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A dedication to a Lord isn’t something that should be done without thought behind it, and is complicated even more now by Lucien pretending to be Shuni.

Of course, Lucien pretending to be Shuni is something he has already dedicated to Lord Crow—at least in his heart, even if he can’t announce it out loud. They’ve done it so Shuni can benefit from Lord Crow, so Lord Crow can be intrigued by their choices, so they can together present a different play to Lord Crow…

But it means he can’t just decide who to dedicate the duel scene to without considering who Shuni would dedicate it to, as he’s currently filling Shuni’s shoes. Certainly, Lord Crow is again an easy option, since Lucien already knows Shuni is interested in Lord Crow. But that’s what Shuni wants, not necessarily what Shuni would do. And Shuni already told Lucien once that he prefers to spread the dedications around during the performance, to not leave a lord out.

There’s something else he has to consider, too: if it would upset Lord Crow to be shunned? Lucien is sure that Lord Crow must have already figured out the deception, and he doesn’t know how Lord Crow would react to his dedicating it to someone else. And yet—Lucien can’t think it would offend him. That’s why he agreed to this plan in the first place, isn’t it? Backing out halfway through might even be more offensive, since it would show a lack of commitment to the role, to the game.

The best thing would be to dedicate it to another Lord, then. And who knows—given the things he’s been hearing, and the strange cracked and empty landscape of his dreams, maybe having Lord Vine’s attention is a good idea.

Katarin has finished Revelle’s shouted speech at Logos, and he sneers, raising his sword. “Oh, you speak big words now, Lady,” he says. “But I’ll best you. To first blood! Whoever’s blood first hits this dirt, may it water the flowers and blossom new beginnings.” That last is said lewdly, with a thrust of his hips, implying the underlying nature of Logos’s desire.

They fight; it’s choreographed, and while he hasn’t gone through Shuni’s steps before, he finds he’s doing it preternaturally well. He’s watched them often enough, he supposes, that he’s managed to memorize it without even trying.

Logos is stabbed in the arm, and withdraws, glowering. Either can be the winner of this duel, depending on how the audience is reacting; Katarin is in fine form today, and the crowd was clearly rooting for Revelle. He snarls Logos’s threats to have her eventually, one way or another, and limps off.

Soon enough, it moves on to the murder scene; it’s played differently, this time, and Arcane slays Logos—dedicating it, of course, to Lord Crow. Lucien is sort of relieved; the hundreds of potential scene combinations after this are only ones he’s practiced as Arcane, so his learning them well largely relied on Arcane’s survival. He’d sat in on rehearsals, of course, so he could have muddled through if things had gone differently, but he isn’t sure he could manage two layers of roles past this point in the play.

He returns to the green room, and although he’s currently alone there, he tries to think of what Shuni does in his down time. There’s a book he’s been reading, Lucien remembers, and goes to pick it up; he’s launched into a story in progress where he doesn’t know anybody’s motivations or backstory, but reading it at least won’t raise any doubts from any other cast members who come and go.

And it’s just as well; Frederik comes in, and seems to hover around, trying to get his attention without demanding it, but Lucien has no idea about Frederik and Shuni’s relationship to each other, and keeps his nose in the book. He’s just pretending to read it at this point, lost in thought instead. He’s worried about Shuni. After the strange things Katarin was saying, and her implication that other people might be having dreams as well, Shuni may have more going on than Lucien previously knew.

He wants to help if he can, and decides that he’ll make sure to talk to Shuni about all of this.

Finally, the play is done; he is called down for his bows, and as they’re hustled off stage after, Lucien catches Shuni’s arm. “I need to talk to you soon,” he whispers. “Alone.”

Shuni gives him a slightly wild expression. “Sure,” he says, “But later, okay? I can come by your place around dawn? I want to go out and see if Lord Crow does show up.”

That’s fair enough, Lucien supposes, letting Shuni’s sleeve slide through his fingers and staring after him. From Shuni’s perspective, that’s what they’ve done this for. But… Lucien wants to see Lord Crow too, and if Lord Crow has figured out the switch, it might be either of them that Lord Crow approaches tonight. Or, if Shuni gets rejected, might he not want comfort?

