Sneaky Sneaky

Marie had raced to help as the fire had raged, getting buckets and taking a spot at the end of the line filling them from the camp's water pump. But as soon as she was no longer needed, the burned balloon having been reduced to a charred, soggy pile, she slipped away.

Her beautiful favorite skirt was waterlogged and muddy, and she longed to just strip it off and run around in her bloomers, but there were interesting things afoot and no time to go get cleaned up. She saw Alexandra sweep up her cards, wishing she could hear what they'd said; When Colette announced it to the group, Marie gasped. She was hardly naive enough to be surprised at sabotage, but she'd have preferred friendly competition with the cute acrobats, rather than fiery destruction. She mostly ignored the rest of Colette's speech, knotting her damp skirt up around her knees as checking to see that the knife she wore tucked in her garter was still there when the ringmaster mentioned not going out unarmed.

By the time she'd accomplished this, Colette had finished addressing the circus and was speaking to Asmondeus, close enough for Marie to eavesdrop, bringing her attention back immediately as she listened.

Consorting with the Enemy

The flames had flickered out, and the column of thick smoke was beginning to thin. Colette turned, feeling flecks of ash dot her arms like warm snowflakes. Her crew and family were bustling around, and already the damage was being slowly cleaned up. That whole ship was a wreckage, but a few items here and there poked through the ash and rubble. "Can anything be saved? Anything?" She bit her lip, hands itching to wrap around her whip and find the twins, give them a sound lashing.

Colette touched Alexandra's shoulder lightly before heading over to the bucket crew and addressing the small worried-looking gathering. "My friends," she began, "This was no accident. However, we shall not leave Orleans ahead of schedule. The Hirondelle is a pest, that is all. The other night, some members of our crew encountered some members of theirs, and certain words were exchanged. Today, we see the result of my--and I take full responsibility--indiscretion." Colette cast a glance at Asmodeous, and she paused at his meaningful, yet silent expression. "Our family is stronger in our own camp, when we can support each other. One man alone is too easily silenced. Please... be careful. Don't venture out alone or unarmed." Colette frowned, not knowing how much to say. "I know the man responsible for la Hirondelle and he is ruthless. He abides by no code of honour." She swallowed. "We have to beat him at his own game. And that means in the rings. Not out here, not like this. Tonight, we'll put on a show la Hirondelle could never hope to rival." Unable to think of a dignified way to end her impromptu speech, she let her hands drop, and added. "Someone establish a guard rotation to secure the camp perimeter. Check in with me when it's finalized." Stepping away from the little crowd, she motioned to the man who had first worked to stifle the flames.

"Asmodeus! A word, if you will." The magician had smears of black ash on his fingers and cheeks, and he looked less placated by her words than most of the crew. "Asmodeus..." She spoke quieter now, a bit of her bravado fading. "I'm not sure that I can do it." She crossed her arms more tightly, feeling a chill even in the warm, acrid-scented air. "I don't know how to win against a man who fights so unfairly."

Boom

The sun was shining through the open windows of the magician’s cabin, resting amidst the swaying grasses of the field in which la Vapeur had anchored. It was shaped as a sailing ship of old, with a fanciful, and quite anatomically accurate, representation of a mermaid heading the prow. Masts were replaced by metal smokestacks, and the rigging led to the large black balloon shifting lazily in the breeze above. There were carved wooden railings along the length of the deck, leading to the stern cabin, the captain’s quarters, with paned windows edged in gilt-worked metal. Asmodeus had established this room as his bedroom. Presently, he was hunched over a worktable bolted to the center of the cabin, preparing for the night’s performance. He was clad in his waistcoat and wingtip-collared shirt, the sleeves of which he had rolled up to avoid any unnecessary staining. His performing coat was draped casually across the back of his armchair. In his hands were pliers and a probe, and his face twisted with concentration as he gazed through his loupe, his hands moving with deft precision as he tightened bolts and tested springs. The task seemed more difficult this day, as his thoughts continually strayed to the night before. So there’s another circus what set down ‘ere, he mused. Nothin’ like this’d ever happen back home. Anyone tried pinching customers, the boys’d go rough ‘em a bit. Actually, s’not so bad an idea.

With a grin, Asmodeus conjured the image of his knife protruding from the chest of that insolent bird of a man. To think that someone would have the gall to dress so tacky, upset a fellow performer, and prematurely end Asmodeus’ delightful evening with Alexandra was wholly bewildering; especially the social interruption part. Asmodeus felt he was really getting somewhere with her that evening.

It was in the middle of this combined tinkering and daydreaming that an acrid smell assaulted Asmodeus’ nostrils. It was not any of his chemicals; certainly was not the grease. A tendril of light, wispy smoke had begun to curl its way through his open casement. Tearing the lenses from his face, he jumped from his chair and dashed to the window, in time to see two familiar figures slinking away from Marguerite’s balloon as fast as possible. There was, however, no time to pursue his initial, violent train of thought, for he could see that Marguerite’s balloon had caught fire, and the cabin was quickly becoming engulfed in flames. Taking the stairs to the main deck three at a time, Asmodeus swung down from his ship and hit the ground in a flat-out run. Seeing other members of the crew coming to investigate, Asmoudeus shouted to them. “Marie, go fetch the buckets. You there, form a line.” He would have to report what he saw to Colette, but he hoped she would uphold the old ways of dealing with messengers.

Consorting with the Enemy: Revenge

Colette softened immediately, reaching out to touch the fortune teller's arm with gratitude. "Alexandra, I thank you. I..." She let out a shaky breath. "I think I may have made a mistake today. In seeing the Hirondelle perform, I left my own family unprotected." She shook her head. "I don't even know if what I found out was worth it."

She stepped away, crossing her arms. "The damage. We're lucky it was only the one ship--though there's no telling how many of Marguerite's little beasts were harmed." She frowned unhappily, feeling the weight of the ship's destruction heavy on her shoulders. If only she had been here to stop the twins. Sneaky, devious bastards. She wouldn't be surprised if they were acting on orders of the Hirondelle's ringmaster. He was a vindictive man, quick to anger and even quicker to vengeance.

She turned to the seer again, feeling at a loss. "Can you do a reading for me? I have some questions that have been unanswered for far too long." Her heart was leaping in her chest, and she rubbed her palms over her bare, jacketless arms, feeling bare without her flashy costume. She had faith in the cards, if not in herself.

Sketches for Colette!

Sketches of possible costumes for Colette.

Both drawn on templates: the first two from The Costumer's Manefesto and the second two from an unknown template I found buried in the depths of my computer (personally, I prefer the second template as it was easier to work with).

Consorting with the Enemy: Destruction

The smell of smoke slowly crept into the elaborate blue and silver tent to mingle with the sweet incense that was burning there. Alexandra looked up from boiling a kettle of water on a small stove that she used to make tea for the next client who wanted their future read in tea leaves. She paused, lifting her head in curiosity at the strange smell and pulling back the curtain to peer out at the rest of the circus. When Alexandra saw the smoke she leapt out of her chair, almost overturning the table, and raced to the balloon that was in flames.

"Marguerite!" Alexandra cried when she saw her friend covered in soot and staggering away from the burning balloon, "Marguerite, are you all right?""No," she said. "I hope the animals are, though.""Where are-" Alexandra had placed a hand on Marguerite's arm, near the pocket with the lions, who had begun to poke their heads out the corners. "Oh, oh my. Did you get them all?"
"I think so." Marguerite tugged on the pocket cover, pushing the lion's noses back into the pocket. "Find me somewhere to put them, please. I am afraid some of them may hurt each other, or themselves, if they stay in here too long."

The fortune teller helped Marguerite slowly rise to her feet and lead her friend to the storage vessel and found a bunch of old lidded baskets and boxes to hold the animals. When they had safely rescued the last one out of the pockets of the lab coat, Alexandra handed her friend one of the many scarves attached to her person. As Marguerite used it to wipe the sweat out of her eyes and the soot and ash off her face, “What happened?” Alexandra asked as she watched the smoke continue to rise from the wreckage.

“I don’t know. I was inside my room taking care of the animals but they were restless and hard to handle. Then the room shook and the ceiling caught fire and all I was concerned about was saving all the animals.” Marguerite sank slowly onto a heavy crate.

Alexandra placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Rest here for a moment and then make yourself at home in my ship. Also, I have a kettle of freshly boiled water in my fortune telling tent if you would like to make tea; your favorite is in the light green canister on the second shelf.” Her blue eyes took on a steely glint, “I’m going to go find out who did this.”

