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Alix Rayne

Fatespeaker

0 · 442 views · located in The Ship

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

Description

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Alix Rayne
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Fortune Teller - Cirque du Volés

“If you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you'd be doomed. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone ever again. You'd never dare.”

Dunkirk is where I was born and awakened. Bordeaux is where I'll die. I plucked my first toy from the void at twelve, learned of unspeakable truths at fourteen, and joined a traveling circus shortly after. There I'm known as La Voyantette, fate's favorite child.

Most think it a blessing to see the future. But they presume the free will to change it. Time is not so kind. What I see becomes inevitable. It looms over me like l'épée de Damoclès. But I know when the sword falls...and who will be underneath it when it does. I don't know the limits of my abilities, but neither am I keen to find out. I'm already overwhelmed by them.

I do not long for the home from which I was ejected, nor for fame nor riches. I want only a life of as much peace and meaning as I can muster. As it turns out, these are ideals shared by my fellows and serve as rare common ground.

I keep my person and stage persona separate, and thus far very few have discovered that Alix, assistant to La Voyantette, is the performer herself. It is only a matter of time before the two collide in more minds and I am made to socialize, to the detriment of us all. I could hope otherwise, but...

I already know how the story ends.
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So begins...

Alix Rayne's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Etoile Character Portrait: Rien Character Portrait: Alix Rayne
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  It seemed a foregone conclusion that the night on which a member of the family had been stolen away would prove to be a night which would also steal away the sleep of dear Tybalt. Yet, by some miracle, the man had managed to find enough peace to rest. That miracle's name was Etoile, who lay curled up at the foot of his bed like a kitten, ever reassuring, ever kind.

  It was not nearly enough to ward away the mental cataclysm which rose him from slumber in the middle of the night. He rolled out of bed, looking this way and that, grasping at his head to make sense of what was going on. He had never felt something like this before.

  Etoile, disturbed by his sudden awakening, pried open one of her heavy eyes to gaze up to her Papa.

  
"Qu'est-il arrivé?" she asked verbally, unafraid of accidental fallout from her abilities, since they were alone. She knew her Papa could sense things in people, but never had they been affected this strongly.

  Tybalt panted for breath, then gulped, looking this way and that, trying to locate the source. His eyes bored holes in the wall.


  "Did you find another?" Etoile asked.

  "Non, ma cherie, I believe they have found us."

  Just then, there was a knock at their door. Tybalt approached it with hesitant steps, his hands trembling. What awaited him on the other side? Sensing his fear, Etoile slipped clumsily from the blankets to scurry up to him and take his shaking hand. Taking a breath, he at last reached out and slid open the door.

  He saw, gazing back at him, a small, eerily thin boy in raggedy suspenders, his miniscule hands roughened from toiling on factory floors. Their noses were assaulted by the stench of coal, oil, steam, and street scraps.

  Before Tybalt could react, the boy spoke a name: one that Tybalt was sure he had shared with no soul aboard this ship. A name that predated the circus entirely.

  Flinching, Tybalt grabbed the boy's arm and yanked him inside, shutting the door behind him. He stared sternly into the child's eyes. And then the boy spoke again.


  "I will keep your secrets if you will keep mine."

  "Who told you that name?" Tybalt demanded.

  "I hold the annals of the future," the strange boy replied. "In them it is no secret."

  Tybalt's eye twitched with unease.

  "And what is your aim in coming here?"

  The boy held a blank, empty gaze at the much taller man before him. There was a pause before he replied.

  "You presume I had a choice. It was already decided for me. Tomorrow I will join your circus as the fortune teller La Voyantette, whether or not you and I desire it so."

  Tybalt stumbled back, confused. He looked to Etoile for her take on the matter. One thing stuck out in her mind.

  «La Voyantette is a girl's name, isn't it?» she signed.

  As though the strange child understood what Etoile had signed, the voice replied,
"As I said, I will keep your secrets, and you will keep mine. It is better for the circus to believe that Alix Rayne is only a cabin boy, and La Voyantette is the true star. You assign me to Etoile's room, as we are both ladies."

  "Why?" Tybalt hesitated to inquire.

  "It would be wiser to let time reveal that."

  Etoile, protective of her Papa, glared at the mysterious stranger. Boy? Girl? It did not matter. Only one man was immune to her words. With a single utterance she would send this bizarre child away from them.

  Tybalt thought deeply of what he should do. He set his hand atop Etoile's head, gently brushing through her hair. It was too late in the evening to be asking questions about fate.


