Description

ʟᴀ ʙᴇʟʟᴇ ♢ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴍᴇʀ
THERE ARE MOMENTS WHEN I WISH I COULD ROLL BACK THE CLOCK AND TAKE ALL THE SADNESS AWAY, BUT I HAVE THE FEELING IF I DID, THE JOY WOULD BE GONE AS WELL.
— NICHOLAS SPARKS

ꜰᴜʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ♢ Ines Ada Carritte
ᴀɢᴇ ♢ 25
ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ♢ Female

ꜱᴘᴇᴇᴄʜ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀx♢ Ｂ２３６３６ | ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀx♢ ６７０５０５

ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀᴛᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛᴇꜱ

Ines is 5’9” tall and slender but with enviable curves, extremely graceful limbs, and a long neck. She has warm, dark brown skin with high cheekbones. Full red lips, a delicate nose, with ridiculously long eyelashes — a face that is difficult to look away from. Her hair is thick, black, with tight corkscrew curls that fall slightly above her waist. Her eyes are bright caramel-colored, with three long scars that cut down from the corner of her right eye to her jaw, in the form of perpetual tears on her right cheek. Under her clothes, Ines bears many old wounds and scars from abuse. Somehow, these injuries do not reduce her beauty but increase it. Ines dresses sophisticatedly and conservatively. Wearing flowy skirts and pants but always staying true to a feminine style. She likes to wear pastels and light colors, silvers, gauzy fabrics, etc.

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

"We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it."

Despite being raised in toxicity and emotional abuse, Ines remains a kind-hearted and self-loving soul. She has not allowed her bitter past to overtake her and morph into someone cruel. Ines is gentle and graceful with an innocent nature. Quick to charm, her pleasant and optimistic aura makes her a beloved figure to most people and all animals. Though generally childlike and gentle, Ines can also be assertive, with the authoritative nature of a mother. Most cannot bypass Ines' firm but kind attitude due to her genuine care for others' health and well-being. Having been raised as an enslaved person by her mother at a relatively early age, Ines is hard-working. As a result, she is shown to be efficient with her duties and never mind the effort to be put into any task. Ines can also be playful and somewhat sassy. She takes advantage of any sour disposition and initial dislike for her by responding with teasing words. She largely ignores rude remarks and does not shed tears to any form of ridicule. Instead reacts only with a soft smile or cheery glow to annoy her attackers. Ines does not shy away from hate or disdain, as the various hardships she's faced throughout her life have taught her the importance of standing firm.

ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ

Siren's Song is a potent and miraculous ability. Ines can emit a melodious, angelic song of vocals that perform various tasks. Her voice can cure wounds and diseases; can charm, possess, and control the masses, shaking their emotions. It can destroy the body and mind, twisting thoughts and calling upon death. Ines bends the will of man and nature with her songs. Lyrics aren't needed; all Ines needs is to will her command in her heart, and the result will flow through her music. When Ines isn't searching for a result, her voice simply makes people feel relaxed and released from all the stress and problems in life. It causes warm and calm hallucinations as they listen, alleviating their mental agony. Her songs are addictive, similar to a drug. Still, unless Ines desires it, the effects of her music are released immediately after she stops. In all her voice's power, Ines' songs can't bring back the dead, and she can't use them on herself.

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ
➤ Singing. Despite Ines' past, she hasn't come to hate singing. In fact, she finds comfort in it. Her music is something only she can make, which brings her pride.
➤ Desserts. Macarons, madeleines, chocolats, éclairs, the list is endless. Her first sweet was three years ago, and ever since, Ines partakes in her desserts daily with a side of warm tea.
➤ Armel. Ines' first friend. They treat each other like siblings, bickering and teasing one another for fun. Armel is the closest thing she has to a family.
➤ Animals. After joining the circus, Ines developed a harmonious relationship with all animals. She can easily tame them and have them perform commands. Drawn to her voice, they often lay around her, basking in the music.

ᴅɪꜱʟɪᴋᴇꜱ
➤ Aristocracy. Ines does not judge based on status, but she feels uncomfortable around aristocrats and sometimes shows an unusual coldness.
➤ Hallucinations. Ines suffers from hallucinations at random times that can last for seconds or hours. They are inconvenient, but she's learned to somehow cope after three years of suffering.
➤ Small Spaces The trauma of living in a small box for eighteen years has dramatically affected Ines. She will suffer from panic attacks if placed in small, compact spaces.
➤ Chains and Whips. Ines lived an abusive life and held on to the firm belief that chains and whips are evil inventions. She stays away from them and refuses to subject her animals to the same fate to tame them.

ꜱᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜꜱ
➤ Musical Ability. Ines is a genius in terms of musical ability. She has unbelievable range and absolute pitch, a heavenly timbre, to sing along to a song or play a note/tone just by hearing it once.
➤ Flexability. As a result of eighteen years of inhumanely being stuffed inside a small box, Ines' body has exceptional flexibility. She is so flexible that Ines could be a contortionist and does incorporate aspects of the role in her performances.
➤ Her Beauty. Ines is beautiful. There are numerous admirers among the guests who shower Ines with gifts in exchange for her attention or time. These rarely work unless a target comes to her, and Ines needs to scope them out for heists' purposes. Otherwise, Ines turns the admirer down with an elegant smile, or Armel chases them away. She does keep the gifts and hands them to the Ringmaster or other members.
➤ Animals. Ines can tame any animal due to her natural affinity with them. This allows her to quickly give out commands or missions for them to fulfill to help the circus heists.

ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱᴇꜱ
➤ Coughs Blood. Ines suffers from coughing fits that sometimes produce small amounts of blood. Her coughs are persistent but don't get in the way of her work. She always carries around handkerchiefs to cover her mouth when it happens.
➤ Tears. Ines is a gentle soul and is weak to people's tears. She simply can't ignore someone in pain and will quickly drop whatever she's doing to comfort the person.
➤ Hallucinations. As a result of trauma, Ines experiences random bouts of delusions. The imagery of splattered blood and dead bodies under her feet. She never raises a fuss about them, sadly smiles, and continues with her day until they disappear.
➤ Weak Body. Years of abuse and the awakening of Ines' powers have worn down her body. She is physically weak with a low amount of stamina. There are times when Armel needs to carry her because her body can't move.

Elise Ann Carritte, Ines' mother, was an operatic soprano from Halifax, Nova Scotia [Canadian province], who toured as the prima donna of the Castle Square Opera Company. Invited to Paris to perform on the Parisian stage for the nobility, tragedy struck. Elise suffered an illness that robbed her vocals and fame. Cast aside, Elise moved to Toulouse and wandered the streets as a prostitute. Two years later, during a quiet winter's night, Ines was born in an alleyway.

Ines grew up earning money by selling bouquets on the streets. One day, ten-year-old Ines, knowing a beating awaited her once she returned home, wallowed in despair as no flowers were sold. Prolonging her fate, Ines sat on a bench and quietly sang to herself. Her voice was angelic and clear, soft like feathers. Soon, people had gathered around her, listening to her music. At the end of her performance, the crowd erupted in cheers, and Ines smiled, clutching her basket filled with coins. Ines returned home, and Elise was skeptical of how she earned so much money until Ines sang. At that moment, Elise's eyes sparkled with greed, but Ines didn't notice. She was too delighted by her mother's first smile. Two months later, with no warning, Ines' and her mother left the streets of Toulouse and entered Paris. There Elise put on street performances. Hidden behind her dress, Elise used Ines and pretended to be the one singing. Their popularity and the crowds grew until their street performance moved to the Paristain stage. Back in the limelight, Elise performed for nobility, and Ines, fourteen, hid behind a fancy curtain instead of her mother's dress.

For four years, Elise kept Ines away from the public eye. Stuffing her in a small box and only letting her out to eat and sing. No one knew of the sad fate Ines suffered. After each performance, Elise would beat her body with a metal cane until it bruised. The beatings worsened as Elise's fame rose. Ines became a constant reminder that, unlike Elise, she had both the voice and appearance of an angel. One night, Elise had drunk herself into a stupor. In a daze, she spotted Ines trembling in a corner and, in disgust, attacked her. Hating her beauty, she used glass to scar Ines' face, hoping to diminish her value. It didn't work. Elise only saw a beautiful crying child with blood trickling down her face. Two days later, Elise sold eighteen-year-old Ines to a Duke and disappeared.

The Duke was a wicked man with disgusting habits. Locked in a golden cage hidden in his basement, Ines was chained and forced to sing until she vomited blood. If she stopped to take breaks, he'd whip the parts of her body that clothes could cover. Ines passed her days in agony and humiliation but found solace in her hell. A dark cave was next to her cage, and inside was a Beast with blue eyes. Ines found comfort in their stillness. Some days she'd sing to it. Most they'd pass the time staring into each other's eyes.

At twenty-one, the Duke dragged Ines out of the basement and tossed her into a men-filled room. They were wealthy noblemen, friends who wanted a private night with Ines. As the Duke watched, they pinned Ines to the floor and ran their hands ran across her body. She screamed, and they laughed. In that despair, as Ines wished for death, a song emerged from her mouth that split the men's minds. Their deaths were both instant and painful. In a daze, Ines sat surrounded by a pool of blood and dead bodies. Her thoughts were scrambled, and the world spun until she passed out. When she awoke, she was in the arms of a beautiful man with blue eyes. His name was Armel, and he was the Beast and the Duke's son. Together they escaped from the Duke's mansion and traveled far from France. On their journey, a mysterious man approached them and offered a safe place where they could be together. A place where Ines could heal. Tired and scared, they reluctantly followed him. That was three years ago.

ꜰᴀᴄᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ♢ Winter Hayle (Lunar Chronicles)
ᴜꜱᴇʀɴᴀᴍᴇ ♢ Scra
ꜱʜᴇᴇᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏʀɪɢʜᴛ ♢ Scra

So begins...

Ines's Story

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#2022-03-21 17:29:28, as written by Scra

A man with golden locks journeyed through the autumn forest, twigs and leaves crunched underneath his feet and the hooves of his trusty steed. High above them, perched inside the canopy of trees, echoed jays along with the bitter wind that carried a fragrance — a mulchy mix of the forest's perfume and the faint but raw scent of rust.

The man tugged on the horse's reins, halting their movements, and in the stillness, a series of heavy coughs echoed. He frowned. Turning around, the man walked over to a maiden, her body bundled in a thick winter gray coat, as she weakly leaned on the horse's back.

Her long tight curls stuck to her sweat-stained face, and she greeted the man's sullen gaze with smiling amber eyes. A snow-white handkerchief covered her mouth — coated with small blood patches.

"Ines..." His tone was apologetic, and heavy guilt lay on his soul. They escaped the previous town without proper preparations due to a mistake in his shifting ruse, and as a result, Ines' already deteriorated health has worsened.

"...Armel? Pourquoi avons-nous arrêté?" [Why did we stop?], her voice trembled.

Armel dabbed the sweat on her face with his sleeve, "You need a proper rest. So, we will continue our journey tomorrow morning."

"Non-" Ines coughed, "Non, je peux continuer!" [No, I can go on!] Her protest was riddled useless as the horse settled down on the forest floor, nestling in a patch of soft moss and dried grass. Armel felt grateful that at least the animal understood Ines's condition. However, Ines looked less than happy.

