On a typical mid-week evening in Viorar's most well-known-yet-also-most-secluded entertainment venue, no small amount of people gathered within the showroom of the Evening Star Nightclub, cast amidst the numerous demihuman waitstaff waiting to ensure that each and everyone one of them would have no less of fantastic experience than any other time they'd been there, or any other time yet to come.

While the woren, Milfeuille, had been the designated performer for this evening, some last-minute family business forced her absence for this night, but like a band of sisters always watching each others' backs, the remaining trio made up for their missing companion by filling in this gaps where necessary; on this particular evening, one siren by the name of Mollianne would be stepping in to take her place, and judging by the limited number of tables still available (with more people yet filtering in, no less!), the patrons of the nightclub were not exactly upset by this change in plans.

The stage itself was empty at this time, bisected by a large red curtain that came together on either ends of the raised wooden platform to meet in the middle; in the meantime, heavily-bass-boosted techno-style music resounded throughout the showroom, forcing most of its patronage to speak loudly to converse over it, but not seeming to mind as such. Serving girls of various makes and models, dressed in the standard work attire of sparkling blue bikini tops and apron-like black pareo skirts, carefully maneuvered through the aisles, watching our for tails, legs, and other potential tripping hazards as various woren, lamia, siren, beastmen, and the like provided snacks and beverages to those waiting for the lights to dim and the real show to start. A few are seen idly chatting with the occasional individual or two, further bolstering the social atmosphere of the place.

An older siren by the name of Thyrenne, owner and manager of the nightclub itself with a lanyard-attached badge to indicate as such, stands off to one side at the top of a short staircase leading from the ground floor of the showroom to an upper landing, where she can watch the majority of the room with little hindrance or blockage. Her attention flicks from place to place regularly, doing a pretty solid job of quite literally keeping an eye on almost everyone and everything at once.

Kaine sat at one of the tables close to the front of the stage, his arrival had been an early one, far earlier than was necessary, but it had netted him one of the best seats one could ask for.

He sat at his small two person table alone, one leg folded over the other and a large tome in his hand, his other hand occasionally reaching to an expensive wine glass of some exotic fruit juice he had ordered from one of the waitresses upon his arrival.

The throbbing bass that reverberated through the floor, the flashy lights, the noisy patrons, none of it seemed to register to him, at least to the casual observer. He looked as if he were in a silent library rather than a bustling nightclub as he read to pass the time.

He had even deigned to change up his attire for the occasion. A perfectly fitted charcoal black suit, steel blue shirt and a black and purple vest with silvery accents. Instead of his usual boots, he wore polished shoes and in place of his usual bracers were simple silver cufflinks.

He made sure to make regular purchases of expensive drinks to ensure that his extended presence wasn't seen as a waste of a table and he wasn't stingy with the addition of tips for each purchase either. He did however keep his interactions with the waitstaff to a minimum, only speaking to make an order, and barely paying them any mind past an appreciative nod of acknowledgement when an order was delivered. All he had to do now was wait.

As the place continues filling up, a siren or two that don't appear to be dressed in the normal business attire occasionally come and go via a hallway leading around to the back of the stage, conversing regularly about something or another. At one point, one of them comes out with another girl who, for all intents and purposes, looks like she has some prevalent insectoid heritage; though she wears a long-skirted yellow single-piece dress, her overall frame is rather thin and she possesses two sets of arms instead of one, all of which gesture individually as she converses idly with the other siren who came out with her. Small, bulbous antennae poke out at either side of her temple amidst a pixie-style cut of fuchsia-colored hair, and the skirt of her dress has a very noticeable hump in the backside, possible due to a unique abdominal design. Her eyes are also completely black, with just a very faint shade of yellow that almost 'dusts' over the surface of them, and two sets of thin, membranous wings poke out the backside of her attire, folded downward and flattened against her body. The two chat on for a few moments, occasionally sparing individual glances around the room.

Up on the stage, there is a brief rustle behind the curtains, but nothing comes about to show for it. Probably just people getting ready, most likely.

