Don Giovanni [Completed]

[Marko Iliev]

^{((Open, but Milos needs to get his homo ass in here particularly.))}

The opera house was just another building among many in the Entertainment District; just another speck on Granor's horizon. It wasn't the largest, or the most crowded building in the city, but it was a place where many of the city's most wealthy and prominent were gathered that evening - nobles, Draconians; those who were considered high society.

The show had just begun, and the music was audible from quite a distance away. However, the streets were not empty. It was six in the evening, so his pocket watch told him, meaning that the average citizens would be heading home from a long day of work, now, passing the opera house on the way back if they had to. And so they were. Which meant plotting out in the street, where the light from the streetlamps was at least somewhat decent, was risky.

Marko shut his pocket watch and stuffed it back into his jacket, before peering out into the illuminated street from the cramped alleyway next to the opera, his eyes watching each figure pass by. None of them gave his shadowed form a second glance, which was good, but all the same, the citizens were not of much concern. Now, if anyone who happened to be from the military was in the vicinity, then that would be more of a problem. But there was no one like that out there... At the time.

Slinking back into the darkness, he leaned against the wall of the building, his eyes still scanning the street for a moment more; letting the vibrations of the loud instruments and voices within the hall ring in his ears. It was oddly nostalgic, in an unpleasant way. Perhaps he'd heard the song in his childhood... That wouldn't have been impossible, though he couldn't remember ever stepping foot inside the opera house before. His father had never taken the rest of them; he'd always gone alone... Or as Marko had realised when he'd matured enough to understand, with women that weren't his mother. Maybe his father would be there tonight, with another mistress... Maybe. He didn't give a damn either way.

The timbre of the song began to sink into a softer tone, leaving the droning of a piano as the only internal noise blotting out the usual sounds from the street. He wouldn't be overheard, if he spoke quickly and quietly, but clearly. He sank to the ground on his uninjured knee, and waved his hand in a slapdash 'come hither' motion, whilst calling in a blunt whisper down the alley, "Milos."

[Miloš Jovanović]

Even though it was only early evening, 6-ish from what he could tell having glanced at a clock tower on the way over, it was already pitch black out, the moon just peeking out over the horizon, barely able to be seen over the rows of houses. But the moon was indeed out which was thankful for what they had planned. Having that extra bit of light would be make his job that much easier.

Milos looked around the dark alleyway, double-checking yet again that they hadn't been spotted and that no one was watching; it wouldn't do for there to be witnesses. But all he saw was a dirty alley littered with bits of refuse spilling out of trash cans and stacked boxes. It looked like every other god forsaken alley in this city, though a bit cleaner than many considering well, they were next an opera house. More importantly though as he looked around he could already see a way for him to climb up, though it'd be a bit tricky and if he fell more than a bit dangerous.

As it was it was about time they get this plan put into action. He turned back to Marko opening his mouth to say something only to see him gesture towards him. Shutting his mouth he quietly walked the few steps back over, going down to squat on the balls of his feet. He whispered back to Marko, "Yeah what is it." Normally he'd be teasing him and mockingly calling him "Fagko" or something along those lines, but right now he was in work mode. That didn't mean he'd be an angel though, he thought to himself with a smirk. Oh no tonight he'd definitely still be enjoying himself.

[Marko Iliev]

From the inside pocket of his jacket, where he'd put his watch back, Marko removed a small piece of folded paper, opening it up to show a floor plan of the inside of the building next to them. The picture itself was an accurate blueprint, probably dug up from the city's archives somewhere, but there were various sketchy lines (and ink blots) over it. He set the paper on the cold ground, and pressed down on the folds to flatten it out. When Milos had crouched to his level, he spoke again. "Let's run through it once more." 'It' meaning the plot they were to carry out, though he didn't have to be vague about it.

