Tristaan had left the doctor's office slightly less burdened. It was a strange relief to have had the opportunity to share the story of his diablerie with someone else, despite Ivan's involvement in the aftermath and unusual line of questioning. The interruption by the young galdori woman from the bakery in Brunnhold and the amusing awkwardness that ensued between herself and the doctor only served to remind him of a certain lovely witch – only more pleasantly than awkwardly.

While his first trip towards Mulm's had been much less of a leisurely walk under much different circumstances, at least the passive had not been armed. For some reason, he felt a little strange with his sword over his shoulder and Smirk in his hat, chirruping at passers-by because the whice thought he should. It was perhaps an altogether different presentation than before, but certainly no less himself.

The sun had set behind the city walls and it was easy to find where he was headed by the lights more than any other landmark.

Pausing before he got too close, Tristaan removed his hat, lifting his little multi-colored whice in his other hand, speaking to the thing like he understood perfectly, "Look, this prolly ent your kinda place. There's gonna be too many shiny objects or somethin', so you're gonna have t'either stay ... or go back to th' Circus. Your choice, Smirk."

The bird cocked its head to one side, listening or thinking or both. Ruffling its feathers and blinking, the runt alighted from the man's hand to find a sign to sit on, indicating that his tiny brain had decided to stay and wait, probably to harass passersby or find something to eat.

Hoping not to cause any trouble, Tristaan entered the establishment with what smoothly concealed caution he could muster. Pausing once inside, he tried not to appear as though he was robbing the place, glancing around with a mixture of curiosity and purpose. At least he knew who he was looking for.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=lEA1HR2qCwI - reminded me of sarinah. PGR

Sarinah wasn't really into it tonight. She twirled and spun, climbed up and made her moves, but it was all a routine for these kensers. In her head, she could see lights, music, cheering. It was more entertaining, more exciting. She scissor kicked into the air, holding the pole, reached up with her legs to grab onto it, then turned so she spun around it.



Looking up as she spun she saw a familiar sillouette walk into the Place. Pulling her self up, she sat high up on the pole and squinted. Then with a big grin suddenly the dance didn't seem quite as purposeless. With a renewed enjoyment, she reached down and held onto the pole below her, legs wrapped high around it. Slowly she slid down and did a sort of cartwheel onto the floor. Standing, she took a little run at the pole and twisted her legs behind her so she spun around it as she slid to the floor, where she stopped, breathing hard and looking at him. Standing, she bowed and made her way off stage, where she sauntered over to the man.

"What's an upstanding kov like you doing in a place like this?" She said with a sultry grin, patting herself down with a small towel. The other girls had been watching him a little apprihensivly, it wasn't customary to enter Mulm's armed. Sarinah turned to them and waved a hand.

"It's okay, he's with me. Off with you, chips."

Tristaan really did try not to look entirely stupefied, and he mostly succeeded. Mostly. Hat in his hands, he managed to regain some semblance of nonchalant composure by the time Sarinah approached. At least he remembered to breathe – and smile – even if he couldn't think of anything comprehensible to say right away.


The passive's expression was strangely caught somewhere between apologetic and roguish. He glanced around briefly, hooking a thumb in the strap that held his blade, a little chagrined, "I hope I ent causin' trouble, showin' up like this. I had some business in town an' wanted t'spend th'rest of my free time with ... better company."

He stepped closer with the beginning of a grin, "I seem t'remember someone tellin' me it would be hard t'stay away. I'm here t'prove her correct, so long as she ent too busy, of course."

The dancer shook her head dismissively and smiled. Any trouble he caused was worth it. Besides, she was head of this place when Mulm wasn't around, and she would quell any nay-sayers.




Patting her face lightly, Sarinah looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes intensly focused on his.

"I ent too busy for you, good sir." She said softly. Grabbing his hand, she led him away from the entrance, avoiding the hotpool and taking him to the bar. Leaving him at the front, she slipped behind it and grabbed the Giorgon Whiskey from the shelf. Pouring a glass for herself and the passive, she downed it in one gulp, then smirked at him.

"Now, I have a dilemma Tristaan. See, after all that dancing, I am more horrid than a kenser dropping in summer. I need to bathe, or swim. But I can't leave ye here alone. The girls here...well let's just say I trust you, kov, but not them." Leaning on the wood, she looked at her hands.