A golden-scaled lamia waitress eventually slithers up along the side of the room to join the two in their conversation, carrying an empty serving tray in both hands as she speaks to them. This is almost immediately joined by a fourth person, a familiar siren wearing a leather chestband and a wrecked seagreen long skirt; she, actually, doesn't join in the conversation, and rather calls out something inaudible to the three of them, beckoning with one hand for them to follow her back into the hall, whereupon she turns around and leaves. With just a brief glance between them, the other three (waitress included!) follow suit to see what they are needed for. Business as usual continues all elsewhere, a happy little place full of socializing, thumping music, and no judgments to or for anyone or anything.

In short order, the techno-centric music swiftly disperses over the speakers, and the lights over the whole of the showroom begin to gradually fade out. The chatter of the crowd quietens to as least a marginal degree, as well, save for small pockets of those who aren't quite done with their conversations. A large, rectangular device over the very top edge of the stage suddenly turns on, showcasing a dim, red, digital display that currently doesn't have anything to show upon it. A few moments pass further, allowing the remaining vestiges of the crowd to quiet the rest of the way down so that the performance can proceed. As the lights dim down to near-darkness, a trio of bright white stagelights flash on, all of which are pointed at a single spot in the relative-center of the front half of the stage, with the curtain directly behind it.

A good portion of the waitstaff have ceased their travels between the aisles as well, due to most of the customerbase being situated and content with what provisions they required in order to fully enjoy the upcoming show; these girls take up places along the side walls of the main room, occasionally looking out in the limited light to make sure there are not those left wanting at any given time, but otherwise settling in to enjoy the performance-yet-to come, themselves. A perk of working in the business, it would appear.

A minute or so passes, and most all forms of noise have been silenced at this point. At that time, the overhead display from earlier suddenly begins to animate, and a single line of digital script in all capital letters begins to scroll from the right end of the display toward the left: "NEXT - A BIRD'S MELODY - PERFORMER - MOLLIANNE" The wordage eventually disappears altogether off the left edge of the display, then goes dim once more. This text display is responded to by a few overeager patrons who go ahead and give a couple claps as well as an encouraging shout or two, as they tend to do in venues such as this. In the far back, Thyrenne shifts her position somewhat, but focuses her attention on the stage.

It was at this point that Kaine closed the tome he had been reading and set it aside on the table next to his wine glass and expensive bottle of woefully nonalcoholic fruit juice. For the first time since being seated at his table, he actually looked up and paid heed to his surroundings, but only the stage.

His left hand remained resting on the small table next to his drink as he observed the stage carefully, attentively even. And although his gaze was forward, his attention encapsulated the entire showroom at that moment, though one wouldn't think it to look at him.

In the hand that the book had vacated, now a fancy pen could be found, dancing around and over his fingers idly as he waited for the show to begin. He had actually put a bit of effort into his presence at this club this night. He wasn't entirely certain why, it wasn't like this was some fancy gentlemen's club, there was zero need for a suit, but it was what he chose. And despite the pen being fiddled with, his eyes were on one point. The stage.

Before too long, a gentle melody begins to play over a focused set of speakers at the upper corners of each end of the stage; it is mostly a simple piano arrangement, but what sounds like blowing wind can be heard against it as a backdrop; as it does, the curtain slowly opens, parting down the middle and pulling itself to either side in two separate halves. The triad of white overhead lights adjust once it opens fully, shining down on the unveiled form of Mollianne who had been standing behind said curtain. The star siren for tonight is... plain. There are no fancy clothes, no stage props, no additional siren accompaniments further behind the now-fully-withdrawn curtains; the stage is bare, save for the simple presence of a winged girl with avian talons, wearing her standard-fare leather chestband and bedraggled skirt. Even her throat is bare; no necklaced adornments of any kind hang from her neck, including her Soul Gem. Her head is bowed and her eyes lowered to the wooden floor as her presence is revealed, and remains that way as the opening melody plays on for several more seconds. Like most of her openers, not a single person utters a word, claps a hand, or offers any other verbal indicator of appreciation; Mollianne's lead-in to her performances often tend to be the most eye-opening part of any point throughout her routines, and the simplicity of this one seems not to have fallen short of that goal, either.

