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At the Opera Tonight [IC]


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Eddie sighed, "Well, it's not the play. That's for sure." He took a glance down at the stage, then back at his date. There you go again bringing other people into your problems. Well, in for a penny...

"The opera is actually really good. It's thought provoking. But that's the problem." Eddie explained, "You deserve to know. I might as well just spit this out."

Eddie took the time they had during the intermission to give Elizabeth a short rundown of the more important things he'd experienced over the last few months. He didn't spare any details, not even the ones he was less proud of. Eddie told her about how he'd crashed his best friend's car into his friend. Then afterward Eddie still had the gall to punch him . He told her how he'd watched his last relationship blow up in his face. He told her about all of the mistakes he'd made, and how he'd take them back if he could. He told her how it had taken a matter of hours for him to become the black sheep of young hero community. And how he still wasn't able to fix that.

Through his entire explanation, he never once looked up at her. He'd spent the time staring at his hands, which were busy trying to crack his knuckles repeatedly.

"So there it is." He finally looked up. "This whole time, I've been thinking about how this opera relates to my own life. I do that sometimes," He looked down again, "I'll hear lyrics to a song and try to map them to parts of my life. It's one of the reasons that I have such a great brain for music." He looked back up at Elizabeth again, "It's also why... It's why I can't forget what I've done. I'm forcing myself to remember it. So I never do it again."

The intermission was coming to an end. The lights began to dim.

Eddie stood abruptly. "I need some air." He told her. He walked out of their box just as the curtains opened for the next portion of the show.

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When Eddie had thought out loud during the anvils bit, he was hushed again by the person behind them. But when he and Elizabeth looked back during the intermission, they saw no one there.

Scene 3 opened in Nibelheim, where Alberich has enslaved the rest of the Nibelung dwarves with the power of the ring. He has forced his brother Mime, the most skillful smith, to create a magic helmet, the Tarnhelm. Alberich demonstrates the Tarnhelm's power by making himself invisible, the better to torment his subjects; the Tarnhelm can also change the wearer's shape, and teleport him long distances. (In an impressive display of theatrical wizardy, the baritone portraying Alberich actually did fade from view when he activated the Tarnhelm, though he did not go completely invisible.)

Wotan and Loge arrive and happen upon Mime, who tells them about Alberich's forging of the ring and the misery of the Nibelungs under his rule. Alberich returns, driving his slaves to pile up a huge mound of gold. When they have finished, he dismisses them and turns his attention to the two visitors. He boasts to them about his plans to conquer the world. He demonstrates the power of the Tarnhelm, by transforming into a giant snake. Loge pretends to doubt his skill, and goads him into demonstrating that he can also transform himself into a small animal, a toad. While he is a toad, the two gods quickly seize him, tie him up, and drag him up to the surface.

When Eddie rose, he still saw that the seats immediately behind Elizabeth and him were empty.

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Elizabeth listened intently as Eddie spoke about his past. She gasped as he went into detail about the events in question. It was not something she was expecting. She thought his attitude was all for show, but it appeared that he had some hard times before. She took him by the hand and pulled him into the hallway behind the box where she and him could speak more openly as the third act started. It was a little disconcerting to see that the shushing was coming from nowhere. She would worry about that later. Now, she had personal issues to deal with. Getting him out in the hall, she gently pushed his back to the wall keeping an arms distance away, and then... she slapped him. "Eddie," she said looking down in a hurt tone, "Why do you keep these things from me? Is there anything else I don't know? I try to tell you everything I do and know. And little by little I learn things about you." She looked up and caressed the cheek she slapped. "That said," There was a light bit of emotion in her throat and water in her eyes, she cleared both, "I want to know. Out of all those horrible things, have you learned anything? Are you the same person you were back then? It's one thing to say that you'd take it all back if you could, but how have you made changes?"

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Slick was feeling progressively more melancholy. He was not sure if it was the opera... well, it was German what would one expect? or the memories of his father.

Blast it he cursed I will have that champagne! he determined, pouring himself a glass. And yes, it was indeed a fine vintage.

He felt like the toad. Why did he always feel like a toad, a dwarf, and outcast, when he could look like practically anything?

Why was he always damn hiding what he was?

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When Elizabeth stopped him in the hall, Eddie was resistant at first, but he let her hold on to him. When she slapped him, it lit a flame of defiance in his eyes. But that flame was quickly extinguished when her touch became more gentle. I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at myself. he thought.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. And probably never will." He wasn't being antagonistic, "I'll make sure I tell you when I figure it out for myself." he said softly.

