: December 1797, Prauge :

[aristopire]

The evening was bitter and cold outside, however inside the lights sparkled and the people danced in revelry to music as if to fend off the Prague winters which were at it's core the stuff which superstition was made of. Inside the rather large and sumptuous townhome of Count Melichar there was a celebration of sorts; the Russians were known to be quite lively during the winter when all was cold, and the ambassadorship to the Austrian city did not curtail that in the slightest.

The Celebration was the birthday of his son, Valegny. And per usual, Valegny did not know what precisely to do with a celebration and normally he was able to fob off his father. He'd managed to forstall a party for various trips across the continent which his father readily allowed.

For someone as jovial as Count Melichar, he was almost at lost with how to deal with his quiet and somewhat austere son who prefereed culture and learning to parties and revelry; though at the very least he did understand fashion and dressed accordingly though there were many points in which the Count did not understand his son.

But to be perfectly honest, it was also to introduce his son to some of the eligible young Austrian ladies of good blood and lineage.

Perhaps Valegny did pick up the inner nuance, he was not thick of brain like his father was (which he blamed on the copious amounts of drinking that his father did at any given moment, but could be forgiven for because his father was not a violent drunk, more such a theatric one. Therefore, he nursed his own glass of wine as he moved about the room and made the rounds like a dutiful son who was merely pretending to enjoy himself. There had been a pause in the dancing as the musical guest had arrived and was expected to take to the stage any moment-- in the interim, the people were milling about, refilling glasses and nibbling from the large long table filled with delicacies of both Austrian and the Mother Country-- alongside the fair of a hired French Patisserie (since his father had heard french cuisine was all the rage, and the Count was a trend setter.)

Valegny was surrounded by girls, all of them giggling and simpering, and likely all with an eye on his eligibility, and a taste in their mouths for being a Countess. He was polite however, and managed to engage with them on the latest fashions and not just hunting (which was not to his taste, unlike his father who was quite renowned), girls tended to like his biting and witty remarks that were the hallmark of a learned noble.

Little did Valegny Kojac Melichar know that very soon his life would forever change.

Comments

[irrecoverable]

Nobility always threw the best parties, really. That was invariably true, yes, but the ambassador from Russia was rumored to put the rest to shame. So Anton certainly would not turn down the invitation to grace such an event with his presence -- and more importantly, with his violin. The young man was popular for his musical prowess, after all, though the fact that he was pretty and (in his own estimation) terribly charming, did not hurt either.

In any case, the food and wine were delightfully lavish, and he'd certainly surveyed the options before he had been announced to take the stage, so to speak. Anton and his violin strode out into the stage as if it had been meant for him all along, and the other musicians who had provided the music this evening so far had not existed.

He was dressed in fine form, lace at his throat pinned by a cameo, curls tied back at the nape of his neck. Out into the center of the little stage set out for the musicians. He dipped an elegant bow, straightened and lifted his violin to his shoulder, his bow to the instrument. He glanced briefly to the man at the piano who would accompany and gave a little nod. He was ready. The first note swelled from his violin and the music began.

[aristopire]

The entire crowd grew quiet as they listened to the pretty performer play, his presence had been marked and more than a few whispered voices floated through the music like pretty butterflies, all attesting to the talent of Anton Stiendl who was considered quite a virtuoso for such a young age, estimated to follow in the footsteps of Mozart who had died some winters previously.

The music filled the ballroom and there were marked glimmers.

Now, Valegny had heard music before but he had never really cared much for it except for in passing; his own learning centered in other areas however there was something about this song and this musician that had him pulled from anything resembling a polite interest and into a very focused and intense listening as he watched. Surrounded as he was by young ladies, right now all he could see was the young man on the stage with those deft fingers that plucked strings and the bow that ebbed and flowed along with the notes.

Soon there was a hush and it was not just him; everyone else's attentions had been caught and any sound other then the music would've been noted and perhaps frowned upon... all polite conversation paused and the entire of Count Melichar's ballroom was held nearly spellbound.

And Valegny then understood how it was to be moved by music for the first time in his life, as something in him and unlocked, an appreciation for it-- the skill and the grace, the way that the melody became the man, and the man became the melody. His clear grey eyes fixed on the other man, watching every movement with such intensity that would have surprised even himself, and he had to remember quite honestly to take a breath.