Armel chuckled sadly, bending down, "It seems Bisou believes otherwise."

He removed the patterned coat draped over his shoulders and folded it. Placing the fabric between Ines' head and the horse as a cushion, "Du Repos. [Rest.] I promise to return before sunset."

Before he could stand, Ines grabbed his sleeve, "Où allez-vous?"[Where are you going?]

Armel scooped Ines's hand in his and held it tight, "Our rations are low, so I will search for a way to replenish them." Ines chuckled, her dry cheery lips curled into a smile.

"Oh, is something funny?" Armel grinned, his shoulders relaxing at the sound of Ines's fairy-like laughter.

"Comment allez-vous trouver de la nourriture? Chasser?" [How are you going to find food? Hunt?] Ines teased Armel, eyeing his less than suitable attire for catching game.

He held his head confidently, "Do not doubt me. Hunting is but one of my many skills."

"Quoi que vous disiez, Monsieur Armel." [Whatever you say, Sir. Armel.] Ines coughed through a laugh. The cough persisted.

Armel's smile fell, "Before sunset...I promise." In an instant, a thin layer of smoke enveloped his body, and he shifted into a bird. Stretching his wings, Armel took to the sky, searching for food before the sun fell.

Armel's search, after a time, yielded giant prey: a massive airship drifting towards its goal, no doubt full of passengers and ample food stocks.

And they had left a window open.

Armel gained access with ease in the form of a common fly and quickly spotted the perfect target to mimic. A tall, charismatic fellow with a chuckle like a foghorn was the beau of the ball. He walked where he pleased, and those around him seemed to near-universally regard him favorably. As long as he didn't retrace his steps — unlikely since he had just left the kitchen — this "Tybalt" man would be the perfect façade to secure his needed rations.

Armel buzzes through a crack in the dining hall door and rests on the upper floor railings. He waited for the passengers to flood out of the hall, and once the final guest departed, Armel began his plan.

Armel zoomed under the closed kitchen door, weaving through empty chairs and tables. With no one inside, he shifted into "Tybalt." A tall man with broad shoulders, a short beard, and a classic suit. It did not fit Armel's taste but would suffice.

The large kitchen showed constant use, so he had a limited time window. It was oriented inwards, with several items of furniture scattered across the room and large workspaces lined neatly in the center. Armel grabbed a woolen sack, laid over a chair, and searched each cabinet for rations to steal.

After a few fruitless results, he finds the location of the items he needs. A large pantry with a vast collection of canned foods and dry ingredients. Next to it was an ice chest with meat, cheese, milk, and other perishables.

Armel worked quickly. Not wanting the bag to be too heavy, he only snatched a few items — two jars of canned peaches and beans, one bag of dried fruits and vegetables, a loaf of bread, a thin slab of meat, and half a block of cheese.

Armel tied it up and hoisted it over his shoulder with his sack light but full. Luckily the kitchen sported windows, so with a short shift, he could fly out with his sack and make it back to Ines before nightfall.

Armel turned to the closest window and opened it. The winter breeze combed through his auburn hair. He readies himself for a shift but pauses when he hears the door opening.

A small child with vibrant yellow hair and a warm, innocent gaze stood. She seemed to have sought refuge and perhaps an afternoon snack in the kitchen. Her sky blue eyes sparkled, obviously recognizing the form he was emulating.

Etoile, the child, bound over with a rabbit's eagerness, signing excitedly to him, "Tybalt." 《You will never guess what happened!》 her hands rapidly signed in the air, similar to how Ines used to communicate. Unfortunately, Armel did not take the time to learn the hand language. He gulped, wondering if she spoke French.

Armel copies "Tybalt's" charismatic smile, "Bonjour petit. Je suis désolé, mais je suis pressé et je n'ai pas le temps de parler." [Hello, Little one. I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry and I don't have time to speak.]

Etoile stepped back, her posture signaling she knew something was off immediately. That he was not the man, she knew. When her amiable smile fell, Armel knew he misspoke. Not waiting around any longer, he shifts into an eagle, ignoring the girl's surprise as she jumps back further. He held the sack in his beak and spread his wings to take off.

"Stop!" Etoile cried, slapping both hands over her mouth. At that moment, the small voice echoed in his ear, and he froze in place.

She glanced around the kitchen nervously, but it was just the two. "Go to sleep, please, birdie," Etoile whispered.

Armel, now frozen, slumped to the floor, releasing the bag from his beak. A glass jar full of canned peaches rolled along the ground, stopping at her feet. Etoile tip-toed carefully, moving to close the window he had sought to escape through.

What to do now? She thought.

A disorienting but convenient series of events occurred during Armel's unconsciousness.

The door to the kitchen swung open.

Etoile turned, frozen when she saw the real Tybalt there. She looked down at the Armel, in his bird form, then suspiciously up at the man, breathing in relief when he signed to her.

《Little star, why is an eagle in the kitchen?》he asked shortly before scooping Armel's unconscious form into his large hands.

Etoile gestured to the bird, then signed. 《It looked like you! Then it turned into a bird and tried to fly away!》

《I think it must have been very hungry.》

Tybalt chuckled warmly, cradling Armel under one arm and brushing through her hair. "We'll find Maria and confine it until it awakens," he said aloud since his hands were occupied.

Etoile nodded. Even without the sign from Tybalt, she had realized that the mysterious intruder was like them. 《Special?》 Etoile followed him. Even if Armel had not meant to harm them, he tried to steal from their stores.

Tybalt nodded in confirmation. He bore no ill will towards Armel, the intruder, and it would have been him in his place not long ago, stealing from those more fortunate than himself.

The pair had made their way to a room accompanied by a woman named Maria. Tybalt knocked on Maria's door, calling softly to the woman within, "Excusez-moi, mademoiselle," he playfully asked after her, unintentionally flirtatious in tone.

Maria, who had just finished practice, was settled onto the powder puff in front of the vanity, taking out a fountain pen and a piece of paper to write a letter to someone off-ship. Upon hearing Tybalt's voice, Maria's cheeks flushed at his tone.

She quickly glanced at her reflection in the vanity mirror and rose quickly to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress before taking a seat once again, attempting to look casual.

"Entrez," Maria called in reply, hoping the blush in her cheeks had faded. She smiled, thinking he had come alone, but quickly realized something was amiss.

Tybalt stepped inside with a grin and showed off the sleeping eagle cradled in his arm. "I hope I am not disturbing you. We have stumbled across another individual with unusual talents..."

He presented the eagle, adding, "This bird was originally a man. Apparently, he can change shape. He assumed my form earlier, but Etoile saw through his disguise."

To say that Maria was confused by the bird would be an understatement. She rose slowly, almost fearful that the bird would awake and attack them. "How curious," a man that could turn into a bird. It was certainly something new.

"Ah, there is a bird cage in the pièce de stockage." Maria recalled.

Tybalt nodded but added, "I do not think it would set a proper first impression for this bird to awaken in a cage. There is yet an empty room to keep him...I would appreciate your presence to avoid further confusion and to assist in treating him should he have sustained injury."

He was right, of course. There was also the issue of if Armel changed back into a man, he would be squeezed into a bird-sized cage.

"Oui Monsieur, I will stay with him." Maria rose from her seat, picking up one of her books to take with her since she did not know how long it would be until their new friend woke. "I have never tried to heal a bird before."

《Can I come too?》 Etoile signed, looking between them. She wanted to be there when the bird-man woke up.

"Of course," Tybalt said, beaming at his daughter, before stepping back out of the room. Along the way to the empty quarters, Tybalt mentioned, "The bird is not bleeding, from what I can see, but the man himself may be. I must also assume he is hungry, considering his motive and desperation."

The two girls followed him to the empty room, which had naught but a bed and a chair. "I will wait for him to wake, then." Maria had no idea what implications there could be for using her power on an animal, so she waited for Armel to awake.

《I will bring him a snack!》 Etoile ran off to prepare something, soon to return with her arms filled with a bowl of canned peaches, muesli, and a pitcher of water. All of which she very carefully carried back to the room.

Armel awoke in a daze. His vision spun, and his head throbbed. What had happened? He did not move, collecting his scattered thoughts that seemed to be of no help in this situation. The young girl discovering him is the last memory he can recollect. Anything after that is pitch black.

He groaned but what emerged was a high-pitched whistling. It sounded weak, and Armel's eyes shot fully open when he realized he was still in his bird form. He struggled and flapped his wings, finally taking a moment to search his surroundings.

He was on a bed in a small room. With three strangers, two faces he recognized, "Tybalt" and the blonde child. Armel flapped his wings at them, then groaned as his head throbbed again. He tried to shift, but it wasn't easy. Was it the pain? He usually doesn't feel any pain in the first place. What was wrong with him?

He hopped into a corner and kept his sharp gaze on the three, creating distance between them. Only breaking contact to stare hopelessly at the orange sky. Dusk was coming, and he needed to return to Ines.

Armel cleared his throat. Bird sounds echoed in the room, slowly shifting into something legible, something human. Then he spoke, directed at Tybalt, "...Monsieur, if an apology or debt for stealing is what you require, I will oblige. My only request...allow me to leave. I must return before dusk."

Tybalt stood in a corner opposite Armel, scratching his head in thought — Etoile hid behind Tybalt, watching with child-like wonder. The man showed no surprise at a bird speaking and replied, "Thievery in the name of preserving a life is not a crime I have any right to punish."

But he also inquired, "Why dusk? I would be content to send you on your way with supplies, but since we are of like nature, I must at the very least insist we have a chat before we part more permanently."

Armel remained quiet, uncertain if continuing a conversation with a man unfrightened by him was the best course of action.

While Armel hesitated, summoning her courage, Etoile lifted the bowl of peaches and came out from her hiding spot behind Tybalt, walking cautiously towards Armel. She set the bowl down before him, then quickly ran back to hide behind the man.

Armel remained in the corner, unmoving and wary of the fresh fruit bowl. He scanned the crowd. Were they also the same as him? Different. If so, he didn't have much choice but to answer the man, especially when he had no idea what abilities these strangers possessed.

After a moment, he replied, "...Ma sœur..." his voice trembled faintly, "I must return to my sister before dusk. She is alone...and unwell." His gaze filled with guilt as he watched the slowly setting sun.

"Monsieur Oiseau," Maria started, shaking herself out of her stunned reverie that a bird had just spoken to them. "Are you injured? If you change back, I can heal you. If your friend is unwell too, bring me to her and I can help." She raised her hands, showing that she meant no harm.

He did not answer Maria when she spoke. He had no interest in being helped by her, not until she mentioned healing Ines. His eyes widened, "...You can heal?" He took a small step out of his corner, did not move an inch more, but focused on her.

He asked again in disbelief, "Can you heal her?" Armel had no interest in being treated. He has learned that his wounds and pains recover faster than the average person, although the quick process isn't pleasant. But if the madame could heal Ines, he'd give anything.

Maria nodded. They had made a small breakthrough, "If she is human, then yes." Maria looked to Tybalt, then at Armel. She stepped towards him, "Please, Monsieur, allow me to heal you first."