"That said," There was a light bit of emotion in her throat and water in her eyes, she cleared both, "I want to know. Out of all those horrible things, have you learned anything? Are you the same person you were back then? It's one thing to say that you'd take it all back if you could, but how have you made changes?"

"Changed." Eddie's voice was flat. "How have I changed? I haven't." His defiant look was back, and this time it stayed. "Want to know why? Because no one has given me the chance. It's hard to apologize to old friends when they hang up every time you call. It's hard to show you can be trusted, when people take responsibility from you rather than giving you more. And it is really god damn hard to keep being a hero when everyone tells you that you're on a slippery slope. That you're dangerous," his eyes narrowed, slightly, "A threat."

"So no. I haven't changed. But not for lack of trying. Want to know why this record never came out earlier? Because I was too busy saving people's lives to write it. And now look at me." Eddie spread his arms, causing the tailored jacket she'd given him to open wide, "Do I look like I'm living out my dreams?" Eddie was on the verge of tears. "It's Thanksgiving, Liz. And you're just about the only thing I've got worth giving thanks for. Hell, I couldn't even have dinner with my parents!"

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Elizabeth's thoughts were varied on why she would never know everything, she knew Eddie wasn't trying to be a bad guy about it, but it was hurtful.This festered inside her until he started talking again. She looked at him with a bit of sorrow for his troubles. Like she herself had caused them personally. She held him close as he started to tear up, "I didn't know this, baby. If you want help from me, you need just to ask it. And your friends? It's made you a miserable wreck, hasn't it? Sometimes it's better to let go of the demons in your closet than to have them torment you." She sighed, "Your parents though, I don't know what to tell you. I've never been in that situation. To lose the love of someone who give you life has to be the most draining horror ever." Elizabeth paused, there was no easy way to put this. She could not think of an answer. "I... don't know what to say, honey. While I don't think you should forget them..."

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"I... don't know what to say, honey. While I don't think you should forget them..."

"I haven't completely lost my parents," Eddie seemed to be reasoning with himself, though he was speaking out loud, "I just think that they're disappointed enough that they don't want me around. Maybe they're afraid they'd do something worse. Maybe they're trying to teach me a lesson. Either way, it's not helping. I'm certainly not learning anything more just by being kicked out of home. Sometimes I just have to wonder why no one believes you when you say you learned your lesson."

Eddie turned and leaned on the door frame leading to their box with one arm. "As for my friends," He gazed out over the crowd, and the performance, "I can't forget them. That WAS the lesson I learned. I just have to find a way to not let those memories bother me. For me, that's singing. I can let it all out, I can say whatever I want, and I know somewhere someone's going to love me for it. Because maybe, just maybe, listening to my songs makes them feel the same way."

Eddie turned to look at Elizabeth over his shoulder, "But when I'm not singing," he hesitated, "Well, it's a lot harder." He looked back down at the show, thankful that the shushing had stopped. He only briefly wondered where their peevish neighbors had gotten off to. "I know you like helping people. I know I can ask you if I need something. But I just... This is something I need to do for myself." His bright blue eyes locked onto Elizabeth's own. Eddie's expression was so focused that it brought only one word to mind: "Determination."

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Elizabeth sighed. He was right. She wanted to help him. Perhaps a bit too much. She loved that look of determination though. Every time she saw it something happened. Or would happen. She smiled, "You know I love you right? For more than just the music. No matter what other people say, you've shown me you can be something they say you're not." She shook her head, "I don't care what other people say, you're a good person. I hope you never give up. Ever. I hope you get what you want out of life. Be it your friends and parents back or not." She leaned in close, "Just know I am there for you when need me. Please, don't forget that?"

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Eddie's face softened, "I know," he told her, with a slight nod of his head, "I know. Thanks for believing in me." Eddie's smile had a way of lighting up the room. Whenever you saw it, it could make you feel like everything was going to be okay. Even though sometimes he didn't believe it himself. That was the smile he wore just now.

"Come on," He motioned towards their box. "Let's just go enjoy the rest of this opera. Maybe now that I've whined a little I'll be able to sit still." Eddie smirked as he poked fun at himself and returned to his seat.

When he reached his seat, he rapped his knuckles lightly two times against the wooden armrest. So nothing else goes wrong today...

