[Featured thread] The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Kit Rowan on May 15th, 2011, 8:53 pm

506 AV, Season of Winter, Day Forty-five


‘Location,’ Whet had told her. ‘My little fox, is everything. You’ll pick one out for us today, or try. Three chances, and if they're bad I’ll tell you when we get there.’

Now Whet and Darilava were following her—she knew the city well enough, so that did not surprise her. Not near so much as the fact that she was deciding where they were going. Performers need crowds, she reviewed in her head. They need travelers and newcomers who don’t see it every day. Kit led them through the city haphazardly, following her intuition. Then she stopped. “Here,” she said, and smiled at her own cleverness.

“The Bizzare,” Whet said, “ah, you’ve been listening.” It was the center of trading for Alvadas—no, Kit told herself, for the whole world. “Listening, but not thinking.” She frowned and looked up at the overdressed man. “Don’t give me that, look there,” he pointed. “What do you see?”

“A fire eater,” she said, and watched as blew spat out a fountain of flame from his mouth.

“And there?”

“A dancer,” but as she watched Kit knew that she hadn’t gotten the whole picture. She twirled colorful ribbons around her body, and as she moved they changed, first blue then red. Her body seemed to undulate as Kit watched. “What’s the point?”

“Hold on a chime, we’ll get to it. What about them?”

“Acrobats,” Kit said, leaning to the side in hope of keeping a peak past them. They moved together, leapt and tumbled in perfect time. “Wow,” she said, and stood on her toes to get a better view.

“So,” Whet said, like a magician before his final flourish. “If you saw the three of us next to them,” he made a broad gesture that included the whole road, firebreather, illusionist and acrobats all. “Who would you entrust with your hard-earned mizas?”

It took a minute. “You mean we wouldn’t get anything . . ." She said, puzzled, but as she understood her voice went higher, and angrier. " . . . just because they got here first?!” Her hands clenched into fists. “That’s not fair!

“I know!” Whet said, wry. “We are fantastic. They should all quit and leave the streets for us.”

Darilava put a hand on her shoulder. “No, girl. Not first. Best. Whet and I, we are good enough. They tell stories of Alvadas, of the people and their magic, of their entertainment, in many places. The stories are not of me, or Whet, or you. They are of these. We are not so good as they; it is fair.”

Kit crossed her arms and scowled. “One more chance, little fox.” Whet said. “Got another place in mind?”

“Hold on,” she said. “Hold on. Lemme think.”
Last edited by Kit Rowan on May 25th, 2011, 4:10 am, edited 3 times in total.
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The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Kit Rowan on May 17th, 2011, 1:42 am

When she found her way to the Cubacious Inn Kit ran both her hands over her face, but when she looked up she still saw the other performers there. Two of them this time; an old man that played beautiful music on a violin and a magician in a long black coat pulling a multicolored rope out of his ear. She stopped there, her eyes flickering between the pair of others, biting down on her lip. How good were they, really? She knew what Darilava could do. But was it this good? It was hard to compare when they were so different.

"Well?" Whet asked, and Kit looked back at his smiling face. Gods, he was enjoying this. Darilava was frowning, which from him was as good as a snarl.

"No," she lied, and started again as if she'd never meant to stop. "Just needed to rest a bit." Whet chuckled, but he didn't stop her, which she took as a good a sign as any.

Where did people go in the city? Where could they camp that wouldn't be taken already, and still bring in mizas?

"You're lucky now," Whet said amiably. "Or we're lucky," he smiled. This was not her money; it was her lesson. "Doesn't matter what, if a child is holding the hat we'll get more. They'll love your sweet little face."

Kit glanced back, but kept walking. "Why does it matter?" She asked. It was skill that brought money in; if you were good enough at what you did then Kit was convinced that it would bring in money.

"Well," he said. "They can't abide to think that maybe a little girl is trying to fool them. And there's something about children," he gave an exaggerated shrug. "They make people generous. And they'll think you're so much frailer, more delicate than us old men," he said in a way that made Kit stop and peer over her shoulder. "Now I don't think you'll be too impressive, but when you get old enough you'll just need to cut a few strips off your preforming clothes," he made a sharp gesture. "Instant mizas. Some men would pay you just for that."

Her cheeks colored, and she turned her nose up. "I want to be a performer," she emphasized. "Not a whore."

Whet seemed perplexed. "Why Kit, whores have it better than we do. They get paid for every show." He smiled that same charming smile. "They pay us when the feel like it."

She turned away. "No."