The opening piano falls away as a synth-style follow-up takes its place, and it is at this time that Mollianne raises her head; her aquamarine eyes are shining and brilliant as they always are, and there is a small smile on her face as she opens her mouth to sing, closing those eyes in the process as the word flow serenely from her vocal cords into the showroom proper, as only a siren could manage; her tone is gentle and perhaps even a touch apprehensive. "Kieru hikoukigumo~ bokutachi wa miokutta~... mabushikute nigeta~ itsudatte yowakute, ano hi kara..." She lifts both hands up to her chest, clasping them together as her eyes remain closed. "Kawarazu~ itsumademo kawarazu ni~... irarenakatta koto~ kuyashikute yubi~ wo~... hana~su~!" Mollianne's voice rises along with music into a crescendo, the two working with greater and moving insistency as her eyes open and her smile abruptly fades into a focused expression, and her wings swiftly unfold to full mast, showcasing her brilliant plumage of striking white feathers and down.

And the single, obnoxiously-out-of-place red feather embedded in the upper lining of her right wing.

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"As we watched the vapor trails fading in the sky,
They were so brilliant that I turned and fled;
I was always so weak, and I let myself go, frustrated by the fact
That I couldn't stay unchanged since that day -
That I couldn't stay unchanged forever..."

At the rising intensity of the music, this is what seems to get the crowd going. Several of them stand up from their seats and offer a brief but encouraging measure of applause, which quickly fades into the background as the music prepares to settle into the next phase. Notably, nobody seems to bat an eye at the strange addition to Mollianne's wings, but then, as much as she is for props during her routine, it can be assumed that everyone assumes it to be just that; very rarely does she ever perform a gig without at least a costume to go along with it, after all. Nonetheless, none of the waitstaff or even Thyrenne seem to think anything of it. It is at this point that her wings fold in against her back, the same as they'd been before.

He certainly hadn't expected his opinion from before to have had any actual weight. When he had said she didn't need all of that glitz and glam to put on a wonderful performance he had been rebuffed, told that the glitz and glam was indeed just as much an important part of the performance as the song and dance. So now he was a little confused.

Was she doing this to prove a point? Perhaps measuring the audience reaction so that she could point at it and say "They didn't like it as much." or perhaps she fully intended to do some grand reveal at the climax of the song to point out that when the flash and pizzazz was added people liked it more?

He doubted that she was doing this for his sake, though he did suppose the chance wasn't zero. Her voice was familiar though, a reminder of simpler times when they were younger. Back when they weren't the only two left from a dead realm.

The thought occurred to him in that moment as he watched the simple performance, a thought that had been trying to claw it's way to the surface through the mire that was his mine. With that entire realm being dead, and it's people gone, the two of them were the only ones that could carry those memories. She was the only one now that had any knowledge of what he used to be, and the same was true in reverse.

Was that perhaps the reason he felt so strongly about the possibility of her simply ceasing to be due to the pact she had with the cat-thing? So long as her soul remained intact, there would be another being other than him that carried some thread of those memories...

The music transitions from an airy melody into a persistent-yet-lighthearted pop-style beat with a backing, synth-laden midtone, and Mollianne picks up immediately into the first stanza, throwing her arms around from their clasped state at her chest and bringing them around behind to lace her fingers together at the small of her back. A faint smirk crosses her face as she proceeds to sing, pacing across the front rim of the stage's edge and avoiding eye contact with the audience as a whole. "Ano tori wa mada umaku tobenai~ kedo, itsuka wa kaze wo kitte shiru~!" The music riles slightly as her voice elgonates this last syllable, and she casts a sideways glance toward the back of the stage, proceeding apace. "Todokanai basho ga mada tooku ni~ aru, negai dake himete mitsu~meteru~!" The song flares again briefly as she once more further invokes her voice to carry the last note further throughout the room, stopping at the far edge of the stage at one corner.