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The final scene of Das Rheingold opens on the mountaintop, where Wotan and Loge force Alberich to exchange his wealth for his freedom. They untie his right hand, and he uses the ring to summon his Nibelung slaves, who bring the hoard of gold. After the gold has been delivered, he asks for the return of the Tarnhelm, but Loge says that it is part of his ransom. Finally, Wotan demands the ring. Alberich refuses, but Wotan seizes it from his finger and puts it on his own. Alberich is crushed by his loss, and before he leaves he lays a curse on the ring: until it returns to him, whoever does not possess it will desire it, and whoever possesses it will live in anxiety and will eventually be killed and robbed of it by its next owner.

The gods reconvene. Fasolt and Fafner return, carrying Freia. Reluctant to release Freia, Fasolt insists that the gold be heaped high enough to hide her from view. They pile up the gold, and Wotan is forced to relinquish the Tarnhelm to help cover Freia completely. However, Fasolt spots a remaining crack in the gold, through which Freia's eye can be seen. He demands that Wotan fill the crack by yielding the ring. Loge reminds all present that the ring rightly belongs to the Rhine maidens. Wotan angrily and defensively declares that he will keep it for his own, and the giants seize Freia and start to leave, this time forever.

Suddenly, Erda the earth goddess, a primeval goddess older than Wotan, appears out of the ground. She warns Wotan of impending doom and urges him to give up the cursed ring. Troubled, Wotan calls the giants back and surrenders the ring. The giants release Freia and begin dividing the treasure, but they quarrel over the ring itself. Fafner clubs Fasolt to death; the orchestra repeats Alberich's "Death-Curse" leitmotif. Wotan, horrified, realizes that Alberich's curse has terrible power. Loge remarks that Wotan is indeed a lucky fellow; his enemies are killing each other for the gold he gave up.

At last, the gods prepare to enter their new home. Donner summons a thunderstorm to clear the air. After the storm has ended, Froh creates a rainbow bridge that stretches to the gate of the castle. Wotan leads them across the bridge to the castle, which he names Valhalla. Fricka asks him about the name, and he replies enigmatically that its meaning will become clear when his plans come to fruition.

Loge, who knows that the end of the gods is coming, does not follow the others into Valhalla; he tells the audience that he is tempted to destroy the gods and all they have deceitfully acquired. Far below, the Rhine maidens mourn the loss of their gold and proclaim that the glory of the gods is only an illusion.

The curtain falls, and the audience gives thunderous applause.

The opera had begun at 8:00pm, it was now almost quarter to 11:00. And this was the shortest of the four operas! And, to everyone's delight, no supervillain attacks! But there were still three other performances to go...

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Slick stood up, joining the thunderous applause, with a few tears rolling down his cheeks.

Dad would have loved this... he thought. He raised his glass.

"Here's to you Dad, wherever you are. " he whispered, and drank.

Epic, emotional, and oozing German melancholy, the Opera never failed to hit Slick. It was a little masochistic to attend, he reflected - although it was also cathartic, and gave him a connection he needed.

Seventy years old, and you still play the fool he realised.

But we all need our masks...

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Warren Yawned as he drank down yet another can of energy drink to keep him awake. For once a major public performance was not ruined by super villains, small time thugs, gods annoyed by their portrayals, psychotic ghosts of dead actors, Aliens or technology somehow becoming sentient and baying for the blood of squishy humans. He still regretted not being able to see what happened first hand though. I was still something to behold if one just listened to it, even if it left a slight ringing sound in ears.

Bah! Can't remember if this is the end for the night or if this is going to continue...I should have brought more heavily caffeinated drinks with me.

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"Oh man." Eddie smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I really enjoyed that. I'm glad I stayed. I can't wait for tomorrow's show."

He turned to Elizabeth. "What did you think? Like? Love? Hate?"

Eddie turned and watched as all the people stood, and made their way towards the exit. He was once again glad to have box seats.

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Slick wandered outside to the night air and stretched. Damn, he felt exhausted. Not from the time, but the evocative nature of the performance, and the memories it dug up.

He scratched his chin. What with his fathers death, and recent events, he was perhaps being more melancholy than the last few decades. And of course, he turned to parties, wine, and women (and men) to distract him. But, if he was honest with himself, he was getting to old to distract himself. He had lived seventy odd years behind a mask.

That was too long.

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"Very instructive," Elizabeth said in a smug genteel southern accent. She chuckled at the reference, hoping Eddie got it too. She smiled to Eddie, "I'm glad you liked it. You see, culture and the arts aren't that boring are they?" She clasped her hands together with a look of longing anticipation, "There's other things than opera here too! Those season tickets are yours if you want them."

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"Culture and the arts?" Eddie returned, "You DO realize who you're talking to, right?" Eddie said with a grin.