He’s watching Shuni hurriedly get out of costume and into Lucien’s old clothes, almost hindering the costumers with his attempts to help, when Katarin also comes up on him. “We should talk more,” she says, smiling, seeming more relaxed now the play’s done. “Want to go get a drink again?”

Lucien holds his arms out, letting the costumers work at stripping him out of Logos’s clothes, and hesitates. He still sort of wants to wait for Shuni or Lord Crow. And also… what if Lord Vine wants to talk to him now? Sure, it isn’t common for any Lord to call someone aside, of course, but after last night, what if they do choose to? Could Lucien afford to miss that chance?

Still, he is curious about what Katarin had been asking about, and he can probably reveal the switch once they’ve left the theatre, since they’re doing this only for the one night. If he’s himself again, he may be able to talk to her honestly.

But he knows he can really only pick one option tonight: Go out separately in the hopes of attracting one of the Lords, follow Shuni to see what happens with Lord Crow and comfort him in case of rejection, or go with Katarin.

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Well, this is awkward at best, Lucien thinks frantically even as he lifts his brow with Shuni’s practiced insouciance. He has no idea what Katarin’s prying question even means, and that would be fine if he were Lucien tonight. But he’s having to pretend to be Shuni instead.

The easiest option is just to let her in on what’s going on. And perhaps she deserves it; she is his costar as much as Shuni is, after all, and they are building this play to its inevitable and unrevealed end together.

But he’s already committed to be Shuni, and revealing himself to her would run counter to their agreed plan in its very nature. Besides, he’s not sure Shuni would reveal the truth if asked so directly. So he cannot tell her the truth, either.

Lucien eyes her thoughtfully. She’s fully costumed, in Revelle’s breeches and beautifully embroidered blue and gold coat that she wears in the first scene, when she tries to fight the duel against Logos on her own behalf. (He, as Logos, is far less fancy in a simple black long coat and trousers, ever the lurking villain.) Her long brown hair is tied back in a queue, to stay out of the way during the fight—Katarin’s actual hair is blond, but they have several wigs backstage to help style her to match the script. He makes her wait, watches her impatience grow, and then murmurs, “What if it is me?”

Her eyes narrow. “Then I need to know what you’re doing here.”

One way or another, he needs more details about what she’s asking about. Even if he manages to put her off entirely, that’ll just make her his problem tomorrow, when she goes to ask the same question of Lucien—in other words, himself, again. And if he doesn’t put her off, she’ll keep on after Shuni, and he at least owes Shuni an informed warning.

“I’m performing in the play, of course,” he says, gesturing at the curtain. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Have you been having the dreams?” she asks, intent.

“I may have,” he says. He’s certainly been having odd dreams, and he wonders for the first time if Shuni is too. “Have you?”

“I think anyone involved in this should be having it,” she hisses softly. “Listen, I just need to know which side you’re on about this. Are you infiltrating to stop it, or infiltrating to cause it?”

Shit. This is getting into too many questions that he can’t begin to answer. “Stop what? And what about you?”

“The change,” she says. “You know. The change.”

He wants to respond ‘what change?’, but knows that it will give away that he doesn’t know anything. And she’s so adamant that ‘it’ is one of them, so if she is right, it must be Shuni. He casts around for an excuse to end the conversation— 

And finds one. His and Shuni’s understudy, Frederik, is eyeing them suspiciously. And no wonder—he might not usually be onstage (after all, he doesn’t look enough like either of them for the director to want to work in a full twist with a triplet), but he has studied both his and Shuni’s performances nonstop. If anyone’s likely to recognize something is wrong, it’s Frederik.

Lucien nods towards Frederik, as subtly as he can. “Not now. Prying eyes. Besides, we have to get started.”

She looks frustrated, but does not retort, just throws her hands up and walks away. He turns and looks directly at Frederik, giving him a smile and a shrug, like who knows what’s bothering her now?