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"There is a bird out there that still can't fly well,
But someday, she hopes to feel the wind cutting beneath her wings;
The place she can't reach is still out there, in the distance,
And she gazes upon it, keeping a single wish to herself..."

A bit of muted chatter goes on amidst the audience from here, some of them murmuring excitedly about the lyrics and well-known fact that symbolism is a common utilization in Mollianne's songs, with most of them attempting to make guesses about what this one in particular could mean. There is a loud whistle from the back, followed by a couple groups laughing it off.

The song's tune transitions slightly into a different angle, but keeps the overall tone and beat in place as Mollianne lets her hands fall from behind her, but with the smirk still in place, she gestures to the audience on the left side, holding out one finger toward them in an almost-chastising motion as her song pours forth once more. "Kodomotachi wa~ natsu no se~nro~ aruku, fuku kaze ni~ suashi wo sarashite~!" That smirk changes to a slight grin, and she raises her other hand to join the first, both of which now cup together. "Tooku ni wa~ osanaka~tta~ hibi wo, ryoute ni wa~..." Mollianne then throws her hands outward as the music suddenly intensifies, and from them spawn a host of phantasmal white birds! "..tobidatsu kibou wo!"

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"Children walk along the summer railway tracks,
Exposing their bare feet to the blowing wind;
In the distance, we place the days of our childhood,
And in our hands, we place the hope that springs forth..."

These magical, nondescript white songbirds flap hastily out from Mollianne's outstretched palms and soar toward the other end of the room as the music reaches the pinnacle of its pitch in preparation for the upcoming chorus, phasing through the wall on the other side once they reach it. Several members of the audience on that side reach up as these illusions flutter by, attempting to catch them but only receive fistfuls of air for their trouble. Two of these birds fly relatively close to Thyrenne before disappearing through the wall behind her, and she, herself, is grinning from ear to ear.

He watched Molly attentively, his expression a passive and relaxed one. But when this verse started up, the pen briefly paused in it's dance between his fingers.

Hope. That was a word for her to carry, not him. It was a bit of a funny word too. Hope for something better, hope to get through hard times. It was light and airy and kept people going. He couldn't honestly say that it applied to him though.

In it's place, Kaine had relentless determination. Did you need hope if there was no risk of giving up? Was hoping for better times needed if you would simply make things better yourself? Hope seemed a bit like putting the onus of a better future on fate, and his stance on fate was very cut and dry. He didn't believe in it. So, he supposed, his initial thoughts on the matter were correct. Molly carried the hope. Not him.

Mollianne then proceeds to sit herself down at the edge of the stage on that left-hand side, letting her avian legs dangle over the edge. She still has a pretty prominent grin on her face, and as the chorus reaches her, she lets her voice flow, covering the whole of the showroom with her song despite her singularly-placed location. "Kieru hikoukigumo~ oikakete oikakete~... hono oka wo koeta~ ano hi kara kawarazu, itsumademo!" She leans forward over the stage's edge, kicking her legs not unlike a small child, but her attention is focused not on any one specific person, but just broadly. "Massugu ni~ bokutachi wa aru youni~... watatsumi no youna~ tsuyosa wo mamore~ru yo~..!" The beat ramps up toward the end as her voice rises in accord, and with a small burst of deep blue sparkles, a tiny little woman in the shape of a green-haired mermaid suddenly manifests in the air over Mollianne's left shoulder, waving an even-tinier little trident-gripped hand to the crowd that Mollianne isn't facing. "Ki~tto~..!" This final word rings out loudly across the room, seeming to almost echo off the walls as her chorus concludes.

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"Chasing, always chasing the fading vapor trails;
They haven't changed since the day we crossed that hill, and they never will;
With the blessing of the sea god behind us,
We will truly never be without the strength to carry on."