"What would you suggest I do?" Her voice was filled with playful humor. There were staff baths upstairs, but it took a lot to fill them. However, there was a place she knew, a little bit away from the Place. It was a small secluded pool, filled by a small tribulary leading off the river. And the water was always refreshingly cool.

"Hmm," The passive's face as one of bemused contemplation as he stared into his glass and leaned against the bar on his elbows. Horrid and kenser dropping were definitely two words he could not bring himself to consider using to describe Sarinah, but he couldn't help but laugh at the dancer's thought process. Bringing his glass to his lips and taking a swig, he studied the woman from over the rim, grey eyes sparkling with mischief.


With a grin already spreading across his face, Tristaan set his glass down and committed to playing along, "Oes," he chuckled, "That's quite th'dilemma indeed. Seems t'me like you have two choices ..." He paused teasingly, taking another drink, sliding his glass between both hands on the bar when finished, "If it ent safe for me here, you'll have t'either send me back to th'Circus early ... or ..."

His grin broadened and he looked up at the dark-haired witch with a hint of slyness, "Or you'll just have't take me with you. You know, for my personal safety an' all."

The brunette put on a serious face, only slightly given away by a little smirk on one side of her mouth.

"Of course. Personal safety." Cracking a grin, she walked back around the bar and called out to a particularly heavyset blonde.

"Caterina, you have the floor till I return." With a nod, she turned and walked past Tristaan.

"This way." She said softly, turning her head to look at him as she swayed, heading to the front door. It would be a nice night for a walk.

The passive finished his drink and replaced his hat in what could only be described as one fluid motion before following after the dancer with a laugh. Slipping past her with a brush of his hand against her arm, he opened the door with a grin, "After you, lovely Sarinah."

As he stepped outside behind her, he added quietly, "You might want t'watch your head." Tristaan lifted a hand to his hat and whistled once, still grinning. There was a faint exact copy of a response, a rustle of wings, and a small blur of multicolored feathers narrowly missed the dark-haired witch's head to land ungracefully on the man's hat.

After a flurry of mixed noises, the runt of a bird seemed to get settled. The whice blinked, fluffing its feathers a little.

"Don't be rude, Smirk. Say somethin' nice to m'lady here."

"Junta!" Said the bird, tilting its head and staring with beady black eyes, "Olio."

"Heh. Opinionated t'night, aren't we?" The passive chuckled and winked, adding with a sly smile, "He does have a larger vocabulary, when it suits him." Stepping closer, he held out an arm for walking together in a gentlemanly fashion, "To where do I have th'pleasure of escortin' you to now? I do hope it ent too dangerous ..."

Sarinah squeaked and put her hands over her head, ducking slightly. Straightening, she looked at the bird.



Smiling politely, the dark haired woman nodded. She wasn't very fond of birds. Every time she'd tried to play with the whice in her tribe, the clocking things either bit her or messed on her. Granted they were a lot bigger than this cute little fellow, but the slight phobia was still there.



Swallowing her irrational fear, she took his arm and grinned.

"I know a place. It's not far from here, nice and quiet." Looking sideways at him, she raised an eyebrow.

"I hope ye can swim kov."

Tristaan noted the surprise and slight discomfort, but only for a moment. He couldn't exactly sit down and have a talk with the whice about manners, even if he could at least remember that not everyone had the same response to small, feathered things.


The passive chuckled, placing his other hand on hers over his arm. He looked thoughtful, as if he really had to remember whether or not he could swim, "I s'pose I can get by well enough. If not, are you offerin' lessons?" He grinned; it was both sheepish and coy, "You'll at least find some way t'revive me if I drown, I hope."

Ensign Sanders was on call that night, wandering around the Dives listlessly, a flash tucked under his armpit and a scarf tied around his neck. He reminded himself to visit the doctor; the head cold wasn't getting any better, and he was no good at healing himself. Nothing interesting had happened for hours now; the streets were empty, bathed in moonlight, and his chrove was getting restless. So he clicked his heels against its scaly hide and urged it forward, determined to at least look productive.

It was then that the young Seventen spied a pair walking down the streets together.

The woman was probably a tumble; she had the look of Cook's about her. While prostitution wasn't exactly illegal, it was the sort of business that turned Sanders' stomach. But the man - that was a wick if he'd ever seen one.

It took the space of a moment to gallop over to them. His chrove reared up on its hind legs as he brought her to a halt; his glaive swung easily around to point at the two. When he felt their fields, he realized he'd had it backwards; no matter.

