Sing, O' Melpomene

"I've never enjoyed tragedies." She murmured softly against Basileios' shoulder.

The two of them sat in her cousin Cyrille's private box at the opera, coaxed by a quiet night out together. It'd been a while since they excursion at the Beggar and Flagon, a while since they each attended to their individual schemes, meeting with all sorts. She kept her goings on with him transparent, telling him how well the process had gone of her hiring an assassin to go after Apollyn and if her contacts could find where Lionel had gone, as she needed words with him as well. Aside from that, she let Bas to his own devices, knowing he had his own ends to meet and not prying into them. She'd learned her lesson about knowing too much of him, not wanting to ruin this beyond the nightmares she couldn't control.

Even if there were things she couldn't handle - things that reminded her too much of her time in the woods that made her flinch or snap in irrational anger - she simply squeezed his hand and leaned on him. It didn't change what had happened, and she still wasn't used to trusting someone, thorned as she was, but she made an effort to try.

Tonight they were overlooking a new rendition of an Ivran classic, Le Chevalier du Soleil, featuring a lady knight caught in a doomed romance with her lover that later becomes her enemy. It was interesting to see the actors switch from mage actors to nonmages, to give the dark lover shadow magic purely through stage tricks and still make it believable. She'd never seen stage magic before, at least not in the literal sense, and there were some that caught her eye as being particularly clever.

She nestled her cheek more comfortably against his shoulder, then continued, "Perhaps it was in spite of how my cousin craves them, or perhaps it was due to me consigning them to needless irrationality. How foolish they seemed to me then, to not take the wisest course of action and instead let their hearts lead them to ruin." Her eyelashes flickered a little lower. "I don't know if I find them any more appealing now that I can relate to them." 

She glanced up at him then, offering up the smallest hint of a smile. "I welcome you to argue against my opinion, since you know more of them than I. I might be open to persuasion. Perhaps. Possibly."