Just as quickly as it arrives, the little spirit vanishes in the same miniature shower of blue sparkles, and almost everyone on that side of the room cheers in an upfront manner at Mollianne's current performance up to this point, with no small amount of the rest of the room offering their encouragement in some vocal way, as well. By now, there's also hardly no waitresses walking the showroom any longer, most of whom are now along either wall or, in a couple cases, idly hanging out with someone they apparently know from the audience; one woren girl in particular even appears to have seated herself on a guy's lap, one arm leisurely slung around his neck and her serving tray resting in dismissal atop their shared table as they both enjoy the show. All in all, everyone appears to be having a pretty stellar time.

He watched her as she moved about the stage. The expression, he could tell, was an act for the sake of the audience. Not that surprising all things considered, but it did make him wonder if the choice of song was also an act as well.

Singing about times long past, poking at nostalgia and reminiscing about better times could also all just be part of the act, perhaps the theme was inspired by their recent reuinon, but he wasn't fool enough to assume she was singing to him. Not directly at least. He was part of the audience so there was a measure of attention at him by default, but that was likely the extent of it.

Perhaps there was someone off to the left of the stage that she was directing her attention to, his own table was directly in front, so it was entirely possible, perhaps that Tribe member she had mentioned. But he wasn't going to bother looking, not right then. He had one reason for being there in that moment and that was to listen and watch.

A brief interlude of the same style of pop-focused beats plays through as Mollianne swings herself back up onto the stage and gets to her feet, taking a second to brush off her posterior and roll her neck across her shoulders from one side of the other. Casually she strolls back across the stage toward the center, then turns and actually walks out of the lighted section of the stage, disappearing backstage into the darkness therein. In her absence, the music continues to play, gradually leading toward the opening of the next verse.

The music rises in tempo as the interlude nearly concludes, and just as it does, Mollianne returns from backstage in the same casual manner as before; an ephemeral breeze flutters loosely about her as she steps back into the trio of spotlights, giving her skirt and hair just a little bit of dance, as well as the small pinwheel that seems to have brought with her from somewhere in the back. She grins up at it as that same magical wind spins it in place without end, and on her cue, she begins to sing once more, eyes still on the flimsy little toy. "Ano sora wo mawaru fuusha no hane~tachi wa, itsumademo onaji yume miru~!" She tosses the spinning handheld into the air, then and a flash of light suddenly changes it into one of those magical, illusory birds from earlier, which proceeds to hover around in the air over the stage, almost aimlessly and without purpose or intent. Mollianne's eyes watch it as it goes, standing center-stage as her grin remains, but gains no small amount of sadness to it. "Todokanai basho wo zutto mitsume~teru, negai wo himeta tori no~ yume wo~!" Mollianne reaches up and snaps her fingers, and the bird immediately disperses into white particles of light that float down to the stage floor, winking out in rapid succession as they do.

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"The blades of the windmill that turn in the sky,
They always have the same dream;
And in the dream of a bird, with a wish kept to herself,
She continues gazing at the one place she can never reach..."

The audience seems a little put out at the way this particular magic-bird was handled, not realizing the second iteration was going to be sad. Still, everyone seems pretty invested in the routine, and a couple of people toward the front who rose from their seats earlier have yet to sit down, seemingly all-in for whatever comes next. A woman can be seen excitedly whispering something to what is assumedly her guy-friend, and whatever it is makes him laugh. At some point in the back, Thyrenne appears to have come down the steps to the lower floor, but remains off to one side of them, arms folded as she watches with no less (not also no more) interest than before.

The pen in his hand ceased it's twirling and spinning for a moment, the only indication of his hidden irritation. Why did she insist on using the word never so much? Maybe not specifically in this song, but in general. Always putting predetermined limits on what she could do. He reached for his drink and took a sip, his gaze never leaving the stage.

It was just a song. A performance. The pen resumed it's motion. She wasn't saying this directly to him. It was entertainment. No need to get riled.