With one last squeeze to her friend’s shoulder, Alexandra turned and headed back towards the wreckage. The fire was under control but Marguerite’s room and balloon had been reduced to smoldering wreckage. She saw Asmodeus and Marie in a chain of circus workers passing buckets to put out the last embers of the fire. The rest of the circus crew was checking the nearby balloons that had been singed and were making sure sparks hadn’t spread to any other vessels.

Alexandra walked to a clearing a short distance away from Marguerite’s ship and crouched in the grass. She spread out one of her scarves onto the ground and pulled from within her dress a piquet deck, a stack of 32 handmade cards that she used in fortune telling, encased in a velvet bag. After shuffling the deck, Alexandra laid out five cards, one in each cardinal direction and one card in the center. She slowly flipped them over going counter clockwise: a reversed knave of diamonds, a seven of spades, a reversed king of spades, a nine of spades and finally an ace of spades. Alexandra frowned; the appearance of so many spades was an ill omen. The message she read from the spread of cards was not a good one, either. It spoke of a quarrel with two men of evil intentions, destruction, sabotage and an old rivalry.

Alexandra frowned; if she interpreted the cards properly then the destruction of Marguerite’s room was deliberately sabotaged by a pair of twins who not only had their own motivations but also a greater approval. She could think of only one such pair that wanted revenge on the Cirque de la Vapeur, especially after Asmodeus’ confrontation and foolish threats to them.

With a quick motion, Alexandra quickly swept up the cards that she had placed on the scarf and made her way to where Colette was directing the cleanup of the wreckage. She touched the ringmaster’s shoulder and drew her aside. “Colette, my cards tell me that the twins from the Cirque de la Hirondelle are the ones responsible for this.”

Alexandra knew that some did not believe in the power of the cards but she found them reliable for divinations of the past and present; although the future was too variable for the cards to chart accurately.

Colette, however, had always trusted her readings and her eyes widened with anger at the news. “They would dare come within our camp and try to harm a member of our family! They will pay for this!”

The fortune teller took a step back at the venom in her friend’s voice. Alexandra had seen her like this before and knew that things were not going to end well tonight.

Boom

Marguerite was in her room. Granted, the room was more of a traveling box, suspended from one of the slew of air balloons the circus used to travel. The front of her room was covered by a curtain which she dropped for the sideshow, with drop-down steps leading to the ground and a small gathering area in which she could entertain passersby with her menagerie.

The animals were restless this afternoon.

They must sense my agitation from last night, Marguerite thought. She tended to each chamber, outfitted with cloth and watering bowls, and occasionally a small bit of greenery. Though she would have liked to imitate natural settings for her displays, the plant life did not fare very well to life in the cabins, which varied altitude, temperature, and humidity too often to cater to anything but the most resilient of plants, and even then the animals did not always get along with those plants. So, she decorated each animal's cage much like a person's room, with small pillows and sheets of cloth that she purchased as scraps from tailors and accepted as gifts from Alexandra. It made for pleasant looking living, and the animals seemed content enough.

While replacing the water of the two tigers, one of the felines snarled and scratched Marguerite's fingers. She removed her hand, closing the cage door with haste while the cats swung their tails and sat back on their haunches, continuing to snarl. The elephant let out a cry as well, and the rest of the animals echoed the chorus of alarm.

Then she heard thunder. A loud crack, like a whip of air, followed by an incredible jerk of the whole cabin sent Marguerite to the ground. The ceiling burst into flames, and Marguerite could smell that some of her hair was singed. Recovering, Marguerite opened her pockets with one hand as fast as her fingers could manage, while the other began opening cages and removing the animals. She drew her goggles over her eyes and snatched the elephant, stuffing it into its usual pocket. She scanned the rest of the cages. Could she fit all of them in her coat? In another pocket, she placed the two horses, pulling a handkerchief between them, hoping they wouldn't break each others' legs. The tigers bit and clawed with greater fervor, but Marguerite gritted her teeth and placed each one into two other pockets. The heat from overhead grew in intensity, and the cabin shook again.

It must have lowered enough to unbalance the supports, she thought. She reached into her belt pockets and started emptying them, knowing that those contents were replaceable. Into each leather pouch she placed a monkey, followed by the rhinoceros. She patted each pocket, checking for more free ones, and decided to place the two lions into a pocket together on her arm. The bears were shivering when she picked them up, and she dropped them together into her hip pocket. Marguerite's fingers and wrist suffered a bit of damage from claws, teeth, and tusks, but she retrieved every last animal and stored it in her now crowded lab coat, the pockets bulging with miniaturized life. The cabin walls were charred, and it was becoming difficult to breathe. Marguerite heard shouting from outside, and she dashed toward the noise, covering her face with her arm to block as much of the flames eating her curtains as possible.

She burst into the daylight, coughing and hoping her feet would keep her steady until she cleared the pyre lit behind her. The circus troupe was frantic, searching for sources of water, clearing the rest of the balloons away from hers with haste. Most were scorched, and some had sparks dancing across their surfaces, threatening to penetrate the balloon's surface and ignite the contents. The animals wriggled about her body, and Marguerite could hardly tell if she was shaking or they were. She lifted her goggles from her eyes, which hurt. She had burn marks from the metal of the goggles heating and sticking to her face.

The regular animal trainers were dashing across the center field, gathering the animals into the tent in case the stables caught fire as well. Several of the horses nearly bolted, but the handlers blindfolded them fast enough to draw them back to the tent. A pillar of smoke snaked its way from Marguerite's former balloon, and she wondered how many of her notes she could remember, wishing for the first of what would be thousands of times that she had made them in duplicate.

A ring of street observers was beginning to form. They were a strangely calm frame to the panic within their circle. Marguerite wondered if this was what it was like to perform under the Big Tent, and if so, she did not want to be part of it.

"Marguerite!" Alexandra cried, "Marguerite, are you all right?"

"No," she said. "I hope the animals are, though."

"Where are-" Alexandra had placed a hand on Marguerite's arm, near the pocket with the lions, who had begun to poke their heads out the corners. "Oh, oh my. Did you get them all?"

"I think so." Marguerite tugged on the pocket cover, pushing the lion's noses back into the pocket. "Find me somewhere to put them, please. I am afraid some of them may hurt each other, or themselves, if they stay in here too long."

Alexandra helped Marguerite to her feet, and Marguerite noted with interest that she had not realized when she had fallen to her knees. Halfway across the circle of quickly shifting balloons, Marguerite saw Marie running toward them with Colette shortly behind her. Asmodeus was also in sight, his usual overcoat cast aside.

Boom

"What?" Marie blinked at the sudden announcement that they needed to leave, looking between the darkened ring and her anxious ringmaster. "But..."

She started to protest, but at that moment Jacque stepped into the ring, and the look on Colette's face made Marie close her mouth around her argument. She followed Colette's gaze to the ringmaster, and then to the highwire, uncomprehending and suddenly, inexplicably nervous. She let Colette grab her hand and lead the way from the tent, looking over her shoulder to see the beautiful twin brothers stepping delicately onto the wire, while the crowd held its breath below.

They rushed back to the circus, with a speed that Marie found unreasonable - certainly not merited by the need to prepare for the evening's show, still yet many hours away. But Colette's mysterious anxiety rubbed off on Marie, who suddenly had a Bad Feeling (and of course, knew better than to ignore such things, lest they be premonitions or hints from friendly spirits or something), rushed along without complaint.

As they reached the neighborhood in which their circus had settled, Marie crinkled her nose - smoke? - and walked faster, pulling up the hem of her long skirt and mentally noting that dressing properly was overrated. Yes, there was definitely smoke; there was a plume of it, rising in a cloudy grey curl from a spot some two blocks away. Marie nearly stopped dead to watch it for a moment, realizing its source, and then broke into a sprint.

One of the hot air balloons, which during the show was full of hydrogen to help support a sideshow tent, was crumpled on the ground, the tent collapsed with it, smoke still rising from the scorched silk. There were burn marks on the surrounding balloons and the tops of the tents for yards and yards around, though the balloon hadn't been very big. It was impossible to tell how long ago the accident - had it been an accident? - had occurred; they'd been gone maybe an hour, and though a few audience members lingered at a safe distance, watching circus workers buzz around the fallen balloon as if it were part of the show, most were gone.

Marie coughed on the smoke as she hurried towards the damage to help.

Consorting with the Enemy

"Little Marie, I think it best that we leave. I would not have you here unchaperoned and I realize now it was a mistake to leave my family unattended for so long. We must prepare for our evening performance." Colette's hands twisted in her lap. She'd gotten what she came here for, in a roundabout way. Jacque knew she was here, knew she was with la Vapeur. She knew not how, but she felt icy tendrils of fear creeping through her. No telling what he--or his employees--would do to her beloved Cirque. Or her.

