning Actors."
Perhaps.
They slowly make their way out of the theater, happy to trail behind the large crowd, Sunday and Dan Heng answering all of Caelus' questions while Ashveil and Blade bicker over the make of the costumes and props behind them.
Restaurant options are limited at this hour, but ever reliable is the giant golden W sign of the fast food chain branch on the other side of the street from The Songdance Gathertheater.
Ashveil is noticeably excited about this additional stop, the detective looking nearly giddy at the prospect of having someone buy him a burger combo. After hearing from Caelus that the detective eats nothing but the stock of bananas he shares with his Narrator... His anticipation is somewhat understandable.
Dan Heng is content to share Ahatopia's iconic PotatNoget meal with Caelus, a heap of fried potatoes and a dozen spicy meat nuggets sitting in the tray in front of him while his favorite person drags Sunday over to the edge of the outdoor seating area to take pictures of their soft serves, the theater's sign in frame.
Predictably, some of the ice cream drips onto Caelus' hand, who expresses his distress yet insists on proceeding with the photoshoot. Sunday gets roped into moving his own cone further back, more up front, closer to Caelus', further again, instructed to press on the phone screen to adjust the camera's focus...
"I did always think that face would look even lovelier with a smile across it."
Ashveil's comment guides Dan Heng's attention away from his friends. He looks at Blade first, thinking the detective might have been talking to the person he's sitting across from, but Blade is too invested in navigating his soda float.
So Dan Heng realizes he's the one wearing a dopey smile, which he tempers somewhat as he turns to the older man sitting next to him, the four meat patties of his double big wac already long devoured.
"You're talking like I'm not here." Dan Heng would have preferred waiting for Caelus before digging into their food, but seeing as he sees him stuff half of the soft serve into his mouth once the pictures are taken, he might as well take a nugget or two.
"The person who would get flustered by my words isn't." Ashveil gives a smile of his own, the intentions behind it somewhat difficult to interpret — But the meaning of his words is clear, and Dan Heng lowers his guard.
"No, he isn't." Dan Heng pulls out the chair next to him when Caelus makes his way back to their table, but keeps addressing the man acquainted with his past life. "I hope today could make you somewhat at peace with that old wish of yours anyways."
"It did, without a single doubt." Sneaking a few fries out of Blade's tray, Ashveil's eyes soften despite the glow reflected in his pupils. "Surrounded by such sweet kids... Enjoying the unparalleled beauty of performing arts... Savoring local delicacies... I feel like I could be a young man again!"
"That would be a miracle even winning the Phantasmoon Games couldn't grant you." Blade delivers a sudden, blunt jab to the detective which draws a sharp snort out of Dan Heng.
"What're you laughing about?" Caelus gives Dan Heng's shoulder a nudge as he sits down next to him, picking some fries out to dip into his ice cream.
"My misfortune." Ashveil answers before either of them have a chance to do so, then leans forward to snatch the last few fries out of Blade's tray in his own small act of revenge.