"Furikaeru~..." Mollianne continues to sing, putting one hand on her hip and casting an aside glance toward, this time, the right end of the stage. Her expression is conflicted and difficult to read. "..yaketa se~nro~ oou, nyuudougumo~ katachi wo kaetemo~..." Her hand falls from her hip, and she exhales from her nose as her eyes close, still facing that same direction of the stage. "Bokura wa~ oboete~ite~ douka, kisetsu ga~..." Her chin lifts, her voice rising with the music once more. "..nokoshita kinou wo!" This last syllable is short and curt, as her eyelids fly open and she turns to face the audience, her expression immediately going solemn as the second chorus prepares musically appropriates itself.

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"As I look back on those sun-baked railway tracks,
I see they've become overshadowed by stormclouds;
But even if they change their shape, may we always remember
The yesterdays we left behind through the seasons..."

The second chorus starts almost immediately as the nightclub patrons watch on, most of them well-drawn-in by now and waiting to see how the rest of her story-based song unfolds. Mollianne raises one hand loosely in the audience's direction and takes in a breath, her voice actually losing a little bit of its volume but still plenty loud enough for even the furthest in the back to hear with crystal clarity. "Kieru hikoukigumo~ oikakete oikakete~... hayasugiru aizu~ futari warai dashiteru~ itsumademo! Massugu ni~ manazashi wa aru youni~..." Mollianne lowers her hand back to her side, and her focus changes, apparently looking at something far off toward the back of the nightclub. Or at least, that's what it looks like; her eyes goes someone unfocused as she does, making it hard to really tell. The music, however, swells up, giving a pressured vibe to the whole act. "Ase ga nijindemo~ te wo hanasanai~ yo~... zu~tto!"

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"Chasing, always chasing the fading vapor trails,
I gave the signal too early, and we started laughing;
So that we may always be able to look ahead,
No matter how slippery with sweat, I won't ever let go of your hand..."

A few people, understandably, crane their necks around to see if a special guest had suddenly shown up at the back end of the nightclub, and are just-as-understandably perplexed when there's nothing there. Mollianne, however, continues to extend her gaze in that direction, and something plays the shadow game behind her eyes as the music suddenly drops to a lowered-intensity version of the beat it had been playing up to this point; a memory, perhaps.

Whatever it is really seems to bring her down, and a soft frown shows up on her face even as she continues with the final chorus of her song; the invisible wind that had been left around her this whole time kicks up a notch, sending her skirt billowing just a bit as her auburn locks fly obnoxiously about her face, but she makes no attempt to keep them at bay, simply singing through them. "Kieru hikoukigumo~ bokutachi wa miokutta~... mabushikute nigeta~ itsudatte yowakute~ ano hi kara kawarazu~... itsumademo kawarazu ni~ irarenakatta koto~ kuyashikute yubi~ wo~..."

Mollianne seems to deflate further as this previous syllable is drawn out, it being very obvious that something's bothering her. But, like all her other performances, it's just part of the show! At least, according to most everyone in the audience. And they love her for it! The siren's voice drops another volume level as the previous note draws on to the final word, sounding somewhat pained and weak. "..hana~su~..." Quieter or not, a vibratory echo encompasses this note, a familiar special effect that many people in the audience are familiar with, as the last piece of her song fills the showroom on all sides and seems to come from everywhere all at once before fading away into the air, leaving her and the audience left with the still-peppy pop beat that plays itself into an outro. Her hair and skirt flutter to gentle, equivalent standstills as the wind around her body also dies out.

At the top of the stage, the scrolling digital marquee provides a translation for the underprivileged, scrolling the following onto its display in the same right-to-left fashion:

"As we watched the vapor trails fading in the sky,
They were so brilliant that I turned and fled;
I was always so weak, and I let myself go, frustrated by the fact
That I couldn't stay unchanged since that day -
That I couldn't stay unchanged forever..."

