((Continued from here: viewtopic.php?f=4&t=667))

The familiar morning Circus sounds never came.

The boys weren't fighting with each other. Winslow wasn't laughing at his jokes. Eriyenna wasn't tuning instruments or singing. Calli wasn't bouncing around the camp. Clarabelle wasn't snarling for breakfast. There were no knives being thrown or whips snapping. It was, actually, quiet.

Tristaan spent a few groggy moments confused and concerned, but only a few. A blur of events passed behind his eyelids, and he stirred with mixed memories. Soft breathing and the warm touch of someone else's skin pleasantly reminded him of just how not anywhere near the Circus he was ... Unfortunately, that probably meant two things: 1) he should be there, and 2) someone would eventually notice he was missing.

With a yawn the passive opened his eyes and moved to embrace the witch beside him, kissing her shoulder as he spoke softly, "Mornin's are so much nicer when there's a beautiful woman such as yourself in them ... and no chroven."

Sarinah smiled, keeping her eyes shut. He was still there! Her heart lept and she sighed happily.

"Ye ent the only one who can say that, balach." She opened her eyes and make a face, then rolled on her back to lay in his arms facing his face, holding the sheet up over her naked chest.

"Chroven? That's some interesting waking up!" The dancer laughed. Looking at him, she stroked his cheek and kissed him lightly, still smiling as she lay back down.

"Thank you for being here Tristaan. I mean that." She began to think about clothes, wondering exactly where they were, but to happily peaceful to move.

"Oes ... it takes some gettin' used to. I'll admit it's not somethin' I'll miss." He smirked, referring to the Clarabelle, turning to look at the woman thoughtfully.


The passive arched a slim eyebrow curiously, his voice almost coy, "An' at this hour, after all night with you ... where would I be? Certainly not joggin' laps 'round Vienda."

He softened a little, not completely inept at reading between the lines, face close to hers, meeting the witch's gaze, "You sound as though you were expectin' me to leave ... Is that somethin' you've had t'get used to?" Do I come across that way? Clock, I hope not.

The dancer chuckled and shook her head, imagining him doing just that. It seemed altogether amusing.



The door inside creaked a little, enough to let the memory creep in. She mentally slammed it shut and looked down at the sheet, fiddling with the edge. It was time to say something, to someone. The witch only hoped this was the right way to say it.

"There was a man, a wick. And I..we developed something. He was the first man in four years as Cook's girl to treat me like a person and not just a toy. I think...I think I loved him. And he said he loved me..but...in the morning he was gone, left just a rose. I haven't seen him since. No letters, no messages to let me know he is okay. Just vanished. I felt...so used but I couldn't admit to myself he was gone." She shook her head.

"I was a mess for ages. That night in the B&B when I met you was the first time I felt happy in weeks. Then last night, I...I was just so scared that I would wake up and you would be gone too. I don't think my heart could have taken that again." Her chocolate eyes couldn't meet his, worried the admittion make her look like she was just a silly girl, a silly easy girl. Rovin had hurt her so much, it was hard to let him go. But with Tristaan, she could. The passive didn't remind her off him, and when she was with him, she couldn't care less if she saw that wick again.

((zomg. so many words; sorry. lots of thinkin' and not a lot of speakin'. eep.))

Tristaan listened carefully without any hint of judgment on his aristocratic features. He reached up to stroke her hair while she spoke, mostly to be comforting but also because it was soft. He really wasn't sure what to say to such an admission. Part of him wanted to happily proclaim that it was one man's loss, but he was sensitive enough to understand that things ran a little deeper than that, especially for Sarinah.


The passive sighed, warmed by the compliment while at the same time saddened by the circumstances that brought the comparison. He had his fair share of physical scars, visible yet not necessarily marring, yet even he could admit that wounds of the heart always ran deeper than any of the flesh.

He was incapable of speaking from experience, however, having spent most of his life purposely isolated and distant; and he struggled briefly over a response to the dancer. Despite the fact that he found friendliness easy, he was rather guarded when it came to actual friends ... let alone anything even potentially more meaningful. There were many things he had not allowed for himself, mostly out of fear and an ingrained caution over his race, and for whatever reason he had felt compelled to throw them all to the wind in a rather short period of time. Perhaps the choice to travel back here had been a little more cathartic than he realized. Or maybe it was just easier to pretend to be invulnerable when you made a living by your sword.

Moving his hand from her hair to lift her chin in an attempt to meet her gaze, Tristaan smiled gently and tried very hard to choose his words carefully, trying not to sound as chagrined as he suddenly felt in her presence, "I'm sorry ... I wish I had somethin' a little more t'say than that, but ..."