Frederik shrugs back, turning to watch her go.

And then it’s time for the play to begin. While the first scene goes on, he runs through Logos’s lines in his head, trying to get into a character he’s only observed and played off of before, not one whose interiority he’s tried to live. Soon enough, the second scene begins. Katarin is on first, Revelle entering and monologuing to the audience about her freedom, and wanting to prove herself against Logos, and then it’s his turn to stride on with a sneer, facing the audience.

“It’s a duel she wants, and it’s a duel she’ll get,” he announces, staring up at the boxed seats. To his surprise, three of them are full again, the fourth once again empty. Lord Crow has returned, and is watching with apparent interest. So has Lord Vine, who is visible this time, hair like ivy spilling out of the booth, a split smile with little baby’s breath teeth, eyes bright like fireflies, their skin’s texture all wrong. Lord the End has not returned, however; instead, the Moonlit Lord is there, glowing from her booth like a spotlight, pale and brilliant.

It occurs to him with surprise that even if he is not currently the lead, he can—and should—still dedicate his scene, his duel, to one of them. Their showing up for performances is rare enough that he had not thought any except Lord Crow would be here a second time, and has not planned what to do as a result.

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

He won’t wear any browns, that’s for sure. Not after that dream, where everything was sucked into that horrible, desiccated orange-brown. But something too colorful might make him the center of attention again, even if they think he’s Shuni, and would draw eyes away from the real Shuni, so that’s out too. Nevertheless, he wants something that makes him feel more alive, and something that speaks to his new-found interest in Lord Crow. 

Lucien flips through the closet, pulling pieces out until he has something that satisfies him. It’s largely a simple suit in black, but he has added twists of color to it. A lime green cravat. A gold waistband. Some layered pendants with glittering beads. He feels like the night sky, a deep darkness with stars and aurora twisting through it. Nocturnal and sparkling: both things that Lord Crow might like.

Not that Lord Crow is likely to see him in this outfit before the show. The point is to trick the costumers, the cast and crew, so the two of them aren’t forced back into their usual roles—the ones they have rehearsed, their expected parts, the ones the crew is paying them for. He’s to be Shuni before the show, and Shuni is to be him. But after, either Lord Crow will be fooled and take Shuni away for the rest of the night, or he won’t, and then Lucien will be able to show Lord Crow how he looks in something like this.

He may not have wasted too much time dressing, but he knows he doesn’t have much time left. If he’s going to be nosy, he can’t dawdle on it too much. On the one hand, it’s a bit rude—Shuni has been nothing but lovely to him—and like all actors, he’s sure Shuni is going to be a handful if crossed. On the other, he’s curious. He wants to know more.

Moving quickly, Lucien heads over to the desk and attempts to look at Shuni’s papers without shuffling them around too much. It looks like Shuni has been practicing writing in multiple handwritings. Perhaps a hobby; it’s nonsense phrases, a few quotes, something about heartless men. Nothing more than that, disappointingly; Lucien had been hoping for some in-progress letter to a loved-one, something else that might make him understand Shuni more outside the show.

The shelf is equally disappointing. It’s all scripts and chapbooks, with some mythology and folk tales scattered in. Shuni has been a performer for some time, it seems—or, if they aren’t shows he’s been in, he at least reads voraciously in the genre.

Lucien’s definitely running out of time now, and almost gives up when he steps into the hall, but he can still hear Shuni frying something, so he decides to try one more room. The next one he opens is the bathroom. It’s a convenient excuse to nose around more; Shuni’s water closet isn’t separate from the bathroom itself, so Lucien is able to make use of the facilities, then look through the bathroom furniture. Perhaps he might find erotic drawings, or medication, or something else that gives him a deeper understanding of Shuni.

Instead, he finds a jewelry box in the cupboard, and he opens that box to find a deep-set bloodstain set in the bottom. There is nothing else in it at all. It seems as if something bloody sat here a very long time, from how set the stain is.

He stares at it for a long moment before putting the box back. This has only raised more questions, and he truly doesn’t have more time to search now. 

