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.”

A Night on the Town: Entering the Den

Alexandra handed her cloak to Antoine and turned towards Marie tell her more about the Cirque de la Hirondelle, the Circus of the Swallow.

“They’re one of the most well know circuses in the Empires and they’ve been around for a long time, even before we were, but for the past few years Cirque de la Vapeur’s been stealing the show.” Alexandra grinned, reveling in pride at the success of her home circus.

Marguerite led the way through the thick black velvet curtain into a spacious and surprisingly luxurious room with a distinct Moorish Empire atmosphere, which was common theme of opium dens. There were couches upholstered in heavy crimson brocade with matching overstuffed winged armchairs, colourful Persians rugs strewn across the wood floor and a few piles of large, comfortable looking floor pillows.

“Come on, let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said as she gestured towards the mahogany bar with well stocked shelved ranging across the wall behind it. She sauntered over to the bar, for in her new dress it was hard to do anything but saunter, trailing multicoloured scarves behind her. “Hello there,” Alexandra said as she smiled at the bartender and leaned casually against the bar.

“Well, you must be new in this town because I know I have never seen you before tonight,” the bartender said, tipping his bowler and bowing slightly, “my name is Henri. How may I serve you on such a fine night?”

“I think I’ll be indulging in my usual vice tonight: a glass of Pernod Fils Absinthe, French style of course.”

“A follower of the Green Fairy, eh?” Henri asked as he began to prepare the drink.

“But of course, it is a favorite among artists, performers and the like. What would you like to drink, Marie?” Alexandra turned and asked her young friend who had followed her to the bar. “Consider it my treat for an excellent performance tonight.”

Marie grinned and bounced at the compliment. “I think I’ll try the opium tea with lemon and 2 sugar cubes please,” she told the bartender.

“Of course, darling, I’ll have it right to you. And here’s your absinthe, mademoiselle. What name shall I put on the tab?” He asked the fortune teller.

“Alexandra Arista, if you please, of the Cirque de la Vapeur”

Henri raised his eyebrows at the name of the famous circus and once again tipped his hat to her and Marie. “I’m honoured that you would pick this humble establishment for your night’s entertainment. I’ve heard wonderful things about the show and I have tickets for tomorrow night.”

“Wonderful! I would highly recommend staying after or arriving early to see Marguerite’s Miniature Menagerie, as it is quite spectacular,” Alexandra said as she waved a hand towards where Marguerite was standing and talking with Antoine, “she is quite a talented scientist.”

“I'll make sure to arrive early then, especially if she is as charming as you and your young companion,” Henri said with a smile as he placed a delicate tea cup painted with light swirls of colour and a matching saucer in front of Marie. “There you go, darling. Enjoy the evening and let me know if there’s anything you require.”

“Thank you!” Marie exclaimed and tried the tea. “Oooo, this is good.”

Alexandra smiled, picked up her drink from the bar and turned to survey the room and the patrons lounging there.

A Night On The Town: Introducing Colette Nagin

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and fellow freaks, allow me to introduce your humble hostess: Colette Nagin. Much of her life's story is unknown to her troupe, but her loyalty to them is as tangible as the silk of her corsets--to a select few, of course. And her troupe is quite carefully selected, each member handpicked for their many talents... only some of which are shown off in the three rings. Known to the public simply as Auréle or le Conquérant, she has been conquering audiences across Eastern Europe and Great Britain for almost six years. The Cirque now returns to her Native France, and she to the origins of her most troubling memories.

********

"Another, Asmodeus? Of the same wine?" Colette rested her hand on the back of the sofa, giving the magician a small smile. "I thought you would be bored of it already; your tastes change so often."

She stepped around the couch and sat across the table from him, leaning tiredly against the arm rest. The show had gone well. The newest acrobat, little Mary, was doing quite well, and what she lacked in experience she made up in enthusiasm by far. She was a noble addition to their little crowd, and the audience's adoration for the troupe as a whole was undeniable. The show had not sold out; it was only their first night in town, after all, but she had seen a few famous nobles in the seats, and she was sure their name would spread. Tomorrow, the seats would surely be full.

Colette adjusted her skirts, crossing her knees and glancing around the place. Her little family must be about town tonight, enjoying themselves and reveling in their individual successes. She would not be surprised if Marguerite were in this very establishment, though her tastes varied slightly from those of the mage before her.