The rest of his words were weighted but jumbled, and it was obvious that he didn't want to finish the sentences he started, mostly because he felt that he couldn't find anything comforting to say. Her words made him see just how isolated he was and how vulnerable he had allowed himself to be in only one evening,

"I've never ..."
I've never allowed myself the luxury of feelings for someone, anyone, let alone all the things I have shared with you. Granted, not everything was voluntary.

"I don't ..."
I don't let such things happen, mostly because I've always known I'm dangerous, but also because I'm afraid so much is pointless if I'm still not entirely free to live as I please.

"I'm not one to ..."
I'm not one to talk, really.

He paused – choosing words carefully was totally not working in his favor. He had no idea what to say that wouldn't keep him from admitting too much, even if he wanted to make things better.

Tristaan suddenly felt exposed, but not in the more obvious sense of the moment, "I'm sorry you were hurt that way. Did ... did I take advantage of that?"

She smiled at his compassionate touch and the look on his face, and listen as he stumbled for something to say.



The dancer's heart just about melted and she reached up to hold his face, kissing him again.

"No, no you didn't. At all." She smiled and kissed him one last time before resting her arms above her head and sighing.

"Where will you go from here?" The black haired woman asked in a light tone, wanting to rid the room from the sad, somber emotions. In all this craziness she had remembered something she had heard.

"Have you heard anything of these rumors that the Seventen have been chasing wicks out of Vienda? One of the girls spoke about it maybe two days ago. I have a feeling I am going to be leaving as soon as I can. Old Rose." She was thinking slightly out loud.

Tristaan couldn't help but grin warmly, relieved.


"Hmm. Well ..." He sat up to stretch thoughtfully; the faded, crisscrossed scars across his back evidence of his childhood of non-indentured labor. Curiously enough, there were a smattering of fresh scars, some still pink but not too new, some perhaps from a sword fight or a stabbing, and a single unmistakable bullet wound. He rubbed his neck as if assessing the previous evening's damage and looked over his shoulder and through his hair at the dancer with a crooked smile as she continued speaking.


"Oes ... But only in passin'. I think we're hopin' it ent bad for business."

He paused, "As for me, I've got some other work t'do for a time after the Circus – headin' to the Harbor an' back with a doctor to - um - er - pick up medicine he can't seem to - uh - find here in Vienda. Could be a few day's work, could be a week or two. It depends on the complications." And by the tone of his voice, the passive implied that picking up the medicine meant something a lot less legal and that complications were definitely not as simple as perhaps getting lost along the way, "Round trip or not, I'll end up back in th'Harbor. Vienda ent my kinda town."

He chuckled, knowing he should be less mysterious. Leaning back on an elbow to look at Sarinah, he rested his other hand on her stomach, "I should pro'lly ... explain that."

He smirked from under some dark hair still in his face with his grey eyes mischievous; it was a strange mixture of roguishness and careful consideration. He decided speaking plainly was the better part of valor for the moment regardless of how completely unromantic Tristaan considered his current career choice, "I hope it ent too shatterin' of your thoughts of me t'admit that I make a livin' hirin' out my talents with a sword."

Running a hand lightly over his scarred back, Sarinah's brow furrowed a little. That sounded awfully dangerous. She could hear the tones in his voice. It was more than medicine he was getting.



She lay her arm back above her head and looked into his mischievous eyes. He suddenly seemed so different, so assured in a sort of chastised kind of way.



She moved her arms to rest on her elbows, sheet precariously staying on her naked top half.

"What? Your a henchman?" Her lips pulled into a suddenly foxish grin.

"Ye might be of service to me in Old Rose, kov." The dancer said cheekily, with a wink. She was having an idea.

Tristaan scoffed in mock offense, clearing his throat and leaning forward, hovering near the woman's face with a tone of playful authority, "Last time I checked, I ent ever been anyone's henchman." He grinned at her, "I believe the proper word you're searchin' for is swordsman. An' a good one, mujo ma."

He refrained from throwing in a comment that he was confident things would've gone differently the night before had he not left his sword at the Circus so as keep from attracting unwanted attention; mostly because he wasn't sure if it was really anything worth regretting anymore.


The passive chuckled, sliding his free hand slowly over and down from her stomach to pull her closer still by her waist. While he had already formed a guess to the nature of her statement, he knew it would be more fun to play along. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but couldn't resist a hint of suggestive humor in his tone of voice, "Y'think so? What kind of service would you be interested in from th'likes'o'me, hmm?"

Her devious grin matched his, and she got a little thrill out of the way he spoke. So, he was a swordsman. You took what you could in this world. His arm snaked around her and pulled her closer to him, and what little hold the sheet had on her bare breasts was lost. She didn't mind, cuddling close so they were skin to skin.



The dancer felt a rush of heat at his tone and words, memories from the night before reminding the brunette that he could definitely perform many excellent services. Shivering deliciously, she giggled.