Armel's heart leaped in momentary excitement until he instinctively retreated to his corner when Maria tried to walk closer. He apologized but did not move, "Excusez-moi Madame. Although your insistence is appreciated, my wounds are minor and do not require such attention."

Unable to properly transform, Armel felt vulnerable. He did not want anyone close at the moment, "If you could...please remain there so I may shift back."

Armel waited for a moment, and when no one made signs of movement, he closed his eyes. He hasn't had to focus this hard since the Beast incident, so Armel was fearful. However, his worries dispelled as he felt his bones cracking and organs bend —unpleasant but welcoming.

Slower than usual Armel had returned to his former state, barely avoiding knocking down the bowl due to his length. He brushed aside his golden locks and examined his body for any abnormalities. So far, he saw none. Clothes, hands, legs, and everything else was in their place, "Parfait." He smiled.

Tybalt applauded softly and assured Armel with a twinge of sympathy, "You and your sibling may have this room, should you choose to join us. The cost of room and board is your loyalty and labor, but you will find our load light and our terms generous."

He adjusted his weight to favor his cane. "I will inform the Navigator we are to touch down nearby. You will have ample time to retrieve your sister and return, whereupon she will be in the skillful hands of our own Sainte Maria."

Tybalt stepped toward the door and opened it. "My name is Tybalt LeGrand. If you would supply your name, I am certain the lot of us would be delighted to make your acquaintance."

Armel did not believe in such generosity, not with terms like loyalty and labor. Armel was suspicious but tired of traveling at the risk of Ines' health. So he'd believe it, believed such a generous man exists, "...My name is Armel...and if I may know, what exactly is this place?"

He has wondered since sneaking in. With the exotic costumes and a large number of people, some with powers, his previous thought of this being just a simple ship must be wrong.

"The world's only traveling airship circus," Tybalt explained with a wide grin. "And for those with talents like ours, a home in the skies."

Then, he slipped through the doorway to tell the Navigator to set down.

Setting

The Ship

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#2022-03-21 19:00:20, as written by Scra

Welcomed by the night sky Ines awoke in a startle. Rebellious against her feverish state, she shifted her body off her horse, sliding down to the ground with a soft thud.

Piles of fallen leaves and twigs caught on the bottom of her thick winter coat as it softened the blow. Her arms trembled, too weak to lift her body off the ground. After many failures, her trusty steed stuck his chestnut-colored snout under her arm, supporting Ines as she stood up.

"Merci-" Ines coughed. Her throat burned, and Bisou responded with a quiet snort tickling her fingers. She giggled, kissing his upturned snout, "Merci, Bisou."

Whipping his flaxen tail, Bisou nipped on the sleeve of her coat, jerking it towards the ground where he lay, "Je sais, Armel a dit de reposer Bisou... mais..." [I know, Armel said to rest Bisou... but] Ines frowned and turned toward the vast forest painted in darkness.

The time of Armel's return was long overdue. Questions floated in her mind, ones she feared to vocalize. Ines' long curls cascaded over her face, covering her teary eyes. She wished to search for him, but she had no energy. Her body riddled with sickness was but a burden.

Grabbing Armel's coat off Bisou's back, she held it to her chest and slowly lowered herself to the forest floor. She pushed against Bisou, curling her body closer.

A brutal tickling in her throat triggered another series of coughs, followed by another small blood patch, staining her already reddened handkerchief. She took deep breaths to help with the pain.

Closing her eyes, Ines decided to continue resting. The weight of Bisou's head pressed against her arm brought her comfort, and she tried to relax.

Suddenly, Bisou squealed and bobbed his head, frightening Ines out of her trance. She heard the hollering of wind but could not see any threat. Her heart quickened, and she hid her face in Bisou's body, "Armel." she sobbed.

"Ines!" the voice came from the sky. She lifted her head, and a pair of large black wings enveloped her vision. Attached to the wings was a man with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Armel?" Ines shouted. The man landed, his wings molted, and revealed two long arms in its place.

He kneeled and carefully wrapped his arms around Ines, holding her tight, "Pardonnez-moi, Inès [Forgive me, Ines]. I broke my promise and returned late."

Ines sniffles, latching on to him, "Tout va bien puisque vous êtes revenu sain et sauf." [Everything is fine since you have returned safe and sound.]

She paused, her fingers traced over his face. Minor cuts decorated his cheeks and nose, a bump protruding from his forehead, "...Qu'est-il arrivé?" [What happened?]

Armel removed her hand, squeezing it in his, "Rien [Nothing]...Listen, Ines, I have incredible news-"

"Armel, les blessures. Qu'est-il arrivé?" [Armel, the wounds. What happened?] Her dried cherry lips thinned harshly.

Armel's smile fell, "...Rien, Inès. More importantly, I found a place for you-"

"Non!-" Ines coughed, stealing back her hand to cover her mouth. Catching her breath, she continued, "Armel, s'il te plait... toute la vérité." [Armel, please...the whole truth] Her eyes welled with tears. She knows he hates worrying her, but telling her nothing hurts more.

Armel's heart ached. He wiped her eyes and quietly told her the truth. About the ship, him stealing, everything he could remember, along with the offer Tybalt made. When he finished, Armel bowed his head and mumbled an apology.

Ines sighed. She should have known he would have tried stealing for her. She felt guilty hated how her health turned Armel into a criminal. She laid her hand on his cheek, "Viens ici." [Come here.]

Once Armel was close, Ines hummed a melody mixed with the wind and danced through the sky. Armel's wounds disappeared at that moment "Je te fais confiance." [I trust you.] Ines chuckled as his sullen face brightened.

"Merci, Ines." Helping her mount Bisou, Armel took the reins and guided them towards the airship.

In the distance, just as promised, the giant airship could be seen, having set down in a nearby clearing. Upon its brilliant hull were emblazoned the letters of its name: Rédempteur.

Their room had been prepared. Hot food and cold drinks were waiting to quench their dry throats and fill their empty stomachs.

A small welcoming party had gathered to greet them at the ship's ramp. Here were people of all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life. Some with smiles, some with scowls, but all ready to receive the two.

It seemed that whatever offer extended to Ines and Armel had also been offered to — and accepted by — the other members of this ship.

They stepped aside to make way for Ines and Armel.

Ines' caramel eyes sparkled at the spectacular display, her innocent smile melted hearts, and in return, she received waves.

"Lie down, Ines." Armel sighed, uncomfortable with all the attention as they advanced up the bridge, lit with gas lamps to light the way into the warm belly of the ship.

"Armel. Armel." Ines whispered, poking his shoulder, "Que dit ce signe?" [What does this sign say?]

Armel focused on the path ahead, aware of the answer, "Rédempteur...meaning to free from what distresses or harms."

Ines awed, "Que c'est beau-" [How beautiful-] Her words were cut short by a muted dry cough. The faint scent of blood wafted in the air.

Armel's eyes trembled, "Rest, Ines. There is only a little left to walk." Ines felt Bisou pick up momentum. Tired, she laid her body flat and allowed Armel to lead.

Standing inside, waiting for their arrival, was Maria expected to receive her promised patient. "Est-ce votre soeur?" [Is this your sister?] She asked Armel. "What a lovely girl you are."

Maria reminded Ines of a beautifully sculpted painting with striking features and fierce eyes. When she spoke, it sounded like a clear summer's creek. She couldn't help smiling when complimented, her cheeks flushed.

"Oui, elle s'appelle Inès." [Yes, her name is Ines.] Armel dropped the reins, and Bisou bent onto his legs. Once seated on the floor, Armel scooped Ines in his arms.

"Bonjour, madame." Ines cleared her throat, preventing an upcoming cough. She didn't want to ruin the moment, even going so far as to hide her stained handkerchief inside her hands.

Even from where she was standing, Maria could tell that something was wrong. Just as Armel had said, the girl was ill. "Tu ne m'as pas dit à quel point elle est belle." [You did not tell me how lovely she is.] It was easy for her to keep smiling, despite her worry.

Maria turned her gaze to the pretty girl with hair like a crown and eyes like stars. "Bienvenue sur notre humble navire," [Welcome to our humble ship.] Maria reached to take her hand, to guide her to a place away from curious eyes where they could properly rest.

"This way, please."

Armel carefully set Ines down, "Can you stand?" his arms were still positioned around her waist, prepared to lift her again.

"Oui. Vous pouvez lâcher prise." [Yes. You can let go.] she hugged his side, then released him. Ines managed to find her balance and held Maria's hand — it was soft and warm.

"Merci." Ines smiled, following her lead.

Armel caught up to them after handing Bisou off to a crewmate. He watched silently, his expressions less than amiable. Ines peeked back and gave him a look, chucked as he pouted but fixed his face.

Maria slowly walked, noting how Ines' hands were like ice. Maria glanced back at Armel, silently expressing her dissatisfaction with leaving the poor girl in the cold for who knows how long. Armel felt her gaze and frowned.

Maria took them to the promised room, gesturing for Ines to lay down on the lower bunk.

Ines let out a gasp when her body touched the bed, and it was soft, and she couldn't help but sigh softly as she sank down.

"Je m'appelle Maria, ton frère me dit que tu ne te sens pas bien?" [My name is Maria, your brother tells me you aren't feeling well?] She questioned.

She tensed up, her previous excitement gone, and now she nervously glanced around. Cautious about discussing her aliment with Maria.

Armel leaned on the door frame, standing watch. He caught Ines's hesitation and assured her, "You can tell her. She is the same as us."

With that, Ines relaxed. She stared at Maria and explained, "Ça a commencé il y a un an. Mon corps est constamment fiévreux, et parfois je crache du sang." [It began a year ago. My body is constantly feverish, and sometimes I cough blood.] Ines shyly shows Maria her handkerchief. She kept quiet about the hallucinations, believing they were not an issue worthy of discussing.

"Her powers awoke a year ago. Since then, we've met many doctors seeking help, but none could offer Ines relief." Armel interjects, his voice low.

Maria's expression became grave at the sight of the handkerchief, and she tried to cover it quickly with a reassuring smile. "A lot of people like us experience sickness when we first discover our abilities." Maria explained.

However, she had never heard of it lasting this long. Unless Ines's sickness was tied directly to her ability? "Does it get better when you use your talent?" Maria asked, her choice of words purposeful.

Ines did her best to follow Maria's questions, "Oui, je me sens mieux... jusqu'à ce que j'arrête de les utiliser. Puis la douleur revient." [Yes, I feel better...until I stop using them. Then the pain returns.] Despite the pain returning Ines is still grateful for the small moments of relief.

Maria nodded, "Laisse moi voir ce que je peux faire." [Let me see what I can do.]

Maria lifted her hand, brushing it against Ines's forehead to feel for fever. She was burning up. "This might tickle, but it will not hurt." She promised, moving her other hand over Ines's stomach to be closer to her lungs.

Her hands filled Ines with warmth like basking in the sun. She did feel a little strange, but the sensation quickly disputed.

"When you cough blood like that, précieuse it is usually because of an internal wound. It sounds like this injury is not healing." Maria explained.

Ines could not hide her sadness from Maria's observation, "...Cela signifie-t-il aussi-" [Does this also mean-]

Ines could not finish her sentence before Armel blurted out, "If not an internal issue, why does she continue to cough? And what of her fevers, can those not be healed?" his tone was harsh as he could not hide his fear that Ines would never get better.