Their conversation continued as they left their booth and joined the throng of people leaving the opera. "Liz," Eddie began, "I do want those tickets. But there's no way I can promise I will put them to good use. And what I don't want is to disappoint you."

It's bound to happen eventually, but that doesn't mean I have to go speeding things up. he thought to himself.

Addressing Elizabeth once more, he said, "I'm all for spending money to have fun. I just don't agree with wasting it."

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Sometimes Elizabeth wished she could read Eddie's mind. She swallowed lightly but still smiled as he denied the tickets. She had heard these things before. That was really great but i don't think I could do it all the time. She understood. She promised not to bother him about it anymore. Holding on to his arm as they left, her mind almost halted as he said something about the price. Was he intimidated by the money? Great. Now she felt like she was Monty Hall in this relationship. She would stop being so extravagant from now on. She had been quiet up until that point, just nodding and smiling. She searched for something else to talk about. "So, I've been thinking. How about we do a little traveling in the near future? I hear there are some very warm places out there this time of year."

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"Yea," Eddie said, sounding almost absent minded. "I think I'd like that. One last chance to get away before the album, and hopefully the rest of my life takes off."

The first night of the opera had given him an incredible amount to think about. He needed some time to process it all.

As the two reached the limo that had driven them, he asked her, "You wouldn't mind if we just went home, would you? It's been a pretty long night, and we get to do this again tomorrow."

Please say yes. I'm tired.

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"That would be fine," Elizabeth said agreeing with the trip home. The limo driver opened the door and she got in, holding Eddie by the hand. With a light swift pull she managed to get him in. The limo ride home was quiet except for some small talk about a few warm places they would like to be at the moment. This cold weather was for the polar bears. They did find warmth in each other though. The next day was Black Friday so they decided to stay in and not get trampled by shoppers. They worked on the album some, but mostly kept each other company. There was Christmas things to do! Christmas shows. Christmas trees. Christmas carols. All leading up to the next night when the opera started.

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Friday, November 26th, 2010.

If anything, the Beaudrie Opera House seems even more crowded!

Die Walküre (The Valkyrie)

the second opera in Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung)

Begins at 8:00pm, estimated run time 3 hr 15 min

ACT I

During a raging storm, A Man seeks shelter at the house of the warrior Hunding. Hunding is not present, and The Man is greeted by Hunding's Unhappy Wife. The Man tells her that he is fleeing from enemies. After taking a drink of mead, he moves to leave, claiming to be cursed by misfortune. However, Hunding's Unhappy Wife bids him to stay, saying that he can bring no misfortune to the "house where ill-luck lives."

Returning, Hunding reluctantly offers The Man the hospitality demanded by custom. His Unhappy Wife, increasingly fascinated by the visitor, urges him to tell his tale. The Man describes returning home with his father one day, to find his mother dead and his twin sister abducted. He then wandered with his father until he parted from him as well. One day he found a girl being forced into marriage and fought with the girl's relatives. However, his weapons were broken and the bride was killed, and he was forced to flee to Hunding's home. Initially The Man does not reveal his name, choosing to call himself 'Wehwalt', Woeful.

When Wehwalt finishes, Hunding reveals that he is one of Wehwalt's pursuers. He grants Wehwalt a night's stay, but they are to do battle in the morning. Hunding leaves the room with His Unhappy Wife, ignoring her distress. Wehwalt laments his misfortune, recalling his father's promise that he would find a sword when he most needed it.

Hunding's Unhappy Wife returns, having drugged her husband's drink to send him into a deep sleep. She reveals that she was forced into a marriage with Hunding. During their wedding feast, an Old Man had appeared and plunged a sword into the trunk of the ash tree in the center of the room, which Hunding and his companions had all failed to remove. She expresses her longing for the hero who could draw the sword and save her. Wehwalt expresses his love for her, which she reciprocates, and as she strives to understand her recognition of him, she realizes it is in the echo of her own voice, and reflection of her image, that she already knows him. When he speaks the name of his father, Wälse, she declares that Wehwalt is really Siegmund, and that the Wanderer/the Old Man left the sword for him.

Siegmund now easily draws the sword forth, and Hunding's Unhappy Wife tells him she is Sieglinde, his twin sister. He names the blade "Nothung" (or needful, for this is the weapon that he needs for his forthcoming fight with Hunding). As the Act closes he calls her 'bride and sister', and draws her to him with passionate fervour.