"Ah kov, your going to get yourself in trouble. But really, I am going to start a business in old rose, and its going to need muscle. Ye are benny, at many things, and I think you would be useful. I would pay you of course. Ent gonna hire you for free." Her finger traced a line up and down his arm softly as she spoke.

Tristaan pretended to be thoughtful, all be it poorly, purposefully distracted by the warmth of their closeness, "This need for muscle ..." He grinned, emphasizing the word with only the slightest movement of his body against hers and trying not to laugh, "Would have somethin' t'do with what we were discussin' last night before we were so rudely interrupted by unsavory former customers, oes? I think I can understand where you're goin', considerin' there's plenty of land-starved kovs fresh off boats who may not remember their brains from a bucket in th'face of somethin' lovely."

The passive paused to kiss the dancer lightly, as if making his point about loveliness required it, "I'm sure we can work somethin' out in a business-like way ... What, exactly, are you thinkin' my uses are for such a place?"

The playful dancer giggled and nodded again. He was definitely on the ball with that one. Until the populace at Old Rose, and the guests from abroad, learnt that it wasn't a brothel, they would have issues. Hopefully the Bad Brothers would see the benefits in a place like hers. If she had a VIP room or two with personal waitresses, private curtained area, full balcony view of the stage, bar..possibly an opium booth...maybe if she was to introduce that the Brothers would be more inclined to help rather than hinder her business.



She loved the feel of his lips on hers, and the fact that they both lay naked in the bed skin against skin at it wasn't awkward or overtly sexual. It was nice. Of course, the thought of him and her...well...it was in her mind. But she was happy to just lay cuddled and nude.

"I would need you to be a presence. If the patrons see you around, and know your there to protect the girls, it may discourage them. And if something does happen, I would need you to throw the trouble starters out. I plan on hiring more men for the job. But I need a leader, someone who can keep the hired men inline as well as help out." Her brown eyes looked into his as she spoke, drinking in his features. It was premature to say "I love you" to him, but she knew that he made her heart sing.

Tristaan considered both Sarinah and her words thoughtfully, smiling softly. It was the offer of something resembling stable employment, which was a slightly intimidating concept; but it was also an invitation with feelings attached, which was something totally unexpected. Well, truth be told, the past thirty or so hours had been very, very full of unexpected things.

He exhaled slowly, grey eyes meeting the dancer's with a bit of seriousness, his heart really not wanting to put the beautiful witch in any more danger than he'd felt he already had, "You'd trust me to do that? Even though you know what I'm capable of should somethin' go wrong?" The passive wasn't even sure what really happened, but was a little too interested in enjoying the comfort of the moment to ask for details about the effects of his diablerie.

Sarinah ran her hand down his arm to lace her fingers in his own, squeezing it and bringing it to her lips. She kissed the palm gently and rested it on her heart.

"I trust ye with my life, kov. Crazy mind-melting spell and all. If something goes that wrong, then it would be benny if it happened again. Give the patrons an idea that you are not to be messed with. Besides, it didn't actually hurt anyone...not...in the physical sense." Her gaze faltered, but then it was back and she was kissing him again.

"Benny, eh?"

No one had ever described what he had been raised to consider a curse or a defect in the way Sarinah had; no one had told him it could be an asset instead of a burden. It made him feel light-headed and strange, but in a good way, as if someone was lifting something heavy from his from his heart, one piece at a time.

Tristaan felt his pulse race at her touch as well as her words, swiftly losing his resolve to return to the Circus in anything close to a timely manner. His curiosity about what happened wasn't fading, however, and he spoke quietly in between a few lingering kisses, "So ... besides the big guy ... tryin' to kill me ... no one else ... was hurt?"

The passive paused in his increasingly passionate attentions, hovering close enough that his lips brushed her face, "I'd ask ... what happened t'you or to what you saw ... but I'd rather not force you to tell me somethin' unpleasant."

Sarinah shook her head, enjoying the attention he was giving her. She didn't recall anyone else getting hurt.



She closed her eyes as his breath tickled her face, shivering a little. Recalling the incident clearly, she opened her eyes again and smiled.

"It wasn't unpleasant. I recalled my childhood, I mean, I could smell it all so vividly. And I was so happy, I was home and had never even heard of Cooks. And then...it was gone. I just felt...cut off...lonely. But I was never hurt. Its like my mind went on holiday." The brunette said softly, tilting her head to kiss his jaw and neck, trying to get his mind off it. She felt good that she had told him, but at the same time didn't want it to be detrimental.

"Hmmm." The passive managed to hum thoughtfully, mostly just making a noise through his nose as he breathed deeply and closed his eyes, "Interestin' ... I s'pose I kinda' ruined my chances of bein' a regular at th'B&B, though ...." He mostly mumbled, lightly sliding his hand from over her heart and in a more distracting direction, changing the subject, "You ent in a particular hurry to send me back to the Circus, are you ...?"