Colette's own tastes were even more subdued. Onstage, she had a brash and winning smile, a dazzlingly mad spirit that held spectators' attention like no other. Offstage, the weariness she felt seemed to be compounding, creeping up on her and staking to her the campsite like one of the lions that sometimes could be heard roaring in boredom after the show tent had emptied for the night.

It wasn't often that she ventured into the town they were visiting, more often preferring the comfort of billowing silks and worn, soft leather. She felt like a stranger in her own hometown--not that any of her troupe knew this stop was unlike their previous ones. She was a Frenchwoman, of course, from her name to her accent to her very personality--not to mention her fondness of croissants and thin cigarettes--but that they were walking the same streets she had fled in childhood? Her new family was blissfully ignorant that her cast-off one still resided here.

And with any luck, it would stay that way.

"We earned a pretty penny tonight, clever friend. Indulge in a finer wine, at my expense--if I may join you in the drinking."

A Night on the Town: Competition?!

Marie recoiled a bit, both at the sketchy secret sliding door and the mention of other acrobats. Twin acrobats, no less! That sounded impressive. Marie was rather new to this, and the thought of competing with twin acrobats turning all kinds of tricks over each other made her stomach jump. She followed Marguerite down the stairs, skipping every other one with a little hop-skip of nervous energy.

"Pst," she whispered, tugging at one of Alexandra's myriad scarfs. "Who're the bird brains? Are they new?" She thought it a clever joke - Circus of the Swallow. Bird brains. Haha. As long as the stupid twin's didn't fly through the air like their namesake. She pulled off her cloak, adjusting her own rosette as she handed it to Antoine, hands fluttering from her necklace to smooth the patchwork petals of her skirt. She swayed back and forth agitatedly, still wired from the night's performance, the music and haze of smoke making her head foggy. A drink was most certainly in order.

A Night on the Town: The Den

Antoine led the ladies into a small room, furnished with dark wood chairs and a small table strewn with papers and the occasional candle stub. The walls were paneled, and Marguerite could smell licorice and smoke coming from the far corner of the room.

“Please pardon the mess, ladies. It has been quite a busy time here,” Antoine said. He shuffled about the floor, tapping his foot every few steps.

“Busy times tend to bring news,” Marguerite said. “And a little more to your left, my dear.”

Antoine stepped to his left and tapped. The wood clicked and the adjacent wall panels in the corner of the room opened.

“Ah! You know your den well. Ladies, down these stairs lies the finest range of vices you will find in this city. And the news, Marguerite – well, let me say that our crowds have turned this den into a veritable circus. Even now we have a pair of fine, twin acrobats turning all kinds of tricks over each other.”

Marguerite raised an eyebrow. Cirque de la Vapeur had its share of acrobats, but they were not twins. By now Antoine had led the ladies through the panel doors, which closed behind them, and down a dimly lit spiral staircase. Music drifted from the den, which still lay hidden behind a velvet curtain.

“Really? Antoine you make it sound as though some strangers are in town. What of your news?”

“There are, in fact, two circuses in town. Cirque de la Vapeur arrived last week, and I believe opened their show tonight. Then, just this afternoon, Cirque de la Hirondelle appeared.”

Antoine stopped and turned to face the ladies, standing between them and the curtain. He looked at Marguerite, then at her companions.

“Your cloaks, Mademoiselles?”

Marguerite smiled. As she removed her cloak, a rosette glimmered at her throat. Antoine’s eyes widened at the emblem of Cirque de la Vapeur, and he studied Marie and Alexandra closer as he took their cloaks and opened the curtain.

A Night on the Town: Introducing Alexandra Arista

Good evening and may the stars shine kindly on you, my friends. Let me introduce myself: I am Alexandra Arista, the fortune teller of Cirque de la Vapeur. I have been with the circus for 5 years and we have gained considerable fame through the years, due to the troupe’s considerable talents and my uncannily accurate predictions. Now, you may ask me: do I actually see visions of the future in my tea leaves and crystal ball? As for that, you’ll just have to wait and see.

*********

Alexandra stepped carefully across the rough cobbles as she followed Marguerite through the streets to the opium den. While she had her own particular vices, usually indulging in the Green Fairy, she hadn’t yet ventured to try opium or “chasing the dragon” as it was sometimes called.