"No complaints," he said, padding on after her. "More mizas for me." Darilava was quiet as a ghost, solemn as a statue. He had been for most of their trip. Kit wondered what was keeping him from biting down.

Kit stopped in front of Kitrean Krafts; an Isurian metalworking store. It was the closest many travelers would ever get to real Isur steel, and actually stuck. People knew where to find it, unlike most other buildings in Alvadas.

No one else had set up yet. Kit sighed. "How's this?"

"It'll do," Whet said. "Not my first choice, but good enough." Kit turned and opened up her mouth to ask where he would have camped out but he was already walking away. "Come with me little fox!" He said, "we have an audience to round up!"

She was about to follow him when she heard Darilava's voice; "No," he said. "I am old. She will help unpack." Whet looked back, suddenly uneasy. Kit looked between the two.

"Go on," Whet said, far less energetic than before. "Help him."
Last edited by Kit Rowan on May 25th, 2011, 4:41 am, edited 3 times in total.
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The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Kit Rowan on May 23rd, 2011, 4:50 am

Darilava patted the street next to him with a hand and met Kit's eyes. She sat cross-legged next to him. She poked a hand toward the Symenestra's bag, but he slapped it away. "I need no help, girl."

She was too confused to scowl. "But . . . ?"

"Now I talk," he told her, and began expertly removing his things, pulling a sheet of cloth and lining his knives up one by one, examining them, judging their sharpness with the tips of his fingers. “Once, I believed that the blood of my people was the strongest, the purest, the most holy, but I see now that is wrong.”

“Shut up,” he said, before she could get a word out. “Listen. You asked me if I had ever birthed a child.” The spider’s eyes were narrow, focused, and drawn full on Kit. His attention did not wander, did it sleep in the dark corners of his mind.

She remembered asking, him too drunk to hide the love in his eyes that sparked when he spoke of his son’s mother. He had always been emotionless, been blank and distant and strange. When he had taken too much wine the intensity had been clumsy, aimless, frustrated, but now he had purpose and strength. This change frightened Kit. “I’m sorr—”

“Do not ask forgiveness,” he said. “It is a brave thing to ask, and bravery is good. But it is the wrong question. Why,” he asked. “Why did I do it? Why did I not cut my child form her womb and save her?”

“The answer,” he said, not giving her time to speak. “Is family. I have a duty to my blood, girl, as do you. When you are heavy with child, you will not leap, you will not jump, and you will not wander the streets if you are smart.” He met her eyes. “But you do not intend to carry a man’s seed.”

“No,” she whispered.

“You are spoiled,” he hissed. “You are all spoiled. My mother died to pass on her blood, but you will live, you will all live. You have forgotten your family little girl,” he said. “And it is not a good life you give up to chase it. What we do is hard, and long, and pointless, for a few silver mizas thrown at our feet.”

Kit met his eyes and did not look away, could not back down, did not want to back down. “My cousins were married off the month they bled,” she told him. “And I’ve never seen them since.” She remembered Aunt Summer, and though her age was young her body had grown old and withered and broken.

“When your mother and your father ask to see your grandchildren,” Darilava pushed, “what will you tell them?”

“They won’t care; they don’t care about a daughter,” she said, and realized it was true. “But maybe they’ll care if I'm like them. If I follow them. If I . . .” She realized that she had said too much, and stopped.

Darilava stared at her for a long moment with appraising eyes. Whether he was measuring her honesty or some other piece of her, Kit could not say. “It is this place,” he said, "it drives you all to madness." He turned back to his knives. "It is early yet, but soon this life will dig its way into your bones. And then you will never be able to get away, however much you wish to."

"Of course you'd say that," Kit said, standing. "We're just broodmares to you." Darilava turned to her with sharp eyes, but she was already marching after Whet.
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The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Kit Rowan on May 25th, 2011, 5:16 am

Whet's face lit up. "Ah, just the fox I was looking for!" He waved her over, and when she wandered close enough he clapped her on the shoulder. "How do you think you get a crowd for our pale friend?

Kit bit down on her lip, sure this was another trick question. "Do you tell people about him?" But Whet was already shaking his head.

"No," he said, completely certain of himself. "They don't care. You need to make them care. How?" He didn't wait for her answer. "You let them know something is going on, but don't tell them what. You a clear a space that's too big, too big. Push people out of the way. Set up posts. Make people stop, make them want to watch." He handed her half-a-dozen poles that came up to her shoulder, and a handful of colored sashes. "Set it up now," he said. "Keep them from swarming us."

It became obvious to Kit almost immediately that there wasn't enough sashes or poles to wall it all up. As Kit was staring, thinking, a young man with a confused look in his eye came to her. "Um," he said. "Where is this?"