Still, she needed to protect her family, and if she were within her own camp, she would probably be safer. She chided herself for ever venturing out of the camp. This was exactly why she hated stepping out, exploring the town. It was too dangerous, too terrifying.

"Marie?" She repeated the girl's name, but then the ringmaster was stepping out into sight, and for the first time in many years, Jacque's eyes latched onto Colette's.

She gaped like a fish.

The man was thin, small. Wiry. He wasn't French; she assumed he was Eastern European, and he spoke with a thick accent from a land far off, but she knew him only as Jacque and nothing else. His moustache was twirled at both ends, his coattails were long and nearly swept the ground as he waved his arms, bowed, and cried out to the crowds. He was a riveting speaker. The crowd gasped and swooned as one being as he drew their attention to the high wire that was set up in the center of the big top.

The acrobat routine was coming up, and Colette's heart lurched. She couldn't bear to see these men perform under names they hadn't earned, hadn't created. They'd stolen the names and couldn't hope to fill the shoes of their predecessors. Her pride flared, at odds with her fear. She wanted to stay and watch, wanted to turn and run.

The colours were so familiar. That beautiful blue that had set off Auréle's complexion so well. He was darker than she, and more brooding, more ponderous. Her brother, her guardian. Right until the day he died...

She reached down, snatched Marie's hand urgently. "We have to go."

((Spiffy, in my mind when Colette and Marie return to the circus, they find that the acrobats have already been and have caused a ruckus. Up to you as to what damage they have already caused--AND, if you don't like that idea, feel free to create another one! :D I love this thread, but it'd be nice to return it to main camp so that a few more RP'rs can participate? Maybe? Possibly? ))

Consorting with the Enemy: Popcorn Pondering

Marie was back in her seat well before Colette had returned, with a bag of popcorn for her ventures out. "The acrobats haven't gone yet," she chatted happily. "But there were some fantastic jugglers, and some women did a dance with ribbons and rings. We could try something like that... Poor Rose is always complaining that gentlemen can't admire her costumes properly when she's way up in the air, but I think she means her breasts, not her costumes..." She trailed off to munch a handful of popcorn, wondering if Colette would notice that her entire rambling had been based on the past twenty seconds or so of performance that had just ended. Her face might have been flushed from dashing back and pushing her way through the crowd, but it was dark, and she might well have been simply excited from the performance.

She put on her most convincing little-girl grin and turned her attention back to the show, rather distractedly. She had assumed that Colette had simply been with the Vapeur forever, since the dawn of creation - discovering that wasn't the case was a bit mind-boggling. And it certainly sounded like a dramatic story. Who was Auréle, for example? And what was the problem with this Jacques gentleman?

And the idea of Colette as a little circus girl! The lion-tamer had said it, but it simply didn't seem possible.

Consorting with the Enemy

Note to Rachel and Spiffy: I fiddled with this a little bit and added quite a chunk to the ending. Tell me if there's any changes you want made!

"We're going to a circus!" Marie began cheering nearly as soon as she'd finished her own act, and did not stop as the matinee performance of the Cirque du la Vapeur finished up. Somehow, the fact that she saw a circus every day, nearly without exception and the fact that this circus was their evil hated rivals, did nothing to dampen the excitement of a girl who rarely got to see shows she was not working. "I'm gonna go change into something pretty!" she announced as soon as the acrobats had finished putting all at ready for that evening's show, and dashed off to make herself pretty, just in case the very pretty acrobats spotted them in the audience.

As Marie rushed by Alexandra's cabin, the fortune teller called out to her young friend, "what are you in such a hurry to get to?"

Marie slid to a dramatic halt, having been in the middle of dashing to her cabin when Alexandra called her. "We're going to see the other circus!" she explained breathlessly. "They gave me a ticket last night." She shuffled a bit embarrassedly. "I thought I'd, y'know, dress up a bit. Since we don't go to shows often an' all."

Alexandra smiled at Marie, "It sounds like fun, but I hope you aren't going alone. If they recognize what circus you are from, they might not treat you well."

Colette approached. "I'm taking her, Alexandra. Against my better judgment."

At least this time there won't be any wine to throw," Marie said cheerfully, before fleeing into her little cabin to change out of her stage costume.

Colette dusted her palms off before pulling her white gloves snugly on under her red cuffs. "There's no way they could know we're with la Vapeur." She fidgeted a little nervously with a button.

After a series of impressive crashing sounds from inside the cabin, she skipped back out in a yellow walking skirt, tied at the waist with a brightly-colored sash no doubt lifted from a performer's costume, and a hand-me-down blouse trimmed in lace similarly lifted from old costumes. It was perhaps the only respectable outfit she owned, and she was quite proud of it. "Ready to go!" she announced, tying a bonnet over her hair, which was still a tangled, post-performance mess of braids. She'd even thought to take off her rosette - better safe than sorry.

"I wouldn't bet on it. We were wearing our rosettes and knowing Asmodeus he wasn't subtle in threatening the acrobat." Alexandra said quietly to Colette as Marie bounced out of the cabin.

Colette blinked. "He what?" She bit off that line of talk as Marie approached. "Alexandra, we'll... we'll talk about this. Tonight, after the show?" She wanted to stay and discuss this at length, but part of her was eager to leave this camp and attend the other circus. She looked dubiously down at her attire. "Perhaps I should leave this here." She stripped off the red coat and handed it to Alexandra. "If you would be so kind to reaffix the loose seams? I'll add payment to your share of the ticket sales tonight, of course."

"Of course. I'll make your favorite tea as well," Alexandra checked the watch around her neck, "but I must go, I need to start telling fortunes now that the show's over."

Colette bowed slightly. "Of course. Luck be with you." She turned to Marie. "Ready?"

Marie nodded cheerfully, though she cast a suspicious look at both Alexandra and Colette for whatever they'd stopped talking about when she'd arrived. "Bye Alexandra! See you tonight!" she said, and led the way out of the Cirque encampment.

"Bye! Have fun, Marie!" Alexandra said as she headed back toward the main tent.

Colette was a little less excited than the little acrobat, more driven by a desire to see what the Hirondelle was up to. They walked together, Marie darting ahead or chattering excitedly, and Colette a little more pensive.

Finally, as they approached the bright teal tent, Colette pulled Marie aside. "They may or may not recognize us, but even if they do, we've every right to be there. We're patrons today, that's all. Do you understand? Don't say anything about la Vapeur. Nothing. The man who runs this circus is... vindictive. And competitive. No need to incite trouble unduly."

Marie was a bit taken aback by the warning, but nodded all the same. "Is that what you and Alexandra were whispering about when I came out?" she asked, a bit more boldly than was perhaps advisable.

Colette frowned. "Not exactly." She knew it was hypocritical to tell Marie to play it safe when Colette fully intended to sneak around and do a little behind-the-scenes investigation, but Marie was a child. She needed to be protected. Colette didn't need protection--in fact, anyone who got in her way would be more in need of it.

"But you know him," Marie pressed. "The gentleman who runs this one. Did you go t'ringleader school together or somethin'?" She smiled a bit at the thought - for all she knew there really was such a thing as ringleader school, but she was already distracted from the idea as a swell of bright, odd music drifted from inside the tent.

"He has a reputation." Of course, that wasn't all she knew of him, but the swarm of ticket-holders was slowly moving towards the tent's entrance, and she nudged Marie forward. She handed a staff member money for her own entrance, and Marie's free pass. The garish writing gleamed in the semi-dark, and the names of the acrobats stood out against the paper. Showtime.

Marie would have prodded further, but her attention was now firmly elsewhere as she and Colette joined the crowd entering the tent. She squeezed her way through the crowd to get seats near the front, only thinking to look back for Colette after having stepped on three ladies dresses, knocked a gentleman's hat off, and claimed the prized front-and-center seats.

Colette sat next to her, a little apprehensive. Down here, they'd either be at the focus of the actors' attention, or ignored as the performers looked at the more centrally seated audience. No way of telling how it would go, but unless she were in the back, she wouldn't dare sneaking off to do a bit of spying. She'd have to wait until after the show, then. More's the pity.

Christophe, the animal tamer of Cirque de la Hirondelle, emerged from the dark animal housing tent and made his way into the main tent. He had been with the circus for over 15 years and had no worries about his performance. He scanned the people in the first few rows of the seats, wondering if there were any old friends who might be showing up. He notice one striking woman with a man's top hat sitting front center next to a brightly clad girl. "I wonder.... Could it really be?" he murmured to himself.

Colette shifted uncomfortably. This was a mistake. She wanted to snoop, not sit here and watch her former life parade in front of her like some kind of damn... circus. She almost laughed at the irony, but the chuckle died in her throat as performers began to enter the ring.