[irrecoverable]

It was very much that, that Anton was the music, and the music was him. There was no way to disentangle one from the other, not once the song had begun and he let it flow through him. Emotion poured through every note, the heights of joy and the shattering fall of heartache, the rise and fall of each note and measure.

Anton normally lost himself in it. This was the only time he truly felt like himself, and as much as he enjoyed being on stage and having everyone's attention on him, liked feeling those gazes and the weight of them resting on him, he played for himself first and foremost in the same way most men, no matter what it was they lived for, breathed.

Tonight though, something caught his eye. It was an accidental glance, a brief moment where his eyes opened and lifted and caught on the face of a man he'd never spoken to, never met. He could see how transfixed he was by the music, by his music, and there was something so intense and piercing about those clear gray eyes. The other man was strangely beautiful, sharp and hard but lovely. Now that his eyes had caught, it was hard to look away.

But even a beautiful face that was looking at him like he might be a revelation made flesh could not distract Anton from his playing. Still there was a flicker of a smile over his lips before he shut his eyes and sank back into the song.

[aristopire]

Their gazes caught for a moment, and even from the distance that he was from the stage, he got the implication of rich honey brown eyes-- almost cat-like, the slight opening of those eyes to the collision before they slid shut again; nothing could tug him from the music and that focus perhaps drew him where nothing else could. Only someone who was very passionate about their craft could act as such.

The candlelight played with the mahogany of the violin wood, caught the shimmer of curls and the high cheekbones, the very perfect beauty of the other man. He'd had his share of lovers on his travels but they had all been fleeting and had never lasted long, and none had caught him in an instant the way that this musician did.

Drawing him like a moth to the flame.

Yet despite it all, Valegny's world upended just a little bit, the world spun upside down in time with the music; ironic that his father had thrown this birthday party in the depths of December so that he may find a suitable bride and here he was fascinated by the violinist?

[irrecoverable]

His eyes were shut, and Anton allowed himself to disappear straight into the music, as he often did. But even within it that image remained, those sharp gray eyes, the way something in him had sparked so intense that he couldn't shake the memory of it. And maybe he didn't want to.

He finished that song, straight into another and another. When he finally finished, he took his customary bow, all elegance and propriety -- a mask he was quite good at wearing when it suited him. Then he swept off to make sure his instrument was properly returned to its case and safely where he would claim it later.

Then he had mingling to do.

Anton reappeared with less fanfare this time, but he was still noticed and immediately accosted by several fawning nobles who were typically effusive with their praise. He met it with a practiced humility and appreciation, but he was distracted, dark bourbon gaze sweeping over the rest of the room to see if he could find where that other man had gone.

[aristopire]

The music had been everything unexpected; and he could still feel it vibrating through him in a way that such things had never quite reached before. Perhaps though that was the talent of the young man on the stage-- he noticed nearly the moment when the other man reappeared to mingle, and then how a sudden wall appeared of likely admirers' who were not as surreptitious as Valegny was.

More then a few young ladies were vying for his attention and all the while his eyes kept straying to where he nearly assumed the musician to still be; even as he attempted to feign interest in what they were talking about. The thing with most young ladies, they could carry the conversation as well as take cheerful societal stabs at each other in a theoretical sense.

He quickly excused himself and made a beeline for the refreshment table, to find himself a glass of wine and that appeared to be a far better vantage point, and perhaps a bit closer to where the other man was; he was tempted to barge in there for a fraction of a second-- perhaps this would be a situation of touch and go, of silently stalking him around the ballroom floor.

No dancing, but he rather imagined it would spark back up momentarily.

Another glance over his shoulder, it almost appeared casual if but for the slightly intense quality to it that could not casually look in the direction of anything-- there was not a casual bone in Valegny Melichor's body.

[irrecoverable]

Oh there was nothing casual at all, not about the sudden frisson of electricity that took flight in the air when Anton, mid-polite laugh at something one of his more determined admirers had said, glanced off as if looking for some route of escape when his eyes caught that piercing gray gaze once more.

His chest felt tight and fluttery, and that as a new sensation for Anton -- well, outside of his music anyway. He let his gaze linger, rather obviously ignoring whoever it was that had been chattering at him. Instead, he offered the faintest flicker of a coy smile in the other man's direction. And when he did seem to remember their presence, the question on his lips had nothing to do with their previous conversation and everything to do with who is that gentleman. The answer that this was the birthday boy himself was somehow just perfect.

