"My Lady Illuminata, you were a marvel tonight."
Dim lighting cast the man in shadow as he entered her dressing room, though the familiar voice was not unwelcome. He hadn't yet changed from his stage costume, making for a dramatic silhouette which was spared only a glance by the Lady.
"You performed well yourself," she offered, practiced fingers making quick work of the numerous pins and dressings that styled her extravagant hair.
The hardwood door closed behind him, and a subtle motion ensured it locked. His smile was warm as he strode to take a seat beside her at the mirror.
Saint's Herald was an ancient opera house, hosting countless performances by the greatest acts across Calixis over centuries. Rysari's troupe was one such act, and their latest opera, The Heretic and the Hound, was fast becoming sector renown for its splendor and poignant morality. Particularly, it was the captivating Lady Illuminata who drew eager elites to Saint's Herald.
Falling from the theatrical accents adorning it, Rysari's hair tumbled into unnatural curls, no less silken despite their misshapes. The man continued as she begun work on her false lashes.
"The web is woven," he whispered, quietly enough that it could have been mistaken for mice chittering in the walls.
Rysari paused only momentarily before removing the first lash. Her voice likewise dropped, freed now of casual frivolity as she worked on the second. "So the snare tightens."
He hummed, leaning closer, without losing the smile that even the telepath found disarming. "Thanks to you, dear Illuminata."