Fainaru Circus -- Chapter Four

I peek around the edge of the barrel, crouched over like a statue in front of a manor. I don't see Joker, but I hear him. With a few more glances left and right, I bolt across the path and dive under the flap of a tent. 

Lith looks up, and smiles. "Playing a game?" She asks softly, and my eyes drift to the thick blue scarf that covers her neck. It might be cold, but Lith has always been sort of infamous for never wearing anything to protect herself from the cold, since she's strangely durable against it. The other members were wondering if she had come down with something, or if it was a new fashion statement--Lith was fond of those--but for me it only drove home what Vical had told me.

Joker had changed.

"Well, you could say that if you wanted to." I smile, crawling frantically across the ground when I hear Joker's voice, even louder than before. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lith flinch, staring at me. Has she figured out who I'm hiding from? I haven't really told anyone.

"When you disappeared the other day..." Lith starts as I put one leg into an empty crate, and then the next. "What made you run so far? Vical told me you were almost fifteen miles away from both the camp and the town."

I shrug. "I don't remember. I get the feeling there was something I really needed to tell the group--namely Joker--but then I wake up and don't recall a thing." Crouching down, I pull the lid over my head and get comfy.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to wait a really long freakin' time." I sigh, unhappy with the situation. The show was about to start, and Vical told me--well, actually she yelled at me--to keep out of sight. Just in case Joker tried to ask for anything if he caught sight of me. She said she was 'assessing the situation for negatives'. I think that means she's checking things out. 

Lith frowns a bit, confused. "And you're hiding in my tent because...?"

"The persona I'm hiding from is avoiding you." I whisper, snuggling into the darkness of the crate. Oh! There's blankets in here. How comfortable...

"Joker?"

Any sleepiness fades quickly. Dang, she guessed that fast. Well, no she didn't. No one avoids Lith--if anything, it's the opposite--so anyone avoiding her at all is a rare occurrence. I should have thought of that. Too late now, though. 

I peek up out of the box to look at her. She stares back, but I can't read her face. She might be ticked; I ain't really seen her like that yet, so I wouldn't know. We've always sort of just... drifted from each other, I suppose. A voice in our heads must be telling us quietly that we wouldn't get along. Either that, or she was too full of herself until now.

"Well... yeah, a little bit, I guess."

"You're hiding from Joker... a little bit. You guess." Lith raises an eyebrow. I smile, and dip back into the box. 

Cursing under my breath, i try and figure out how to diffuse an awkward situation that's ripping over the distant metaphorical hillside like a raging storm. "Sort of."

"Why?"

"Vical told me to." The words pop out like baby jellybeans before I can snatch them up and stuff them back inside of my throat. 

I can almost feel Lith's gears turning in her head. They haven't been used in a while or something, because i can actually hear them creaking, sort of like leather...

I hear the tent flap open, and almost faint when I hear Joker's voice. "Lith, are you feeling alright? Tammy was asking if you were still up for the act with the wolves. She mentioned that it was a little intense, and was worried you wouldn't be able to finish it after all."

"Why didn't you ask me three days ago, after it happened?" I've never heard Lith so stern and cold, and I'm all mixed up about it. I'm partly happy because, hey, she can express an emotion besides arrogance! But I feel scared because Joker made her talk that way. I just feel like I've known Joker all my life, but never really knew him. It's a strange feeling, and it's making me question a lot of things. Including my apprenticeship to him.

There's a long stretch of silence between the two of them. "I'll take that as a refusal?"

I hear Lith jump up--at least I hope it's Lith. I don't want to see Joker choke somebody first-hand--and I hear a slapping noise. I'm wondering if this aching curiosity is what Vical was feeling when she was in the chest. She told me a little bit about it, but wasn't much of a talker. Like her, I give into temptation and peek out of the crate. 

I'm a little too excited, though, and I guess I pop up to far. The crate lid slides off of my throbbing skull and hits the floor with the loudest freakin' thud I've ever had the misfortune to hear. I look at the crate lid on the ground, standing up out of instinct, feeling the panic worms wiggle around in my gut. Then I look up and see Lith and Joker staring at me.

Well, now I know what the sound was from. Joker has a red marking on his right cheek in the perfect shape of Lith's hand, with the outline of her rings and everything.

Joker looks at me, I look at Joker. Joker keeps staring, so I glance at Lith for help. She makes a movement with her mouth, and I realize that my jaw has dropped and staid there, all heavy and slack. I can't breathe; Joker opens his mouth to say something, and I break.

Screaming at the top of my lungs--I sound right squeaky, now that I'm listening--I kick the crate at Joker. Lith leaps to one side, angry at me for putting her in the crossfire, and Joker ducks, running straight for me. My stomach drops like I just fell off a mountain, and the scream gets caught in my throat. 

I scramble across the ground in a similar fashion to a crab on the beach, ducking under the tent, my heart pounding against my chest. Shoot, now it feels like it's in my throat! What if I accidentally spit it out?! Is that even medically possible? Well, if I do, I'll have to waste time running back to get it off the ground. I wonder how long you can live without it. Probably not long, I'm thinking.

I feel Joker's hand wrap around my ankle as I claw at escape, and the terror hits me so hard my vision experiences a black-out. I kick and holler, but that ain't working, so I go completely limp. Joker once told me that if I was in town and someone tried to kidnap me, I could tire them out by becoming dead weight. I bet he's regretting teaching me that now.