"Christophe," she mouthed, shocked, before reaching up and almost waving her fingers in greeting. She flinched away from the motion, adjusting her top hat instead and pulling it a little lower over her eyes.

Marie leaned forward, elbows propped on her knees, to watch the animal tamer begin his act. It was certainly unlike what she was used to seeing - she giggled out loud, trying to imagine Marguerite sticking her head into one of her lion's mouths as this performer did with his. "Perhaps we should get some big animals," she whispered to Colette, looking up, then frowning at the unhappy look on the ringmaster's face. "What's wrong?"

She looked away, noting the full seats. For their first performance, the place was packed. They were a long-established, successful circus, with a devoted following in nearly every town across Europe. Their name was known worldwide. "They're certainly popular," she whispered. "But our animals are more unique."

Building up la Vapeur from the dirt was more worthy anyways, she thought. The results were more satisfying, the travels more dangerous and the risks more rewarding. Anyone can be a cog in a machine already built. No creativity in that.

The old man squinted into the seats, trying to make out the features of the woman. He twisted his moustache thoughtfully, as the woman leaned into towards her friend, the new angle showing more of her face. "It is, it's Colette!" He almost shouted aloud in joy.

"I suppose. They can't eat anyone," Marie said thoughtfully, as if unsure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. The threat of being eaten certainly seemed to make a more exciting show. She turned her attention back to it, and found the animal tamer looking directly at them. She started to wave, thinking it part of the act, then stopped. "He's staring at you," she pointed out in a whisper.

Colette almost rolled her eyes at his behaviour. "Focus on your act, Christophe, or you'll lose an arm," she wanted to tell him. He'd always been there to joke with, to share stories with, and to ask for advice. He was good-hearted, which in the Hirondelle, was a rare trait. "Perhaps," she told Marie. "But I doubt it. You're dressed far more colourfully."

Marie would have liked to respond with some clever retort - she was quite sure he was staring at Colette, not her - but before she could come up with one the lion roared and she nearly jumped out of her seat with surprise. It was never quite so loud when Marguerite's roared like that! Marie mentally noted a sudden, newfound appreciation for her circus's unnatural little beasts, for all she disliked them.

Christoph had always thought of her as a daughter, one he had never had. He understood that the tragedy was a more than understandable reason for her to leave, but he had wished she at least kept in touch. The roar of a lion dragged his attention back to his act. He needed to concentrate and Colette was always telling him that.

Colette felt a twinge of sadness. Christophe had always taken such pride in his little devils, as he called the cubs, and she didn't recognize a single animal out there in the ring with him. She'd missed so much... births, shows, stories, jokes. The kind of thing they used to exchange at late hours, celebrating their victories together... If anyone would be willing to speak with her about Jacque's--and the Hirondelle's--erratic behaviour of late, Christophe would be the one. They'd arrived at the Hirondelle within two years of each other, and had been close from then until the night she left without a word. She regretted not leaving him word, but... c'est la vie. Things happen.


The animal tamer's act was winding down; Marie joined the audience in applauding, but again caught sight of the unhappy look on Colette's face. "It'll be fine," she said, misreading the ringleader's expression. "Like you said, we're here as audience. We can't get in any trouble."

Colette nodded to Marie. "Of course. Of... I'll be right back." At Marie's bewildered face, Colette fished out a thin package of cigarettes. "Smoke." She backed out of the aisle, and darted out of the tent. Shoving the cigarettes back into her pocket, she raced around the outside of the tent, ducking into the shadows to avoid a few crew hauling a huge pallet of grain bags. She quickly found the performers' area behind the tent and waited in the dark for Christophe to come out. A few clowns wandered by, but they took no notice of her, intent on the upcoming act.

Christophe has seen her leaving her aisle and realized her intentions. He raced out of the tent once his animals were safely put away. In the shadows he saw a womans slight figure and knew it was Colette. The animal tamer opened his arms to her like he used to whenever he had been gone for a long trip finding new animals.
Colette nearly sobbed with relief as she threw herself into his embrace. So many years had passed, and it still felt the same. She grinned against his shoulder. "You look well. And still have all your fingers!"

“Of course I do, my dear. You know I'm always careful." He murmured to her as he stroked her hair. "And you look wonderful, you've grown up to become a beautiful woman."

Colette smiled. "You finally see me as more than a little girl, then?" She'd been twelve when Christophe came to the Hirondelle; she was a scared little thing, still unbalanced on the tightrope and terrified of tumbling... She’d travelled with him for almost a decade, firmly attaching herself under his wing. And now, six years had passed since her brother's "accident," since she's fled the circus that had first taught her to be bold. Since she'd seen her favourite lion-tamer.

Christophe held her away from his to better take a look at her, "And how have you been all these years?"

"Busy. I've been touring with another circus. Didn't expect to run into you all again--especially here."

"Yeah, this city holds a lot of memories, for all of us. What other circus are you running with? Any of the famous ones?" He winked at her.

Colette bit her lip. “You know la Vapeur?” His eyes widened in recognition, and she admitted—a little bashfully, which stunned her, as she hadn’t felt this way in years—“I started it.” She’d more than started a circus—she’d poured her heart and soul into dragging it into existence from the ground up, hiding from Jacque behind her brother’s given name, the one he’d shunned the day he left the Nagin household. “We’ve, ah, become quite successful. In our own fashion.” The circus was unique, even as circuses go. Shunning the big animal acts in favour of freaky science and eerily accurate fortunes told outside the rings. Spreading the attention around was drawing more and more attention, ironically enough, and the profits weren’t exactly pouring in, but they were more than enough to keep the group flying and fed. She sighed. Starting the circus had been the solution to a problem she’d never expected. If only she could go back. If only her brother hadn’t…

She stopped herself, allowing herself one final sentiment before consigning herself to digging information out of the friendly Christophe. “I didn’t want to go, Christophe. You know that. If it were up to me, I’d still be with the Hirondelle.”

“I know,” replied the animal tamer. “We miss you. Six years is a long time, but we haven’t forgotten you—Jacque certainly hasn’t, for all the wrong reasons.”

Colette bit her lip. Their fight had been catastrophic. And still, all these years later, she sometimes wondered if it all could have been avoided. Too late now, though. “What’s done is done. I’m more than willing to put it in the past, but Jacque is like a dog with a bone. I can’t believe he set down here—we’ve been established for two days now.”

“Colette, I don’t know what to tell you. We do what we’re told. You know how he is. He said to touch down, put up the big top, so we did. He wouldn’t have competed with just any circus. He knows the rules.”

Colette crossed her arms. “He couldn’t possibly know that I run la Vapeur. Nobody does.”

“Everybody does! La Vapeur is famous, Lettie. So are you.”

“No. Auréle is famous. Le Conquerant is famous. Not Colette. Not me.”

“You can't possibly be so naive. I don’t know that Jacque knew you were here already, or if it was an unhappy coincidence, but there’s no doubt. He knows you're here, and he’s out to ruin you, Colette. He hasn’t forgotten what you did.”

Colette nodded sharply. “Thank you, Christophe. I should return to the show. I’ve left one of my girls inside.”

Christophe reached out, took her elbow before she could turn away. “Lettie, we haven’t forgotten what you did either.” He repeated the opinion softly, and it had an entirely different meaning.

She bent her head, murmuring, “Thank you,” again before reaching forward and giving him a fast embrace. “Farewell.”

Behind her, there was a scurry of motion as Marie rose from where she was kneeling and flitted away, heart pounding and mind laden with questions and doubts.

A Night on the Town: Returning Home

Alexandra followed behind Marie and Asmodeus as they led the way back home through the dimly lit streets. Her skirts swished against the cobbles and her eyes fixed on the back of the magicians purple snakeskin waistcoat. She sighed to herself, letting her eyes roam up his fine figure, following the broad lines of his shoulders down to his trim waist. Although she would never admit it to anyone, Alexandra loved watching him. The magician’s every move was graceful and calculated; every step deliberate. And his hands, oh, those cunning hands. She longed to hold them and trace every line on his palm with a delicate fingertip, as if she were reading his future.

But Alexandra refused to be just a flower to him, a lady who could be plucked as easily as the blossoms he kept stored up his sleeves. Asmodeus’ reputation with women was legendary and it was probably also the reason he had been kicked out of London, although he would never admit it. The fortune teller longed to be able give into his charms but her commonsense held her back from being just another conquest.

As the trio neared the edge of the city, they could see the brightly coloured balloons that floated their caravan rising above the tree line in the dim light. Each one was decorated in different combination of the circuses colours: red, green, gold and black. The brightly pained wooden vessels that usually hung beneath the balloons were gathered into a loose circle behind the main tent.