"Halt," he commanded, his voice hoarse with disuse. He coughed, glaring at Sarinah as though she had cursed him. "In the name of the King, all wicks are commanded to leave the city at once. I must escort you to the border."

Tristaan smelled the chrove before he heard it, more aware of the musky, woodsy odor thanks to all that time at the circus around Clarabelle. Drunken bar patrons were one thing, but Seventen were a decidedly more unfortunate matter. He tensed and turned, almost naturally putting himself between the mounted galdor and the dancer.


The passive did his best not to scowl, managing a straight enough face that was only obviously annoyed. He totally disapproved of the look the Seventen was giving Sarinah, and it was very hard not to let it show. He kept his hand from straying to his blade, choosing instead to keep it where it was on hers, and met the man's gaze steadily.

"Thank you kindly for the reminder. While it may not look like it from where you are, we were, in fact, just on our way out of town."

It was like slipping on an old glove to be speaking more or less out of Tek for the Seventen; one Tristaan hadn't put on in quite some time, "I'm only here to pick up what's mine first," He grinned upwards at the man slyly, enhancing his creative cover story by slipping his arm from witch's to wrap around her waist.

He winked as if emphasizing how harmless the situation really was, "Surely, there's no need for an escort. You must have more important things to do than walk us all the way outside the city."

Sarinah felt cold all over. She'd forgotten about the wick's being thrown out. It felt so isolated and safe at Mulms, she'd just...sort of thought she'd be lucky. Obviously stupid. As Tristaan stepped in front of her, she couldn't help but be flattered



The wick almost did a double take, his speech was completely different. It was...clean? She didn't really like it, the whole thing smacked of fake to her. Is that how he'd talked..before?



Taking her cue from the passive, Sarinah gave the Seventen a smoldering look and winked with a sly smile.

"Ye ent lookin' for a little fun tonight, are ye jent?" Emphasizing her point, she traced a finger in a small circle on her exposed upper thigh. Hopefully, she repused him enough he'd let them go.

Repulsed was one, incorrect, way of putting it. Ensign Sanders' eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and he swallowed hard.

"I'm under orders," he said, but there was something different in his tone that suggested he'd rather not be in this situation. "I'll ride with you to the edge of town. There'll be no questions at the gates. Go on."

Tristaan wasn't about to pick a fight, but he could at least try to move things in his and Sarinah's favor instead. Her willingness to play along was a little spark of relief in the surprise of their unfortunate encounter. He could tell the galdor was at least marginally uncomfortable, and the passive did his best to lean into that discomfort.

"The end of the block is closer, and as long as we kept going at the crossroads on the corner, it's a straight shot to the nearest gate. You could watch us if you're really so concerned. None of us would be worse for wear, and you'd get back to more important business a few ticks sooner."

He made the suggestion almost as if it were a joke among friends, waving his free hand in an indicative gesture towards their intended direction, beginning to walk slowly down the street in front of the Seventen and his chrove.

As they walked, the passive tilted his head to whisper in the dancer's ear, hoping that from behind her hair it looked like something else, unheard by their new company, "It'll alright at th'Circus. We can find a way t'send someone for your things; I ent sure I want you t'come back otherwise." He leaned away, squeezing her side reassuringly.

((Sorry for the edit, but I figured it doesn't change the guard's reaction.))

The officer followed behind, dutifully. He wasn't sure why that woman was taking the news so well; mostly, people had cried and begged. He'd been a good soldier, unwavering in his duty, though he did occasionally let people pack their clothes; this girl didn't seem like she owned many. His thoughts strayed to dirtier places as he watched them walking.

Sarinah bit her lower lip with a little giggle, lifting one hand to blow the officer a kiss. Her heart was thumping like crazy.



Turning with the passive, she began to walk with him, flouncing as best she knew how. Her breath felt like it was caught in her throat. There was no turning back now. Mulm's was her past, whether she was ready or not.



Tittering, she nodded and turned her head slightly to wink at the Seventen. Facing the front again, she focused on getting past the city limit.

((Crap. As always, I totally had more to say in this thread. Sorry if I be modding the guard a bit here ... you can flog me later. ))

The long walk to the gate was otherwise uneventful and silent. Tristaan found he had nothing else to say; it took enough effort to stay out of trouble. He'd endured many things in his time, and while it was hard to drudge up genuine anger, a change of his plans at the whim of a Seventen stirred up enough frustration.

Much to the passive's surprise, the guard kept his word. There was no additional trouble at the gate, save for the expected glaring expressions of his fellows. Nothing anyone wasn't used to, of course.