He huffs, and I feel sweat on his palms as he jerks at my leg, but he keeps pulling. Meanwhile, I think my face just smeared against some of Princer's--one of our horses--after-the-fact businesses. It smells like... well, what it is. Crap. I gag, and my dead weight turns into light weight as I wipe the blackening stuff off. Oh, mercy; I'd rather be strangled. Chunk this, I'm going back to Joker to nab his kerchief. 

He tugs me back into the tent, doesn't say anything about the... mess. I'll just say mess... on my face--but he does hand me a towel, bless him--and throws me over his shoulder. It reminds me of when I was little and he used to do that to me. Of course, those were different circumstances. Then, I was evading bath time and running butt-naked around the camp, giggling when every member of the circus chipped in to get me into the tub before I froze to death or got taken by a wild animal. I was four, so no one can judge me there!

I remember why I was running in the first place; I had forgotten in the midst of wiping a horse's dung off of my face. I'm about to start kicking when I hear Joker chuckle. He turns, pinches my nose, and uses it as a handle to shake my face. "Naked baby butt," he smiles, and a snort with laughter. He remembers, too.

"I ain't takin' no bath!" I squeal, and he grips me tighter over his shoulder. 

"No running, now," he grunts. "You're heavier than you used to be."

I think about struggling just to spite him. Then I inhale. "Aww... actually, I sort of want a bath now." I grin, and he gives me a thumbs-up.

"Good, because I have a ring to master over; it's best to perform as best you can before you can no longer perform at all."

I nod, knowing Joker shall be Joker--I never get half of what he's saying, really--and think about what I'm gonna tell Vical. I figure Joker's alright now, so I should be okay, so long as she don't flare up in one of her tempers.

Then again... we're talking about Vical. Fat chance of that.

*****

I reach a hand out, feeling for the railing to the stairs. I've lived here for ages, and I still can't make my way around as if I had sight. Most people can, I hear. Or at least I used to.

Heading down from one platform to the next--each circular area surrounding the one before it, getting steadily larger as one proceeds, helps to keep an equilibrium for me in an already confusing place. I cross one last platform, feeling the silver, cold, and pale crystal that my palace is made up of. Though I may feel my surroundings, and the emotions contained, I may no longer hear, see, nor speak.

Without anyone to talk to, the only thing I miss is sight. But even then, I can still feel the images. I can touch the sounds. I can push the words from my mind and project them so that they are audible to others. Honestly, taking away two senses and a commonly used ability wasn't much use if they're going to let me use them all in an indirect way anyways.

I walk over to the edge of the second-from-center platform, touching the silver railing as I reach my left hand out. My fingers touch the cool surface of a vertical pool of water, about an inch thick, that forever falls in area about the size of half my frail body. That isn't complimenting it much, is it?

I conjure up her face, with her red eyes and dark hair, soft features and cold gaze. I push the image, and feel the water jolt.

After a few moments, I feel the familiar voice as the emotion dances around me, amplified through the crystalline water. "Yes?"

The angelic lightness to her voice--almost like an airy tide--soothes me. And yet... I do not know what what stressed my mind in the first place. Maybe it was just cramped in here, after so long without exploring the other rooms. "I wanted to see how you were doing." I feel my voice exit my body as it projects; I do not know where the sound comes from, since I do not move my lips.

"What a strange reason for you to call," she laughs, but I feel the aching tiredness that claws at her. "There have been more deaths than usual."

She states it as a question, almost. I let my mind drift slightly, feeling the water as it trickled through funnels around the room. The whispering of illuminated, ancient trees as they unfurled their leaves and blooms to accept the moisture in the air made me hungry for some reason. Hungry for what...? For my sight? For my senses? "Many people now choose to waste the Paths before them, choosing instead a short Path with unbound pleasure, but irreversible consequences."

"I know," there's a 'but' hanging from the edge of her mouth, I know it. "I haven't seen any human realm for a while."

She says it so offhandedly, I feel instantly suspicious. "You've had no reason."

"Death oft denies the laws of reason," she purrs, and I sigh inwardly. Such beautiful come-backs... or perhaps I just revel in the conversation.

"But shall forever bow to Fate." I kill the attempted loophole before it is even born, determined to keep her in line.

"To write the poetry, you must write the line; your words to yours, and mine to mine."

I know the game she's trying to play, so I parry it. "Either you feel the cold, or embrace the warm; it's natural to fight the storm; however, remember the duties you perform; take the time, or face the scorn."

She huffs, and I know I've won. "You have far too long to think up these things."

"I work too." I don't know why I feel hurt, but I sense she feels it too.

"I know," she whispers, and I feel her hand touch the water. Though her own hand touches a vertical pool in her own realm, we still feel the warmth, and we both bask in it. Neither Death nor Fate, Life nor Time may ever console themselves in the direct company of another. Forever separated, forever focused. 

I drop my hand, and her image fades from the pool, my mind, and the air around me. I fall to my knees and grip the back of my head. I feel my consciousness fading as I fall to the left, hitting the floor with a dull thud. I cling to her image, even as it is pulled away from me. This emotion... I think I feel...

Alone. So, so alone.