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Snippet #2823568

located in The Ship, a part of Cirque du Volés, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Ship

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Character Portrait: Rien Character Portrait: Memphis
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Sound poured in from every inch of the large tent, bespoke with lights that twinkled as though to mimic the stars. The magnanimous ringmaster stood at the very center of the circle, having dismounted an elephant after a burst of smoke. From the rafters, a gear turned, which made barrels of small, colorful pieces of paper rain down on their audience like hail. Outside, the rain pelted against the technicolor fabric in typical English fashion. England only had two modes of weather: rainy, or unbearably muggy. Tonight, it was the former.

Rien was waiting in the wings; having done this for four years now, she thought herself to be something of an expert. On a day like today, however, most of the performers were huddled in jackets to keep their muscles warm. Their trapeze artists had just dismounted, taking a final flourishing bow on the ground before walking back towards the waiting area.

Suddenly, Alistair swooped over to grab Etoile and throw her over his shoulder, laughing at his little joke. Etoile, however, was pounding her little fists against his back, trying to get him to put her down. The crowd ate it up, not realizing that Etoile’s distress at the sudden action was genuine.

It was only backstage that he released her. Etoile huffed, hurrying off to huddle beneath one of the blankets while waiting for the last few acts. This was not the end for them, every performer must return to take their final bows at the end of the show.

From outside, the booming voice of their Ringmaster could be heard echoing over the applause.

That was Rien's cue. She sashayed from the wings, holding the foil of her saber, grinning from ear to ear.

The adrenaline made the rest of the evening pass by in something of a blur. After taking her bows, Rien and a few of the other adults took the elevator up into the dazzling dining hall. What was once an observatory had become the gathering place for their meals. Pieces of its former use still remained, what with tall glass windows and elegant dining table, now slightly marred by knives and scratches, despite the plea from their resident healer to not bring weapons to the table.

Amongst the crowd was one who had blended in seamlessly. He watched the show with great interest, observing every act, oddity, and performer from beginning to end.

"What were the chances I'd cross paths with Duchess Corbeau again-" Memphis drawled, swirling his drink absentmindedly with the liquid time and time again, very close to spilling over. "-here and now?" He turned away briefly from his conversational partner to take a swig and rub the crease that formed between his brows with the empty bottle's rim. Rien, as the finale was fresh in his mind. Not so different from the Duchess he met once upon a time except happier, perhaps?

If he recalled correctly, all the performers had a unique talent of their own. What was Rien's? He had thought he would be the only noble to consider the circus as a livelihood. He whispered, voice barely audible. "You put me in a very delicate situation, milady."

She hadn’t wronged him, no. But she knew who he was, his real name. "That is if you remember me?" He queried, greeted by silence once more. The hung up circus poster, depicting Rien in all her showmanship glory had no answer or words of advice to bestow.

Memphis raised his drink to the poster, done with gathering his thoughts; strolled over to the real Rien. Along the way, he downed the beer left in his glass in much the same fashion he had witnessed Rien swallow her sword. Memphis sat next to her nonchalantly like time hadn't passed between them and popped open a new bottle. He poured and merrily whistled until all the cups at the table were filled to the brim. His breath smelled of the stuff, bitter and pungent, but he wasn't drunk, not yet.

Rien had not noticed him, not yet at least. She was taken by the current shenanigans right across the table, James Martella had gotten into yet another argument with Riftan, the two making a wager over whether or not they get away with sneaking into Tybalt’s corridors to steal his precious ruby-topped cane.

Beside her, Genya sighed. ”When will those boys learn?” She took a slow drink from her stemmed glass, much preferring wine over cheap beer. ”If I have to mend another pair of drawers-” her words made Rien laugh.

The empty seat on her opposite side had suddenly become filled, but Rien took little notice. It was common for performers and workers to come and go on nights like these.

"I wonder. Do you still practice alone?"

Rien nearly choked on her drink. ”You,” she turned quickly to face him. Like a ghost having returned to haunt her, the last person she had ever expected to see was suddenly seated beside her.

”What are you doing here?”

Memphis smiled as he captured her attention. “Looking for you,” he answered without missing a beat and took another swig. “I never left the garden, the winds must have-” he whirled a finger in the air, then pointed left and right, unable to tell which direction the wind was really coming from. “Carried me here.” Memphis poked the tip of her nose, his touch warm despite the cool beer bottles he had been cradling throughout the evening. “To you, milady.” He locked his gaze on her amber hues, sighed dramatically as if defeated by their chance encounter, and rested his cheek against his knuckles. Still staring, he said boldly, “Perchance it’s the hand of fate, shall we do as nobles do and get married?”