It took quite some time of continued wordless walking for him to even relax, physically as well as mentally. Tension draining from his face and body once they were far from the gate and well out of sight in the half-light of early evening outside the city, he slid his arm from around Sarinah's waist to take her hand in his instead.

He wasn't sure whether or not to walk them both towards the Circus or somewhere else. It's not like he knew where they were going in the first place; he was just happily along for the ride. He'd just have to move a few boxes and there'd be plenty of room to share in the storage cart he gratefully slept in. There was certainly water and a place for washing, but it was painfully unromantic.

It took him a moment of thought before he spoke quietly, frowning in sympathetic apology, "I'm sorry. I wasn't expectin' that at all."

Sarinah turned to the gate and looked at it in the dying light. Everything she ever owned was in Mulms. Her new dress from Fion, all her clothes in fact! Everything. All she had was her black outfit, her weapons and her coin purse. Holding onto Tristaan's hand, she didn't know whether to feel remorse or glee. She was free.



The dancer looked around at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"Tristaan, I...I'm free." Her voice had an odd tone to it, like she was still thinking. Her chocolate eyes looked around at the grassy area, wicks camped all round. Suddenly she grinned.

"I'm free! I've lost everything I've ever owned, but I am free!" With a little whoop she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Planting a big, exuberant kiss on his mouth, she laughed.

"I was planning on leaving for Old Rose, but not like this. Now, I have no obligations!" Her eyes widened and she flapped a hand, like a young girl.

"Ohh! Oh Tristaan! The Festival! I can go, I mean...we can go! That is...after your circus and stuff, if your not busy." Her face was lit up in sheer excitement.

The Seventen gave a wistful glance towards a woman that he most certainly would not be sleeping with, and nodded to the guards at the city's western gates.

"Evening, officer," he said to the Constable. Not wanting to loiter under the man's scrutinizing gaze, he kicked in his heels and his chrove lumbered off.

The passive stopped and leaned a little, listening. There were thoughts in between the words Sarinah spoke. Familiar ones. He smiled.

For a moment, it seemed as though he was expecting a completely different reaction to the situation. A brief expression of surprise crossed his face, somewhere under the smile and in his gray eyes, but it didn't last long. He laughed, quiet at first, as if he was catching on.


Tristaan's smile broadened and he all but caught the witch in her excitement, wrapping both arms around her in time to effortlessly lift her off the ground for her enthusiastic embrace. He held her there and enjoyed her kiss, laughing with her, before setting her down without letting go.

Lack of possessions was an easily fixable problem, but having your own life to yourself was wonderful indeed. It was hard to know what to say. He grinned encouragingly instead.


"Oh, rosh, for someone with all th'free time you suddenly have, I'm sure I can clear out my schedule after th'Circus – an' after th'work for th'doc – just for you." He said warmly, her joy contagious.

At least he knew the circus was safe, even if he couldn't quite guarantee his travel back to Old Rose with Ivan would be without injury. It was decidedly dangerous, and Tristaan was reluctant to admit he enjoyed such things. In all truth, thought, he had no idea how long he would be away, but he kept his worry off his face and to himself. Now was not the time.

"There ent nothin' better I can think of t'do, really..." The passive held her there with a meaningful chuckle, letting his words trail off almost thoughtfully. Besides Calli, he hadn't really seen any of his 'family' since he left, not entirely on purpose.

The dancers smile changed, almost as though she was smiling the word aww. Tristaan made her feel so welcome and cared about she could sing!



Leaning into him, some of her excitement finally winding down a little, and she chuckled. Sighing, she looked up at him.

"So, where too? I would like to wash if ye know where to go from here. My little place was inside the gates, so there goes that idea." She made a face. She was still icky and sweaty, and she needed to buy some clothes, or at least borrow some. And she needed somewhere to sleep.

"Well," Tristaan held up his hands in an almost defensive manner before gesturing with his left in the general direction of the Circus, even if it was not yet visible, "I ent got much more t'my name than you, but you're welcome t'what there is with me at th'Circus 'til it's over an' m'obligations come knockin' ..."

It would be a busy two days before opening night, but he couldn't really imagine Sarinah would be in the way.

He was pretty sure that after all that had happened in Vienda since they had arrived, there wasn't anyone who would particularly object to helping out another wick. Surely Calli would be excited, at least. And there was Eri and Jaq who may even have clothes to spare if necessary, though the passive wouldn't know what fit who if his life depended on it. That was definitely something women had to mysteriously figure out for themselves.

