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 you'd bet that job had nothin' on you, Erik/Silence
Alexander Anderson
 Posted: Jun 19 2017, 05:27 PM
Orphanage Worker
76 posts
-3:30 / Offline
Alexander Anderson

when you get to Heaven you'll be blessed

Yes, it's all for the best

Anderson didn't approve of sneaking about like a thief, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to sneak about like a thief. It had been easy enough to get into the theater, and from there Anderson had slipped away from the matinee-viewers, making his way into the bowels of the building, where the noise of the crowd faded away. While it wasn't necessarily dark in the back alleys of the theater, Anderson couldn't shake the oppressive feeling that the walls were too close together. He didn't know how anyone could happily work in such a clustered, tight environment - let alone live there.

Shaking off the perturbed feeling, the paladin moved onward, inspecting every room he came across. Some were dressing rooms, others were clearly lived in. As he went deeper, he came across a few dance halls before most of the available space seemed to lend itself towards storage. Moving through the mountains of organized props and costumes, Anderson followed the storage rooms back to the front of the theater again, looking around in mild surprise when the maze of hallways and rooms seemed to spit him out backstage.

Luckily, it looked like the stage he was lurking behind wasn't currently in use, and Anderson resumed his exploration, examining the different facets that were usually hidden behind curtains and props. Curious now, he leaned back and looked up into the rafters, which seemed to be criss-crossed with catwalks, dangling fifty feet above the stage.

Naturally, he had to look up there. It didn't seem safe at all. It had nothing to do with his own curiosity.

Getting up to the catwalks was something of a challenge in itself (the ladder looked like it had been questionable even when it was new, let alone now, at the tender age of at least two hundred) and Anderson was somewhat disappointed by the time he got up there, finding that it lacked... well, he didn't know what he had expected, but he wasn't seeing it. They were just unstable, shaky platforms held up by rope and chain. Even jumping across them went from amusing to dull after a few minutes.

Scanning the veritable sea of catwalks, he was wondering how in the name of the Almighty he was going to get back to the death-ladder when Anderson caught a... something on the very peripherals of his senses. He didn't know what had tripped his mental alarms - be it a sound, a smell, a flash of movement - but all at once he was hyper-aware that there was someone else nearby. Looking around, he felt like a bleeding fool for having put himself on the most unstable ground available.

One swing of a bayonet though, he reminded himself. One swing and they would be on the stage. He knew he could regenerate from a few broken bones within seconds, but he doubted the same could be said for whoever was lurking in the wings.

Or, maybe he was allowing his paranoia to take over. He didn't sense something otherworldly or supernatural. He would know if that was what waited for him.

"You might as well come out, now. I know you're here." Father Anderson announced, standing calm but ready, determined to give whoever it was a chance to prove that they weren't something worth worrying about. Maybe he really was being dramatic.

It was a theatre, after all.


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