The next thing he took out of his jacket was a set of matches. He struck one quickly and lit up the space between the two of them in an instant, the frost on the alley pavement sparkling and his breath visible. "The target's in one of these boxes." He tapped the forefinger of his free hand against where the blueprints were etched with scratchy circles, hovering the lit match above it. Again, he didn't give specifics. Milos already knew the plan anyway; it just couldn't hurt to remind him.

[Miloš Jovanović]

It was eerily quiet save for the crinkling of the paper as Marko smoothed it out in front of him. He took a glance at it easily recognizing the blueprint he had already memorized (mostly, he memorized what he found important to remember at least). When Marko motioned he inwardly groaned, they'd already gone over the plan a few times now, but he'd humor him. Milos listened quietly to his speech, nodding his head as his partner-in-crime pointed out the general area his target would be in.

When he'd finished his sentence Milos replied back quietly, "Yeah I gotcha, I gotcha. But I think we both know what we need to do, right?" He ended his sentence on an impatient note, his annoyance with Marko showing just a bit. He already knew the whole plan he didn't need to be reminded of it like some common lackey.

Standing up he went over and picked up the bag containing what he'd need and put the strap over his shoulder gingerly before walking back and offering a hand to help Marko back up. "I think it's about time we get movin' before people start wondering what we're doing lurking around here."

[Marko Iliev]

So Milos didn't want to run through it again. A wry frown twitched at Marko's lips. 'Should've figured as much.'

He grasped the other's hand, and heaved himself off the ground, picking up the paper between two of his fingers that weren't holding the match. He then used his free hand to take the paper and held it over the small flame, setting it alight. Burning the evidence meant that were he to run into any trouble, they wouldn't find the map, either on his body, or abandoned in the alley. Such a precaution was necessary.

“Fine. Go on, then. I’ll see you when it’s over.” He said bluntly. There was room for doubt. There always was going to be. Perhaps the plan would fail, perhaps he wouldn’t see him again. But he tried not to make himself look or sound as if he was thinking like that. Strangely enough, he didn’t think it would have bothered him so much, were he working alone.

He let the smouldering paper and match drop back to the ground, and with his ailing foot, stamped the flickering embers out.

[Miloš Jovanović]

Once he had helped Marko back up Milos shot him a grin and gave him a mocking salute. "See you on the other side." Whether he was being sardonic or simply sarcastic it was hard to tell. He didn't give much thought to his future. If he were being honest with himself though, if he did die he wouldn't want to see Marko there with him.

But that was neither here nor there; he had work to do. And at times like this he really enjoyed his work. Taking a last look at Marko and the remains of the blueprints underfoot he turned and headed further down into the alleyway, barely making a sound as he did so. He stopped in front of a particular stack of boxes, but after taking a quick look didn't find them to be particularly sturdy-looking. That was fine though he already had a different way to get up.

The opera house was a beautiful building, having been built hundreds of years ago by one of the best architects of the day. The architect in particular had been fond of a more ornate style of building leaving plenty of ledges and things for him to use to climb his way up it. Milos secured the bag more carefully, shifting the strap over his head so it was secure across his chest resting on his opposite shoulder. He spit on his hands and rubbed them together, before taking a few steps back and running at the building using his momentum to kick against the building and propel himself up grabbing at a handhold he'd spotted, just barely managing to hold on as he felt the full force of his weight once again.

Grunting quietly he reached up, feeling his biceps straining under his own weight and grabbed a windowsill scrambling his feet against the wall and heaving himself up so he so he managed to get a knee on the narrow ledge. Luckily (or unluckily) this window was closed and locked tight with curtains drawn. That meant no risk of him getting spotted yet at least. But he still needed to keep moving, even if the cover of darkness was in his favor. So, he kept climbing his way up.