He grinned a little, with a kind of gentle understanding in his voice, "We've got a bath of sorts. Nothin' warm at this hour, I'll venture, but it's wet. I'm sure no one would object t'you gettin' cleaned up, even if it's not entirely what you had in mind for th'evenin'."

His expression turned a little mischievous as he finished his last sentence, "An' I'm sure I could put up with a guest if I had to, though I can't say th'storage kint is in any way luxurious or romantic. It's got a roof, some boxes, somethin' resemblin' a bed, an', well, me."

The passive winked, "It ent like I mind your company, of course."

A wave of nervousness washed over his features, as if he worried that he had said too much. He was only slightly afraid of having the kinds of feelings he realized he was nurturing for the dark-haired witch; something more vulnerable than attraction was outside of what he generally afforded himself, even if it was only out of fear.

Not wanting to impose decisions on the dancer, he offered alternatives quietly, "I'm sure that room could be made with one of th'performin' ladies if you'd prefer ... Calli would prolly bounce all over th'tent for that, you know."

The dancer grinned up at him, marveling at how he was so casual. Always, he never seemed pressured or worried.



Her heart pounded. How could he be so wonderful? In a town filled with scumbags, he was like a breath of fresh air. It reminded her of the Sarinah she had once been.



Raising an eyebrow, the brunette reached up to put a hand behind his neck and stood on her toes, giving him a firm, passionate kiss. Pulling back, she shook her head.

"You mung kov, I don't want to stay with the chips." Stepping back, she grabbed his hand.

"Right! Lead the way, perhaps ye should let someone know I'll be there? I ent looking to get ye in trouble."

((Not a lit thread, but long. >_< Apologies ...))


"Boemo!" Tristaan managed with enthused surprise at the warmth of her reaction. He laughed almost awkwardly, no small amount of color rising to his cheeks as his smile turned into something chagrined and amused.


"Oes, that'd prolly be smart of me." He smirked as they walked, glad to have at least one voice of reason between them. The passive might have set his aside, briefly, for this entire moment, but not entirely so. He certainly didn't want to overextend his welcome with Balder, even though he did do his best to make himself useful. It was only for a few days, anyway, and then everyone would be off in their own directions.

He continued with a shrug and a grin, "I s'pose I can work that out while you're, uh, indisposed. I doubt your washin'll be interrupted, so I shouldn't need t'stand guard at the door or anythin'." He hoped, anyway.


All things considered, their walk wasn't a long one. There was only a bit of a clearing between the last of the encampments directly outside the city walls until a stretch of various vendors and miscellaneous entertainers had set up their booths in anticipation of the Circus itself. Tristaan led them both to one side of the main tent and around to the "back yard," toward a collection of wagons that had transported the entire menagerie to Vienda in the first place. By now, everything behind the tent could only be described as a lived-in sort of camp, even if the majority of the time lately was spent practicing in the main tent.

"Let me stop off here a tick, then we'll get you all sorted out." He said as he paused to remove his hat, sending his whice flapping off some direction other than where they were headed.

Since he mostly lent his strength to setting up, it only made sense to the passive to sleep in a storage wagon. It kept him out of everyone's way and afforded some sort of privacy, even if it hadn't really been necessary until now. He'd taken the time to practically repack the entire wagon in order to make some room for sleeping and a bit of personal storage (all of them, actually, but no one had yet to notice how ridiculously organized everything had wordlessly become).

Finally stopping at one of the carts, he slipped his blade off his shoulder and parted the flap to lean it against one wall inside and set his hat on the closest box he could reach.

Given the opportunity to peek inside in the half-light while he searched for something to serve as a towel, Sarinah could notice the tiny space was stupidly tidy, as if no one actually lived in the wagon at all. The make-shift bed was all folded in one corner; a collection of candles on one box served as lighting when necessary; a pile of neatly folded letters (all addressed simply to "T"), a worn leather journal, a few random books, and writing utensils sat on the same box; and finally a nail or two in the wagon supports served as crude hangers for a rather new and nice set of formal-looking clothes.

"Like I said, it ent anythin' spectacular," Tristaan chuckled with a depreciating wave of his hand, producing what he was looking for from a folded mix of clothes and blankets.

"So, 'sides a wash an' a bed," He teased, "What else can I do t'make you comfortable considerin' Vienda's finest has deemed you no longer in need of your possessions?"