Marie kept close to Alexandra’s side as they walked towards the opium den. She didn’t blame her; despite growing up on the streets she still had much to learn and was quite young compared to the rest of the circus troupe.

As they walked, Alexandra could hear her dress the swish and slither. She had bought the finely woven raw silk on one of the Circus’ rounds through the Moorish Empire. The silk had been dyed a deep gold which glinted and chased away the darkness of the streets. It was the first time Alexandra had worn her new dress out, not wanting to ruin the fine garment. It’s far too expensive to wear just any day, after all, it did take 3 months to make, she told herself. But Alexandra really knew that she hesitated in wearing it because of how deep the neckline was cut and the strategically sheer panels. But tonight’s a perfect night on the town to practice wearing my new dress, she thought to herself as she followed Marguerite through the streets, I just hope we don’t run into Asmodeus tonight, I’m sure he would have some choice comments to say about it.

Marguerite’s knocking on the green door drew her from her thoughts. As they went through the doorway, Alexandra eagerly peered into the semi-darkness of the hallway beyond, wondering what the opium den would hold.

A Night on the Town: Introducing Asmodeus Prodigious

They say that idle hands are the devil’s workshop. I can assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that these hands are rarely idle and would make the angels furious at the things I’ve done with them. I’m in the business of entertaining, of sleight-of-hand; I live by the agility of my fingers. I am Asmodeus Prodigious, purveyor of prestidigitations and parlor tricks, hobby drunk, and admirer of the female form. I’ve been with Vapuer for 2 years, satiating my wanderlust and a mild case of kleptomania. It’s so fascinating what people keep in their pockets; and in their corsets. So sit back, relax, and ignore that feeling near your wallet, and ladies… please wear something complicated.

***

Asmodeus lay back on the sofa and closed his eyes, allowing his tongue to fully enjoy the complex flavors of the sanguine wine now leaving its near invisible marks down the side of the glass poised leisurely in his hand. Ah, wine, he mused, another reason in favor of my relocation to France. You see, for all its empire building, and technical advances, and war-making prowess, Asmodeus felt Britain was severely lacking in one of the most important aspects of any great civilization: fermented fruit; more precisely, grapes. All the chaps back in London can keep their lagers and stouts; s’like funny tea, gone past its prime. Here there’s wine, with such variety, texture, flavor; so many bottles and, sadly, so little precious time. He gazed at his glass with a Cheshire cat smile, and took another long sip.
The light in the windows slowly waned, as dusk crawled its way into the streets and alleyways. The outside air was filling with sound as fast as the bars and houses of ill-repute. Darkness descending and Asmodeus felt it like an oppressive weight. He reached into the pocket of his purple tailcoat, the snakeskin in terrible conflict with the crimson upholstery. The lid of his watch flipped open, and each tick of the hands reminded him of just how early he had arrived. He never really enjoyed the opium den all that much. It was not really his vice, and seducing women not in a drug-induced haze was so much more rewarding to his ego.
Sighing, Asmodeus returned his watch to its pocket, sat up, and poured himself another glass. He held it up to the light, and smiled. “Another Cotes du Rhone, please?”

A Night on the Town: Introducing Mary Q Contrary

Hello there! I'm Miss Mary Q Contrary, acrobat extraorinare, or as extraordinary as one can be on one's first tour since being promoted from Circus Lackey.

------

Marie fidgeted ceaselessly as Marguerite led them to her seedy opium den: Fiddling with her cloak, hopping deliberately over the cracks between cobblestones, peering every which way at the unfamiliar buildings. It wasn't that she disliked opium dens: Having spent all her adolescence in the circus, she had a well-developed appreciation for all manner of vices. But she had a hard time sitting still on the best of days, and her mind was still racing from their show earlier that night.

What a show! She'd performed her routine before, of course, but this was the largest town they'd stopped in since she'd joined the show, and her heart had nearly pounded right out of her chest at the sound of the crowd while she had waited for her cue. To be out flying in front of all those people, instead of waiting backstage and cleaning up after Marguerite's disturbing little creatures!

And from such bright lights and color and excitement to this spooky den! Marie bounced nervously, sticking close to Alexandra's side as she followed them inside, her mind still spinning with the roar of the crowd.