Some part of her felt guilty. She had fled her home in the middle of the night with only a suitcase, a sword, and an urge to leave everything behind. She had hardly given a second thought to the people she would never see again. Never mind that, Rien had not seen Memphis since before her marriage.

”I suppose luck was on your side then, if you are being truthful, to have brought you straight to my doorstep.” Then, in a most unlady-like manner, Rien downed the rest of her drink. On her other side, Genya stifled a laugh. The seamstress rose to give them a bit of space, thinking they might need it.

Memphis placed a hand over his heart as he picked apart her words. “You wound me, milady. Would you not count it lucky to have me here as well?” He shook his head with emphasis. “That simply won’t do, Rien.”

“My side,” He pointed at himself, “-your doorstep…” then eloquently gestured around the space, including her circus troupe in the picture. “-will soon be one and the same.” He confessed, pausing to let the knowledge that his stay had been arranged sink in.

Her easy smile had returned, the Duchess leaned forward, forgoing all manners, to clasp one of his hands in both of her own. ”That is wonderful Memphis,” Rien had lived in this world so long, where rank did not garner respect, that she was rusty when it came to the practices of nobles. Of course, the alcohol helped too.

He hadn’t expected such a positive reception. Memphis’s gaze strayed to their hands, then returned upwards to Rien in somewhat of a daze. "Is that how you truly feel?" he asked before his eyes darted away for a reprieve.

She released his hand after a moment, perhaps returning to her senses. ”I suppose we were both hiding something beneath one another’s noses.” Blaise reached across the table to refill their glasses.

Rien let out a laugh at his proposition. ”Maybe one day, when the winds have calmed, but for the time being, I am happily unmarried, thank you very much.”

With a carefree smirk, he swooped up his glass and raised it slightly towards her for a toast, “To luck, calm winds and for now, happily breaking my heart?”

"To calm winds," She raised her glass, clinking it against his in a toast.

Rien was silent for a moment, perhaps contemplative. "So, what is it then?" Rien never sought to hide her gifts from her crew mates, sometimes it was impossible to anyhow, what with the black ichor that would occasionally drip from her nose or mouth. If Memphis asked her to show him her talent, Rien would happily agree.

What she had once spent an eternity loathing as an illness, turned out to be a gift.

Another bottle through, Memphis was starting to feel woozy. He brushed the mess of bottles aside to make space, then let his head hit the table with a thump!
Hearing Rien's voice, he turned to face her and began to dig into his pockets and check around his waist. He had his personal effects with him, but he couldn't remember where he put this or that for the life of him. "How about you pick for me a-aah.... an item and I'll show you?" Memphis suggested, snapping his fingers when he successfully shared his idea. He then outstretched an arm with an open palm, waiting to receive it.

Rien laughed, he was showing her a side to him that she had never seen before. The Memphis that Rien knew was stiff and proper. It was nice to throw away their formalities. Not a Duchess nor an heir, just a boy and a girl roped into a man's circus. "Alright how about... this." Rien reached into her pocket, pulling out the knife she always kept on her person. She placed it into his outstretched hand, waiting eagerly to see what he would do.

Memphis shifted his weight onto his chin to inspect what he had gotten. Clutching the knife by the handle, he brought it closer to his face, and flipped it over. He whistled. "Just like you to pick something dangerous..." He commented before dangling it by his side. He looked at Rien once more before swinging his arm, and in the blink of an eye.... The knife became relatively long, like a sword by the time he had swung it full circle and dropped it on the table between them.

Rien watched with great interest, enthralled by his performance. He was a natural born showman.

The clang of metal against wood was enough to garner the attention of the others at the table. Some of which had their unique... constitution, while others were fairly normal, but used to the shenanigans of the ones with abilities. It only took a moment for the room to grow loud again, minding their own once more. Rien, however, clapped; she was laughing again.

Memphis flicked away imaginary beads of sweat from his forehead. "Tough crowd." He quipped, seeing as his trick didn't earn as much attention as it usually did from ordinary folk. Well, at least Rien was impressed. Memphis sat upright, tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a few seconds trying to sober up enough for conversation.

"Don't take it too personally. When you work in a Circus, you see a lot of strange things." There was a boy here who never missed his target and a girl who could make others succumb to her whims with her song. There was even a clown in the very next room, who could hear a pin drop in France.

"But it really is something quite spectacular. Now I understand that story with those boys... oh what were they called," in her drunken haze, their names escaped her. "They cowered like scolded dogs anytime they met your eyes at a party. Now I know why."

Memphis folded his arms over the table, interest piqued. "Oh? You had eyes for me even back then?" He teased with a smug smirk before blowing his messy bangs away from his eyes.