But they’re not questions he can easily ask, either. To ask about it is to admit that he began searching through Shuni’s things, antagonizing him—and for what? Not to mention, the play will begin soon, and the play must go on. He cannot afford to start a fight over this for something that might turn out to be nothing at all. 

If Lucien’s going to ask Shuni, he’ll have to ask later. Still, he doesn’t know how he’ll sit across from Shuni and find anything else to talk about.

When he heads downstairs, though, it turns out to be remarkably easy. Shuni turns and addresses him by Shuni’s own name, practicing Lucien’s voice and mannerisms. It’s easy enough to do the same, to try to get into role as Shuni, to speak with his drawling, sarcastic diction, and pretend that Shuni is the confused and distracted man Lucien normally is. 

Shuni would have no reason to ask Lucien about the box, and so Lucien, pretending to be Shuni, doesn’t ask a thing.

Having managed to do it through breakfast, it’s remarkably easy to keep the strange play-swap up as they head to the theatre. The costumers buy it, starting to shove them into the wrong outfits and put the wrong makeup and styling on them. If the costumers notice the slight differences in their frames or facial shapes, it doesn’t stop them.

Lucien is finished being costumed before Shuni is—Logos has a less involved costume than Arcane does—and goes to a mirror, gazing at himself and seeing only Shuni now that he’s fully costumed up. It’s a strange sight, and he mouths Logos’s lines to himself in the mirror, trying to keep focused.

He sees Katarin approach him in the reflection and he briefly panics—he didn’t ask Shuni what the two of them talked about at the pub!—but he supposes he can wing it. Perhaps he can say he drank more than he’d realized, and forgot. “Katarin,” he drawls, turning.

She draws a breath, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just going to ask straight out. I can’t wait anymore, I need to know, and I feel like it has to be one of you. You or Lucien.” Then she says something in a language that Lucien not only doesn’t speak, but he’s pretty sure he’s never heard before. She switches back. “I’m right, aren’t I? Shuni, it’s you, isn’t it?”

What is she talking about? How would Shuni react? Should he just tell her about the switch? Lucien freezes, hoping the panic of indecision isn’t showing on his face.

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

So, Shuni is propositioning him. No doubt about that now.

Lucien lifts a hand to curl over Shuni’s and wonders, briefly, what Lord Crow will think of this. Is he the jealous sort? Does it even matter? If he isn’t, no harm done, and if he is—well, that too, is a type of attention. And maybe Lord Crow will even enjoy being jealous. Plenty of people do, in their own way.

Besides, there’s good reason to accept this. He should treasure human warmth while he has it. He’s not likely to get that with any of the Lords. Right now, it’s just the two of them, this moment, and why not seize pleasure from it while he can?

Perhaps he should start thinking more long-term. But… tomorrow. He’s in no state to do that now.

Lucien laughs, curling his fingers around Shuni’s. “Yes,” he breathes. “Yes please. Let’s wear each other out, until I can’t help but sleep.”

Shuni’s own lips curl into a sharp grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“How do you want to go about it?” Lucien asks, sitting up. He reaches over and pulls Shuni’s shirt over his head; Shuni ducks and lifts his arms obligingly. “You’re into Lord Crow, and so am I. Should one of us pretend to be him?” Then, with a laugh that comes out raw and rough, “Should both of us?’

“Ugh, you’re so…” Shuni sighs and laughs, leans in and kisses Lucien roughly, almost bruisingly. “No, I don’t want to roleplay as Lord Crow. Perhaps if I do any roleplay, I should roleplay as you. Get into character early.”

There’s something so funny about that that Lucien can’t keep himself from laughing, is still laughing as Shuni grabs a rough handful of his hair and swallows the sound in a kiss.

There’s something almost masturbatory about it as they strip each other bare, explore each other with hands and mouths. Shuni feels like another person, but he looks like Lucien, especially through the haze of pleasure and manic exhaustion. It’s as if Lucien’s reflection has come out of the mirror to touch him, and he supposes that’s been a fantasy before as well. He almost wishes he could lose himself in that concept entirely, but Shuni leaves his pendant on, and it grinds between their chests, off-center and distracting.