"Armel..." Ines called him, her voice soft but stern, a smile painted her lips, "N'élevez pas la voix sur Madame Maria. Ce n'est pas poli." [Don't raise your voice at Madame Maria. It's not polite.]

"...I apologize." Armel frowned. He unclenched his fist and calmed himself, settling down in a chair by the door.

"It is fine, I believe his bark may be worse than his bite." Maria laughed at Armel's bluntness, and he was not the first Frenchman she had met that did not dance around with his words.

Ines smiled apologetically, "Merci et... qu'en est-il de mes fièvres?" [Thank you and...what about my fevers?] If the cough could not be cured, she did not mind, but her fevers...she no longer wanted to be a burden to Armel.

"Appeler un chat un chat," [To call a cat, a cat. An idiom for "I will tell it like it is."] Maria spoke honestly. If the illness had appeared with the ability and Ines felt fine while singing, it likely was connected somehow. However, Maria had never heard of a condition presenting itself like this.

"I will do the best that I can, you may need to be seen regularly for a bit, but I think you will be okay." Maria flitted her fingertips over Ines's body, healing every bump, bruise, and sore she saw. A gentle warmth radiated from her palms, mending Ines's aches and pains.

Ines beamed, relaxing her body so Maria could continue healing. She moaned softly, wincing as her old wounds healed. It wasn't painful, but Ines did not realize how sore her body was. Soon the aching pain turned into a warm blanket, soothing her tired muscles. Ines struggled to stay awake, rubbing her eyes.

"Merci, Madame Maria." She glances towards Armel, sulking from Maria's comment, "Armel."

He immediately locked eyes with her and engaged in a silent conversation — they exchanged many facial expressions. Armel sighed after a few seconds, "Thank you, Madame Maria."

Ines giggled, but a yawn snuck in, "Excusez-moi. Je me sens soudainement si endormi." [Excuse me. I suddenly feel so sleepy.] her eyes fluttered. She's only been tired because of pain, but this serene sensation was new to her.

"It will do you well to rest, listen to your body. You have been running for a long time, oui?" Maria focused her hands over the lungs, where the blood was stemming.

"You do not have to run anymore, tu es rentré à la maison," [you have come home.] so long as they wished to remain. No one would force the two to stay, but they were free to take up residence on the ship as long as they needed.

Ines bobbed her head, too tired to perform an actual nod.

"I will come check on you again in a few hours to see how you are doing." She lifted her hands, returning them to her side. Maria rose, stopping just before Armel. "Si tu as besoin de moi, je suis là," [If you need me I am here] she said to him. "Do not hesitate to come find me."

Ines glanced at Armel. Her eyes struggled to stay open as the two conversed. Armel thanked Maria for her, "Merci, Madame Maria."

Armel smiled more gently than he has in years. He gazed at Ines' dozing figure. There were no loud groans or heavy breathing. Her complexion had stabilized, along with the color returning to her cheeks. To Armel, this was nothing short of a miracle.

He directed his attention to Maria and gave his most sincere bow, his head lower than it's ever been, "Thank you...so very much" he couldn't say anything else. And before Maria could respond, he quickly left to Ines' side.

Ines' eyes fluttered open, her lips curved into a smile when she felt Armel hold her hand, "Avez-vous dit merci?" [Did you say thank you?] she asked softly.

Armel chuckled, but Ines could hear a quiet sob beneath it, "Oui... comment te sens-tu?" [Yes...how are you feeling?]

Ines' words trailed off as fighting to stay awake became harder, "Bon...et mon corps... comme des nuages" [Good...and my body...like clouds] she yawned.

Armel turned his head to hide his tears, taking a few deep breaths, "Bon. Très bon." [Good. Very good.] his voice cracked and trembled.

Ines' vision blurred as sleep drew her in, "Armel...j'ai sommeil." [Armel... I'm sleepy]

"Bonne nuit, Inès." [Goodnight, Ines] He tapped his forehead against hers, and Ines glowed. She wanted to say goodnight but had drifted asleep before the words could come out. The last thing she heard was the sound of weeping.

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#2022-03-22 19:38:41, as written by The_Queen

Cold...It was so cold...Every night was the same for a young woman in the streets. For years she has lived like this, digging out of trash for scraps of food, and hunkering down with some pieces of cardboard that was worn out which provided as much warmth as the tattered rags on her body. However despite these conditions she did not die, no mere normal person could have lasted as long out in these conditions...Yes...She was a cursed child like her parents would say...

This fragile soul named Karolin, one out of millions lay down in some dark alleyway as snow began to gently fall on her body. Just like her hair and skin a pale white color...Her eyes closed, getting some measure of sleep as her body began to slowly blend in with the snow. Why?...What did she do wrong? Why was she hated? Why did her parents do the things they did? Why did it have to come to that?...

She...Rather not remember her past right now...It hurts the inside of her body yet she cannot understand why remembering hurts...No food hurts...No water hurts...The cold does not feel good...Then why does remembering hurt like those?

All these questions would race in her mind, yet she would never get those answers...She was a bit hungry, so she had to get up and look for food. Her eyes would open up once more as she would gently sit up, parting the small layer of snow that accumulated over her body before standing up. Her hot breath was visible in the cold night air...

Maybe...She could find some half eaten meals left behind by some fancy people coming by...

Tonight, the fancy folk of Saint Petersburg were all abuzz over an event happening that night, which was gathering the well-to-do and causing quite the stir. «Цирк дю Воле», this "Cirque du Volés, promised entertainment the likes of which the people had never seen. And large entertainment venues tended to conclude with quite a lot of food scraps tossed aside by its patrons. All Karolin would have to do is wait for the show to be over, and then she could sneak inside and have her fill of discarded popcorn and dough-wrapped sausages. Maybe, if she was lucky, there would even be some unsold pirozhkis in the bakeries nearby.

Neutral eyes would glance around the usually quiet city, there were a lot of words in the distance. And more brighter lights than usual...The skies were brighter than usual at night with all the lights...But her stomach would focus her mind on the prospects of food. She could smell it in the air as she would get closer to whatever this event was.

Her bare feet would walk across the stone streets and snow as she would soon hide behind a wall as her curious eyes would peer over...Despite wanting to wait...Her curiosity was nagging at her. What was this event? An 'entertainment' for people...She wanted to look inside of it and see everything inside. She wanted to experience what everyone else was experiencing...

Her eyes would gaze at the entrance, despite wanting to wait...She wanted to sneak into this event...She did not have anything to give to enter so she had to do it the sneaky way.

Following the crowds, Karolin caught sight of an enormous red tent and of the masses flowing inside.

The ticketers at the gates were too alert for Karolin to simply sneak in; she stuck out too much. However, the gates at the rear of the venue were unguarded - locked, but unguarded. Karolin rarely had an issue with locks for long, and if she so wished, she could gain entry to the big top's backstage to witness what the announcer within was boldly proclaiming "the finest show in France."

Seeing the front of the tent was watched over, it was clear even to her that trying to sneak in looking like she was would get her one thing at the very least, a ticket back to the nearest alley after being chased away.

So seeing at the back entrance was empty and clear of people, she would of course take a few more cautionary looks around her as she simply walks through the back entrance of the tents. However, hearing a loud booming voice in the distance...She would not know what the man was using to speak but for her she would assume it was a magic man's voice in the distance...

But she was very curious to witness what he meant by 'finest show in France' even if...Wait...What was France? Now this piqued her curiosity more.

Karolin found herself backstage, wherein the acts to follow were preparing. Trap doors and tunnels ran beneath the platform that the Ringmaster stood on, and everything from acrobats to an entire elephant stood by waiting for deployment. As tall and imposing as Karolin was, there was at least one person who was even greater of stature and more terrifying here: the Beast, a lion-like man, whose handler waited upon him without fear of his wild nature.

In a crowd of normal people, Karolin stood out. Among these people, Karolin looked no more out of place than anyone else.

A tall beauty stood with tight curls blanketing her back and starry caramel eyes. She dressed in an elegant light lavender dress with gold accents and small flower decorations that reached just above her tight-covered legs. She seemed ethereal as she smiled at the beast in front of her. The creature was a massive monster with a tall body, clawed hands, enormous wings, and thick feathers that coated its body. Only his face seemed human.

He shook himself, releasing a mighty roar. He seemed agitated. Yet the maiden lifted her hands and gently cupped his face, "Bête, look at me. No fear. I am here." Her voice sang, and the beast huffed, calming himself.

"Good-" she paused. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone new — a tall and imposing maiden. Her costume choice was...unique. Ines tilted her head, curious when the circus had brought in another performer

Upon encountering the lion man and the pretty lady in dress. Her face remained neutral as she blinked at them. Although many would be scared off, this pale woman in rags looked over them without even a hint of emotion on her face. But...They were different. They looked different. And they were not chasing her way at the moment.

However words were lost to her, she did not know how to start a conversation. Nor what words to use. There were only a few things she could do in this situation...But with her curiosity and grumbling gut there was one easy answer for her. There was no answer...

Since no one was making a move, she would slowly keep moving like her presence here was normal. She read this in a book before, and must work.

Snacks and refreshments were available for the performers at one of the tables set up backstage. The selection was not the most varied, but it did have many of the local favorites: pirozhki, pigs in blankets, and pastila, along with large faceted barrels of water and wine and even a bottle of vodka. One could get used to this! What exactly was everyone doing here, anyway? Could Karolin join in?

With her 'perfect' blending in with the others here, Karolin would head over to the table with food and drink lining it. Since no one said anything, for her that meant she was more than free to freely help herself to a feast.

Her hands would grab a pirozhki and look it over. It looked nice and warm...A full meal...This might be her first full meal...Her mouth would soon open and close onto this rare delicacy for her. The taste was far more different than what she was used to...Cold, fatty and barley nourishing food scraps. For almost as long as she lived that was what he had tasted but this...This was so much different.

Bite after bite, she would devour the food in her hands as she would also grab a cup and fill it with water before washing the food down with some nice water. She felt...Better now.

Nobody moved to stop her. In fact, she blended in well enough that others came for their own treats, took what they wanted, and left without paying her any mind. What a rare place this was, that people could see someone like her and not think anything of it.

And she did not know half of it. As the show ran just outside, Karolin could hear the audience gasp agape in awe and wonder at the sights put on display for their entertainment. Never would they have suspected that the tricks they saw were not tricks indeed, but the genuine article. Yet while some acts were accomplished with devices plain as day to those behind the figurative curtain, others were more difficult to explain. Was la Bête a real person? He certainly looked alive. Some things had to be real, but the line between reality and fiction blurred ever so thin here.

Thunderous applause filled the stadium as the beauty and beast made their exit backstage, followed by an organized line of animals. She guided each one masterfully, needing neither a whip nor chains to tame them. She handed the animals off to the handlers, expressing her thanks for their assistance. The beast remained by her side, as there has yet to be a handler who he allowed near him other than the woman.

As she led the beast to his room, her gaze caught sight of the strange performer from earlier. She was indulging on the refreshment table with a vigorous hunger. The beauty pondered momentarily, then walked away with the beast.