It wasn't long before he did duck away from his current conversations, making a circuitous route that would, like some elaborately choreographed dance, bring him right into Valegny's path.

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Like an incandescent spark of light, it was hard to look away from the musician as he glimmered and glittered underneath the evening lights, the way that the chandeliers-- all sumptuous indulgence caught the burnished chocolate highlights of hair. Their eyes caught and held for a fraction of a second, a nearly mischievous play of lips into a smile and then attention back to the group as if they were saying the most fascinating things.

He felt a surge of jealousy, and he did not even know the man aside from the music that he had played up there on the stage, but he wanted to be the one that this man was having clearly charming conversations with.

And then he was alone and walking, and Valegny watched-- not even pretending anymore as be brought wine glass to his lips though not to take a drink but to consider the beautiful musician over the rim of it, clocking the onset of his walk and formulating his own very logical and methodical plan of action.

And then he was ambling his way slowly in the direction of Anton-- they would perhaps bisect by the third column, just two men appearing to accidentally meet though it would not be a matter of kismet. Normally, an introduction would be order but this party was in his name so perhaps there was social niceties that could be ignored.

It most certainly did help that the Count Melichar did not hold to iron-fisted adherence toward propriety.

Their collision was imminent, perhaps a more romantic person would've said that it was fated but Valegny was not the most romantic of sorts and thus likely would not have recognized it for what it was, an inevitability that he should meet this man in this moment and at this time. He leaned up against the third column and when the Siren approached, he murmured over the edge of his wine glass. "I have never heard such skillful playing before in my life, you have changed forever how I approach music."

Truth.

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Nothing even remotely accidental about this moment, not in Anton's designs to bring his path in front of Valegny, and not in the machinations of some fate that he neither understood nor cared to question that had drawn their gazes to connect in the first place. As Anton found himself in front of the other man, looking up close finally at those cool, gray eyes that seemed to smolder less with fire and more the rare but unmistakable energy of a winter lightning storm, he spared a moment to study him. It was not a subtle action, his gaze running up then down then back up once again before a smile lit across his face at what Val had spoken.

"Those may be the most delightful first words anyone has ever spoken to me." Anton was, after all, a creature with an ego about his passions, and music was first and foremost among those -- though he got the distinct premonition that he had just now met another one. There was a note of pleasure and amusement in his voice, somehow just as musical as the notes from his violin earlier.

"I believe you're the guest of honor tonight, yes? I should express my gratitude, for the invitation to play at such a... lavish occasion."

[aristopire]

Valegny had the distinct impression that he was in trouble with the way that the voice played out, musically and with the hint of laughing mirth that was just as beautiful as the notes that had come from the violin. He had to take another sip to clear the way that his mouth seemed to parch if only a shadow; though he did keep his cool in the face of such charm.

"As much as I would enjoy taking the lauds for such a gathering-- alas, I cannot. It was my father who set this up and at the beginning of the evening, I thought perhaps it would be something to be suffered through." his own eyes slid in the same manner that Anton's did. Quietly assessing, there was an infinite calmness to him that did not look like it could be easily ruffled. ".. Clearly, I was wrong."

This was perhaps a recognition there that this birthday ball as the case may be was now something that he was finding that he was enjoying immensely. "Though as the guest of honour, I only have one simple wish.. may I have the pleasure of your acquaintance?"

[irrecoverable]

They may be only standing and talking, just off the dancefloor, but oh they were dancing too, weren't they? Trading words that only said a fraction what was on their minds, a careful but eager approach. Anton had seen all the pretty frilly girls who seemed to swarm around Valegny. He had heard the murmurs that the party was less for the celebration of a birthday and more out of a hope that the birthday boy might meet an appropriate match. After all, Valegny was a catch, wasn't he? Nobility, son of the ambassador. Handsome and sharp of mind and tongue. Though Anton was quickly discovering that the quiet rumors did not do the man justice, not really.

His smile twitched a bit wider over his lips as Val looked him up and down as well. Yes, they were playing at a similar game, weren't they? It wasn't quite proper for two men to take an interest in one another in any romantic or sexual way. Anton had never cared for proper, and as an artist and a prodigy he got away with it, so long as he did not make too noticeable splash about it.