Not that distracting, though.

After, he’s barely able to pull away before he starts to fall asleep, climactic rise and crash draining him of both mania and lucidity. He tries to help clean up, but his hands are clumsy and blackness is invading his vision, and Shuni gently slaps his hands away and does it himself.

And then the world vanishes entirely and the dream comes again. 

It’s not a desert. Things grow in a desert. A desert has the sun high in the sky and drilling down to torture those trapped under it; this place doesn’t have that. It feels drained. Inverted. Hollowed out somehow. The cracked ground under him has been sucked dry, has cracked and separated from itself. He feels as if he is the only man left alive in this world, and it’s not that he will die soon—it’s that he’s been forgotten here entirely when the forces of nature left this land. He expects to see bones, signs of whatever calamity happened here, but there is nothing but the cracked land, a sky lacking celestial bodies, air that isn’t air. He doesn’t know why he’s still here. He can’t breathe, and not breathing won’t end him, because he’s not alive, he can’t live, not in this world, and because he can’t live, he can’t die—

He sucks a desperate breath, coughing as he comes awake, his lungs struggling to work under the force of that dream. The slice of light under the curtain has vanished with the onset of dusk, and Shuni is kneeling over him, one hand outstretched, his eyes wide and surprised.

“What—” Lucien croaks.

Shuni sits back on his heels. “You all right?” he asks. “I was just about to wake you. We’ll want to leave soon, and it looks like you were having a nightmare.”

“A—nightmare. Yes,” Lucien says, shaken. He slowly pushes himself up and sees that Shuni is dressed in Lucien’s own discarded clothes. “You—what’re you wearing…?”

“We’re going to be each other, remember?” Shuni says impatiently. He sighs. “You’re a wreck. Hopefully we can pull this off.”

Right. They were to be each other today, and Lord Crow would get the pleasure of this little shell game they’ve made up. Lucien licks his lips. “Should I wear your clothes, then?”

“Of course.” Shuni seems to consider, then kisses Lucien’s forehead and shuffles back off the bed. “Coffee’s ready, and I’ll get food on. Feel free to pick anything you want from my closet, just come down once you’ve pulled yourself together.”

“Thanks.” Lucien watches him leave and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and doing his best to push the dream away. He needs to get himself together. The play must go on.

Reminding himself of that does help a little. Naked, he pushes himself out of bed and looks around again at Shuni’s sparse room. The bed, the bookshelf, the writing desk with scraps of writing. He wonders if he should be nosy, try to get to know Shuni better by snooping around a thing or two. He could probably even check out the other rooms while Shuni’s busy. 

Then again, he doesn’t have too much time to skulk around, and he shouldn’t do it naked regardless. He opens the closet door to see a remarkable variety of items in a remarkable variety of styles. He’s never taken Shuni for a clotheshorse, but now he’s thinking of it, he’s also never seen Shuni show up to rehearsal in the same outfit twice.

He really can wear literally whatever he wants, he thinks, and smiles ruefully. It’d be easier to decide what to wear if Shuni had something instantly recognizable as his, but it seems Lucien has to make up his own mind.

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

[Next Day]

[Previous Day]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in]

Lucien draws a sharp breath, staring at Shuni, genuinely moved. Lucien can’t recall anyone having opened a door to him so freely before. “I’d love to stay with you,” he admits softly. “It’ll be nice to have a friend’s company after all this.”

Shuni laughs lightly. “It’s not much, but at least for tonight, what’s mine is yours.”

That’s a deeper offer than the one Shuni has actually made, and he should be careful about saying such things so freely. Lucien doesn’t warn him of this, though; a reprimand now would be rude, and perhaps it’s just a show of Shuni’s trust. “Thank you,” he says again. “As for the rest…”

He pauses, looking Shuni over again. It really is remarkable what a match Shuni is for him. Lucien has no idea how the director did it. There are minute differences—Shuni’s jaw is a little sharper, his nose a little wider, the circles under his eyes less pronounced. He may be a centimeter or two taller; Lucien always has trouble telling. His chest (where Lucien can see far too much of it for modesty, given the way his shirt’s fallen open) is a bit smoother.