"You stood out," Rien was a woman of honesty. "I wasn't the only one. Noe was a big fan of yours," it was easier to speak about her these days.

"Noe?" He repeated with a raised eyebrow in mild disbelief. They'd only exchanged pleasantries, but she was hard to forget as many of his peers were besotted by her beauty.

Rien nodded, "not in the romantic sense." No, as far as Rien knew, Noe had only loved a handful in her life. However, she found fascination in the way others lived. That was why Noe had been... captivated by him.

He slowly slid the grown knife towards her. "What about you, avaleur d'épée? Care to give this humble circus starter some pointers with a closer demonstration?" Memphis didn't know if her act was related to her gift, but the prop was ready should she require it.

It was her turn to show off, then? "Our performances and abilities aren't necessarily the same," Rien explained, lifting the sword up to examine it closer. It still had all of the details of the little knife, including the inscription that had been on the handle. Color her impressed.

Rien turned in front of her and placed her right palm on the wooden table, an inky, sticky substance beginning to pool beneath one hand. With the other, she lifted the sword, dropping it into the hole before closing it up. The Void was a power that took much out of her. She could have just made her shadow dance, but that would not have been anywhere near as impressive as his trick. "Tada," the hole on the table disappeared, not so much as a shadow remaining. "I can fetch that later, don't worry."

Rien's movements brought about a darkness to the likes of which he had never seen before. On the edge of his seat, he inched closer, trying to steal a glimpse of the inside. "Fascinating. May I?" He asked then swept his hand over the table surface where it once was. He brushed his index finger and thumb together. Nothing. Not a trace was left behind. Memphis clapped, thoroughly puzzled. "You'll need me to return it properly afterward, no?"

"Are you mad?" Rien laughed, "I will hang it above my bed as a memento." Unless his ability wore off? Otherwise, Rien full-well intended to keep it forever.

"If that is what the lady desires." He smiled solemnly, a stranger to the enthusiasm. 'Twas a strange feeling that washed over him. Chest light, head heavier. "I wonder about that darkness of yours... What is its name?" He tapped his cheek at a loss. "I wonder what awaits on the other side of it. Do you know?"

Someone had refilled their glasses again. Rien didn't glance around the table to see who. It was almost tradition at this point, to fill an empty cup if you saw one while they were drinking. "I call it The Void," it was an admittedly childish name that she had thought was particularly impressive at thirteen. Rien had yet to think of something better. "I am not sure, no. However, I would be loath to find out." Considering she had suffocated her deceased husband inside of it, there was one thing that Rien knew: The Void was a place that could not sustain life.

As much as Rien had taken Memphis off guard with her touch before, reaching out he found a lot easier. He placed his hand over hers reassuringly, unaware of all she had been through to loathe delving. Memphis had always embraced what made him peculiar, but he would be a fool to compare. "Thank you for showing me." The words rolled off his tongue sincerely this time.

She looked down at his hand, which was slightly larger than her own. It was warm, she thought; wondering what his intention was.

"Although," He pulled away, coming up with a diversion to lighten the mood. "Isn't it a little unfair that only one of us has a memento?" Memphis winked before more beer went down the hatch.

She laughed again at his words and took another sip from her glass. At this point, her head was spinning, but she was having fun. "What do you suggest we do to rectify that then?" She asked teasingly, "hmm?"

"Let's see now…” Memphis lowered his glass, and scratched his chin. "It doesn't have to be a belonging. Perhaps, something so memorable that the booze won't be enough to blot it out?" He hinted slyly.

It was easy to play his words off as a joke. They were both inebriated and past rational thinking. "Something memorable..." She trailed off. In her haze, his hint had flown right over her head.

Memphis shrugged his shoulders, feigning that he hadn’t the slightest clue. That was until, "For instance, I wouldn’t forget a kiss."

Rien’s demeanor shifted. She still wore her smile, but it was a bit more tense than before. "I am afraid that for today, luck is not on your side."

With that, the Duchess downed the rest of her drink and rose. "I've grown a bit tired. Tell me your wish for a memento again tomorrow, alright?" Rien winked, her easy demeanor having returned. Rien flashed one last smile before turning to leave, somehow managing not to stumble.

Mayhap he had just pushed his luck too much. "Alright, rest easy." Memphis relented with a wink in return before finishing off the remainder of his brew.

Even when time ticked away, some things would remain unchanged. Rien was, after all, still Rien. Somehow, she managed to trip over her own foot; perhaps a bit less graceful off stage, when there was no audience around to see.

Memphis slanted his head to look past the crowd and sighed before rising from his seat. He spoke her name softly before throwing her arm over his shoulder. Smiling ever so slightly, "Let's get you home." The word was foreign in his mouth, but he could think of no word more apt. Truthfully, he was happy for her. He just wasn't so sure for himself. "Helping you now is memento enough."