He inclined his head and held out a hand towards the other man. "I wouldn't dream of denying the guest of honor his wish. Anton Stiendl, my lord. And it is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance." A beat, a pause while he considered his next words. "Is that the only pleasure you'd wish of me?"

[aristopire]

The only son and only child to which so much expectation hinged on him, he should've been applying himself to finding a match, but all he could think of right now was that he had and it suited his taste quite nicely. Girls could be entertaining to talk to, but they did not run within his line of interest and never had-- though those noble lords had rather outed themselves, those who had surrounded Anton quite freely and interestedly.

It was no worse then what he was doing, though he was far more discreet about it; they had drawn just a fraction away from the public eye, and when Anton offered his hand-- Valegny did take it and bow over it, he could have dropped a kiss against the knuckles, gods knew that he wanted to but he did not quite yet; his intense grey eyes did focus on Anton's smiling lips though for the brief beat of a second.

Anton would find that Valegny had the very infuriating tendency of answering a question with a question.

"Is there any particular pleasure you would hope for, Engel?"

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There was a wish in Anton's eyes that those lips would grace his skin, but alas. He did understand the rules of the game. He was very good at playing it, really, of winding his way through the intricate maze of high society.

Still, he watched with pure undisguised interest as Valegny dropped that picture perfect bow, at the way those eyes fixed so sharply on him. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he considered that question -- a rather deft parry of his own inquiry, but he would forgive Valegny for that for how well it was executed, like a well-placed flick of a épée in a fencing match.

He ducked his head with a quiet lilting laugh. Engel was it? Oh he did like the way that sounded in the other man's voice. "Oh very much. But not the sort that could be had in this setting."

[aristopire]

And how Valegny wanted to kiss those knuckles, especially when Anton bit his lower lip just so. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Anton Stiendl; although you have heard it from everyone else likely-- I am Valegny, of the birthday status." he said with the tug of a smile at the corner of his lips; oh did it feel like he was not a casual smiler-- that they were as precious a currency as diamonds.

"It is clear that you already known my last name, but there is no need to settle on formalities between us."

Even though he did.. with others. He did not mind being the first-born son and heir, it was something that he had understood and embraced; but just for Anton was this granted. The singular boon for the man to refer to him by his given name. "Then perhaps I may interest you in a private viewing of my mother's music room? Perhaps I could entice you to give me a private song.. or two?" He leaned closer to lodge that request. It was not a command, though he was rather used to issuing them, but a very gentle but insistant request.

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"Valegny, then." Anton was also no stranger to formalities, and he did like that the other man had set aside that barrier between them so succinctly. Yes, good. That would do nicely.

His eyebrows lifted in undisguised interest. Anton so no reason to hide just how intrigued he was by that offer. "Perhaps you can." Oh he was already quite interested in the idea. "I'd like that very much." To see this music room, to slip away from the shining lights and hum of conversation of the party, and see what sort of private viewing that this man intended to give him.

Another smile, the sort that made him look a bit like a cat who'd been offered its favorite treat and the sunniest spot in the house. He reached over to settle a hand lightly against Valegny's arm. "I seldom offer private performances, you understand, but it is your birthday. I could be persuaded."

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Quite simply put, Valegny did not need permission to disappear from the party and he doubted he would be noticed. A glance over and he saw that his father was with his cronies likely going on about hunting or whoring or something along those lines. Because he was interested in neither (he preferred strategically hunting for bed partners, and well-- he was rather picky when it came to who he shared his bed with, unlike Count Melichar.) "Then let us get away from the festivities." and then he started to lead him back away from the pillar and toward a little side door.

And with minutes they were in the quietude of the hallway. The music of the quartet hired would be more then a passing drift down the corridor. "Anything you choose to grace me with will be treated as the veriest treasure." he said with a quiet smile as he lead him down the path, and then up the stairs. "Do you have a favorite place where you play, by any chance?" most musicians were employed by a music hall, or a theatre, or an Opera House.

Perhaps that was a hint that this Lord would come see the other play?

[irrecoverable]

Valegny did not need permission, and Anton did not care whether or not he had it, so there was nothing stopping them at all, now was there? The musician followed along without a glance back over his shoulder, the party already quite forgotten for the time being.