Lucien finds himself looking at the pendant again. It is an odd thing, a twisted piece of metal. It reminds him of one of those puzzles where people have to find the way to unlock one bit of metal from another. But if it is that, there is only the half of it.

Noticing him looking, Shuni covers it with his fingers briefly, then twists it in his hand, laughing self-consciously. “What? You’re staring.”

“It just looked interesting,” Lucien admits. “What is it?”

“Just a keepsake,” Shuni demurs. “You know how it is.”

Lucien does. He folds his hand around the brass key in his pocket just to feel its weight. “I suppose most actors have something like that. A little bit of luck to carry with them.”

“We’re a superstitious lot,” Shuni agrees. “You were going to say, though, about the rest? The possible switch?”

It’s odd. On the one hand, Lucien doesn’t see any harm in doing it. Surely Lord Crow is powerful enough to see through any kind of disguise or costume, and surely Shuni, just an actor, isn’t powerful enough to play Lucien’s role so well that Lord Crow could really be mistaken. Lord Crow might even appreciate the challenge, having Lucien return the next night and make it into a puzzle. 

On the other hand, why is Shuni even offering this? Why does he seem so invested in it? It might be nothing, Lucien reminds himself, just a kind offer. They’ve all seen things go off the rails with things like this, so perhaps it will make Shuni feel as if he is helping a friend. Lucien can hardly fault that, if so. But… it’s a risky sort of kindness to offer. Spreading attention around might make it easier on both of them, but it guarantees Shuni is drawn into it himself. So…

Is Shuni trying to get in on this? Did he hear Lucien describe the romantic walk, the focused attention, and decide he wanted some of that himself? Is Shuni hoping to be romanced by Lord Crow?

…And is it so bad if that’s the case? Perhaps they have more in common than their looks. Lucien feels a grin curl his lips.

“Oh no,” Shuni says. “What’s got you making that face?”

“Shuni, do you like Lord Crow?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you fancy a dinner date with him yourself?” Lucien’s grin widens. “Perhaps see if you can skip that and move onto the second date?”

Shuni’s brows lift, and he laughs. “You sound like the over-eager one there. Don’t tease, or I’ll take your flirtations seriously. I already told you: I’m the sort who’ll spread myself thin. I’m just offering the same to you.”

“I’m sure.”

“Enough of this,” Shuni says, though he sounds flattered. He rises. “I was going to ask if you’d eaten, but then remembered you clearly had. Let me show you to my bedroom.”

Fair enough. Lucien is tired. He’s probably sounding manic—even hysterical—by now. “Thank you again,” he says. He rises and lets Shuni lead him there.

It’s a small bedroom, unremarkable and lacking any real personality. Just a moderately-sized bed, a single bookshelf with some chapbooks on it, and a writing desk. Not much on the writing desk either, just some pages with a bit of scribbled text visible on them. Shuni gestures to the bed. “Go lie down.”

“What’ll you do?”

“I’ve some things to finish up myself before I sleep,” Shuni says, and shuts the door behind himself.

Obligingly, Lucien takes off his outerwear and lies down in the bed. Yet, for all that he’s exhausted, it’s hard to sleep. A thick line of sunlight is showing under Shuni’s thick, closed blinds, and too much has happened for his mind to easily wear itself out.

He’s not sure how much longer it takes, but the door eventually opens again. Shuni pauses, apparently observing him, then comes to sit on the bed, leaning over him. “You’re still awake,” he says. His voice is softer, like he’s afraid of waking Lucien despite making that observation.

“I can’t sleep,” Lucien whispers back.

One of Shuni’s hands rises, caresses Lucien’s cheek, slides down his neck to his shoulder—almost to his chest. “Can I help?” he murmurs. His voice is rough, suggestive.

[Please leave suggestions for Lucien in the comments.]

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