PROCOPIA
Festival Pavilion
Palace of Mystery
Magnanimous in size and lavish in decor, the so named Palace of Mystery sat within the heart of the Festival Pavilion, catering to a resplendent evening, certain to entertain those who could afford the pricey allure of a resort evening. High-priced seating arranged in ultra-comfortable cushioned seats adorned a semi-circle of attention to draw ones focal point to the stage tiered upwards in a cone, as the grand scope of the theater came to a cross-section of attention. Pitch black, with the lights extinguished so naught but even a ray of stray illumination would pierce the cover of darkness. Light absorbing velvet hung from the ceiling clinging to the walls in rich tapestry, while the ceiling itself boasted a convex design, wherein housed the lighting for the entire theater in a descended bubble glossed over in a smooth transparisteel dome fashioned into an ebony hued one way mirror. Contracted for several weeks, tonight's main attraction was lit up on bill boards and holo marquees around the promonade, and venturing even further among the tiny island chains of this resort world. The poloticians loved the fame it brought, as it only heightened their campaigns for greater power and purpose. Pomp and circumstance were their bread and butter, and who better to elevate their standing than to book such choice acts like Mirage the Magnificent?Upon the stage a figure seemed to emerge from the depths of obscurity. While there was no light radiating upon him, his form began to slowly appear, radiating light of its own. The signature reflective dome of his stage helmet, shown a silver hue with the glistening of stars and planets roaming its unusual surface was seen first. Soon emptying passed the helm, the suit itself began to illuminate in dull blues, and crisp orange colors. Deep purple rested soon on the curious tri-digit gloved hands, wherein was held a small cube of nearly transparent material. Silence bemoaned the situation, keeping the sounds of any elaborate props or musical scores surrendered to it's grasp. Thus the echo of his amplified and synthesized ethereal voice cut clear across the expanse touching every sentient in attendance with the same deep thundering dulcet tones.
"Time. It beats on beyond the will of reason, or the desire from the hearts and minds of the past, the present, and future lives. A great mystery, so ordered and structured, that the design is something of calculated beauty."
Mirage's voice rang silken and true among his audience while the cube left his hands and rose, levitating before him and turning in slow circular patterns within the air. Each hand drawing back and forth as if to manipulate its course by his own masterful command. A slow white pulse ebbed from the object, as each of the sides forming the shape pulsed with the light, as a miniature diluted strobe. With every pulse, a second ticked by accompanied by a familiar tick to indicate it's course with the stream of time they were all familiar with and affected by in the same regard.
"In examination of this, the cosmic gait of our lives, let us ponder the question of control. From the moment we enter this life, we are in the flow of it." Both hands drew upwards and raised above his head, pulling at the seeming fabric of reality to craft an orb seemingly pulled from naught but air, shining like the reflective mantle upon his head. The small orb came to draw in his grasp, and leveled on his palm. "We measure it, and we mark it." Mirage explained as his digits (though only three) guided the orb over his palm and then to the back of his head, resting on the back of each thick finger. "We cannot defy it. We cannot even speed it up, or slow it down." The Illusionist proclaimed as the ball rested on his finger before curling unnaturally around his hand and coming to rest on his palm. A movement so fluid it was surreal to behold adding only to the phrase of slowing time itself down. His obscured helmet encased head shifted to draw attention towards the crowd, as he probed a question. "Or can we?"
The cube still pulsed with an even tempo as it rose higher to accentuate the talk of time, beating in the similar rhythm. The orb was tossed up into the air and fell back into his palm in a manner fitting all laws of physics and ordinances of time. Then from one hand to the other, Mirage matched the echoed ticks of the cube that pulsed with each second, maintaining a staccato between both hands, back and forth. His years at the circus had entrusted him with a great wealthy of dexterity and talents, among them was no shortage of juggling techniques.
"Have we not all experienced the sensation that a beautiful moment passed too quickly?" The Illusionist asked as the ball ceased it's arcing curve and in an instant jumped to the other palm. The pulse of white light from the orb ticked several seconds by in rapid repetition accompanied by the frantic ticking of the invisible clock until it resumed normal pace. "And wished that we could make it linger." Mirage continued tossing the ball up again, and only this time did it travel the curve of it's normal path in a far slower, unnatural movement, drawing their collective gaze to watch the slowed down path before it softly touched down in his opposite waiting palm. Again the cube decreased it's pattern of flashing, holding the second in a single slow pulse of light as the tick resounded in slow-motion. Resuming quickly the master plan of the cosmic measuring tape. "Or felt time slow, on a dull day, and wished that we could speed things up a bit?"