His lips stretched into a smile as this pretty lord continued saying the exact right words. Treasure, was it? He thought he might like being treasured, for his musical ability or anything else. Up the stairs, and Anton hummed at the question. "I've recently been made first chair violinist at the opera house. Do you enjoy opera, Valegny? I've always been a little obsessed. As a child, I'd sneak out nights to try to listen to what I could hear from the alleyways behind the building. You could call it a lifelong calling."

Anton would be far too pleased if Valegny did turn up.

[aristopire]

Perhaps it was time to develop a taste for the Opera?

He'd never given Opera much thought but there was always time to develop such an interest; just an open door and it would come in the form of a very handsome man with the most laughing eyes and the most cunning and winsome smile with the hint of roguish mischief to it. Oh, Valegny was already lost and he understood this well enough-- there would be no bride-finding for him tonight, he'd already found what he wanted.

"My mother is exceedingly fond of Opera though I have not given it much thought." he'd accompanied his mother a few times but he did not understand the stories behind the music; but now that Anton had opened his mind? A new world would unfold right before his eyes. "Perhaps you may give me a proper appreciation? You've already unlocked something within me..."

This was dangerous, allowing Anton to know the reason that Valegny was now interested was because of him.

Very very dangerous.

[irrecoverable]

Anton would all too happily draw Valegny into loving the opera, would reward him for his interest in it quite handsomely. Would it help Val to appreciate the opera if Anton introduced him to some of the little hidden corners in the Opera House where no one would bother them while the violinist sucked him off? Something something endowment for the arts.

"I think I can sway you to becoming a devotee of the opera. I'm up to the challenge." And he was entirely too pleased to know that he was the reason the other man was considering this, that he had changed Valegny with a few strokes of his bow.

A pause and he added, softer, a lilt creeping into his voice. "And you certainly strike me as a challenge. But certainly one worth it." Anton was quite used to getting what he wanted, after all, and he was coming to realize very clearly just how much he wanted this man.

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"Do I?" There was a rather crooked smile that seemed to play across those lips, wry and drew out the sharpness of his features all the more. He did not delude himself into thinking he was handsome, but he rather hoped that he could occupy this pretty musician suitably well and provide adequate satisfaction to this brilliant star of a man.

His goal though was to ultimately leave him satisfied and purring. And that was what this was, wasn't it. It was a precursor to something sexual-- like two men recognizing the other and taboo within each other and flirting lightly with it until it came out to play-- two men who were predators sizing each other up.

"Already planning my introduction to Opera and we have not even seen the music room yet? My, you do move fast." He approached the double doors leading into the music room and then pushed open the doors to reveal a room that was grandiose-- there was a Pianoforte by the fireplace, a tall harp that curved gracefully and shaped like a swan, a cello propped up by an ornately carved ebony stand and a few other instruments scattered here and there in their proper place.

"This is the music room, perhaps it was rather presumptuous of myself to assume you would like this room."

It was a beautiful tableau of a music room with the instruments waiting for their time to shining quietly as the firelight danced off of them in a ploy to enchant them to play, but Valegny turned to the other man and offered his hand to the other man. "I was hoping for a private performance, one would be for my personal indulgence as the guest of honour, the second performance would be entirely up to you." one was music, for Valegny did want to hear him play again and this time with no crowds to edge into his immersion.

The other might have the two of them sprawled out on the bearskin rug in front of the fire, or perhaps even up against the pianoforte.

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Oh but he was extremely attractive, the sharp features, the quiet equally sharp confidence that he carried himself with. Anton thought that he could cut himself all too easily on Valegny's edges, a thought that probably should not have been nearly as arousing as it was. So yes, this was certainly a choreographed foreplay that they were dancing their way through, step by step.

Another laugh. "I'm the ambitious sort, yes. You have me figured out I think. I-- oh." The words cut off as they stepped into the music room. He took it all in at once, the immaculately kept instruments, the pianoforte, the harp, all caught in the soft warm glow of the fireplace. It occurred to him then that Valegny had spoken, and Anton looked over to him. "It was, but it was also entirely correct. And I like presumptuous."

He wandered from the other man's side then, over to let his fingers brush in a gentle, reverent touch over the ivory piano keys. "Then, shall I play for you? And we'll see what the encore looks like once the piece is finished."