Moments later, the woman returned, still in costume but with no beast by her side but a handsome man. He had golden locks, sky blue eyes, and a mysterious smile. His clothing was rather plain— a white shirt with black pants. The man paused, eyeing the stranger, "...Ines, she isn't a performer."

Ines gasped, her face filled with disbelief, "She is not? Are you certain, Armel?" she frowned, "...Then what of her odd attire?" Ines questioned in French, her voice filled with concern.

Armel sighed, regretting his next choice of words, "Shall we ask?" He smiled, hiding his hope she'd say no. He shouldn't have asked.

Ines's eyes lit up, "Oui!" Before Armel could say anything more, Ines was already making her way toward the strange visitor in rags.

She stood at the edge of the table, tilting her head with an elegant smile, "Bonjour, je m'appelle Ines." She did not respond.

Ines wondered if she wasn't French, "...Hello, my name is Ines. Do you speak English?" Armel stood behind Ines, watching the exchange

Such an array of fresh food, she could feel her stomach filling up for once in her life. It was such an odd feeling but a feeling she was comfortable with. However her eating focus soon drew to the strange words next to her...And directed at her. It was a pretty woman with an unusual skin color for her, but her dress was pretty like a fancy person's clothing.

However she did not understand the French...Then the English...She would hold a pig in a blanket as she stared back with an entirely neutral gaze, seemingly not understanding a single word she said. Those were strange words...It sounded so different to what she had heard or said.

She would point to herself...Then point to her then seemingly tilted her head a bit as she was pondering her words like a question. "Privet, krasotka, ya caroline. spasibo saa edu." She replied in Russian as she would munch her food in her hands.

What did she say? Ines pondered. The words spoken to her were in a foreign language she could only guess as Russian. She was unsure, as her knowledge was limited to French and English.

She began to fret, tapping her finger on her cheek as she scoured her mind for ideas. How could they converse? Perhaps she knows sign language?

Before Ines could test her hypothesis, a familiar voice spoke behind her, "Dobro pozhalovat', Kerolayn. My Armel' i Ines, chleny ekipazha etogo korablya. Kak vy okazalis' za kulisami?"

(Welcome, Caroline. We are Armel and Ines, crew members on this ship. How did you end up backstage?)

Ines spun around, her mouth slightly agape, as she stared wide-eyed at Armel, "Armel! Tu parles sa langue?"

(Armel! You speak her language?)

"Yes." Armel nodded, clearly not as impressed as Ines. However, that did not stop her from gazing at him in awe, waiting for a clear interpretation of their guest's words.

Armel sighed, "She introduced herself as Karolin and thanked you for the food."

Ines beamed, glancing between Karolin and Armel with glee, "She is very welcome!...How did she get in here, Armel?"

He shrugged, "We shall see. For now, can you locate Tybalt and bring him here? He should be available."

Ines frowned, wishing to stay and hear more of the language between the two, "Bien." She rushed away, searching the ship for Tybalt.

Another person, and he spoke words she understood. Of course to respond to his question she would give an honest reply. "Szady nikogo ne bylo ryadom, yi nicto nichego ne govori. razavi chto... nepravilne?"

(The back had no one near it, and no one said anything. Was that...Wrong?)

The woman asked, still munching on her food while awaiting a response, her curious eyes gazing at him and all around her. So many new and interesting things she was seeing and experiencing.

Fortunately for them, Tybalt was between acts. He wouldn't be needed again until the finale, where he would issue his famous closing line, this time in well-practiced Russian. It was just about the only thing he could say in that language, but it was better than nothing.

A tall, goateed man in a top hat made his way to the drink cart, supporting his steps with an unnecessary—but quite fancy—ruby-topped cane. He nodded to Ines and Armel, but tilted his head at the newcomer.

"I do believe we have yet to be acquainted," he said with a grand smile to the tall woman.

Karolin continued to satisfy her stomach, and Armel wondered if they should restock the table, "Eto bylo nepravil'no, no eto byla i oshibka. Popravimaya oshibka." His gaze fell on Tybalt.

(It was wrong, but it was also a mistake. A fixable mistake.)

Ines smiled, pleased that she did not have to search far for Tybalt. She stood beside Armel, poking his arm to continue the conversation.

"Tybalt, this is Karolin, a guest who wandered backstage by accident. She seems to have been traveling for quite a while." He guessed the last part, considering how she is dressed in rags and is filling her stomach continuously.

"Karolin, eto Tibalt. Nash nachalnik manezha i vladelets etogo korablya."

(Karolin, this is Tybalt. Our Ringmaster and owner of this ship.)

Wrong...Oh it was wrong...Karolin stopped eating the food in her hands as she would place it back on the table, like a child putting away a half eaten cookie after being caught eating from the cookie jar.

"Izvinite..."
(Sorry...)

Was all the woman said as her gaze fell upon the fancy man with a fuzzy face. Of course his words were lost on her as she blinked at him with a neutral gaze before turning to Armel. "Stalnye govoryat strange slova... neujeli ti bald nakhodit moiu oshibku plochoi?... ya ego ne ponimayu..."

(The others say strange words...Is Tybalt finding my mistake bad?...I don't understand him...)

She would look at the two, her gaze still neutral...However for her she could feel a bit...Uneasy...Like the air when she was back home...When she did bad things which was all the time she would be hit...This must be the case...

Armel caught the slight change in Karolin's demeanor. Noticing how she shyly pushed away from her food, he assured her, "My ne rasstoyanie, Karolin. Oshibki sluchaetsya."

(We are not upset, Karolin. Mistakes happen.)

Her mannerisms were similar to a child's, not childish, but pure honesty. An innocence identical to when he first met Ines — curious about the world around them yet fearful of people's reactions. He felt a vague sense of guilt for his choice of words, "Pozhaluysta, prodolzhat yest'. I Tibal't ne schitayet tebya plokhim. Na samom dele, on khochet bol'she uznat' o vas."

(Please, continue eating. And Tybalt does not find you bad. In fact, he wants to hear more about you.)

Noticing that Karolin seemed less than comfortable, he did his best to reassure her with an even brighter smile. He took hold of a cookie and placed it in Karolin's hands, hoping that the gesture would transcend verbal language. At the risk of repeating Armel's words, he assured her, "I will need to return to the stage in a few moments, but, please, continue eating and stay awhile. We would love to meet you."

With that, he nodded in affirmation and began walking towards the stage, preparing for his re-entry.

The words directed at her were not loud...But soft...With words saying it was alright to continue eating with even a cookie placed in her hands, she stared at his gesture and the cookie in her hands as she blinked a bit.

She...She was not sure what to feel...But she did know that she did not dislike this at all. "Bolshoe spasibo."

(Thank you very much)

She would say as he looked up at him and took a bite almost expecting something to happen, but seeing as nothing happened she would return to eating with renewed energy once more.

Ines smiled, twirling in place because she couldn't contain her joy — her show dress fluttering. Tybalt gave his blessing, which means she is free to learn more about their mysterious new friend, Karolin.

With light steps, Ines snatches Armel and drags him to a group of chairs. Aware of her request, Armel hoists the seats in his arms and sets them around the food table.

Once everyone was seated, Ines started a conversation with Armel as the translator. She wanted to become acquainted with Karolin but not dig too far into her personal life. So Ines asked her questions about the circus, is this her first time at the circus? How did she feel about the performances? Were there any acts she particularly enjoyed?

With the questions asked by a translator, there was one simple answer she could respond with to all of them.

"Ya nay znayu au spectacle ch. noh ya zdes vpervye."
(I don't know about the performances, but this is my first time here.)

She would simply reply. It was of course the truth, this was her first time seeing such a sight...Plus she was walking in the back of the tent so she did not see anything more than the people and munching on some food still after her response.

Ines frowned. If she could, she'd want Karolin to witness the wonders of the circus. She paused and glanced over at Armel with a sweet but crafty smile.

"Non," he said without a thought. Ines huffed gently, yanking on his shirt, "Ines, this is not debatable. We need to remain here until Tybalt returns." He sets his elbow on the table, propping his head up with his hand. He reaches for a cookie and passes it to the sullen Ines, who takes it and elegantly stuffs it into her mouth.

Ines swung her legs back and forth with a sigh as she chewed on the cookie. Not even the delectable sugar could fix her mood. She wanted Karolin to experience the wonders of the circus. Then, maybe if she enjoys it, she'd wish to stay. How marvelous of an outcome that would be.

Armel kept Ines out of sight, not allowing her mood to affect his decision. But it was hard to ignore her loud sighs, and once again, he lost, "If...If we do this, we must use a box seat. You and Karolin would attract too much attention if we sat amongst the-" Armel stopped, feeling manipulated by Ines.

"J'écoute~." she sang—her grin sparkling in the light. The cookie is still being munched on but slower.

(I am listening~)

Armel regrets this, "There are rules. Firstly, Ms. Karolin must agree, and if she does, we'd need at least a cloak for her to remain warm-"

"Facile, suivant~."

(Easy, next)

He sighed, "Ines..." Armel ran a hand through his golden hair, swiping it out of his face, "...Second, we must come back here. No wandering around the ship afterward, understood?"

Ines nodded, agreeing to the terms, "Oui. Oui. Maintenant, s'il vous plaît, demandez-lui!"

(Yes. Yes. Now, please ask her.)

Armel turns to Karolin, translating the conversation, "Ines khochet posmotret' s toboy tsirk-."

(Ines wants to watch the circus with you-)

Ines poked Armel's arm, motioning at the food, "Vy takzhe mozhete vzyat' s soboy neskol'ko zakusok vo vremya prosmotra."

(You are also welcome to bring a few snacks with you as you watch.)

Ines resumed munching on her cookie, satisfied, as she reached for another.

At first Karolin would watch the two speak and interact with each other with interest. Their strange words that sounded so different from what she normally spoke. And how they both were in a way 'playing' with one another like the kids she saw who would have their faces with their lips raised in an energy filled manner.

Watching those two...It was a gentle feeling...She liked this feeling just seeing them. It was so different. The yells...Replaced with this scene. She could watch them without getting tired.

However her thoughts were interrupted by the next set of words directed at her. A chance to watch this circus? And bring more snacks with her? Karolin wasted no time grabbing a small handful of well...Everything on the table as she was almost as eager as a dog about to go outside.

"Ya khotel by posmotret."
(I would like to watch)

She would say, however her face remained solid and neutral. No hint of emotion on her face yet her body which had scooped up the food was telling.

Ines needed no translation as Karolin's decision was obvious. Springing up in excitement, Ines claps her hands as she skips away to grab a cloak from one of the many emergency costume racks. She brought it back for Karolin to wear. But seeing as her arms were full, Ines helped drape the garment over her shoulders, glancing at Armel to explain.

"Ispol'zuyte yego, chtoby sogret'sya." He pushed the chairs closer to the table, so they do not block anyone's path as they are gone, "Alright, let's be on our way?" Armel walked a few steps ahead.

(Use it to keep yourself warm)

Ines beams. Turning to Karolin, she carefully sets her hand on her arm, "Let's go!" She knew Karolin could not understand, but she felt the need to say it anyway.

Armel leads the way, taking a few turns. They climb a flight of stairs to the balcony. Now out of the backstage area, one could hear the applause and cheers—guests sitting at the edge of their seats and gasping with awe.