  "I will have Maria confirm what you have said, and then we will see what is to be done. Her room is--"

  But the girl had already opened the door, walking in the right direction.

  "I know," she answered.

-----


  Rien answered the knock at the door with a tone of annoyance. As she slid it open, she declared, "Memphis, if you've come this late for something strange, I will--oh." She took note of the small creature before her, a ghostly pale child with no guardian in sight. Her voice softened, and she asked, "Hello there. Do you need some help?"

  This stray looked not far from dead - if not in body, then in soul, reflected in her weary eyes. Alix answered, "Tybalt requests Maria's assistance."

  "Oh. Alright, I will wake her, then." Though something was clearly off about the child, it was too deep in the night for her to concern herself. Maria was always better at this sort of thing, anyhow. And she would love to hear that Tybalt requested for her. So she went back in the room, to Maria's bedside, and gently shook her.

  Groaning, Maria turned over and asked, "Pourquoi me secoues-tu?"

  With an audible grin in her voice, Rien answered, "Monsieur LeGrande demande votre aide."

  At that, Maria tore off her sleeping mask and donned her robe, scrambling to ready herself. Quickly, she lit a lantern, fixed her hair in the mirror, and in her haste, nearly bowled over the child standing in the doorway.

  "Ah--" she vocalized, before exchanging glances with Rien, who nodded.

  "I hear Monsieur Tybalt is calling for me," she said finally to Alix. "I should have known it was to take in another cute lost kitten. Come along, we will go to him together." At that, she stretched out her hand for Alix to take.

  It was not an easy thing to accept such a gesture, however. An uncomfortably long time passed before the child at last placed a worn hand in Maria's. There was no grip to it; the whole of this stray's frame felt limp and on the brink of collapse. Maria could sense things, too, and she could tell that there was pain in this child. A warmth flowed from her hand in an attempt to soothe it.

  
"My name is Maria. What should I call you?" she asked, escorting her back to Tybalt's quarters.

  "Alix," she answered simply. That she was far from well was obvious to the naked eye, but what had transpired to steal the light from her eyes was as yet unclear.

  "What a lovely name," she commented, bringing the lantern closer to get a better look. Unkempt hair, gaunt skin, long lashes, and an expression with not a speck of joy. She was less a child than a phantom.

  "And such beautiful lashes," she added, but it washed off of her like water off a duck's back. Alix reacted to very little; Maria had seen unconscious patients more responsive than her.

  At last they reached Tybalt's door, which slid open by Etoile's little hands. Maria signed her greetings to Etoile, and they entered, Etoile shutting the door behind them.

  Immediately discerning Tybalt's distress from his pacing, Maria signed to Tybalt,
«Monsieur? Do you know this child? What is going on?»

  «No, but she knows me,» he signed in return.

  It would have been easy to assume things based on that response, but Etoile signed frantically to Maria to explain more clearly. When things had settled down, Tybalt elaborated.


  "She claims I will assign her to room with Etoile after you confirm a delicate matter. And she does not want others to know she is a lady; for what purpose, I do not know. But she...possesses knowledge I cannot explain. It is unreasonable of me to impose upon you at this late hour, chère Maria, but this was an urgent matter."

  His words were sweet and beautiful as honeysuckle, but they were drawn out by an anxiety that Maria had rarely seen in him. She resolved to help settle this matter. But surely Tybalt could just say no? She did not understand why it was being spoken of as an inevitability. Nevertheless, she resolved to help.

  "Ah, so the petite Monsieur is a Mademoiselle," she remarked. "Détourne le regard s'il te plait," she asked Tybalt, then said to Alix, "Pardon me for a moment."

  As Maria confirmed the matter, Etoile could not help but notice the girl's complete lack of response. Alix held as still and lifeless as a doll. Malnourished and unmoving, for the briefest of moments it was like looking into the past. In an instant, Etoile saw herself reflected back - the girl she had been before she met Tybalt. But this girl had no one.

  "She is telling the truth," Maria assured Tybalt. "But why would you assign her to Etoile's room?

  "I have not. But according to Alix, it has...already occurred? But it has yet to transpire... I do not understand it myself."

  Etoile leapt forth, taking Alix's hands in both of hers. Feeling the roughness of her palms, she raised them up and displayed her own, which still bore scars from ill treatment in childhood. She hoped it conveyed her message: We are the same.

  Then, Etoile turned back to Tybalt and Maria, signing with determination,
«She can stay with me.»