[Lili Walser]

“Sit up straight, Nichte, and don’t slouch.” Tante Agnes’ voice was sharp, as it always was. And even though Lili hadn’t thought she was slouching, she straightened her back more. The three of them – Gilbert was along this time, too – were in a carriage, and on their way to the opera house. For some reason, Tante had insisted that Lili insist upon Gilbert coming this time (privately, and Lili hadn’t even shared this with Gilbert, she thought it was because Tante couldn’t stop herself from gossiping with anyone and everyone, and also couldn’t leave Lili unchaperoned… so Gilbert was there to fill that position), and Lili had been only too happy to agree. She… rather disliked going to the opera with Tante.

“That’s better.” At least Lili had remembered not to speak this time… Agnes was firmly of the opinion that Lili, though eighteen, was still a child. She must be, to not be married by this point. What, exactly, was her guardian doing? Absolutely nothing, in Agnes’ expert opinion. Why, when she was Lili’s age, she’d been married for a year! Regardless, children were to be seen and not heard. She sat across from her niece, and her niece’s cousin, in the carriage – the better to keep an eye on Lili, and honestly, she wouldn’t want Gilbert this close to her if she could help it. Gilbert was from Lili’s mother’s family... the Beilschmidts. Agnes had never been fond of Lenora, though no one could ever find the reasoning.

Just when Lili thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, the carriage pulled up to the opera house. She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, and sat perfectly still as she waited for the footman to assist Tante out. “I-I’m sorry, Gilbert…” She whispered while Tante was preoccupied berating the servant for his lack of promptness. She had a feeling that this was torturous for him, being that they were going to the opera – and going to the opera with what had to be Gilbert’s least favorite person alive. The two of them could hardly go an hour without thinly veiled insults, barbed inquiries, and all around snippiness on Tante’s part. “B-But… I… I’m glad you came…”

“Come along then, Nichte, Herr Beilschmidt.” Tante’s voice was clipped. “We’ll be late if you don’t hurry yourselves.” And being late was something Tante could not, and would not, stand for. As it was, Lili could hear the music. They might miss the curtain at this point... though it wasn't as if Tante hadn't seen this opera before, Lili was sure.

[awesome]

Gilbert, was in fact, contrary to the beliefs of many, which most likely included Lili's fat Aunt sitting across from him and said girl, a noble. He had experienced many of the luxuries that come with being a noble. Balls, plays, operas, tea parties, birthday parties, welcome parties, farewell parties, because we're rich and we can parties, moar parties because moar, and just fucking parties, because that is what nobles did, and personally, Gilbert hated most everything nobles did, it all bored him to death. And being bored, was so very, very not awesome. (Now if certain friends came along with him to such parties, that was a different story entirely, but thatis another story entirely, and not one for polite company....or his dear cousin's anyway.) Out of all those, however, the albino hated the opera the most. It was the one that screamed (what he felt was literally) of Nobility, and good lord was it boring. He could never understand the women's parts, like, the words bleating from their mouths, and god the drama was always so stupid. He could be a bit jaded though... Besides! The only time he ever wanted to hear a lady make a noise that high, it would not be in the presence of others.

So when Lili had not only asked, but asked again, and again, that he go with her to see the opera....Gilbert was far from excited. Yet he finally conceded, if not for the fact she really did rarely ask anything of him, he sure as hell was not going to let her go somewhere with her pig of an aunt that wasn't that aunt-pig's house. The few times she went there, things were out of his hands, but Gilbert truly hated the mood Lili returned in every time. So he escorted Lili and Tante 'AGH' to the opera, making sure to be the perfect gentleman to his cousin, and all around ignoring the other's existence....for the most part. He was proud to say he kept his mouth shut, even as she spoke too much, was a total bitch, the usual, (Who was she really, to tell Lili to sit up straighter? Girl looked pretty straight backed to him. Sides, it was hard to judge, Agh. It was too hard to tell whether she was sitting straight or not with all that fat. It hid her posture well. Lucky he supposed..... fat pig.) he just stared her down the either ride to the opera house.

