(MAP)
Past the large doors is a grand theater, with plush seats all facing a large stage. The red velvet curtain is closed, wrinkles across the fabric from being unused for so long. The paint on the wooden seats and stage is chipped and almost rotting. The air smells stale, but all the lights are pointed forward.
Masked guests take their seats, chattering to each other about high hopes they have for the show. Questions of who will be performing, who the famous director is, and what it all could even be about fill the space. You take your seat, trying to ignore the bit of dust that plumes into the air as you sit. Coughing against it gets you a few glares; the show is about to start, after all.