  Tybalt scratched at his head, unsure of what had just happened. But rarely could he change Etoile's mind when she was so intensely convinced of something. Though he did not see what she saw, he did trust her judgement.

  "Very well. It seems La Voyantette's assessment was correct. She and Etoile will be roommates. Do you have any other questions before I leave Alix in your care, Maria? I imagine Etoile and I have some matters to discuss."

  "Many, but in my years of following you, I have learned that some questions are better left unasked." Maria gestured for Alix to follow her, saying, "Come along, my nouveau petit ami, we will go find you something warm to eat."

  With that, Maria ushered Alix out of the room.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Etoile Character Portrait: Alix Rayne
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The room had gone quiet. With the absence of Maria and their new friend, Alix; things began to calm. Etoile could sense her Papa’s unease, however, and went to her Papa's side. They were alone once more, the door having carefully been shut to make certain that a certain someone’s voice could not escape these walls. "Papa, something is bugging you?" Etoile asked him quietly, playing with the fingers on one of his hands. "You do not like Alix, do you?"

Tybalt brought Etoile close with one massive hand and brushed through her hair with the other, staring at the wall ahead of him. "It's not that I dislike her, but...she brings me great disquiet. You were afraid of her, too, and then you were not. What changed?"

"You were talking about secrets, you still have a lot of them, Papa. I want to know too." Etoile pouted, but her expression eased when he stroked her hair.

Etoile could not explain what it was she felt about Alix, "A feeling... a sense, like yours?" The child attempted to put it into words. "When she made that face, it reminded me of me... before you found me." Etoile admitted, "Sad... without any hope."

Tybalt pursed his lips in thought. "You already know the important ones," he assured her. "That I was different before the circus, or even before you, je ne suis pas un LeGrand ni de la Fontaine, and that my real family is here. What else matters?"

Tybalt looked down into Etoile’s eyes and frowned. "There is something different about that child," he cautioned. "The day I met you, you had tears. This girl...she has nothing. I cannot see within her. All I know is that her power is terrible, and that speaks to pain just as intense."

"Are you sure you will be safe?"

Etoile sighed, relenting. She yawned, blinking tiredly and laid her head in her Papa’s lap, blinking tiredly.

"Sometimes, you have no tears left, they just run until you have none inside of you anymore." She explained quietly, recalling the feeling. It was a distinct emptiness that she remembered, bleary from the drugged food that she had been force fed, hardly able to recall what it was like to feel at all until she had escaped that wretched place.

"I think it will be okay. If I tell her to stop, she will stop. There is only one who doesn't have to listen to me, but chooses too. Rappelles toi?" Etoile giggled, echoing his own words.

Tybalt continued running his hand through her hair, which had grown much longer with time. Gone was the petrified short-shorn orphan he first met, but he may have unwittingly taken on another very much like her. "Oui, rappelles, Etoile," he joked back, before scooping her up into his arms to carry her back to her room. "Un père s'inquiète, c'est tout ce que."



If Maria didn't have her eyes on Alix, it would have been easy to conclude that she wasn't even there. Her footsteps made hardly a sound as they walked to the kitchen, the child making less than a peep in the darkened hallway.

There were several scavengers passing through the kitchen when Maria peeked in through the doorway. None of the evening snack specters paid them much mind, but they knew Maria well enough to give her a nod of acknowledgment before each of them started shipping off to their respective rooms, food in hand.

Maria waved to the stragglers, releasing Alix's hand once they were gone. "What sorts of foods do you like Alix?" Having been a nurse maid before she met Tybalt, Maria was quite handy at taking care of children.

Before that, she had cared for her three younger siblings. Alix, however, was nothing like any child she had ever seen. Quiet, sullen, and far too thin.

Alix walked as far as one of the counters, then crossed her arms over it and slumped forward tiredly. It was clear that her lack of nourishment translated into a lack of energy. "Whatever stays down," she answered without much excitement. Lively conversation was undoubtedly going to be a weak point for Alix, but it was better than her remaining constantly silent. "What would you like me to make?"

"You sit," Maria pulled out a chair for her from the small table in the corner. "I will prepare something easy for your stomach," a light vegetable soup, Maria decided.

Soup was food for the soul, at least, that was what Maria believed. Slowly, methodically, the woman began to chop vegetables to make a broth, humming while she worked, since it was evident that Alix was far too tired for conversation.

Steam rose from the large broth pot on the stove. The kitchen began to fill with the aroma of simmering squash and zucchini. When it was ready, Maria ladled the soup into a ceramic bowl and set it down in front of Alix, hoping that she would enjoy it.