A couple of white carnations suddenly land on the stage near Mollianne's feet, tossed up there likely from someone close enough to have been able to toss something with such small mass far enough to get it to land that close. This seems to snap Mollianne out of whatever reverie she was holding herself to, and as the music continues to play itself out, she peers down at the little flowers resting against her taloned toes. Gradually, a smirk finds its way onto her face, and with one last glance out over the audience, Mollianne turns and walks back toward the rear end of the stage, not even bothering to pick up the offerings in question. As the siren's form leaves the spotlight and disappears backstage, the music quietens and winds itself down into silence, that of which is immediately ruptured by the loud cheers and applause from her ever-approving fanbase. Various other things end up on stage in Mollianne's absence, most of them related to appreciation in some way.

Some scant few moments after the song and routine officially end, the lights quickly re-brighten overhead and the stagelights shut off, accompanied by the slow closing of the large red curtain across the back half of the stage floor. It also does not take long for that hoppin' techno music to reinstate itself, and the nightclub returns to its previous happenin' nature, with many people talking and chattering away over the music regarding Mollianne's most recent spellbinder.

Likewise, the majority of the serving girls return to their posts to continue doing what they're being paid for, but a good several of them also find themselves engaged in conversation as well, either amongst themselves or with other patrons.

Kaine had joined in on the final applause, even if it was only a few claps. It was more so that he wouldn't stick out, more than anything seeing as how Mollianne was no longer onstage to view it.

He knew that she was likely busy back behind the curtain. The night wasn't over after all, so she likely still had work to do, so he reclaimed his tome from the table after putting the pen away and opened it, taking his time with his drink.

He intended to have a chat with her after her shift, but for now he would just read, contemplate, and keep to himself until he had the opportunity to speak to her.

A short period of time passes, maybe ten to fifteen minutes or so, when a bespectacled siren comes hurrying out from the hallway leading backstage, glancing about her surroundings and only stopping when her eyes land on Thyrenne, whom she hurriedly runs over to. Against the noise of the club and the music overhead, whatever they're talking about looks rather problematic, and it only takes several seconds of chatter between the two before they make their way with relative haste toward the hallway once more.

Kaine took note of the subtle commotion and tucked his tome under one arm before climbing to his feet and dropping a handful of gold coins onto his table. Heading toward the door, that the old hag-siren and the others had headed toward as he dropped the tome into a void with a sleight of hand so it wasn't obvious that is where it went.

He had a bad feeling that there may be something problematic going on, at least that is what his intuition told him.

The hallway around the side of the stage appears to lead down a lengthy corridor with a series of rooms all along one wall, but Kaine would probably remember this from when Mollianne brought him out of her dressing room the day before. In fact, Thyrenne and the other siren stop in front of Mollianne's dressing room door, where there appears to be a folded note taped to the front of it.

Before either of them have a chance to do anything, though, the glass-wearing siren's paranoid sense of general awareness notices Kaine a short distance away down the hall, and she frowns. "Hey," she said, her voice a bit too high-pitched and too generally-cute to be really authoritive in any way, "you're not supposed to be back here."

This gets Thyrenne's attention, who also looks surprised at Kaine's location. "If you need something, you may feel free to call a server over," she tells him, trying to be professional despite also being kind of an awkward spot. "Only staff are allowed back here, please go back to the showroom, if you would."

"I'm here to meet up with Mollianne." He dismissed their protests casually, as if surely they would understand or had been informed. That was the outward presentation at least.

Internally he was suspicious. Surely the note would have some information pretainning to what was going on, as there most definitely was something, considering the little cluster of chattering hens collected outside Molly's dressingroom door.

This comment actually causes the bespectacled siren to freeze momentarily, but Thyrenne doesn't budge. "We will send her out there when she's ready," she older siren addressed Kaine, "but for now, you need to go back to the showroom, please." It's obvious that she's really trying to be professional about this, but also still hold her ground in the process. It might be more obvious than less that this sort of situation probably doesn't happen to either of them that often, and Cecille's already socially-awkward self doesn't handle it well, turning on one taloned heel to leave down the hallway back toward the backstage area and leave Thyrenne to deal with the pushy customer.