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"See, now that totally kicks ass." Eddie commented from his seat near Elizabeth in their box. "Here you have, this guy who's down on his luck, trapped in the belly of the beast, and he totally picks up a get out of jail free card right when he needs it most. Call it fate, or whatever you want, but it really is a good underdog story. You know, like Rocky!"

There's a lesson in that somewhere. Eddie thought to himself, but, "There's a Dio song in there somewhere." was all he said.

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Slick entered the box alone, again. God this was melancholy he thought to himself why did I do this? emotional masochism, that's why.

German Opera. Was there anything in the world more likely to evoke memories of his past, his upbringing, his father? All it needed was a bunch of mad nazi scientists to march on stage with a barrel of petroleum.

He sighed. He was still enjoying the Opera, of course, but he felt emotionally exhausted.

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Holding Eddie's hand, Elizabeth watch the opera quietly, trying to hide that she was watching him as much as the opera. She knew that the last one bummed him out, so she would bail him out if he looked upset this time. Though it looked like he enjoyed it. She nodded along as he gave his summation of the whole act in a few lines. She had never heard it phrased that way. "Rocky, eh? That's a stretch. But if you squint at it and turn your head sideways, I guess that works." She winked, "You know, maybe we can all learn something about tenacity with this." She chuckled at the Dio comment. There was so much Norse imagery in metal that she couldn't help but think it all meshed together. Though there were a few that stood out. She hummed a few bars of the music from the play as they waited for the next act to start.

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"Shhhh!" the two lovers heard again from behind them. But, looking back, they saw no one in the seats immediately behind them.

ACT II

Wotan is standing on a rocky mountainside with Brünnhilde, his Valkyrie daughter. He instructs Brünnhilde to protect Siegmund in his coming fight with Hunding. Fricka, Wotan's wife and the guardian of wedlock, arrives demanding the punishment of Siegmund and Sieglinde, who have committed adultery and incest. She knows that Wotan, disguised as the mortal man Wälse, had fathered Siegmund and Sieglinde, and that he, as the Wanderer/Old Man, left the sword in the trunk of the ash tree for Siegmund to find. Wotan protests that he requires a free hero -- that is, one that is not ruled by him -- to aid his plans, but Fricka retorts that Siegmund is not a free hero, but an unwitting pawn of Wotan. Backed into a corner, Wotan promises Fricka that Siegmund is to die.

Fricka leaves, leaving Brünnhilde with a despairing Wotan. Wotan explains his problems: troubled by the warning delivered by Erda (at the end of Das Rheingold), he had seduced the earth-goddess to learn more of the prophesied doom; Brünnhilde was born to him by Erda. He had raised Brünnhilde and eight other daughters as the Valkyries, warrior maidens who gather the souls of fallen heroes to form an army against Alberich. Valhalla's army will fail if Alberich should ever wield the Ring, which is in Fafner's possession. Using the Tarnhelm the giant has transformed himself into a dragon, lurking in a forest with the Nibelung treasure. Wotan cannot wrest the Ring from Fafner, who is bound to him by contract; he needs a free hero to defeat Fafner in his stead. However, as Fricka pointed out, he can only create thralls (servants) to himself. Bitterly, Wotan orders Brünnhilde to obey Fricka and ensure the death of his beloved child Siegmund.

Having fled from Hunding's hall Siegmund and Sieglinde enter the mountain pass, where Sieglinde faints in guilt and exhaustion. Brünnhilde approaches Siegmund, telling him of his impending death. Siegmund refuses to follow Brünnhilde to Valhalla when he finds out that Sieglinde cannot accompany him there. Impressed by his courage, Brünnhilde relents and agrees to protect Siegmund instead.

Hunding arrives and attacks Siegmund. Blessed by Brünnhilde, Siegmund begins to overpower Hunding, but Wotan appears and shatters Notung (Siegmund's sword) with his spear. Disarmed, Siegmund is slain by Hunding. Brünnhilde seizes Sieglinde and the shards of Notung, and flees on horseback. Wotan looks down on Siegmund's body, grieving. He strikes Hunding dead with a contemptuous gesture, and angrily sets out in pursuit of his lawless daughter.

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Pah! all this talk of Gods and Pawns. Why, a man could start to contemplate free will, destiny, and fate.

And end up drinking too much champagne from melancholy reflection

Slick lay slumped in the box, watching the drama and song unfold before him. Curse the damn opera!. He had a good mind to complain. The quality was superb. If he was going to watch German Opera, it should be badly done and so shield him from the emotional trauma.

No, forget complaining. Litigation. We contend that the performance was unduly high calibre, and no warning was given.

He took another swig directly from his champagne bottle.

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