The ball was taken into both hands and clasped tight, removing it from sight. The orb vanishing as he had no more need for the visual demonstration while he turned his suited back to the audience and raised his hands. The back curved wall seemed to melt away, leaving a mostly transparent view into the gardens behind the enclosed theater. People walked around it clueless of their own view into the world. The bright vibrant colors only slightly dulled by the wall between themselves and the natural beauty of the trees and plants. Each hand rose and began to turn in the air, as if conducting the orchestra of the ages. The still beating and pulsing of the cube above flashed in it's rhythmic cadence. The lavish palace of plant life outside began to blossom even further, the vibrant colors springing to new life, growing and reaching out with their vines and branches. The cube above flashed it's white light faster and faster, while the ticking became of a furious pace as if marking the time they were used to into a rapid progression.
Arms shook of the Illusionist with palpable power as the colors began to burn into bright and fierce reds and oranges as the leaves began to turn and shift in color. The sentients within the gardens stopped, slack-jawed as the sight which gave credence to this illusion that it was certainly not just a projected hoax. Leaves began to wither and crumble as they fell from the trees that bloomed with them. The plants curling up and fading, turning the stems into curls and darkening the bright colors into naught but a shade of dismal gray. Frost began to cling to the dying of the planets as the bark soon lost it's color, and the green of the plants became chilled in ice and frost. Winter claiming all the life save for the people that watched in confusion and mystery both inside and outside the palace. No sooner than it had come and claimed the lives, had the process began to undo itself. The white pulse of time ticked by still at it's manic pace, completely blurring the pulses into one singular incandescent shine. Light seemed to spill back into the dead plants, causing small buds to form rapidly on the branches as their shrunken frames extended again, opening up to the unseen nourishment of a greater light.
Soon after leaves spread themselves open, in healthy greens. Plant stems rose and stiffened producing the unfurling blossoms that radiated their beauty. Majestic vines crawled along the expanse of walls, also producing their own unique petal formations. Ivy grew and flourished among the garden as people around began to applaud, and even inside the theater the admiration resounded. The white light began to fade from the cube, coming down from it's rapid beat and slowing to a more normal routine as the ticking also had finished it's crescendo into madness and began to beat correctly. Mirage slowly lowered his arms as the garden was once again righted into the time of the year. A full course of seasons had passed before their eyes in mere minutes before he took a shallow breath and turned to greet the thunderous applause. A deep bow was given, and the show ended soon after.
Festival Ballroom
Following the jaw-dropping performance in the theater, the seats were emptied out in favor of the formal ballroom where drinks and refreshments were given out. Waiters and waitresses walked around offering trays of drinks and horderves served to all the guests. Gallant and elegant dress was common place in such a lavish ballroom. Soft music played by a band tucked into an alcove. Mostly quiet strings serenading the guests. Several dozen pockets of people gathered to mingle and discuss current events, where the most curious and amazing was that of the show they had just all witnessed. Theories bounced about the room. Reactions were varied and sundry. A singular man stepped from behind the mezzanine curtain off the side and raised his hand while a microphone was propped to his chin. The Trandoshan echoed his resolution to the crowd.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for attending our night of Illusion here at the Festival Pavilion. Please help me in welcoming your entertainer of the evening - the one and only, MIRAGE THE MAGNIFICENT!" A shout went out at the mention of his name as a tendril of smoke rose from the spot next to his announcer, drawing up and circulating around the same few tiles of the glossy floor. A black cane followed by a dark suited man stepped from the wisps of gray smoke. Mirage gave a small bow to his guests and his patron before the applause began to slowly die down. The only difference at this point was the absence of the chromatic helmet that was his signature design. In place of it, his normal face with mustache and hair nearly manicured to perfection. The helmet itself was tucked against his suit in hand before he gave it off to the announcer so that it might return to his ship; The Figment.
It was time to glad-hand, and be a celebrity for the rest of the night. Though he enjoyed his profession immensely, he always wondered if he'd meet someone truly unique that would stand out from a crowd of these size and social status. He liked meeting those people the best.