Make a soft approving sound, the dancer kissed her way back to his mouth and sighed.

"Ne kov, not at all." She said distractedly, her whole demeanor changing from comforting to aroused. His hand tickled as it moved and she loved it. Reaching up, she ran her hands over his shoulders, feeling every scar under her sensitive fingertips.

"Good ..." He grinned broadly, knowing eventually he'd have to go be useful in a less personal capacity, but unwilling to rush away from the lovely witch who soon found herself underneath him again, "I wouldn't want t'leave without some breakfast first ..."

((Annnnnd ... oops. I did it again. FTB. Sorry, kids. ))

((I'm a dork anted to have a chance to say, "Bye ... see you at the Circus. Yay!" Hahaha.))

...

--

"You know if things get plum moony in town, rosh, you're welcome t'come find me at the Circus. I'm sure Calli'd be glad t'see you, an' everyone else is pretty benny." Tristaan sat on the edge of the bed, half-dressed, staring despondently at his shirt and hesitating to put it on, slightly worried about the attention it would attract in the daylight on the walk back outside of town, "I'd rather know you're safe – with me – than have't'worry what laoso mess is goin' on 'round on the streets ... even for a few days."

Sarinah had wrapped herself in a dressing robe, not needing to get dressed yet anyway. She had work tonight. And for the first time in weeks, she felt alive again. Walking over as she tied her hair up into a high ponytail, she smiled at him.

"That ent a bad idea, balach. We'll see how it goes. I have work and sleep to catch up on, but I'll be around to see ye for sure. I don't think I could stay away."



Stopping beside him, she put a gentle hand on his face, smiling down at him.

"If ye don't stop this nanabo talk, I don't think you'll ever get back to the circus." She teased. Taking his shirt out of his hands, she thumbed the blood and tears thoughtfully.

"You can't go out in this Tristaan. Wait here for a moment." Handing it back, she made her way to the door and opened it, walking out. Through the open door Tristaan should have been able to hear a soft knocking, some quiet discussion between two women then a silence. Minutes later Sarinah returned with a tan coloured long sleeve shirt that laced slightly at the front. She handed it to the passive.

"Here you go, one of the girls has a stash of clothing left behind by some of the flightier patrons. I think this should fit you."

The passive laughed, a broad smile spreading across his face as he looked up from his shirt as she spoke. He could live with that.


Feigning innocence and arching a slim eyebrow, he silently mouthed the words 'What circus?' as he handed over his shirt, grey eyes mischievous.

Tristaan watched and waited as Sarinah walked out, curious but not objecting. He listened to the voices, taking some time to glance around the room instead of stare at his shirt, slowly, carefully letting everything sink in. He had no idea where to begin processing, so eventful had the past ten houses or so had been. He sighed, still smiling faintly, his heart light and heavy all at the same time. It was going to be a long, thoughtful walk back to the Circus, that was for sure.


With a chuckle, he stood up from the edge of the bed and accepted the shirt, holding it up against his chest as if modeling jokingly before putting it on, "Flightier, huh? I s'pose I'll have t'settle for fittin' instead of suitin'." He smirked playfully, not ungrateful as much as amused at the thought of some collection of abandoned clothes here of all places.

"Mujo ma to you and your thoughtful friend," The passive added with a kiss, raising a hand to brush the witch's face lightly, "I'm sure I'll be quite the conversation piece today ... showin' up a day late in someone else's shirt. I'll just have't change the subject t'you all day long instead."

((thanks for the best tek word evar usage, shoena. only, all i can think of is bananas. go figure.))

The black haired woman grinned and accepted the kiss with a happy mmm. Crossing her arms, she watched him almost dreamily. It all just felt to good to be true. Sighing, she felt a little sad to see him walk out. Even knowing she would see him again soon, she still felt a loss. Shaking it off, she cocked a hip and eyed him critically.

"I don't know how you did it, but you did it well." She said cryptically.

Tristaan did his best to not look confused, smile still on his face, but he did pause a moment. He let his eyes wander over the dancer appreciatively with a hint of curiosity, as if somehow it held the answer to her mysterious statement. Though she did not, the passive still couldn't help but feel as though the lovely witch had found some way of becoming a solution to a problem he never realized he had.

Arching an eyebrow, he gave into not knowing, "What'd I do?"

((*can finally play along* Thanks for the explanation of this one! Heehee. ))

The brunette smirked at his confusion, walking over to the dresser slowly and picking up the dried rose. Smelling it once, she opened the top drawer and dropped it in, closing it tight. Turning back to him, she lent on the table casually, arms propping her from behind.

"Stole my heart." She said quietly, her face soft and smiling.