@ageofkarme location: Comedy Keep, Private Booth notes: yuk yuks but make it a satire about young love
There were a few moments still until the curtain raised, at present there was a fool below juggling poisoned daggers but the trick was he kept flubbing and pricking himself. Every prick caused a portion of the infected digit to flare up, causing his hands to grow progressively larger. Red, then purple, if the man lost the use of his hands did that make this his masterpiece? Polaris didn't find it amusing but he was holding out hope for the main event. What was most intriguing was the full seats, the sold-out boxes, and the full theatre.
In usual fashion, the dragon was dressed well, Polaris could wonder if it was still considered assimilation after all this time. Parts of him still did not belong, maybe he would never feel as though he did, and neither did he wish to. A wolf among sheep and an opportunist, that was the role that Polaris intended to continue playing. While he'd met Karme outside, Polaris had been quick to usher them both inside so they could take their seats.
"What are the odds you're going to be able to sit still for the next two hours before we break for intermission?" Polaris asked, endeared. Idly, Polaris wondered if Karme had taken his advice and slept at all before this. On the same train of thought, the question of whether Karme had ingested anything other than fumes from an engine was making itself known at the back of his thoughts. From their first meeting it had become immediately apparent that while Karme could work himself to the bone, he failed at taking his own self into consideration. Polaris was a selfish creature by nature, he needed to be, which is what gave him some insight into Karme's more self-destructive side.
