Arah's Story

(Don't mind me. Just fiddling with a little more build up. This is again, open for people to freely acknowledge or ignore.)

Underneath a tree far enough away from any wandering gazes, a pair of unwavering eyes stare towards the crowd. If anyone walked by they still wouldn't notice the motionless pile of tattered clothes draped over a humanoid figure that nearly blended with the trunk of the gnarled tree. Leaf litter and the heavy shade that was provided also aided to make whatever was sitting there part of the scenery. The squirrels that scurried up and down that very same tree took no notice either.

Tickets sold like hot cakes with curious everyday Janes and Joes packing themselves together with no regard for invading personal space. Carrying on about how excited they were to see a show at the Cirque at very audible levels that would nearly be equated to shouting if those very same conversations were taking place indoors. The man selling the tickets, the entertainers that occasionally could be seen walking up to prompt annoyance from him. All the sights and sounds were to be kept at a safe distance away. For the time being. The crowd had to die down and the area around the tent void of almost all activity first.

When the tickets stopped selling the figure disappeared from under the tree shortly afterwards. The squirrels that frequented the tree were missing as well. It looked like a homeless person at first glance; judging from the ragged, dirty and leaf litter covered clothing completely obscuring the person underneath it all. The closer the stealthy figure drew to the main tent the more anxious and apprehensive their movements became. If anyone managed to take notice they wouldn't be able to for very long. A hole had been ripped into the side of the tent; wet with dark red prints of some kind. The barrier no longer separated the outside from the rest of the paying crowd waiting inside. A peculiar smell of fabric that had been left outdoors was overpowered by a permeating scent of fresh blood. Hints of rubbing alcohol could still be detected as well. All of which now slowly started to work its way through the large yet still enclosed space of the tent.

The Ticketmaster gave the jester a nod before turning his attention to the magician. “Don't let me down Kurtis.” His voice was smooth as he picked up the box of money. “Now, go prepare for the show. Shaelynn should be introducing the Acrobats right about now,” He said the last part partially to his self. Something about Shaelynn wasn't sitting well with the old demon. He moved past the magician and towards the trailers only to pause and look towards the trees.

“Now, now... what have we here?” His grin grew and his eyes darkened. This was a strange creature. Yes, a very strange creature indeed. All of the people must have attracted it. “I wonder if you're worth the trouble...” He rubbed his chin as he continued on to the trailers to lock up the money. He could sense the creature moving about the cirque's grounds but he wasn't sure what its intentions were. Was it hungry? He definitely smelled blood on it.

Walking back to the tent to oversee the show he noticed a tare and paused. “Curious...” He chuckled to his self smelling the thing that had been lurking around the cirque. He silently entered the tent and watched the Ringmaster give her normal speech to grab the crowd's attention. Was it working? His eyes scanned the crowd only finding the two faces he wanted in the next show to be of any interest. “Do your job...” He wasn't sure if he was growing bored of the Ringmaster because she was human or because she kept things just a little too calm. No, because she was human... maybe she'd prove herself tonight.

Unsuspecting members of the audience would smell something odd before the homeless person; looking ready for a blizzard by the sheer amount of clothing that covered them, would almost appear to pop up out of nowhere. The fabric not only made it improbable that they could have just squeezed through the openings under/between the seats but it also made it hard to tell if they were male or female. Their hands and feet were wrapped from what could be seen poking out from underneath their coat, or was it a skirt? The hood and wrappings covering their head were unusually large so that you could only have a chance to glimpse at their eyes if they were looking directly at you. It also looked like they were wearing a large dust mask because of how much the fabric that covered their nose and mouth protruded forward.

They silently watched the acrobats and performers come on stage. Anytime someone did something daring or wild would make the vagabond grow antsy in the seat that they managed to slink into. Something would also shift underneath the lower part of their clothing near their "seat" area. Any sudden increases in noises from the audience or anywhere else causes them to flinch and look around cautiously before hesitantly looking back towards the show. A flash from a camera further down towards the stage almost forces them out of their seat completely; shaking their head and rubbing their face just to try to see again. The man responsible for using his camera suddenly feels something warm, squishy and wet hit the back of his neck. Pulling the offending mass off of him he looks at it. Everything but parts of the legs and torso have been left intact. All of it is a bloody, slimy mess. "Ehck!" He exclaims, dropping what's left of the freshly mutilated squirrel down and out of reach or sight of anyone else. Surprisingly, no one else notices. They are all too busy enjoying the show.