Once they were within the ring of the circus encampment, Asmodeus ruffled Marie’s hair before she skipped merrily ahead, going straight for her own tiny cabin, which was parked right behind Alexandra’s ship. Both of them were brightly painted: the fortune teller’s was covered in stars, moons and mystical symbols while Marie’s was decorated in a rainbow of bright colours. The magician’s ship was darkly elegant with gold, purple, red and green designs.

Alexandra and Asmodeus paused, looking at each other in the dim light. The magician bowed deeply too her, “My lady,” he said sweeping his hat off his head as he did so and once more held out the single dark red rose.

Holding her usual aloof visage for a moment, Alexandra looked at the gentleman before her. “Well, it still isn’t my favorite flower but I suppose it at least complements my dress,” she said as she took the flower from his hand.

“I will try to do better next time,” Asmodeus said softly as he rose from his bow.

“Very well; until tomorrow, Asmodeus,” the fortune teller said over her shoulder as she turned and walked to her home, her dress swishing softly behind her. Once she pulled the door shut, Alexandra buried her face in the rose, breathing in the heady scent of the flower. But she didn’t notice the silhouette of the magician as he stood in the doorway of his ship and watched until the last of the lights had gone out from the windows of Alexandra’s home.

As it grew later, Colette and Marguerite also returned to where the circus was camped. The ringmaster was still brooding from her argument with the acrobat twins, scowling at the ground as she walked. The scientist walked by her side in silence, absently stroking the elephant in her pocket.

“Good night,” Marguerite said as she reached her ship and went inside to take care of her creatures before heading to bed.

Colette nodded and continued onto her home. Once she got inside, the ringmaster lit a few candles, grabbed a bottle from a shelf and began reaching for a glass but thought better of it and flopped into an overstuffed arm chair. She took a deep swig from the bottle and stared moodily into the flickering flames until the empty bottle clattered onto the ground and the candles had burned themselves out.

A Night On The Town: Alphonse and Hyacinth discuss

As the den was nearing closing time--so late into the night that dawn was fast approaching--Alphonse approached his brother, who was entangled with a young lass on one of the many low couches. He reached down, hit him lightly in the shoulder. "We should get back."

Hyacinth, being rather occupied at that particular moment, grumbled at his brother's interruption. "Already?" he said, looking up with distaste. "Can I bring her with me?" He indicated the woman on his lap, who giggled and hiccupped.

Alphonse smirked. "Leftovers, Hyacinth? Really? Return tomorrow for fresh pickings." He dabbed again at the soiled front of his waistcoat. "I need to change. And sleep, before the matinee. You would be wise to do the same."

Hyacinth smiled - his face eerily mirroring his twin's - and rolled to his feet, dropping the woman rather unceremoniously to the floor and stretching his arms above his head. "Ah, yes, show tomorrow," he said. "Musn't miss our beauty sleep." He blinked a bit, then squinted, studying his brother more closely in the dark light of the den. "You've spilled on your vest, Alphonse. Had too much to drink?"

"Wasn't my fault," complained Alphonse. "This crazy woman threw her wine at me. Then again, they're all crazy," he scoffed. "And near injury added to insult, her bodyguard or something. Threatened me. He had a knife! Said he was from that other circus. They all must have been--did you see them? With the flowers?" He vaguely indicated the lapel of his coat, where a pin or badge might lie.

Hyacinth burst out laughing - big, graceless guffaws. "Did you offend her honor or something?" he said, making his way towards the den door. He paused at the mention of another circus, tilting his head thoughtfully, threatening his already dangerously askew tophat. "Yeah, I saw one of 'em. Pretty thing, lots of scarves. Did you punch him?"

"Course not. He had a knife." He added sullenly, "And I didn't do a damn thing to her. I gave one of her company a free pass, actually. I was a prop'r gentleman." He grinned unconvincingly. "Think it'll come to trouble?"

Trouble was something Alphonse tended to avoid, much favouring the company of women or a glass of ale to any ruckus, though he was not quite dedicated to keeping the peace. He'd slit a throat if it'd gain him a few hours of quiet to spend with opium or ladies of questionable morals.

"Shoulda punched him," Hyacinth insisted - he was not, perhaps, at his most rational, and thought a brawl might have made the evening even the more interesting. "Who'd you give a pass to? Not the one with the knife?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, which led to him tripping over the threshold of the door and sent his hat tumbling to the street. He had recovered and walked several steps beyond it before he realized and went back to pick it up.

"No, not him. The scrawny one. She seemed quite taken by you. But so did the other half dozen. You might not have noticed her." He held his hand out, and then it wavered somewhere between a height of three and a half and four feet. "She was small. Young, I guess. I didn't know she was with the crazy woman. Or that the crazy woman was with the man with the knife. Or that any of them was with..."

He paused, while Hyacinth fumbled with his hat. "What was that other circus? Cirque du... de..." He snapped his fingers a few times, and then coughed in annoyance. "Something. The one Jacque doesn't like."

"Jacque doesn't like any of them," Hyacinth mumbled, shoving his hat back on his head as grumpily as if it had personally offended him. "I didn't see her. Was she as determined to stab you or ruin your clothes as the rest of them?"

"No, I think she was too besotted. Or drunk, perhaps." Alphonse shook his head. "She didn't even get angry until I gave the thing the ticket. Which makes no sense."

"Women," Hyacinth said dismissively, waving his hand. "Can't make sense, can they? They haven't got any. Was she pretty, then?"

"The little thing? Or the crazy?" Alphonse stumbled over a loose stone in the street, and spat at it as he righted himself and passed over it.

Hyacinth chucked at his brother's stumbling. "The besotted one," he said. "Another pretty swooning dove fluttering in the stands is never a bad thing." He frowned thoughtfully. "But if she's from another circus, won't they have their own show? Might not ev'n need to worry 'bout it."

Alphonse shrugged. "Well, if she shirks her own circus to attend ours, perhaps they'll suffer for it. And then Jacque will be less annoyed, and may give us more coin for a night out. I see no bad...things. Results."

After a moment, he added. "She was pretty, but very lean. A performer, maybe?"

Hyacinth nodded thoughtfully. "They can't be very good," he said, with much conviction. "Stabbing innocent bar patrons, skipping their own shows... A rag-tag bunch playing circus for a lark, I'm sure of it." He took off his hat and started fiddling with the pin, as he always did when an idea came to him. "We should mess with them."

Alphonse arched an eyebrow. His twin's assessment seemed right on; any group of showmen that ran around murdering people deserved what was coming to them, and if he happened to help speed along their fate? Well, all's fair in the business. "How?"

Hyacinth fingered the feathers on his hat. "Dunno," he admitted. His cleverness had run into the rather solid wall to thought that a night of debauchery had erected in his brain. "You saw more of them than I."

"There were quite a lot of them. At least... a dozen?" He tried to recall their numbers, but failed. "More than I want to see again."

He sighed. "Should we tell Jacque? He'll only get more angry."

Hyacinth shook his head. "He'll find out another circus is in town soon anyway, no need to make him take it out on us," he said.

Slowly, Alphonse replied. "He knows already. That's why he had us stop, remember? Donatelle told us that he'd seen the airships. But if their members are coming tomorrow, he may want to prepare something... special... for them."

"Ah." Hyacinth said. "Your point, sir, is well made." He hiccupped.

The alcohol was making Alphonse feel buzzed and weary, and he was irritable at the best of times. "We should just burn them out of Orleans. There's no room here for two circuses, and ours is clearly superior."

Hyacinth frowned, stopping in the street to frown up at the skyline for a bit, looking for dirigibles. "I think that's illegal," he said, grudgingly, as though arson laws ruined all his fun. "We could have the magician pick the little one to volunteer. Saw her in half or something." He chuckled. Sawing women in half was probably equally illegal, but it was an amusing mental image, and all in the name of art, of course.

Alphonse chuckled. "But we'd have no hand in the fun!" He put his hands on his hips, grinning at his twin. "And it's really doing them a favour. They'll be humiliated, otherwise. Might as well just encourage them to move on along."

Hyacinth nodded. "It's a tough business, circus. Kind of us to give them some sort of warning. But you're right, it's no fun for us..." He bit his lip, the effort of plotting becoming increasingly strenuous as the evening tore towards dawn. "Do they ever take volunteers on the highwire, you think?" he said with another laugh. He was officially out of ideas, but had great faith that this would end excitingly.

A Night on the Town: Heading Home

Marie was feeling a bit lost, suddenly alone in the middle of the unfamiliar den, though the creeping effects of her opium tea were taking their pleasant course - she didn't even jump when Asmodeus came up and took her arm, though she hadn't seen him approach.