Glancing around, Armel quietly finds an empty box seat. It was a separate room on the balcony with an open viewing area. It had about four seats inside, perfect for all of them, "Zakhodi." he spoke to Karolin, motioning towards the seats.

(Come in)

With her arms full of food, she seemed to be ready to go but as they draped the warm sheet over her shoulders her eyes would gaze at the fabric at her back. Was this a window curtain? It was on her but not on a curtain...But it felt warm...It was better than the cold...Taking his words to heart her head would lean against the cloak on her shoulder as she closed her eyes for a moment to take it all in before opening them once more once she felt gentle hands on her arm.

Unlike the rough grabbing she was used to, this set of hands seemed to also want her to go to a location. But without pulling her hard...She did not dislike this at all...And soon enough her ears would catch the loud energetic noises from many people in the distance as they got closer. And arriving at a room overlooking another room she would step inside when she was motioned to come in.

Ines enters the room leaving the center chair open for Karolin and her snacks. Once everyone is seated Armel follows, setting himself in the chair next to Karolin so he can translate. Ines bubbles with joy, poking Karolin on the arm she points toward the floor, "Regardez! Il y a Tybalt au centre." She says loud enough for Karolin to hear over the crowd, "He is about to introduce the next performer."

(Look. There is Tybalt in the center)

Armel translated, "Tibalt, chelovek iz proshlogo, predstavit sled yushchenko ispolnitelya."

(Tybalt, the man from before, will be introducing the next performer)

With a seat available, Karolin took a look over the cushioned seat and soon sat down on it. It had a pillow on it! It was soft under. This must have been how fancy people sat and slept...It was a great feeling compared to wood and a few rags on wood and the ground.

However her eyes would gaze upon the performance going on with curious eyes. What was going to happen? She was very much looking forward to seeing what was about to happen. Even if her face had no visible emotion on it.

Dramatically, the top-hatted showman tapped his cane repeatedly upon the ground. With each tap, a spotlight was lit, casting new shadows that stretched even to the roof of the big top. A white cloth ring began to ascend around him from the floor, slowly obscuring more and more of him from view while still allowing the lights to form his shadows. As he gestured, each of the silhouettes matched his movements. He removed his top hat, and each of the shadows removed theirs. Finally, he was concealed from head to toe in the ringed curtain.

New music began to play, whimsical, mysterious, wonderful in nature, serving to underscore the baffling sights the audience would soon witness. Tybalt's silhouette from within the curtained veil suddenly warped and shifted until it took on a girlish figure. For this, the other shadows followed suit, as expected. They all played along like tethered puppets until, at last, their puppeteer seized control.

The curtain slowly raised, the shadows continuing in their parade. They moved in time to the music, hopping along until the curtain revealed that the Ringmaster had disappeared, replaced by a girl in a white suit, gilded in gold. The shadows pointed their fingers at her in mock surprise.

The woman marched in a circle around the ring, her shadows following suit in a line much like a conga dance, waving to the audience before she stopped in the center of the ring and lifted her arms, the shadows folding and shifting, diving behind her until only one remained, her shadow.

Rien feigned a curtsy, pulling her first blade out of the shade right beneath her. She held up the short sword for all to see, striking the air with practiced ease to show that it was a real blade.

Rien leaned her head back, pointed the sword down, and swallowed the blade whole, hilt and all. She licked her thumb as though she had eaten something particularly tasty.

And while her audience still sat there, nullified, Rien reached her hand down, pulling the sword back out as if by magic.

The music, the sights, the clothing, the spectacles. It was unlike anything she has seen with her own eyes. It was as if the pages of her book just popped out and became alive just like her. But the real magic was just starting for her.

A woman with a fancy outfit on like one of those many fancy people took to the stage holding a sword. Oh it looked sharp like a knife! That was indeed something that could cut things. However to her awe the woman would begin placing the sword down her mouth and even though she could not believe it...The sword had vanished from sight in her mouth! And after showing that she ate it she pulled the sword back out. This was truly magic like her books!

Her eyes had a bit more life in them as she stared in awe. "Sympathichnyy volshebnik..."

(Pretty magician)

She spoke with a hint of wonder in her tone.

Ines knew the inner workings of Rien's act, yet that did not stop her from marveling at her friend’s grace and showmanship.

Ines was stunned, caught in the ambiance of Rien's performance. She broke free from her trance by the erupting applause that filled the tent. Following suit, Ines leaned toward the front edge of her seat and cheered, "Merveilleux, Rien!" Her long curls, blanket over her shoulder, danced as her arms moved.

(Marvelous, Rien!)

Amid her awe, Ines glances to the side. Her smile grows brighter as she detects the tiniest bit of light flashing in Karolin's gaze. Ines felt so proud.

She peeked over Karolin at Armel, signaling him to translate. Armel smiled, "She said, pretty magician." He answered almost mockingly.

Ines ignored his tone and nodded in agreement with the words, "Hush. Rien n'était incroyable."

(incredible)

Armel held his tongue, internally debating if he should compliment Rien or insult her. He chose neither and said, "If you say so."

Ines ignored Armel. Tilting close to Karolin, she asked, "Did you like her performance?"

Armel translated: "Vam ponravilos' vystuplenie simpatichniy volshebnitsa?"

(Did you like the pretty magician's performance)

Although marveling at the performance, Karolin's attention was easily shifted to the people near her when a question was asked to her before being translated. Did she like it? That was an easy answer.

"Mne ponravilos."
(I liked it)

She would say as she would give a small nod. However she had a question of her own. "Ethy tsirki napolneni magiei, kak vie knigach? vy toze vse volshebnye?"

(Are these circuses filled with magic like in the books? Are you all magical as well?)

She would ask as her eyes would look over the others in wonder as if she expected them to cast balls of fire, or fly in the air like she read.

Armel paused. Should he answer this question honestly? He knows if it were Ines, she'd say yes without hesitation, which is not necessarily a good thing.

"What did she say? Armel?" Ines' eyes twinkled. Karolin must have said something difficult for Armel to answer, which means it would be easy for her, "Armel~ Tell me please~" she hummed.

He tapped his leg, "She is wondering if the circus is magical, along with us. Similar to the magic in the storybooks, Etoile showed-"

"Oui!" Ines nodded her head vigorously, her hands resting gently on Karolin's arm.

He knew it. Armel swiped a hand over his face and sighed. He knew this would happen.

"Armel, tell Karolin she is right. Ask if she wishes to join in the magic!" Her voice was low enough that only they could hear. She understood secrecy was essential. However, she could not shake the feeling that Karolin would fit in perfectly with this bizarre yet magical circus.

"Je t'en prie, Armel. Je sais ce qui t'inquiète, mais Karolin a besoin d'un foyer. Et Tybalt serait d'accord!"

(Please, Armel. I know what you worry about, but Karolin needs a home. Also, Tybalt would agree)

Armel knew she added Tybalt because he was about to use him to disagree with her statement. Armel shook his head, wondering where Ines learned such craftiness from, "Da." He smiled, "Eto pohozhie na knigi. Mnogiye iz nas volshebnye, no ne vse."

(It is similar to the books. Many of us are magical, but not all.)

He hesitated but continued, "Ines sprashivayet, ne khochesh' li ty prisoyedinit'sya k nam."

(Ines wonders if you wish to join us.)

Upon hearing that this place was indeed magical, if her eyes could sparkle like the times in the books then her eyes would sparkle. However all she could do was stare back intently as indeed the magic of this place was the real deal.

And another part that drew her was that Ines wanted her to join?...Her?...She could join?...But...Was it alright? This was indeed a place of magic but she was...

"Ya diable..."
(I'm a devil...)

Karolin spoke as her eyes looked downwards.

"Magia obichno khorosha... noh ya diable... monster... sushchestvo... demonicheskaya vesch nay dolzna kasatsya khoroshikh veshchey, inache ona delaet magic plochoi..."[i/]

(Magic is usually good...But I'm a devil...A monster...A creature...A demonic thing should not touch good things or else it makes the magic bad...)

She would say as she looked to the few crumbs left in her hands as she stared at her hands. [i]"Oni skazali... ya byl nezhelannym... yi zi...ya ne khochu razrushat magiu zlom..."

(They said...I was unwanted...And evil...I don't want to ruin magic with evil...)

She spoke with a slight shiver as her hands held each other for comfort.

Small tears dripped down Ines' cheeks, smearing the powder covering her scar. She did not wait for Armel to translate. The word monster that left Karolin's lips, along with her shivering hands, was enough.

Pushing off her chair, Ines wrapped her arms around Karolin's neck. Her tights caught on the edge, but she ignored them. Leaning closer, she held Karolin tight, sniffling.

Armel frowned. A bitter taste sat in his mouth, "...Ty ne d'yavol, Karolin." he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it in Ines's hand, "Tot, kto skazal eto, byl ne prav naschet tebya."

(You are not a devil, Karolin.)
(Whoever said this was wrong about you.)

He gave Karolin's head a light pat, "Yesli khochesh' prisoyedinit'sya, ya poproshu Tibalt. Tak chto eto normalno govorit' to, chto vy khotite. Delat' to, chto khochesh', bez strakha."

(If you wish to join, I will ask Tybalt. So, it is alright to say what you want. To do what you want, without fear.)

In a sudden moment, Karolin could feel a different warmth wrapped around her. Ines had wrapped her arms around her all of a sudden. Was she giving her some extra heat? But her face was a bit wet like when she would cry. Was she really sad all of a sudden?

However, the next words surprised her. Wrong about being a demon? What they said was...Wrong?...She did not understand...However soon she also felt something on her head as well as her gaze looked up and saw Armel's hand patting her head.

Karolin then looked at Ines as her hands unclasped themselves as she gently patted her hair. In books she saw it, when people had tears falling a lot of the books showed a hand rubbing a head. But why would someone pat her head? She was confused.

"Ya nay diable?... ya vie zameshatelstve...moi roditeli skazali, chto ya proklyatiy yi demon...Ya viglaju stranger... yi ya otlichie ot drugiq... neujeli ya nay odin?...ya...vie zameshatelstve..."

(I am not a devil?...I am confused...My parents said I was cursed and a demon...I look strange...And I am different from others...Am I really not one?...I'm...Confused...)

The confused woman said, face still devoid of emotions as she gently patted Ines's head.

Armel leaned back in his chair. Crossing his legs, he took a moment to think about Karolin's words. He felt many different emotions, none pleasant. Why do parents hurt their children the most?

There were so many things he could tell Karolin, though a few words from a stranger could never fix years of trauma.

However, Armel did know what Karolin needed to hear the most, "Karolin, prisoyedinyaysya k tsirku. Zdes' nikto ne schitayet vas zlym ili proklyatyh. Zdes' vse raznyye."

(Karolin, join the circus. Here, no one thinks of you as evil or cursed. Here, everyone is different.)

Ines sniffled. Karolin's hands patting her head were cozy and warm. She let her continue a little longer before loosening her grip on Karolin. She sat back with a sweet smile. Her powder washed away, revealing three defining scars over her cheek, but Ines did not mind. Brushing a few hair strands from her face, Ines dabbed her eyes with Armel's handkerchief, "Merci." she held Karolin's hand, "Karolin, please join the circus. Let this place be your new home."