"Thank you," she sighed gratefully, allowing him to assist her. "It's this way,"
The cabin deck wasn't far from the dining room, only a short elevator ride down. "You are joining us, right?" She looked up at him, "Welcome home Memphis." The elevator was just big enough for them to stand shoulder to shoulder, with only a metal gate across the front for safety. It took them down two levels, to a hallway full of doors, each of which had two or three names on them. Some of the doors were decorated with ribbons and flowers, one had a happy birthday banner made out of parchment and glitter pasted to the front.

Escorting Rien was the quietest Memphis had been since their reunion, contemplating if this piece of the world was home for him too or were Rien and him destined to part ways again? "It seems almost unfair. I get a new sword and you get to help, but regardless, I am thankful for your assistance." She stopped in front of her door, the room she shared with Maria, who was practically the ship's mother. "Have a goodnight Memphis."

He summoned a smile and masked his concerned musings. "Not at all. I told you my wish and you have granted it." He took a step back, giving a respectable distance, and lowered into a graceful bow. Well, as much as a drunk nobleman can pull off out of habit. "Goodnight, Rien."

Like a shadow in the sun, Rien disappeared behind her door, thinking the encounter to be nothing more than a dream she had, had in a drunken haze. When morning came, Rien's temples were both throbbing and the light coming in through the curtain did not help. Part of her wanted to sleep in, but she knew that if she started slipping into bad habits now, she would never get out of them. It took some coaxing, whispered in murmurs beneath her breath, to bring herself to rise.

"Bonjour," Maria greeted, sitting in front of their little vanity, brushing her golden hair. "You were out late last night. Midnight rendezvous with a lover, perhaps?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"No, nothing like that. Although, I did have the oddest dream. I dreamt of a friend I have not seen in a long, long time." Rien stretched her arms above her head with a yawn. "Sometimes, dreams are messages from our subconscious. You thought of that friend because you want to see them again, oui?" Was there a part of Rien that missed the boy from the garden? Probably, but while Maria was a romantic, Rien was a bit more practical. To her, dreams would always just be dreams. ”Come sit, you are in pain, I can tell.” Relenting to Maria's whim of braiding her hair, Rien quickly threw on a pair of trousers and a shirt and made her way to the dining room.

The dining room erupted into laughter and bellowing, loud and erratic as thunder and lightning so early in the morning. Memphis was ever so politely covering his mouth, snickers escaping the gaps. While on the other side, anger and embarrassment were written across James's features, steam coming out of his nostrils. James slammed his fist on the table, but it changed nothing as the room continued, roaring—the sound of others' amusement ringing in his ears and not the good kind, despite being a clown.

Memphis’s hand fell away once he regained a semblance of composure. "The face you're making right now leaves much to be desired for a poker face." He teased, poking out his tongue like a misbehaving child at Sunday school. James gritted his teeth and slammed his fist on the table once more. "You cheated!" The man shouted, every syllable laced with venom and disgust. "You cheated yourself." Memphis corrected, then folded his arms resolute. James stared down at his fan of cards, drew a sharp breath, and bit his bottom lip.

The elevator dinged and Rien shuffled out tiredly, wondering why there was so much noise coming from the dining room this early on. A roar like thunder from an unmistakable voice was bellowing throughout the hall, echoing off of the glass and metal walls. "What happened?" Rien queried Blaise, who was leaning against the wall, eating a piece of hardy bread.

"I'm not quite sure, but I think the newcomer has just kicked James's a$$ in a game of cards. It's about time too, someone ought to put that man in his place.”

Rien was curious, she could hardly see over the other crew members that had gathered to watch, all of them standing around the table. Rien moved closer, she could hear James's upset cries, his typical accusing the other of cheating. Ever the sore loser, she thought, wondering who it was that had bested him. She inched closer, managing to spot a head of black hair.

Memphis joined in on the rowdy fervor of his victory. He had been fairly warned in advance of the ‘card shark.’ When James came up to him and offered a friendly game to get to know one another, it reminded him of the hazing ceremonies in boarding school.

"Memphis?" Rien cam to realize she had spoken her flabbergasted words aloud. The dream from the evening prior popped into her tired mind, her head reeling with the memory. Surely this meant what she had experienced had not been fabricated by the longing of wanting to see someone again, like Maria had suggested? No, here he was, already making himself at home with the crew.

Memphis’s laughs came to an abrupt halt as he swiveled around to the familiar voice. He hung an arm over his chair with a smirk, caught red-handed in his finest hour but his attention on her was like she was the only one in the room. "Good morning, Rien."