Geralt happily obliged Ivory with the gramophone, then watched the performance with his usual intensity. Listening to Cora's song had helped to lift his spirits if nothing else, and he felt a renewed sense of promise as he'd entered the tent to continue their practice. It seemed, however, that this positive attitude was not needed at all. Ivory had seemingly completed her practice to stunning effect. Not one slip of skin or silk occurred during this final pass. Try though he might to find a flaw, it was impossible.

He let her question hang in the air for a moment, silence slowly filling the void of the space. After that, he simply shrugged and shook his head, [color=crimson]"I'm going to have to leave you alone more often, if it always produces results like this,"[/color] he said, then stood and added, [color=crimson]"It is, indeed, finished."[/color]

He paused once again, and looked at the ground. [color=crimson]"But, there is my part to practice now."[/color] He took a step forward, and vanished in a swirling vortex of pitch black smoke. It was as though God had suddenly decided to snuff out a candle, to which Geralt was the flame.

Suddenly, his voice came from behind Ivory on the stage, his wicked grin returned. [color=crimson]"Have you ever been 'displaced' before?"[/color]