Armel chuckled, "Ona skazala spasibo i nadeyetsya, chto tsirk stanet vashim novym domom."

(She said thank you and hopes the circus will become your new home.)

Karolin would listen as the two continued to ask her to join...The curse she suffered...Would it really just be ignored here in this place of magic? They would accept her?...Accepted...These people were gentle with her...They did not call her a demon...They even said she was not one...It was such a different feeling...

Looking at Ines Karolin saw it, the sight of what looked like a cut. It looked deep...The cuts she had never really did much to her body...But...That was what 'different' was.

Her eyes would look over to her hand as it was held with Ines's hand. Both her and him want her...To...Think of this as a home...She...Never had a home for lots of years...

"Ya mogu... u vas novy dome?"
(I can...Have a new home?)

She would say as her hands felt warm now. Not like the biting cold from outside. She could have a home? Maybe a bed? And more people to...Talk with?...

She...Would like that...

"Togda eto novyy dom. mne nravitsya volshebstvo yi khorosheye... mne toze nravyatsya vy dvoe... my nay semya... noh teper chuvstvuyu sebya semyey iz uvidennogo... mne eto nravitsya..."

(Then this is a new home. I like magic, and good things...I also like you two...We are not family...But now feels like family from what I saw...I like this...)

She would say as her eyes looked up at the two. However no expression would show on her face. She liked this moment...But she could not express it.

"Shall we find Tybalt?" Armel asked Ines

Ines nodded. She tried to contain her excitement but held Karolin's hands tighter, "Bienvenue dans la famille!"

(Welcome to the family)

Armel let her be, decided not to interject, how this was a decision for Tybalt. She wouldn't listen anyway, "Ines skazala, dobro pozhalovat' v sem'yu."

(Ines said, welcome to the family.)

He allowed Ines to relish the moment for a few more minutes before announcing they should head back to the table and wait for Tybalt.

So they quietly left the box, down the stairs, and past a crowd of performers mingling backstage. Soon they arrived where they had begun, the once emptied table now restocked with food. There they awaited Tybalt's arrival.

Filling the big top with his booming voice after an explosive finale of flashing and fire, Tybalt delivered his closing lines, this time in showy, flowing Russian. "Nashemu nevozmozhnogo tsirku vse yeshche chego-to ne hvataet. Mozhet byt, vy — to chego nam ne hvataet?"

«Our impossible circus is not yet complete. Could it be you are what we're missing?»

The big top erupted with thunderous applause, and Tybalt proudly approached the table, his eyes lighting up on seeing Karolin return. His expression was practically glowing. He repeated the words he just spoke to her.

Family…Her eyes seemed to have a flash of fear when they mentioned family. However she quickly calmed herself when she remembered…There's lots of families around…They won’t turn into her family…She…Turned into their family…

Of course it was soon time to head back which she would follow behind without issue, and soon enough the top hat person returned. Tybalt. And as he spoke to her she would ultimately nod in response to his question. She wanted to be part of this magic…

Setting

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#2022-12-28 04:19:13, as written by The_Queen

Later than anticipated or desired, the roll of carriage wheels made its presence known at the docks. Long had Etoile's bedtime passed - and that of most of the Redempteur's inhabitants, save its most night-worthy of owls - but, deep into the evening, the horse-drawn vehicle came to a stop and deposited its inhabitants near to the airship's moor.

Despite Tybalt's remarkable height, he was accompanied by a girl taller and stronger than he, and flanked by his now de facto lawyer, Armel. The wooden platform creaked beneath their feet as they approached their ship's main ramp.

Upon arrival, the Ringmaster, knowing intimately the quirks of his vessel, reached out his cane to tap upon just the right spot. Each thud rang out like a low gong through the cargo section, alerting his fellows to the recovery of a lost sheep.

Home sweet ship...It may have been a good bit since she had seen the ship but the tingling feeling she had seeing it was a nice feeling. But with them finally stopped, Karolin would step outside the carriage to enjoy the nice open space after being cooped up in a less than comfortable environment which was that room with metal bars.

But now far away, and remembering Tybalt's words she was a few steps away from a hug… Oh… Hugs were possible, once again. As much as the ship had missed Karolin, she too, had longed for her return. With a fuzzy, sentimental feeling in her chest, Karolin stepped forward. However, her face was blank, her normal, stoic expression like a mask across her features.

Armel stretched at the entrance, letting out a heavy sigh. Karolin was home and his duty was done. And although the detectives were persistent, the situation ended well.

Now—despite it being way past the time for a good night's sleep—Armel was determined to rest. He turned to bid his companions goodbye, but before he could speak he was cut off by a familiar voice.

"Karolin! Mr. Tybalt! Armel! Welcome home!" Ines sang in French, her eyes glistening with excitement.

Armel whispered beneath his breath, "Almost escaped. Almost."

The return of the trio was greeted by the pitter-patter of little feet. Up far past her bedtime, she excitedly held the hand of Maria, who was still in her day-clothes, having prepared for their return. "Welcome back," Maria smiled, her relief palpable.

This would not be the first time the circus had had a run-in with the law. However, it was the first time one of them had gotten caught. "Someone insisted on staying up far past her bedtime to make certain you returned." Untangling her fingers from Maria's grasp, Etoile ran forward to her Papa, grasping his pant leg with one hand, the other signing quickly.

«You were gone for too long, Papa.»

Peering down from his head's high perch upon his shoulders, Tybalt beamed a glowing smile to his adoptive daughter.
«Not by choice», he remarked back to her in sign language. Then, with one of his large hands, he ruffled her golden hair.

His attention turned to Ines with warm astonishment. "Oiseau chanteuse, I did not expect to see your shining face at this hour! It seems half the ship has gathered for this occasion!"

Karolin’s ears caught the tune of Ines’s sing-song voice, her melodic tone carrying down the hall. One by one, they poked their faces out to greet them. Oh...With this many people, surely there was a party going on. If so many gathered in one spot, there must have been something worthy of celebration. At least this was her reasoning.

"Ines. Back home. Hug?" She would greet her back in her normal deadpan tone of voice as she put her arms to the side in a gesture of a hug.

Ines' eyes brimmed with tears. She fell ill and only awoke moments ago. Filled with guilt for wasting an entire day, she was debating coming to greet them. But seeing her friends, brightened Ines' mood.

Ines walked over to Karolin and wrapped her arms around the larger woman’s waist, "I missed you, Karolin." Ines sniffled.

With the heart warming hug that Ines would embrace Karolin with, she in return would gently wrap her arms around her. Despite her strength being very well known to be extortionary, she knew full well that she should be very careful with her friends. They were of course not like her, so she would hug back gently with closed eyes to enjoy their warmth together...Nice and warm...It did feel better with the company of friends.

Of course she would perk up at the surprise Maria mentioned. "There is a party. Everyone is all together...Oh...Did something good happen while I was away?" Karolin asked as she would soon release her arms from Ines.

As through appearing from the shadows, Rien was suddenly among them, her face smeared with what looked to be flour. "Welcome back, Karolin," Rien, too, was relieved to see the gentle giant make her return.

"If everyone should like to gather in the dining room, we have prepared a bit of a surprise." Maria clapped her hands together, hoping to guide them to where each member had dutifully set up the surprise for Karolin. Rien flashed a thumbs up to Maria, indicating that the cake preparation had been a success. Maria nodded subtly in reply, smiling gratefully. They could not have done this without the help of the entire crew.

Etoile shook her head, attempting to fix her hair. «Papa, next time, you should let me whisper to la police.»Etoile signed back. She could have made them all forget that Karolin was ever there.

«No next time», he replied in sign. But who was he assuring—Etoile or himself?

With long, stilt-like steps, Tybalt strode towards the dining room, motioning for Karolin to join him.

"Come one, come all, it's time to celebrate!" he declared as he ventured through the hallways.

Not quite finding the need to join the welcome huddle, Lawrence instead busied himself halfway slogging through the more intimate beats of preparations. Of course, he didn't blame Etoile for leaving her post to greet the ringmaster early, the man himself admittedly forfeited their already fleeting time to wash the stems and sepals of every plucked flower.

Regardless, he'd find time to greet and inquire on exactly when their heist went sour after he was finished. He was strangely enjoying himself, dispersing picked litter atop the finished, dustless mantels he had scraped clean himself the morning preceding.

Concluding his own devices, he approached Tybalt, orienting himself peculiarly as to protect his mouth from Etoile's eyes and spoke in a husky half-whisper.

"Ringmaster, a word after celebrations?" When Lawrence was trusted with field-planning, the exhausts of any missteps lingered like tainted gas. He'd rather nip the source of the issue at the bud..

For their sake, and especially Karolin's.

From within the dining room, a much more sordid scene was unfolding—the sudden, dramatic bawling of a clown. "Bwoo-hoo-hoo!" Pepper sobbed melodramatically, fists concealed in her sleeves raised to her cheek to wipe at painted tears. "Memphy, dear, our darling Karolin is never coming home!" Her whining was directed at the colleague who she had been working with to set the table—or at least she had been hours ago. Now, her only occupation seemed to be warming the seats, while playing the role of a worried mother scorned.

"She just doesn't care for Mama and Papa anymore!" The tiny Mama complained, "Not since she ran off with the boys in blue... And it's because you drove her away with your shoddy jokes!" She pointed accusingly at her 'husband’. "You—buster! Oh, you drive me to drink!" Pouting, she reached out to the wine bottle they retrieved to cheekily pour herself a glass.

A man's shadow dragged his feet toward the source of the sound, one that beckoned his name with the sing-song pitch of a winebibber that rang straight to his eardrums that distance didn’t spare. Memphy he had been called, blinked slowly as if he had just woken from a long slumber. He groaned as he settled his weight on the nearest chair, shoes propped up on the table and a top hat shielding his face from the blinding lights above. Pre-drinks with the tireless resident clown was a terrible idea. He didn’t need to look out from under his hat to sense the commotion she was brewing, fingers jabbed in his direction as he was placed in a role he never entertained would come to pass…A terrible idea indeed. Although drained, he cleared his throat and hopped back onto his feet to make amends. It was still a momentous occasion, and there were more drinks to go around. Not to mention other fingers may be jabbed his way, the blame easily falling to him when things went astray. “Not now, darling, we have visitors.” He pulled Pepper away by the waist from her newly poured drink, tidied the stray strands of her bright red wig before lifting her over his shoulder in a breath’s break from her theatrical tirade.

"Goo-wargh—!! See, this is what I mean!" Pepper whined as she was clown-handled, "You have no sense of dramedic timing! I'm trying to do a bit of a bitter bit, and you're biting it!" She kicked and pounded—while subtly avoiding hurting her escort—while she threw an amusing temper tantrum, curly locks jostling like leaves in an autumn torrent. "Honestly, you think I don't know that?"

"Welcome back, Karolin." Rien poured herself a glass of wine, joining in the festivities. They had no qualms with drinking on this ship, some even thought to make a game of it on slow nights, where they had nothing to do but wait to reach their next destination. Tonight, the air was a bit lighter. The previous somber haze that had hung over them began to lift, Karolin having at last returned to them.