"Hello," she said, yawning. "I suppose I did." She glanced over her shoulder at the other acrobats again. She dimly remembered that they were her competition, and that they had done something to make Colette very angry, but the nuances of these thoughts were lost in marveling at how they still managed to be rather pretty, even drunk and covered in wine stains. She couldn't imagine what they looked like performing, but trying to was proving pleasant. "I was invited to another circus," she said, showing Asmodeus the crumpled flier. "But they made Colette quite angry."

She yawned again, more widely, glad they were heading home. She had half a mind to ask Asmodeus to carry her back, as he'd done from time to time after late-night adventures when she'd been younger. But she was a grown-up performer now, so she walked, feeling pleasantly hazy after a very eventful evening.

A Night on the Town: Of Flowers, Cherries, and Absinthe

Asmodeus made his way easily and casually through the now-crowded opium den, keeping his sights firmly set on the radiant figure at the bar ahead of him. She was tilting back a glass of liquid emerald, and Asmodeus felt his pulse quicken at the sight of her slender, perfect neck. He hungrily admired the sloping lines of the luxurious dress hugging her curves. This’ll be too easy, though I bet she chose that dress just to tease me.

Asmodeus prided himself on his approach to love. Since before he could remember he had viewed it as a sort of game and each will that he manipulated to his own carnal designs brought him that thrill that demanded satiating; like drinking or picking pockets. And like all his hobbies, he considered himself exceptional… until now.

From the time he joined Vapeur he had felt something in himself changing. Around Alexandra, other girls seemed to pale in comparison. The vacant space in his heart, craving affection, would not be filled. He would feel distracted, so that without concentrating on what he was about Asmodeus would be as a drunken fool, of which he had a bit of experience. The closer he tried to get to her, the further he sank. He vowed to himself to remain in control, but the sight of her neckline chased away all sense. Tonight’s assault at the fortifications of her icy composure would require a bit more tact than usual.

Asmodeus was now but a few feet from Alexandra, and he felt sure that he had approached unnoticed. With his right hand he smartly flipped the top-hat from his head in a blur of violet, the brim held fast between his index and thumb, while his left hand shot up to produce a rose, seemingly from thin air, as red as the den’s couches. He sank into a deep bow and with a voice was as clear and powerful as dawn he said, “A beautiful flower, for a beautiful lady.”
Alexandra continued to lean back against the bar, arms crossed, her eyes leveled on the bent figure before her, and her expression unreadable. “Only one?” she asked with raised eyebrow.

A sudden, almost imperceptible, jerk of the shoulders was the only sign that belied Asmodeus’ surprise and pain at the response. With an immediate flick of his wrist the one rose became a full bouquet, each blossom in perfect full bloom. “Those aren’t even my favorite,” Alexandra replied, as nonchalantly as possible, twisting a proverbial dagger further into Asmodeus’ wounded pride. He righted himself in one fluid motion, the flowers disappearing neatly into his sleeve with a quiet ‘click’; one of his favored mechanisms at work. The top-hat returned to his head and he took her hand gently in his own. “A lovely evening, is it not, Alexandra?” he asked in a voice as smooth as the silk of her dress, lifting her hand to his lips.

At the last moment, Alexandra withdrew her hand from his, whirling away from Asmodeus and causing her dress to rustle angrily across the wooden floor. “It would be a lovely evening without you fouling the air with your serpent’s tongue,” she replied, glad to be hiding the smirk creeping across her lips. “I am actually surprised to see you here. Haven’t you some rock to crawl under, sir?”

Asmodeus slid to a spot at the bar next to her, signaling to the barkeep for a glass, and resting his hand on her shoulder. “On the contrary, madam. Tonight I am at your disposal.”

“In which case, sir, if you would kindly dispose of yourself, and do us all a favor.”

A gasp of mock disbelief escaped from Asmodeus’ as he recoiled, hand moving to still his aching heart. “Why, what a horrid thing to say, issuing forth, as it were, from such a beautiful creature! It is as if you revile my very presence, which I do contest, judging from your choice of evening wear.”

“Whatever could you mean? What’s wrong with this dress?” Alexandra asked, concentrating on her absinthe, her voice taking a frigid tone.

“Well, I wouldn’t say anything is wrong with it,” Asmodeus replied, trying to recover from the possible insult. “As a mater of fact, I find it absolutely… delicious.”

And with that Asmodeus reached out in a flash and plucked a cherry from the midst of her bosom, much to Alexandra’s chagrin, placing it between his teeth with a wide grin.

Alexandra, duly flustered, opened her mouth to explain to Asmodeus, in no polite terms, just what she thought of his little cantrip, when a small patchwork of fabric bounded out of the crowd to interrupt. Marie was by far one of the smallest performers Asmodeus had met in his travels, which he felt made her an excellent candidate for his tutelage. It was, in fact, how they had found her in the first place; one does not pick the pocket of a champion thief.

Marie informed them that Marguerite already knew about the Hirondelle performers, and was presently engaged in delightful conversation. Alexandra declined to approach them just yet, which Marie would hear nothing of. With a clatter of her tea cup, Marie pranced back to see more of her handsome competitors.

Asmodeus grinned to himself. Cute little moppet. She’ll grow into a fine cutpurse… if we can keep ‘er focused; teach ‘er a bit o’ tact. He turned his attention back to Alexandra. So far, his passes this evening had borne no fruit, so he sipped at his wine for a bit, and mused, observing the scene at the other end of the bar. Can’t imagine how it feels to have competition like that. Thankfully, no one comes near besting me.

After watching Colette’s expressions go from vexation through to outrage, Asmodeus finally spoke. “Alexandra, there may be trouble. Colette doesn’t look happy, and neither do the acrobats. Let’s get over there and see what we can do to help.” He would hate for this fine evening to be cut short. In his experience, running from the authorities always has that effect.

But before they could shift themselves, a tall athletic man, with an aroma of too many drinks, toppled into them. His eyes opened wide at the sight of the green drink in Alexandra’s hand. “What color! It is as green as your dress,” he shouted, tickling one of the wretchedly dressed girls seemingly hanging from him, much as one wears necklaces and pocket watches. “Please tell me, what is it?”

Alexandra cocked an eyebrow. “It is called absinthe. Though, in your present state, I doubt if it would be a good idea.”

“Nonsense,” he shouted back, rather uncomfortably close to her face. “Barkeep! A round of aby-senth for me and my lovely dates!”

It was about this time that Asmodeus noticed the rising volume of Colette’s voice. She then proceeded to drain her glass, for reasons unknown to himself, on the acrobat’s front. Maybe she found the wine offensive? Or perhaps it was his clothes; they were gaudier than they had a right to be.

Asmodeus had no more time for the drunken buffoon and his gawkers. Turning to their unwanted guest, he said, with the friendliest smile he could gather, “If you like the drink, sir, I pray you stay and chat with the lady. She is quite versed in all aspects of this particular liqueur.”
Abandoning Alexandra to the jabbering fool, Asmodeus tore himself away from her, and strode purposefully across the bar. Getting her garters was a personal matter; this ruffian insulted the family. The ruffian in question was dabbing the wine on his chest with a handkerchief, cursing the girl under his breath. Asmodeus slipped up behind, and threw his left arm around the man’s neck. “My, how positively atrocious. Red wine all over your lovely waistcoat.” This last sentence was spoken through clenched teeth, as if acknowledging the costume as clothing was poisonous to his mouth. The acrobat, in his enraged state, did not notice. “What is your name, sir?”

The acrobat seemed to calm a little, and straightened his posture. “Alphonse. My brother Hyacinth and I are the famous twin acrobats of Cirque de Hirondelle!”

“Ah, yes, I had heard your circus was in town.” Asmodeus reached into his coat pocket and when he produced his pocket watch, flashing the rosette on the case, Alphonse’s face grew grim. “This here says I’m a performer with Cirque de la Vapeur. That fiery woman you came across is like a sister to me, and I rarely see her upset. Whatever you’ve done, I would suggest you refrain from repeating in the future,” he whispered to the startled man, as a soft click, emanating from the flexing of specific forearm muscles, produced a sharp dagger in Asmodeus’ right hand, poised near Alphonse’s gut, “or you’ll find your duo reduced to a solo.”

Asmodeus shoved him back hard against the bar, the knife returning to its secret sheath. Signaling to Alexandra, he turned to see Marie alone in the crowd, a look of approaching despair on her child-like face. “I think it’s about time we left,” he said to his ward. Offering her his arm, they headed toward the exit. “So, little one, did you have a pleasant night out?”

A Night On The Town: Steam and Birdbrains

Marguerite flashed a smile at the man, and patted him on the shoulder. "As tempting as your offer sounds, I do believe I will decline for now." She stepped back to stand closer to her companions.