Kit turned his eyes to his, smiling slightly. This was her home, and she knew the place well enough to know that she was never really aware of where she was. "Above the ground," she teased. "Beneath the sky." He stared at her for a long moment, trying to find some sanity in her words, until her smile fell away and she hit his backside with one of her poles. "On," She said. "Go on."

His mouth moved, forming angry words that he couldn't quite say. Kit laughed, and he stormed away, off to lose himself in the mad streets again.

"Kit," Whet growled her name. "What in all the Gods' names are you doing?" She turned toward him.

She had never seen him angry before. Somehow she had always assumed it would be comical, a joke of an anger, but that was not so. His eyes were narrow, and his jaw looked hard as an anvil. He looked down at her and Kit felt herself take a step back. He's only big, she thought. That's all, he's only big. "He didn't want to watch," she explained in a small voice. "Just wanted directions."

"No excuse," Whet said. "You should have charged him for it."

"But I gave nonsense!"

"If he's willing to pay for nonsense then you should take his money," Whet shook his head. "You need to squeeze them dry, Kit." He told her. "You can't hold on to this delusion; performing is not an honorable business. We take whatever we can, because we need everything we get." And then "you might have just lost us half of a good meal."

Her ears burned. She stared at the ground and did not say a word.

"Set up the rest of the poles," he said, disgusted, and left Kit to her work.
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The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Kit Rowan on May 30th, 2011, 4:16 am

Kit set up the poles with more energy than was strictly necessary. She didn't know much about knots, so she went with something simple. Kit shut her eyes and tried to remember the knots she'd seen in the Bizarre, the basic things, for holding up fruit and tying down crates. But, hard as she tried, she couldn't take it apart in her mind.

Determined not to ask Whet for help, Kit set about trying to knot the rope around the pole. People, she noticed, were watching. Kit focused on the knot. She looped it once, twice and pulled it taut . . . but instead of making a solid knot, it just shoved the pole further up. It might go tight eventually, but she didn't want to waste the whole rope.

Another foreigner stepped up. Where the boy before had been nervous, uneasy, this man was confident and sure. It would have been difficult to distinguish him from a native . . . except his clothes were all drab, and his eyes darted in the way of people unfamiliar with the shifting of the city. Still, he stood his ground. If she had to guess, she would have said that he didn't want to admit he was lost. "Do you need help?" He asked.

Kit wrapped the end of the sash around the pole once and then did her two loops. The knot pushed the pole into the sash, and it went taut, tight, tying into a little 'eight.' Kit looked up at the stranger and nearly said 'no.'

She stopped herself, looked up at him and chewed on her lower lip for a moment.

Then she was all smiles. "Stay and watch?" She asked, and he nodded. One more customer, she thought, proud, and moved on to the next pole.

Whet had been right about them. The first man wasn't the last that came to see what was going on, though he was the only one who talked to her. She continued along the poles, tying them and setting them up Until it formed a little quarter-circle between the street and the three performers.

Whet moved with an exaggerated swagger, and though Kit had thought him a showman before it was nothing compared to know. He wasn't boastful, but he was confident. "We have a real treat for you today," he said, his voice grave and gravely. "With the help of my colleague," he raised his right hand toward Darilava, "and this generous child, we will give you a show for as long as you stand here."

Kit blinked. What?

He pulled an apple from his pocket and tossed it to Kit. She caught without thinking. "All we ask is, if the show intrigues you, a small tithe of mizas to keep the poor child fed." He said the lie perfectly, tossing another apple Kit's way.

She caught it in her arms, heart sinking. This wasn't supposed to happen, Kit thought. We didn't talk about this. She had a bad feeling about this.

"And now," Whet bowed with a flourish. "Enjoy the show."
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The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Kit Rowan on May 31st, 2011, 7:36 am

Whet moved toward Kit with a cockeyed spring in his step. He made a soothing gesture with an arm the audience couldn't see. Kit was sure everyone watching must have known, must have seen the alarm and surprise in her face, but none of them cried out. She damned them for their cowardice, then was disgusted at her own. I'll wait, she thought, no, decided. She swallowed. I'll see what he wants to do.

"What are you doing?" She hissed. He grabbed Kit by the shoulder and started walking her toward the wall.

"Usually I take volunteers from the audience," he said. "But you're here, and that presents a unique opportunity!" He looked at her seriously. "How straight can you stand?"

She frowned. "Well, very." She said; it was a big part of acrobatics. Balance. Control over her own body. "But I don't see . . ."