She made herself busy, cleaning up a bit before taking a seat across from the child, hoping that she had eaten.

Alix looked to Maria and stared in silence for a moment, then complied. Was this what confusion looked like for her? As she sat in the chair, she repeated the motion, forming a pillow with her arms and collapsing on top of it.

When Maria set the bowl in front of her, it looked as if Alix might have fallen asleep. However, the girl rose too smoothly and too quickly for that to be the case. "Merci," she said softly, before beginning to eat, sipping directly from the bowl, then stopping and clenching at her belly as the hot liquid spilled into her empty stomach.

"Ah, donc tu parles français ?" Maria laughed, watching her with interest. Her smile slowly faded when she watched Alix reach down to hold her stomach with pain.

Worry creased her brow, Maria rose, instinct kicking in that something was amiss. "Where does it hurt?" She asked, her voice gentle. Could it be that her body was not used to food from being malnourished for so long? Or was it something more serious?

Alix shook her head to both questions. "Stomach...it will pass," she said, but if it was a more serious condition, it was unlikely that Alix knew. Instead, she waited a few moments and began to drink from the bowl again, her body tensing from the pain but otherwise refusing to acknowledge it.

Maria's concern did not go away, but if Alix insisted it was normal, she would not bother her about it. "If it gets worse, please let me know." Maria insisted instead, knowing that it could take a bit for Alix to trust her with what was wrong. Watching someone writhe in pain and not helping them was against her very nature. For now, however, she would have to sit still unless Alix insisted.

"Did you work, Alix?" Maria asked, trying to make polite conversation.

This time, she nodded. "Made fasteners until I passed out. Then they threw me out. Then I came here. Wasn't even paid."

Alix could not even muster the strength to sound bitter about it. Instead, she returned to guzzling down the soup. Was this today? Yesterday? How recently? Where? It was not uncommon for such injustices to go unpunished as people at large put their hope in a future where no children would have to work, but their focus on the future came at the ignorance of the problems of the present.

"The world will often take advantage of the small. Here at least, you will find that you will not be asked to do things you never want to and will be able to rest and heal. I hope that soon, you can call this place a home, just like so many of us."

Maria had been here since the beginning. She had seen the kind of world Tybalt envisioned: where the starving all had a place at the table to come and eat. Where those who were running from their past could safely rest their weary legs.

Finishing her meal, Alix rose with all the liveliness and animation of a steam machine and walked to the sink, where she began rinsing and washing the bowl clean. "Merci," the child repeated softly. Evidently, though she did not know French, she could at least exchange pleasantries, albeit with monotonous delivery.

Maria was no mind-reader, but she could sense turmoil inside of Alix's tired head. The tomboy put away her bowl, then turned to Maria with an empty gaze, exhausted and directionless. What had been next on their list?

Maria rose, clapping her hands together. "How about a bath?" She suggested, "Come, I will show you where to go." She reached to take Alix's hand again. "We can find you some clothes afterwards, oui?" She smiled, always enjoying the opportunity to rifle through Genya's costume closet.

It was like holding onto a mannequin, one that walked and talked. Alix did not answer, but walked along with her through the corridors and hallways. They ascended to another deck, where the baths were located. Though a basic water closet was available to each of the quarters, the baths and showers were located on another deck across from the wardrobes and costuming rooms, making this area casually referred to as the beauty section.

"A bath after a meal is always the best," Maria smiled, running the water for Alix. She added scented soap and bubbles, preparing it the same way she would for Etoile in the hopes that it could bring a smile to Alix's face. "I will wait out here, so please, take your time." Maria would find Alix something she could wear in the meanwhile.

Alix stepped inside with a nod, waiting for Maria to leave before sliding the door closed and locking it.

She did not take her time, but neither did she rush. Were Maria in range, she would hear no splashing, no coos of delight, none of the playful sounds of youth. She was just...soaking.

When she emerged, Alix smelled much better, a hint of apricot cutting through the stench of her work clothes, which she had reworn without much thought.

Maria busily spent the time of the bath rummaging through the clothing. Alix preferred to disguise herself as a boy for reasons Maria did not fully understand, but she would not disrespect Alix's decision. Genya would be miffed that someone had gone through the clean piles of laundry, but ultimately, Maria did not think anyone would miss the things she had taken.

"I have found you clean clothes!" Maria sang, frowning when she saw that Alix had put her dirty clothes back on already. "Come, we will get you changed." Maria sent Alix back inside the bathroom with a clean pair of trousers and a button down shirt. They were more than likely too large, but they were clean and smelled like laundry soap.