Marie followed Colette over to the acrobats, spotted Marguerite, and opened her mouth to tell her that the people from the other circus were there - but of course Marguerite already knew. Marie shut her mouth quickly, unprepared to suddenly be in such close proximity to the gentlemen in question, her face turning a most remarkable shade of red.

Colette held out a hand, warningly to the young acrobat, holding her a few paces off. These men struck her as unsavory, and from what she knew about the Hirondelle, there was no need to put her in the sightlines of the competition.

Marie stopped trying to peer around her taller friends at Colette's gesture, and instead bounced fretfully on her heels, then spun to run back to the bar. "Alexandra!" she cried, darting back over to the fortuneteller. "I found Marguerite, but she already knew 'bout the other circus. She and Colette are over there talking to them." Having finished conveying her news, she picked up her teacup again and finished her opium tea in one gulp - her heart was beating rather quickly, what with all the excitement.

Alexandra turned to Marie, her face blushing slightly from her conversation with Asmodeus. The magician also looked up in interest from his glass at the news of the other circus. "Do you think we should join them, Alexandra?"

The fortuneteller looked across the room to where her friends stood with the acrobats. "I don't think so," she replied, "at least not yet. If there's trouble we'll go over. But because we're all the emblems of la Vapeur it might not be a good idea to outnumber then and antagonize them."

Marie set her teacup down with a clatter and made a face. "Well, I'm going back to see," she said. "They're quite pretty, aren't they?" She grinned sheepishly and darted back through the small crowd to resume her place behind Colette and Marguerite, standing on tip-toe to better admire, er, watch the competition.

Marguerite retrieved her abandoned alcohol and finished the glass. In the process, she loosened one of her pocket flaps.

Colette smiled politely. "Your troop has made an error, I'm sure. A circus is already established here; la Vapeur has already begun performing as of today." The drunken acrobat only chuckled. "An error? No." He reached out to pat Colette on the arm. "I don't know why, but Jacque insisted that we set up here when he saw the airships of that other circus. The... Vapeur." His lips curled in a sneer around the last word. "Steam? We will blow them away--puff!"

Colette stiffened, shifting her body so the other man couldn't reach her arm. Her anger flared, but she contained it. "I doubt it." The man just laughed again, picking up a glass and draining its contents.

Here, Marie found herself conflicted. On the other hand, she was currently, shall we say, smitten with the gentleman insulting her circus. On the other hand, he was insulting her circus. "As if you could, birdbrains," she muttered, mostly to herself, as usual, and a bit more louder than she'd entirely attended, also as usual. Marie had many talents; subtlety was never one of them, nor were clever insults.

Marguerite quickly followed Marie's words. "Monsieur, I hope you do not seriously plan to ruin this lovely evening with this attitude. Come, this establishment has some fine opium if you would care to sample it." Marguerite gestured toward the bar. Something in her hand glinted in the light.

"Alexandra, there may be trouble," Asmodeus turned and spoke softly in her ear, "Colette doesn't look happy and neither do the acrobats." Alexandra drained her glass and nodded in agreement. "Let's get over there and see what we can do to help." Before they could make their way over, the second twin approached them at the bar, and began chattering with them enthusiastically about the colour of the absinthe in Alexandra’s glass, before demanding of the barkeep a round for not only himself, but his entourage of flimsily clad women.

The twin who had insulted the Vapeur turned to Marie, reaching clumsily into a pocket and fishing out a rumpled flyer. "Here--you should come to the show. A treat--my treat. For a fine young thing." The admittance flyer was garishly decorated, on both sides, with a banner describing a pair of "miraculous acrobat twins" taking up most of the space. Colette's eyes caught on the names that decorated the paper, and her eyes widened in rage. "Which one of you calls himself Hyacinth? Tell me!"

Marie, whose verbal slips rarely yielded free admission to a show, accepted the flyer as clumsily as the acrobat offered it, blush deepening as she looked from the flyer to the acrobat and back. And then Colette, right next to her, spoke loudly - rather in her ear - and Marie jumped, nearly dropping the crumpled page. The acrobat was not quite so ruffled, but his eyes widened at the sudden outburst. "The other one," he said, jerking his head at his brother, who was still somewhat, erm, occupied with his crowd of admirers.

"So that would make you Alphonse?” When the man nodded carelessly, Colette only grew angrier. “You’ve no right to that name. How can you dare?” What little control she had over her usually icy calm faded. Without thinking she reached out, tipping what was left of her wine over his gaudy clothes. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked away.

Marguerite withheld a sigh, nodded curtly to the supposed Alphonse and followed Colette.

Marie jumped and dropped the flyer in earnest at the sudden heated exchange, barely able to follow what was happening as Colette and Marguerite stormed out. She watched them leave, twisting the hem of her skirt nervously, then bent to pick up the flyer. "Ah..." she straightened, turning to the now wine-soaked acrobat. "Am I still invited, then?" He was wiping his face with a handkerchief, face red with anger or embarrassment. "S'long as you don't bring her with you," he said. "Or, hell, bring her along. Let the mad woman see that I have more right to that name than Alphonse ever did." And he turned his attentions back to his brother and their admirers, leaving Marie quite alone in the den.

A Night On The Town: An Acrobat of the Hirondelle

Colette's nerves were shaken, but her voice was steady. "Marguerite, how glad I am to see you this evening. I trust you've not been bothered unduly in my absence?" She stood at her friend and co-worker's arm, giving a severe look to the tall, muscular acrobat. She felt a ripple of distaste at the colours of his clothes, at the plume in his hat. It was all too familiar, and she was irked by the visual reminders his garb offered up all too freely.

The man bowed slightly to her, taking note of the rosette she wore as well. Thankfully, she had changed out of her flashy costume and into a more subdued one, but the little glinting gear still stood out more than she would have liked. Pride had compelled her to fasten it on, against her better judgment. She made no move to cover, it; nor did she show it off as Marguerite had done.

"I noticed your performance," she said, acting friendly enough for now but still wary. "How lucky the patrons are to witness such a spectacle for free, after the circus has closed for the night. Are you a performer?"

"I am," The man puffed out his chest proudly. "Of the Hirondelle--and never a finer nor more famous a group shall you witness, on my honour. We came into town today, and our first show is tomorrow. Perhaps you both will be in attendance. I'm sure you'll find our acts are quite worth the ticket." He grinned, emboldened by the wine he'd had, and probably by the adoration of the girls from earlier. "Though, there are other ways to pay. We might arrange a deal to cover your, ah, entrance."

Colette's lips thinned. "I shall have to decline, though I speak not, of course, for my companion. Ask her yourself, if you think a lady in a uniform such as hers will be so easily trifled with. No telling what will happen if you utter such rudeness to one so uniquely talented."

A Night on the Town: The First Encounter

Marguerite consumed her drink with curiosity. She had permitted the bar tender to serve her an experiment involving absinthe and a few liqueurs, which he told her after its production that he fancied calling the Lily Flower. She thought it was certainly a pleasant mix, despite its floral title and scent, and she wondered how many more experiments the bartender might have for her tonight when she noticed some frantic motion across the room.

Beyond a pair of colorful men beginning to perform small stage tricks off of one another, Marguerite saw Marie speaking animatedly with Colette. When both began to look about themselves, Marguerite waved to get their attention. Upon doing so, she attracted the attention of one of the two men. Apparently the show they had begun reached its conclusion at that moment. He bowed to his audience, mostly the ample-breasted variety, and spoke briefly with his companion before approaching Marguerite.

He certainly struck a handsome figure in his trim waistcoat and bowler, but Marguerite was displeased to spot the pin upon his hat.

“La Hirondelle,” she muttered, “a bird I’d rather not have in my collection at the moment, although not for lack of temptation.” As the man drew near, she smiled and sipped at her drink again. “Monsieur, you are quite a sight to behold.”

“I hope it is a pleasurable one, Mademoiselle,” he said with a bow, taking hold of Marguerite’s hand and kissing it. “I believe I was summoned?”

“Pleasurable indeed,” she said, deciding to cover the mistake.

He straightened and seemed to take further note of Marguerite’s bearing, then of her dress. Doubtless, the black lab coat with gold buttons and abundant pockets must have been a unique sight, but his eyes settled on the rosette.

“You’ve a curious emblem. I do not recall seeing it before,” he said. Marguerite stepped closer to him.

“It was a gift of sorts,” she said. She tugged on the collar of his waistcoat and tilted her head back, exposing the rosette further, as well as a bit more flesh. The man’s gaze shifted enough to study Marguerite below the rosette, and his look did not escape her notice. “What of the gem you are wearing? It seems to be a plume fit for a peacock.”