"You both seem a little stressed." He observed with a cool look at the two, then he pointedly trained his gaze on the note. "Is she okay?" There was just a hint of a menacing edge to his tone. Not enough to overtly exclaim that he was a threat, but just enough to set them a hair more on edge. It was deliberate, in some cases being less threatening would be better, but seeing as how they already were standoffish, this was the route he took.

"I know this is her dressing room, so there must be something going on. I was told to meet her back here after the performance." He reached out his senses past them, he could sense the old amulet was still in that room, but she wasn't. He really wished she would stop leaving that damn thing laying around...

His attention returned to the two standing before the door and offered a charming smile. "I'm sorry, just a little concerned, I'll be on my way." He turned on his heel and strode back the way he had come, vanishing from sight around the corner that would lead back to the showroom, but he never arrived in the showroom.

A portal blinked open just long enough for him to step through and deposit him in the dressingroom, the suit dispelling to reveal his usual attire as his gaze fell upon the black amulet, which he picked up. He thought that she would have been happy he attended. Happy that he had made an effort. Apparently he had been mistaken.

Now he had a bit of a choice to make. Call on Darkpyre so he could get a remote look at the note for clues and risk Salazar finding his way to this forsaken place, kill the two sirens just outside the door and take the note, or perhaps he could just scare them, they seemed relatively easy to fluster, though he wouldn't mind a little bloodshed right about now...

Or, he could simply leave her be until she saw fit to wander back. But who knew how long that would take.

Thyrenne frowns at the edge Kaine's tone seemed to take, but before she could threaten him with being removed by force, he seemed to find his common sense and left of his own accord. She sighed, then, and removed the note from the door, turning to head backstage where Cecille had left as she unfolds and reads it over.

Cecille, herself, is having a small panic attack; as mentioned, she did not handle strangers well, and strangers who insisted on being treated better than customers just because they knew the performers also were a trigger for her sense of paranoia. Thyrenne manages to finish reading the note by the time she arrives, though, but when she sees the younger siren in the state she's in, her maternal instincts kick in and she sets the unfolded note down on a table nearby, hurrying over. "Hey," she said, putting a hand on Cecille's shoulder. "It's okay. It was just an ornery customer, that's all. Everything's fine." She glances back for a second, then at the other girl again. "Not really sure what that was all about, but Mollianne has her share of strange friends, so I'm not really surprised. But everything's fine."

Cecille seems like it's going to take a bit for her nerves to calm down, but she does at least look up at Thyrenne, her already-large eyes widened from the situation. "Did you get to look at her note?" she asked. "Is Molly okay?"

"I think so," Thyrenne said, but with some obvious hesitation. "She's just going to be gone for awhile. She said she'll be back when she's ready, but promised it would be before her next scheduled performance, which is in a little over a week. She has some weird priorities for whatever issues she has going on, but I guess you can't fault her work ethic, if anything."

After pocketing the black amulet he could hear that the women just outside the door had moved elsewhere, the hall was empty and he had a quiet place to do a little spying from. He had a basic knowledge of the layout of the nightclub building, which would be enough for his purposes.

He knew she wasn't here now, but the contents of the note could be useful. From a third party perspective one of his frost-blue eyes appeared to turn black, rimmed with orange-red where the irise would normally be, but in reality it was just another use of his portal abilities, a peep hole or sorts, with each blink it gave him a few of a new place in the building, the other side of the portal being little more than another blackness in the shadows of a room.

This was how he found Molly's co-workers, and spotted the note unattended nearby. Excellent. Another blink and his point of view was from above the note, granting him a view of its message.

After taking in the contents of the note, he furrowed his brow, and the small portal before his eye snapped shut. There was no point in staying here now. He would need to look into the mechanisms of this "Shadowsnap" spell that was mentioned, perhaps there was a way to work around it.

With no small amount of frustration, he turned and stepped out of reality, leaving the dressing room empty once more.