It could be time for change...[Cheska]

[Guy Laliberte]

Day 61 of Winter of 510 AV

The few people standing around clap as Guy concludes the song he was singing. These few, these six people, were the only ones out today, even at this time, a bit past noon. Winter was a slow season for Guy, despite the fact that the city is busy all year round. People just don’t want to stop and look when the chill air is biting at them. And some new attraction has been stealing his customers from him, a traveling circus of some sort. Sighing, he grabs his juggling balls from the secret pockets in his costume and begins to juggle.

The three balls fly through the air, basically smooth, in a elliptical pattern. Guy dared himself to go higher, tossing - no, throwing, for this was much more precise than simply tossing - the balls higher and higher. When he thought he could do no more, he threw his arms up and caught them in his sleeves, bowed, and utilized the upward motion of his hands behind him to send them back into his palms.

Beginning again, he juggles the red leather balls closer now, barely leaving space for the next one to fall before pushing one up again. Thus he continued for a bit, until he widened the arc and added another ball. Juggling four like this was no piece of cake, but neither was it at all difficult. Concentrating on his juggling, he absentmindedly watches his audience, his pack in front of his feet, welcoming any donations.

When things got tight like this, as they often did during winter, Guy relied on his savings and on the kind generosity of strangers. Oftentimes, people would go out of their way to pay him a visit, their attention, and some Miza, but this was rarely enough. His savings had been getting less and less over time.

This was a day like that, a season like that. Sighing almost completely internally, he is glad his mask hides his expression so well. He was not feeling as joyous as his mask made him out to be.

[Cheska Mallina]

Cheska watched in rapt amazement as the masked juggler threw the balls higher into the air, his hands moving so quickly, they were almost a blur. He seemed entirely focused on his performance, but it was hard to tell, what with the interesting mask he was wearing. This was the kind of performer they were looking for. Since Jokor was no longer part of the circus, the already tiny group was always on the lookout for jugglers. But Jokor hadn't been an experienced performer, not like this man. Though, judging from the small group gathered around him, experience was worth very little nowadays, in this man's particular situation. He seemed fully capable, but like many street performers, they always had bad days. But perhaps she could change that. Perhaps the timid young girl could offer him a hand, an induction to the circus. All it took was the exchange of a few words. Cheska folded her arms beneath her breasts, waiting to see when he would finish juggling. After all, she couldn't exactly talk to him while he was in the middle of his act.

[Guy Laliberte]

Doing the same routine day after day bored Guy, but when you have years and years of work, the days begin to meld together, and it becomes one large act.

Ending with one of his signature moves, the masked entertainer guides the balls to the center of the ellipse, and cranes his head skyward, letting them drop in a hidden pocket under his neck. To the average audience member, it would look as if he were eating them. As they pound one by one on his chest, he regrets making the decision to end in this way. It was different with oranges, they were much softer. But these were professional juggling balls, hard leather and stitching. Grimacing under his mask, he turns the motion into a bow, ending his performance. The few onlookers clap, some donate their miza, but all-in-all there was an air of expectance.

Doing something unusual, Guy ends his show early. "That will be the last act, ladies and gentlemen. I'm sorry, but it's quite tiresome to work every day. I need a break, every so often." His voice sounded tired, and indeed he was feeling quite dejected. His normal baritone speech was interwoven with a feeling of forlorn. Yet another season might pass by in which Guy would have to dip deeper into his savings, meager as they were, and spartan though his lifestyle may be.

Bending low to pick up his pack, he forgoes the removal of his mask and grabs his long coat, hooks his arms through the holds inside, and begins to walk towards his home.