Hungering Teeth.

VI.

MARCH 9th, 1791

𓇼

Tonight, Nori insisted we attend a play—a distraction, he had called it, something to keep me from the Farm.

His raillery made this evening enjoyable, a balm to the persistent unease that gnawed at the edges of my mind. Nori's laughter, smooth and rich, filled the spaces between our words. For a while, I allowed myself to get caught up in it, letting go of the weight that pressed so heavily on my soul. I need this.

Even as I laughed along, a part of me remained vigilant, like a watchman in the night, alert to the subtle shifts in Nori's tone and the glint in his eyes that hinted at something more. There was always an undercurrent of something darker in his words, a sharpness hidden beneath the velvet of his voice that kept me on the edge, even when I wished to surrender to the comfort he offered.

The flicker of torchlight danced along the cobblestone streets. I walked beside him, the sound of our footsteps echoed softly in the evening air. The world around us buzzed with life—the hum of distant conversations, the clatter of hooves against stone, and the occasional laughter that broke through the night. I have never been this far from home. Never seen this many folks. So many new faces.

"So, what is this play that we're going to see?"

Nori glanced at me, a knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he relished the mystery. "It is called, 'Cymbeline' by William Shakespeare." He answered.

I nod. I don't read that much Literature, only am familiar with the word.

"Haven't heard of... William... Shakespeare?"

"He's quite the playwright. One of the greatest as of now. His tales probed the depths of human emotion, exposing the complexities that lurk beneath the surface. You don't often frequent these parts of town?"

I shook my head, my features unfamiliar with the luxuries I was exposed to. Nori gave a knowing smile, a look that told me he saw something within me waiting to unearth these treasures. How could such a world have passed me by?

"The theater is just ahead," Nori said, gesturing towards a grand, though slightly dilapidated, building at the end of the street. Its doors flanked by ornate carvings of mythical creatures.

We joined a queue of men and women, all dressed in their finery. I self-consciously tugged at my clothes, nerves unfurling slowly. I cleared my throat. "Will it not be scandalous for us to attend together? My grandparents will have questions."

"Ah, your grandparents. Always keen to lecture you, are they not?" Nori replied. "They'll have plenty of questions either way. Might as well give them something new to gossip over."

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmur of the crowd. I glanced around, taking in the opulent surroundings—the velvet seats, the gilded railings, and the heavy curtains that framed the stage. It was unlike anything I have ever seen, a far cry from the simple, unadorned chapel where I spend my Sundays. Or even Mama's home.

He led the way, his hand brushing against mine as we moved through the crowd and went up the steps. I could feel the warmth of the touch sear through my skin. I could barely hear the surrounding conversations, my focus entirely on Nori, who glided effortlessly through the throng.

We found our seats near the front, the stage looming large before us. The lights dimmed, the murmur of the crowd subsided into an expectant hush.

A man—short, untrimmed beard, came from the left side of the stage, and took his place in the center, his presence commanding attention even before he spoke. The audience stilled, all eyes were on him. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we present a tragicomedy of love, betrayal, and redemption—'Cymbeline' by William Shakespeare," he announced.