The gypsy let a smile twist the corners of his lips, his emerald eyes alight with mischief as he danced on the raised stage. His hands move faster and faster as he twirled the two batons in his hands, the flaming ends creating a never ending cycle of flame. The plethora of golden bracelets on his bronzed arms jingled with his movements and caught the light of the fire making it look like the flames were rolling off of him. His short red hair was as intense as the flames that surrounded him. He was shirtless so his shirt wouldn't catch the flames and the dark tattoos on his chest, back and face were in full view. Flouurishing lines ended with elaborate designs and petals inked with scales and feathers to represent the dragon and phoenix spirits. It was the mark of the gypsy clan he belonged to and he wore it proudly.
The beat of the drums behind him increased their tempo as he reached the climax of his flaming dance. With a flourish of movements, he tossed the batons up and caught them both, extinguishing all but one flame as he reached to his belt and pulled free a flask. He took a swing before lifting the last flaming stick and blew hard, the oil he spit at it igniting it and spreading the fire out across the crowd. But his display wasn't over yet. He was a Fire Starter after all. With his energy, the expanding fire took on a dragon's shape and it gave a silent roar as it swooped and soared over the crowd, earning a few startled screams. The crowd ducked away from the heat as the dragon raced back onto the stage and with one final explosion turned into a phoenix, its wings spread wide in mirror imitation of Ezi'kel's outstretched arms. As sudden as it appeared, the flame went out, leaving smoke in the air as Ezi'kel gave a bow, panting from the exertion, his skin sweat slicked.
After a moment of quiet, the crowd cheered for the display and some tossed lee into the waiting baskets at the bottom of the stage. It was mostly the poor and middle class that tossed coins, the nobility of course feigning their distaste. They wouldn't be caught approving of the display but every once in a while, they too tossed something to the gypsies. Ezi'kel sauntered lazily off the stage and grabbed a waiting rag to wipe off.
"A show off as always," mused one of his clan brothers.
Ezi'kel looked up and spotted his best friend, his brother in name. "Luri. It pays to be a show off," he grinned. "I do remember you having quite the boasting fest during your own performance."
The sword swallower shrugged though he was smiling, his own pale hair cropped short in the back but his bangs were combed to the right and ended just above his chin. "Maybe. But my entertainment does not include a dangerous flame that could swallow up paying audiences and their homes or shops. One of these days you are going to get burned or one of our lovely patrons will call you out for 'scaring the souls' out of them or some such nonsense."
"You worry too much," Ezi'kel said then and poured some water over his arms, chest and back to cool the fire in his blood. He wiped off again before he pulled a shirt on and adjusted himself in the mirror. The clothing felt too warm but he doubted the people of this noble city would stand for such indecent displays of flesh if he wandered its streets shirtless. "I am going to take in some of the sights. Not every day we get to be in the cities."
"Just be careful Ezi'kel. You know how the people behind walls get when we are around."
Ezi'kel waved his friend off before he left the tent to start wandering the streets, wondering what had changed since last they were here. As he walked, his bracelets continued to jingle and he enjoyed the light tap of his earrings swaying against his cheeks. He was a dead give away for a foreigner with his exotic appearance and the noise he made but he wasn't here to hide. The more noise he made, the more space he felt he took up and townsfolk couldn't say he was trying to sneak about and steal things; not with the attention grabbing racket he made with every step.