"You can do things a member of the audience can't," Whet said, very reasonable. "So that helps us. And you want to know how to entertain people. So this helps you too. Now I'm giving you the opportunity to be a part of the she show."

Kit chewed on that. It would help her, she knew. She looked up at Whet again, her head at a slight tilt. "It's simple," he told her. "You hold the apples, and Darilava throws his knives at them. He's practiced at this distance more times than I can count, and does it again every day. You'll be fine." He smiled down at her.

Kit breathed in deep. "You should have told me."

"If you're prepared, it wouldn't be nearly as convincing for the audience." Whet waved her concern away. "Now, I won't do this if you don't want." He stopped and looked down at her, and though he said that he would not make her it knew that he would never let her forget it if she didn't.

She bit back words little girls were not supposed to say. "Fine."

"Good!" He said, almost before she answered. "Now, let's get you ready."
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The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Kit Rowan on December 23rd, 2011, 8:00 am

Kit closed her eyes, breathed. It's okay, it'll be ove—

She felt an impact in her hand, heard a soft squelching noise and jumped! The crowed gasped, and when Kit opened her eyes again she was looking at Darilava, scowling. What we do is hard. He'd told her, and in that moment it seemed an accusation. Kit pulled the dagger out of the apple, let them both fall to the cobble. Darilava winced as the knife hit the stone, looked into her eyes and shook his head in a firm no. Her face colored.

Whet's eyes darted between the two of them, one corner of his mouth turned up in what might have been a smile. "Misfire, folks!" He said, waved his hand as though to dismiss the tension in the air. "The real show is something much better!" He tossed her a new apple, a second, and turned to Darilava again.

"Wait," she said, and Whet's attention, the whole crowd's attention shifted to her. Kit went stiff, breathed in once, twice, three times and tried to let the tension go. She placed the apple on to the top of her head, kept her spine rigid, kept her stance perfect; balanced. Please don't fall, she prayed between breaths. Please don't fall.

It didn't fall. Kit held her other hand open and Whet, smiling now, wider than she'd seen him smile all day, tossed her a third apple, very slowly, very gently. She grabbed hold, felt the fruit sway atop her head, but her stance was good, and still it did not fall. "One inch too far down," Whet told the crowd, his eyes wide, and left the audience to imagine the rest. They ooed, and awwed. Then, silence.

Kit resolved never to close her eyes. She swallowed, hard.

Darilava's expression could have been carved in stone, and gave as much away. He drew a knife from his set and mimed a throw with it. The knife hit the apple in her right hand. The audience did not whisper a word; their attention was for the apple on her head and nothing else. The rest was a prelude, a warm-up.

Careful, Darilava wound up, and Kit could see the crowd coming closer, pushing against the makeshift boundaries they had made to contain their show. People standing on the tips of their toes; if it ended badly, everything would be ruined. If it screws up, KIt started to tremble, imagined a dagger lodged in the center of her head. Her apple swayed back and forth, and she resisted the urge to reach up and steady it. Breathe, she bit her lip. calm.

He threw the other, and it landed in her other hand, when Darilava stepped forward, he reached back, grabbed hold of a knife and threw it sideways in a single motion, no practice, no check. Kit's eyes went wide, and someone in the audience shrieked.

. . . And the knife went too far to the right, clattered against the wall and fell to the street. 'Stay still,' Darilava mouthed, his brows nearly meeting, and Kit caught her posture moments before the fruit toppled.

The second time, the spider's knife caught the fruit, but the magic was gone. Their crowd's intensity was gone. Kit saw irritation flash across Whet's face for the first time. "Please," he pulled off his hat and left it on the ground, upside-down. "If you appreciated the show, and if you want this child to grow up well, leave us a silver or two in my hat. All we ask."

Whet stepped between Kit and the spider, grabbed hold of their wrists and bowed. Kit peeked up, saw no real excitement in anyone's expression. Not bad, they seemed to tell her. Not great, but good enough.
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The Bests And The Good Enoughs [Flashback] (Solo)

Postby Cantrip on January 15th, 2012, 3:29 am

Did you want something?
Image

Kit Rowan:
XP Award: Busking +1; Acrobatics +2
Lores: Finding Venues to Perform; Making them Pay; Swaying Perfectly Still

Additional Notes: Lovely read, as always. I gave where I could, but you’re one of those writers that’s heavy on substance, which only results in showers of praise. Whet, Darilava, and Kit have a great balance, a great sense of rhythm. They say just enough, do just enough. They’re remote from the reader, yet are relatable.
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