Dance I: Eunuch Holiday

Out from the miserable peaks of thousands of grey towers of the pale city Conrequiet, thousands of red and yellow and orange lamps are blown out, bringing blackness to the cityscape. Not but a moment later, the streetlights illuminate, bringing a soft, ghostly hue to the white stone. One man continues to pace the streets, his hansome face creased by desperation and troubled thought.

Half mad by now, Dmitri continues his nightly wanderings, never ceasing.

For upon half the year Conrequiat will bask in endless night, an half the year endless day.

The waking shift has come to a hault, and the dreaming shift had begun. When the city slept, it was dangerous to go outside. Things are changing.

The androgenous eunuch monks begin to pour from the temples, in their blackeded robes, by the hundreds and wander the white maze of midnight in perfect silence, to keep the people indoors, and the demons of nightmares out of doors.

Things are changing indeed.

CONCERTO OF ONE HUNDRED DANCES

Welcome all, take my hand, let me greet you-- this is truly an auspicous event, here at the concerto of ONE HUNDRED dances, and no less! Come along, don't let the stage hands look at you, for if you don't look at their faces, you won't remember these ghosts from your past. Pay no heed to the audience, for they will tear you apart if you meet their gaze. Focuse on the grand performance, and enjoy!

You're playing with fire! You're going to be singed! Life is too beautiful a thing to let go unspoiled so indulge in our show!