He even held his tongue as they got out and she snipped at them to hurry. Bit his cheek really, worked about the same. Climbing out after his cousin’s aunt, Gilbert offered her a hand down, cracking the nervous little bird of a girl a small grin and whispering to her as he descended the steps, “You think she’ll get offended if I sing along?”

The answer was yes. He already knew that. It tempted him more. Too bad it’d get him thrown out. So he couldn’t. Sads.

Taking charge, since he was escort, he brought Lili and himself around in front of the other woman. He really couldn’t stand to look at that tablebutt flopping as she walked, no waddled, another moment longer anyway. One of these days that word was gonna slip from his mouth in her presence…One of these days Gilbo was gonna have himself a good laugh. Taking the steps up to their box, he led Lili to her seat, noting the music was starting. He hummed a minor little tune, mentally preparing for Lili’s ‘dearest’ Tante to bitch some more, but hoped the swelling music would cue her to keep her trap shut, and took his seat right as said pig-beast and her assistant entered the box. He watched the other settle into her seat, his own face scrunching up with distaste, then nodded to the boy to close the curtain to their box and give them their privacy. Turning back to the stage down below, he dug out his pair of binoculars and handed them to his cousin wordlessly. Honestly, he probably needed them more, but he had no interest in watching anyway. Just needed to prepare for the headache this night would give him.

[Marko Iliev]

When the burning remnants of the paper were all snubbed out, Marko took his gaze off of Milos and stepped towards the other side of the alley carefully, using the wall as a guide. He peered back out into the illuminated street, and frowned slightly... He'd planned to just walk (or, well, limp) straight into the building, but now a carriage had pulled up at the entrance, which put a slight hindrance in that plan... He'd have to wait now, to avoid any suspicion. He couldn't afford to be seen leaving the alley by anyone who could give it a second thought.

He stayed hidden, pressing his back against the opera house wall, but from there, he watched the party leaving the carriage.

Nobles. Late nobles.

Two women, one perhaps in her mid to late teen years, one probably middle-aged, were he to guess, a man who didn't look old enough to have the silver hair colour he had, and their footman... Marko didn't take much notice as to whom the nobles were, but he deduced that they were a family, or relatives somehow. Usually nobles came to the opera in family groups. He almost found it a shame that he couldn't say the same about his own family.

Once they had entered the building and were out of his sight, he glanced around for anyone else that could catch sight of him. Only when the coast was clear did he straighten his posture and step out into the open.

Marko's limp was pretty bad, but he could suppress it, if need be. This was one of the times he preferred to do so. It hurt, God, it hurt like hell, and every so often as he approached the entrance, his hands slipped into his pockets, he winced ever so slightly. He wondered if he could keep this up; there wasn't much room for doubt, though. He was more distinguishable with the limp than without. But, so far, so good... It seemed as if no one had given much mind to him approaching the building from the side. But that had been the easy part, he then found. The steps up to the front doors seemed like a Goddamn mountain for a man with an injured leg.

[Miloš Jovanović]

Reaching up his hand found refuge in the form of a solid handhold, the rough stone scraping his already calloused hands. With a grunt, he pulled himself up and heaved himself over onto the roof, sprawling on the tiled roof with his chest heaving. The Opera house was a lot taller than it had looked from the alleyway, but he'd finally made it.

After taking a moment to catch his breath Milos carefully stood up and started making his way across the roof over to over one of the balcony windows for the top floor. He took his bag off and carefully lowered his torso over the edge upside-down to look into the window to see if the coast was clear. He struggled to get himself low enough without falling off entirely, but once he could look into the window he saw that, as he expected based on what Marko had told him, the top floor was empty. Pulling himself back up he grabbed his bag and put it back across his shoulders before climbing down onto the window ledge and opening the window, letting himself inside.

With a smirk Milos looked around him at the fancy interior and could already imagine it in ruins. This would be a fun night indeed. And with that thought in mind he jogged down the hallway, he'd have to hurry with the set up before he was seen. He'd hate to have to kill an innocent bystander (collateral damage however was another story).