Sitting himself primly on the bench, he glanced over towards Valegny. True that he was best known for his violin playing, but he was adept at several instruments and, as Valegny was about to find out, singing.

[aristopire]

This would be the precursor to every interaction between them, sultry magnetism that they could not quite escape no matter how hard they tried or perhaps how tempestuous that it became; because they were both made of darkness-- although right now Valegny was looking at him as if he was the only light in the room.

There was a wing chair by the piano, and he took a seat upon it and reclined. The evening attire did favors to him, fashionable and well tailored-- not too showy but with a hint of the current fashion, likely from Paris. Valegny did love his clothing, and he rather thought he'd like to dress Anton up too-- see what he would look like in velvet's and silks though the clothing that he wore was enticing.

But he was getting ahead of himself perhaps?

"Please do, I look forward to hearing the magic that comes from you." he said and then he very graciously motioned with his wrist for the other man to play when he felt comfortable enough to do so-- it was a very casual command, and not so much of a command but a request.. in a very russian way, they tended toward bluntness and speaking their mind more often then not.

And with such hypnotism he watched the other man, his grey eyes like a fine warm mist that would surround the other man, would cling to the form and frame of Anton as if he was taking in everything down to every part and parcel of his soul.

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Anton watched Valegny, waiting for the young lord to be seated comfortably. He did look good, every inch the proper nobleman in fine tailoring, waiting for his own private concert. Hmm. Well, Anton would not disappoint.

He inclined his head at that little gesture and his fingers began plying at the keys. If Valegny had been an opera fan, he might recognize the song, a piece from Mozart's Don Giovani that was perfectly suited for the clear, bright tenor of Anton's voice. As he sang, he slowly lost himself in the song, the emotion of it obvious in each note from his fingers and his lips.

Anton was the most at home when he was wrapped in his music, felt most complete in those moments. But he did glance over to Valerian to see how the other man was reacting to the music, to see if he was enjoying it.

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Somewhere along the way, Valegny had ceased to recline. It was the passion in the voice, the passion in Anton-- he was drawn like a moth to a flame, and Anton was the brightest most vibrant flame that had ever existed in the world. Leaning forward with his hands clasped together, his elbows on his knees and regarding the other many as if he was some sort of Angel come down from the heavens.

Oh indeed, he was moved. It was not just the music itself but how Anton seemed to drawn every single note to it and make it brighter, far more then what it started out being. Forever, he would look into the music and be reminded of that passion, he would try to hold it as cold comfort.

But that was neither here nor there.

He was enchanted, perhaps even enraptured, though the smile upon his lips was the barest hint of a smile-- his interest was in those eyes that watched the musician unbreaking. He had a feeling that music would be his biggest competition, and perhaps he did not mind so much, as long as he was able to watch this as the notes rippled in that gorgeous tenor voice, the firelight playing off his features as if it was the most loved within existence.

Within the interim, Valegny was rather certain that he had forgotten to breathe-- and from that, the want turned into something deeper and stronger; he had never thought he was capable of feeling something like this-- a strange upheaval of everything he'd ever known; he was enamored with this beautiful man who sang with every fiber of his soul. What he perceived and knew was only surface, but everything that he could glean, oh he wanted and perhaps Anton would feel it in the gaze focused solely on him.

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Eventually the aria ended, the final note of voice and keys fading into a silence filled with the sounds of breath and the soft crackling of the logs burning in the fire, the quiet crescendo of reality as it surged back in when it had been displaced by the spell woven by music. This was Anton's life, stolen pieces of something more when he was allowed to lose himself in rhythm and melody, only to return to this world like an angel whose wings are torn away midflight. The entire world felt and looked duller. He did not have the term for it -- for the synesthesia that flooded his senses with a rush of color, each note echoing in its own hue.

But now as he opened his eyes and looked over at Valegny, he thought perhaps for the first time that there was something worth seeing even after the colors of the music faded. There was something vibrant and alive about Val, something in the tone of his voice that summoned up a deep vibrant gold, like the steady glow of some uncountable fortune.

A smile tugged at his lips once more as he saw that Valegny was looking at him -- truly, utterly looking at him -- with eyes that caught Anton's breath and then his heart. "Was it a satisfactory performance, my lord?"