Without much reaction other than a pause, Alix took the clothing and disappeared back behind the door. She disrobed and put on the new clothing. Though she swam in the shirt, the pants were at least the right size, and the suspenders fit her well. Moreover, she now smelled of both apricot and clean clothes.

The door slid open, revealing, not an orphan, but a heartbreaker, poised to devastate the hearts of women across France with a single gaze. It was small consolation for the girl, who preferred the image in the mirror, but at least Alix did not look like a street rat anymore.

Maria capped her hands together, glad that the clothing somewhat fit. "Magnifique," She complimented, realizing that she could not take Alix to her new room, not yet at least.

"Alix, I think it would be wise to pick out your costume now, otherwise people might question what business a boy has going in and out of a girl's room." Maria parted the heavy, purple curtain to reveal the closet where the costumes were kept.

Some had tags on them, indicating that they were designated for a certain performer. Others had yet to be claimed, all of them carefully crafted by the delicate hands of their in-house seamstress. "Does anything catch your eye?" Maria was most eager to supply help in picking something out.

Alix wandered in, her steps light as a mouse, drifting this way and that through the massive closet like a balloon in the wind. For some time, nothing seemed to catch her attention, until her eyes fell upon a large, wide-brimmed sun hat, which she swept up and placed upon her head. She tilted it to hide her face, then timidly peeked out from beneath it.

It was a start.

"Those are wonderful!" Maria admired Alix’s choice. It was the start of the perfect disguise. Maria assisted in going through the racks of clothing, pulling out a simple, but pretty dress and a necklace. "How about these?" She asked, holding up the items for Alix to see.

"I should think it will go well with your hair."

Alix followed Maria and looked upon the dress at length. If she disliked it, surely wouldn't she say something? Instead, she began unbuttoning her shirt, giving Maria her answer.

"Allow me to help you," Maria put the dress on over Alix's head, hoping this meant that she liked it. She zipped the dress up in the back and clasped the necklace around her neck, checking to make sure it wasn't too tight.

"Beautiful!" Maria smiled, "Come, look at yourself. Just like a princess." Maria stood behind Alix in the mirror on the wall, showing the child how pretty she was. "Do you like it?"

Redressed - pun intended - Alix replaced her sun hat on her head, then gazed upon the girl in the mirror. She looked to Maria once. Finally, she looked to the floor. "Just as described," she answered.

But that was not a 'no'!

It was probably the best answer Maria was going to get from her. "I will take you to your room now, oui?" She reached to take Alix's hand again. "You can rest and sleep there, no one will bother you." Except maybe her roommate, who might pester her to play.

Maria knocked lightly on the door, but there was no answer. She propped it open quietly, finding Etoile asleep in her bed in a pile of stuffed toys.

"Here, this one," Maria guided Alix quietly to the bed that had been freshly made for her, a stuffed bear having been set upon it. "Have a good rest. Please come find me if you need anything."

Alix stepped inside, removing her hat and necklace and setting them upon the dresser. She retrieved what looked like a small chocolate bar from the pockets of her male clothing, then folded up the suspenders and shirt and set them aside.

Hoping that Etoile was sleeping, she let out a quiet sigh, her brows twitching with pain she refused to let spill out. Then, still wearing the dress, she crawled into bed. It wasn't until she heard the thump of the stuffed animal falling to the floor that she even realized it was there; her presence of mind had been all but nullified.

She stared at it for a long while, then looked across the room to Etoile's bed.

Beneath a canopy that glittered with stars lay a child who looked more doll than human. What with her long blonde hair that fanned around her head and the elegant lashes that graced her porcelain-like features.

It was probably difficult for Alix to tell the difference between Etoile and the pile of stuffed toys she slept with.

In truth, Etoile had woken the moment Maria opened the door, but she did not want to disturb her new roommate. Etoile would need to be careful, there could be no more singing or humming in her room, not unless the child was absolutely sure she was alone.

Only after she was satisfied that Etoile was asleep did she lean forward and grab the teddy bear, dragging it beneath the blankets so as to be out of view. The chocolate bar she stuffed beneath her pillow, before resting her head upon it and letting her eyes drift to a close.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Memphis Character Portrait: Lawrence Character Portrait: Ines Character Portrait: Etoile Character Portrait: Rien Character Portrait: Armel
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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.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Memphis Character Portrait: Lawrence Character Portrait: Ines Character Portrait: Etoile Character Portrait: Rien Character Portrait: Armel
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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.