Couldn't stay still. Not for more than short periods of time. Couldn't explore without garnering anymore attention than the figure had unwillingly put upon themselves. Still, they were physically incapable with staying in one spot for very long when there was a lull in the performance or involved something other than flashy fast movements that kept the eyes following. Suspense to the audience instead bred anxiety because now all the vagrant's attention was on the audience surrounding them. Getting anxious. Growing weary of all the noises, sights and smells. So many people. Each new act prompts them to come back out from under the bleachers. A makeshift area of solitude that no one else would think to look. A new performer, another promise of another interesting act. Even that was starting to sour the fascination. Back under the bleachers; pacing back and forth impatiently while watching garbage and rain of popcorn trickle down. Could sneak back out. Except it was much warmer in here than it was out there. Wanted to find more clothes to keep warm. Too much attention drawn to neighborhood watches in the town. Always drawing unwanted attention. There seemed to be something that kept this one's attention. Something like this didn't happen everyday. This place was different, the smells were unique and there wasn't another place that allowed their presence without causing trouble or raising an alarm. If only there wasn't so many people...

Mirie was awed by the beautiful dancing french puppets, but she cringed when Casper joked to all the parents in the audience. She tried to ignore his talking, sliding down a bit on the bench, focusing on the puppets as they danced around with the children he pulled onto stage. She squinted, looking closely. She was amazed that there were no such strings or wire attachted to the little beings, but having seen the magician’s act, she believed Casper told the truth when he said he could control their very souls.

All too soon, the puppeteer sent the children off stage, and he and his puppets made their exit. Mirie was still pondering the puppets when the beautiful lady clad in white stepped onto stage. Her mind snapped to attention though, when the music started and the woman started dancing... Mirie’s own legs twitched, yearning to move too, as she had during the acrobatics act. It was so beautiful, she could but bob her head slowly to the music and gaze admiringly at the woman.

She finished with a flourish, and she... unfurled wings? Was there no end to the amazement of this place? Mirie had to giggle, thinking also of the Dezi girl she’d seen too. This only added to her list of questions that she would have to ask Ave later.

She watched Wynmere slip off, and blinked. She shook her head a bit to bring herself fully back to her seat, trying to see through the exit to the next act coming on, hoping it was Ave or Dezi.

She was so absorbed, she perhaps didn't notice a slight stench or heard the rustlings of movement below her.

Nostrils flared and large pupils dilated further. The smell of burning and whiskey was the only thing that could pierce the already existing smells. Silently they ducked back as Kat unknowingly stumbled into their temporarily little "territory". The sanctuary no longer allowed as much freedom of movement. A grumble went unheard as it didn't rise higher than the surrounding noises. Back to hiding and watching from a distance only it wasn't on their terms anymore. Teeth were bared, alcohol and burning did not allow comfort when smelled together, therefore it was best to just to grit teeth and withdraw back into the audience. Back onto the bleachers where there was a free space to sit. It now appeared to be a better option to hide in plain sight. Much to the vagrant's dissatisfaction. Should have just left. From down there it was only a few bounds to the hole in the tent and a few strides more to freedom.

Just when they were ready to risk being spotted to get away-something, someone caught their attention. To their eyes. Hiro stood out from many of the other cookie cutter people who sat and watched, enamored with the show. His hoodie did little to keep the cloth-laden figure from seeing his, rather different features. Like he should have been part of the show and not in the audience. Reflective eyes focused to almost piercing intensity. They didn't sit right next to Hiro. More like a couple people over. Acknowledgement of the staring or seeing the next act come on would be the only thing to break eye contact.

It grew increasingly harder to move around. It was like something was looming in on them. Corralling them into a shrinking space. Any distraction was accepted to help dissipate or take away focus on the feeling of dread. The figure clutches at something tied to their waist. A plush leg made of cloth much different from the rest of the fabric that they were wearing poked out from the side.