Just as implied, Pepper's hearing stole away all suspense. It was not long before the others, too, could hear the approach of footsteps and the tapping of Tybalt's staff upon the hull. Tybalt's long strides took him to the entrance of the dining room, where someone would surely fix Karolin a meal. "I am quite sure you are famished," he said in an address to his newly freed crewmate. "Prison food is...nothing to write home about, as the kids say. But a home-cooked meal should have you right as rain." He was careful not to imply too much. Hopefully, then, as he ushered Karolin inside, she did not expect to see the feast laden before her: scrumptious soups and meats, still-warm bread, and a large chocolate cake as a centerpiece. Crisp, bright fresh flowers lined the room on all sides, as did bottles of wine and highly-distilled vodka imported from Karolin's homeland. And, in the seats, all who had the endurance to stay up at this late hour to greet the prodigal strongwoman.

Kaolin's thoughts would shift at the sudden prospect of food. From her question of who the party was for, her mind was now on the prospect of stuffing her face with food from home once again.

And well...The prison food was food, it was nice of them. Two slices of bread with some jelly three meals a day. Prisoners really did get some benefits even if they did so-called 'bad' things. But the smell of nice hot food in the air certainly did interest her more than slices of bread and jelly.

"Thank you. And a thank you to whoever cooked it." She would soon walk on over like a curious cat looking over all the options, the food and...Oh the drinks? She saw some of those bottles before back home...Her father drank a lot of those clear liquids from bottles. And she saw other people in other houses drinking them and dancing around afterwards...Strange...Her father always was in a bad mood when he drank that...

How strange indeed...She would take one bottle and begin making a plate with all sorts of nice steaming foods with no rhyme or reason. She was after all not a picky eater after all. But she was indeed quite curious on what this 'vodka' does to people.
November 10, 2022

The tall woman normally intimidated the mouse. It was not as if the mouse detested Karolin, no, she was merely wary of someone that towered over her and was strong enough to lift the entire dining room table.

Etoile mustered up her courage, moving out from behind her Papa, taking out her quill and pad of paper. 《Welcome home, I brought the flowers, with Lawrence, for you.》 She scribbled with nimble fingers. Etoile held the pad up for Karolin to read, but she must have done so too late.

Maria, in that moment, walked over with a plate for Karolin, smiling in that motherly way of her's. "Welcome back, Karolin, tu nous as manqué. We have missed you."

Amid the pleasantries and welcomes home, Tybalt bowed to dismiss himself for a moment. He and Lawrence had meant to have words; not cross ones, ideally, but for one of their own to find themselves behind bars merited discussion. Between the grieving and legal proceedings, it was difficult to find time to address what went wrong, but now that Karolin was home, the ache of the error was nipping at Tybalt's constitution with every step, like a misplaced pebble in his balmorals.

With a subtle wave of his staff in Lawrence's direction, he invited his fastidious companion to join him away from the dining room, then slipped into the hallway.

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#2023-03-29 05:09:19, as written by The_Queen

Excusing herself from the late festivities, Pepper left the dining room, only to pass by Lawrence and Tybalt in the hall. With a jaunty march, she was counting, "Forty-two, forty-seven, forty-eight, sixty-one—Exqueeze me, sirs." She greeted the ringleader and sharpshooter. Raising her heels and pointing her toes in on each other, she ambiguously riddled them, "How many shoes afoot are a foot?"

The girl then answered quite confusingly, "None, of course! Shoes aren't feet. But there's two shoes for every foot, and every foot is on board—every foot plus two. Now, it sounds like every foot that wears a shoe has at least one shoe, but everyone that wears a shoe—except horses—has only two feet..."

"Now, the sole reason I ask," she paused to smirk at her pun before continuing, "I thought we were missing somebody, so I'm just retracing the steps—recounting, I mean... We were missing two big feet until just now, but I think we've got two extra big feet? I'm just checking the deck below to make sure nobody's extra pair of shoes are walking out on the party—But wait! Shoes aren't feet! How we~eird..." Hardly waiting for a breath, much less a response, Pepper spun around on her heels and continued her strut down the hall, counting footsteps once more—not entirely all her own, as some of them were in French.

It had taken years for Tybalt to master decoding Pepper's particular parleying proclivities, which on the best of days were opaque, at the worst all but inscrutable. Not that she wasn't well-spoken - she said what she meant and meant what she said - but her meanings were not so much veiled as they were painted over. Tybalt removed his hat partly in greeting and partly to scratch his head. He redonned it, cocking his lips to the left and to the right, like he was chewing over the words. At last, recognition filled his eyes.

"Extra feet, you say?" he answered, rolling his shoulders and puffing out his chest. "Without a dance partner? I shall rectify it; my gratitude, Pepper."

Tybalt flashed a knowing smile at Lawrence, one with hints of weariness. Between the dire straits and the hard fight for Karolin's return, his constitution wore thin.

~~~

Marching back to the lower deck, the Ringmaster was quick to spot a face standing out from those he was used to seeing: a bright-eyed messenger man scrabbling about for acknowledgement despite the wee hours of the eve. By now the clock had past 2 unaccompanied by a daytime bell. What on earth was a courier doing searching about at this late hour?

Tybalt approached the young man lingering at the entrance, who was turning his head to and fro while clutching a sealed envelope to his chest. They locked eyes, and the man stood upright, presenting the letter with a shaking hand.

"Message for you, Mr. LeGrand!" He reported.

"At this hour?" he said, taking hold of the envelope and nicking its seal open with the tip of his staff.

"Of urgent priority," the messenger replied.

Tybalt pried apart the folds of the envelope, sliding out the letter and running his eyes over the text. "I gathered so," he answered.

"My apologies for the brevity and the inconvenience. There has arisen a desperate and immediate need for an act of appropriate grandeur to be presented at this year's Exposition universelle in Chicago, Illinois. The name of your troupe has been on the short list for some time. Cirque du Voles would be received with full honor and sponsorship, as well as considerable compensation for the lack of advance notice. If you agree to attend, please inform our courier. We await your answer and performance.

Tybalt tilted his head to one side, reaching into his pocket for a handful of coins to give to the messenger.

"What should I tell them, Mr. LeGrand?" he asked.

"Tell them we accept!" Tybalt answered, his lips curling into a wide grin.

The ship was aflutter with activity, the pounding of feet audible on nearly every floor of the ship. All hands were on deck, working like a well-oiled machine. Together, they worked to ready their flying device to take to the air. On one side of the lowest floor, there was a large handle that when turned, would alleviate the bridge from its position on the ground. From the balcony on the exterior, the ropes were pulled up. One by one, they were lifted, their crew rescinding the items that kept the Redempture securely fastened to the dock.

The engine sputtered, spewing black smoke from its belly like a dragon with a foul cough.The sputtering gave way to a soft purr, the ship now ready for flight.

”Hang on te something,” their skillful pilot, a red headed bloke named Rory MacGillan grinned, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He wore a golden badge pinned to his lapel, a relic of his glory days as a pilot in the Royal Navy. His red hair was slicked back, having grown a bit long, it was held together by an elastic with a fake sunflower fastened to the band. It was anyone’s guess which little lady of the ship had gifted it to him.

”Bring her up slowly, Red.” Samson warned, his gaze remained trained out the window, his stellar eyesight allowing him to see things that others would need binoculars for. The engine made a strange noise and both men outwardly groaned.

”Estella!” Rory shouted, stomping his foot on the ground. A panel popped upwards, revealing a slim girl with skin like umber and eyes like stars. Her hands were covered in grease and her oversized glasses were smudged with it, too. She had short black hair which she tucked behind both ears, and wore gray overalls and a pearl necklace that was startlingly clean despite the state she was in. ”Yes?” Estella asked, adjusting her glasses.

”What’re you doin’ down there? You want to get swallowed by the engine, do ya?” Estella placed both palms on either side of the deck and hoisted herself out, sitting on the ground and closing the panel she had crawled out from. ”If my calculations are correct, we could get to Chicago one hour earlier than Samson’s projections, based on my modification.”

Samson scoffed. Little was known about the man, other than that he had great eyesight and a nose for navigation. ”Found a new route, did you? Do you want to take over the maps, then?” He gestured as the airship began to lift, taking flight.

”It’s not the maps,” Estella went to the wall, running a hand across its metallic surface. ”You hear that purr? I’m confident with the adjustments I made, we’ll see a difference.”

”You better be right.” Red turned away, taking the helm. ”Now fetch me some coffee, it’s gonna be a long night.”

On another side of the ship, Blaise was assisting Genya in cleaning up the dining room. The party had ended, but the celebration lived on. There was palpable relief in the air, not only that Karolin had been rescued from the dreadful grasp of the law, but that they were leaving Manhattan in search of brighter skies and a handsomely paid performance. ”Ms. Genya,” Blaise started, averting his gaze. The gentle giant was often too shy for his own good. ”As we have discussed in the past, just Genya is fine,” she glanced up from collecting dishes, reaching forward quickly to capture an escaped plate that would have slid off of the table.

”Do you think something like this could happen again?” It was clear that the events of the last week weighed heavily on Blaise’s mind.

Genya shook her head, ”No, this was a freak-erm, incident, rather. The Ringmaster knows what he is doing and I have full confidence in our dedicated staff.” Blaise nodded, but his brow furrowed, as if he was unconvinced by her words.

On a deck below them, three men stood huddled, their card game interrupted by a door opening behind them. The smell of whiskey was prevalent in the practice room, the three of them having sneaked off after lifting the ropes and securing the provisions in the kitchen.

”Is there room for one more, boys?” A voice came from the doorway, a slender, but tall frame leaning against the opening. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders and her arms were crossed. All three stiffened, caught in the act. While the rest of the ship was preparing, Riftan, James, and Alistair were playing cards and drinking themselves into a stupor.

”The jig is up, boys.” James Martella shook his head and laughed. They collected their cards and shook their heads, cursing Rien for making them help. ”You should all go to bed, anywho. We land in two days, our acts need to be perfect.”

”Yes, yes,” Alistair waved a hand. He was Etoile’s trapeze partner, but often went off-script to tease the child and garner a reaction from the audience. He clapped Rien on the back, ”See you in the morning.” They held no ill will against her, if it had been any other night, Rien would have joined them rather than scolded the men for slacking off.

One deck above them, Violetta knelt down to lift a sleeping Etoile off of a settee. She had taken to rest there, waiting for her Papa. The child started, always a light sleeper and pushed herself away from Violetta, who deposited her carefully on the ground so as not to injure her. ”Are you alright?” Violetta whispered, her voice physically incapable of speaking even an octave louder.

Etoile nodded, looking up at Violetta with a wary expression. Slowly, sleepily, the child rose and dusted herself off, looking around the room she had fallen asleep in. She rubbed one eye and scurried off, like a mouse that had been discovered in the pantry. Where was her Papa? Why were they moving? Etoile could hear their calls, the back and forth banter of those that lived on the ship.

They were flying, but to where? She went up the steps, to the long hallway with doors decorated with names and paper cut outs. Cautiously, Etoile entered her Papa’s room and clambered onto his bed, waiting for him to return.

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Ines

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a character in “Cirque du Volés”, as played by Scra

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