“Not so exotic. The humble swallow marks my trade. Much, as I take it, your coat would reveal yours.” He gestured delicately at Marguerite’s own collar, the backs of his fingers brushing the cloth ever so slightly. Brash, she thought, then she reminded herself of her current body language.

Presently, she felt the elephant stir in its pocket. Marguerite smiled.

“You might be surprised by the degree of accuracy present in your remark.”

Despite the man’s appeal, Marguerite couldn’t help but feel relief upon seeing Marie and Colette approaching. Her preceding reputation certainly would have threatened to interfere with her new profession.

A Night on the Town: Something with Birds...

Marie started at hearing her name before spotting Colette at the table. When had she gotten there? Marie shook off her confusion and slipped through the crowd to where the ringmaster sat.

"The Cirque du... ah..." she frowned, stumbling over the name. "It's something with birds. But they're in town, the acrobats are here. Alexandra sent me to tell Marguerite," she babbled, maybe a bit more loudly than someone carrying sneaky inter-circus intrigues ought to have.

A Night On The Town: Colette's Thoughts

The commotion by the drinks counter halted Colette from enjoying the peaceful companionship of her wine. She looked about again, and saw that Mary was darting into the crowd, looking forward and back with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. Colette frowned slightly, trying to follow her gaze through the dim, slightly crowded parlour. The girl was heading her direction, though, and Colette leaned over and hissed at her. "Mary. What's the matter?" She gestured her closer, not wanting to be seen immediately if a city policeman or some other person had entered and was looking for valid papers; Colette had none on her, and the Circus hadn't yet paid its fees to the city for the land it occupied temporarily. Better to stay out of sight--this was why she didn't like towns, she thought sourly, but the thought was gone almost as soon as it entered her mind. More important matters pressed on her mind.

A Night on the Town: Distractions.

Marie nearly choked on her tea in her eagerness to see the other circus - she set the delicate cup down on its saucer with an entirely unladylike clatter, and twisted around to see the two tall gentlemen with feathers in their hats.

Her cheeks promptly turned bright red. They were rather attractive.

A mission! Find Marguerite. Her usual grace rather impeded by her continued efforts to see the other acrobats over everyone's head - a difficult task, for someone as height-challenged as Marie - and she near tripped over her own feet getting down from her seat at the bar and beginning to make her way around the den. Where could Marguerite have even gone? She'd been there with them, just moments before... Frowning to herself, her attentions still somewhat otherwise diverted - she'd never seen the Circus of the Swallow perform, of course, and suddenly she very much wanted to - for strictly professional reasons, of course, chalking up the competition... she stood on tip-toe to get a better look around the den, looking for a lab coat or green or red rosette that would identify the mad scientist.

A Night on the Town: Enter the Cirque de la Hirondelle

Alexandra looked around the room, slowly sipping the opalescent green liquid, letting her tongue savor the strong and slightly sweet anise flavor of the spirit. Her eyes fell on a pair of tall, strong looking men who were surrounded by women flirting shamelessly with them. She grimaced to herself as she looked at the ill fit of the ladies’ low cut dresses and her hands itched to be able to tailor them properly.
The tall men caught her attention again and after a second look at them Alexandra was sure they were twins, their features were too similar even for brothers. The waistcoats they wore were made of beautiful textured teal and yellow brocade and were tailored exquisitely with elegant seam lines to enhance their broad shoulders and slim waists. Alexandra’s eyes then flicked up to their hats, stylish black bowlers with a matching teal and gold striped ribbon around the crown. A sudden realization dawned on her as she saw the small plume of feathers and copper swallow pinned to the ribbon.
“Oh my,” Alexandra breathed as she recognized the emblem, “they’re from Cirque de la Hirondelle. They must be the acrobats.” The fortune teller turned to her young friend. “Marie,” she whispered, “find Marguerite and tell her that the acrobats of Circus of the Swallow are here.” She took another look at the acrobats and noted their slightly flushed faces, loud voices and the table covered in empty pint glasses, shot glasses and a partially filled wine bottle. “And tell her they are quite drunk. Oh, and be discreet, we don’t want to get people worried.”
“Ok! I’ll find her!” Marie said as she scampered off.
Alexandra smiled slightly at her friend's enthusiasm, returning to her drink and surveying the crowd. Her eyes fell on a beautiful purple tailed waistcoat with twisting elegant designs in gold braid. Following the slim lines of the waistcoat up to the collar she met the blue eyes of the man wearing it and almost choked on her last sip of absinthe. It was Asmodeus.
Eyes going wide, Alexandra frantically looked for an escape route. The magician would tease her mercilessly over her new dress and probably try to steal her garters again. But she knew that trying to lose herself in the crowd would only give him more satisfaction and ammunition to tease her about later. Seeing no other way out, Alexandra decided to hold her ground. She leaned casually against the bar and tried to compose herself by sipping her favorite drink as she watched Asmodeus approach.

A Night On The Town: "Vive la France"

Colette was a little surprised to see the girls approaching; she had assumed they'd either beat her here, or go elsewhere. She rarely ventured out with her little family and couldn't suppress the small amount of almost child-like glee she felt at going out tonight, and meeting her friends at such a venue. The night was young and the air sweet with wine, perfume, and subtle spices. Tonight was not a night for hiding in the campsite but for exploring, and no place merited such ventures as France.

Her lips curved into a smile at Asmodeus's neat spin of his hat, the way his attention shifted so immediately. She would miss his elegant torrent of speech; he was one of few people that she felt comfortable in silence with. As ringmaster, her voice was her greatest tool, but with the magician, it could be enjoyable to sit quietly, smiling and winking and sharing in private jokes and a fine glass of wine. She only wished she'd thought to ask how much he'd collected in "donations" tonight--at a time in the past, she may have objected to his involuntary little collections, but that was before she'd witnessed his generosity in adding to the circus's coffer. And a circus had expenses, just like any other business, and like, many European businesses, they were involved in the time-honoured practice of theft. No harm there--in fact, it was probably expected, anticipated. And of course, entirely justified.

Colette bowed her head as Asmodeus rose and smoothed his clothes. His appearance was neat enough already, but she'd noticed that he took pride in looking as smooth and trim as an ermine, though his garb was significantly more... purple.

She relaxed into her cushions. She would enjoy a philosophical discussion with this glass of wine--and perhaps one or three more. Then she'd join the festivities, speak with her fine ladies and be at ease. A little wary still of stepping down from her show-master's stand, presenting herself in a common, comfortable way, she swirled her wine. How fitting that she felt most at home, most safe in her over-the-top caricature, that a simple life or even night out felt to her so complexly confusing.

Ah, but that was what wine was for. Nice and simple. She took a long sip and breathed deep, thinking to herself with a sad smile, "Vive la France."

A Night on the Town: Showtime

Asmodeus grinned at the sound of a familiar voice, finishing his glass in a single swallow, and returned it to the low table. “They say variety is the spice of life, and if yours is the wallet, why not the better spice? Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the seats across from his. Turning, he signaled to the bartender. “A fine bottle for a fine lady,” he called out.

Turning back to face his guest, Asmodeus leaned back heavily on the cushions, letting himself see her through half-lidded eyes. Ordinarily Asmodeus would work his wiles on any shapely lady who crossed his path, but there was something decidedly professional in his dealings with Colette. There was something there akin to the love of a sibling; just as strong, with a wholly sinless aim. “My dear, Colette, you’ve finally arrived. I was beginning to worry; been here long enough to enjoy a bottle, but I could do with another. Some show you put on tonight; real responsive crowd and real big wallets, too. Now don’t look at me like that. You know I pinched a few purses for the good of the circus; the money’s already with tonight’s income.” Asmodeus followed Colette’s raised eyebrow with a sly wink. She knew full well of his habit of working the crowd in his own unique way, but still saw fit to probe his hypothetical morality.

A waiter stopped at the table, producing a fine bottle of wine and two glasses. After the usual pleasantries with the wait staff, Asmodeus poured the two glasses, closed his blue eyes, and held his glass to his nose to enjoy the bouquet. “The others must be out and about the town tonight,” he said, as if from a dream. “They haven’t arrived yet, and I’m sure Mary must be having a crack time with the ladies, bless her.”

As the night deepened, more customers had been appearing through the curtains at the far end of the den; eager faces looking forward to the night’s distractions. Asmodeus took a sip of wine, opened his eyes, and caught sight of the trio of ladies that had most recently entered. A flash of gold, like a prow cutting the waves, navigated through the crowd to the bar. As she turned towards him, Asmodeus caught sight of fair skin, bordered by silk, receding into a dark chasm that set his hands to quivering. Alexandra had arrived.

Smoothing back his brown locks, and flipping his top-hat neatly on his head, he shot Colette a wicked grin. “Showtime.”