All The World's a Stage {Closed to The Mime}

[Midwinter]

Well, shit…

The small town seemed to bustle with as much life as could possibly be squeezed in between the wooden houses. Nobody seemed to notice the extremely out of place girl sitting on an odd bag at the outer edge of the place. Perhaps it was for the best, considering. Lacy was still trying to comprehend what had happened. She had stowed her cloth black jacket in her backpack to help make her look like less of a commodity. If she had learned anything in New York City was that being robbed sucked. Not that ditching the coat made her blend any better than if she had kept it on. The street magician closed her dark lined eyes to think for a moment.

Okay, recap. What happened? Well obviously I messed the spell up. There's no point in just sitting here… Well what else am I possibly going to do? Let's just calm down and analyze the situation for a moment. Us? What am I, schizo? Okay, focusing… This place seems pretty, erm, medieval. That's a start. What now? Do something. Anything. Sitting isn't going to bring me shabam back home so I might as well get comfortable here. Considering the spell book is gone this is probably going to be my home…for a long time at least…

Lacy stood up from her bag and smiled. Thinking about it, it could all be one great adventure. With an artful gesture almost impossible to track, she made a pink foam ball appear in her hand. In a similar fashion the balls multiplied. Hells bells, thank God I have my magic stuff. Palming the balls to make them disappear into her pocket, she turned to the intimidating animated crowd.

[The Mime]

Even the natives of Althanas could look even more out of place than the recently transported street Magician in their native land... case in point, one black and white clad Mime, his red scarf fluttering in a breeze that only seemed to effect him. Propped upon his shoulder was a beautifully made, yet reasonably plain Fiddle, a very unusual peice to see in such strange hands... well mandibles would be the term perhaps. A trio of claws wrapped gently keeping the neck of his fiddle close... in the other they clutched a bow securely between those lethal looking points. His arms unnaturally long and shaped, looking like some baggy striped jumper... few would know that this is his body, following down came the simple leather belt and then those white trousers, the shreds at the end displaying those bone tinted talons.

He was busking for a few gold coins... well that was the audiences perception, but in truth he just wanted to play, it seemed to be the only thing that settled down the apprehension people felt towards his very existence. A few had gathered to listen, he had passed by a few wheat-fields and managed to engage one of the farm workers in... well he called it conversation, a few note passings and teachings in cursive resulted in a very perky tune. He was feeling good and wanted others to share in that, was a very quick little jaunt full of sweet short notes.

Travelling alone once again, not an unwanted life really, not having to move at the ministrations of anothers will and taking all the time I want to smell the roses so to speak... I wonder what next individual will let me present myself before them, that young family to the left, such bright eyed young children... yet the father seems to have nothing but contempt... how did he gain a wife with such rife curiousity, I hope they do well in the future... what shall I do next, perhaps visit the tavern, see if any have stories...

As beautiful as his music was, a few were not spectating due to it... they had eyes that told of fear, he had seen a very large church, such a rural village too. It was not a reassuring thing, many people knew not of what wonders laid throughout the world, even the demonic were masterpeices of creation despite their nature... with claws such as these he was bound to be slotted in with such things. But even through all this he still played, for the brief relief it brought to those who worked hard that day.

[Midwinter]

It was most definitely a warm day. She was grateful she had decided on ripped denim jeans and a black t-shirt that day. It could have been worse. Lacy had just finished taking her Skid Row bandana off and stashing it in her backpack when she heard a happy tune float through the air. Somehow it brought a smile to her lips. The street magician couldn't help but feel as if that was its intention. More at ease then before, the girl shouldered her backpack and began to enter the town.

The smell was what hit her hard. She had certainly read about it in textbooks but it hadn't prepared her for the overall stench of the place. For a moment Lacretia brought one long fingered hand up to her face and buried her nose in the black fingerless glove. Disgusting. She stood there for a moment as people pushed by her. The rough fabric that they wore brushed her, and occasionally a grubby shoulder or arm accidentally knocked into her. Eventually the need to retch subsided and her nose adjusted to the scent.

The sound of a fiddle's sweet tune reminded her of what she had entered the town to find. Lacretia scanned the crowd as she waded through, hoping to catch a glimpse of the musician. Following the sound, she was sure she was close by. The faces she passed as she walked surprised her somewhat. They looked so much like the faces she knew back home. It shouldn't have really surprised her, but it was almost as if she had expected these people to be different somehow. But, they were they same. Humans generally were all the same.

Suddenly her dark eyes caught on an interestingly dressed figure holding a wonderful instrument, attractive in its simplicity. Her heart jumped in her chest as she recognized the pattern of his garb: Mime. It was obvious, it should have hit her before.

He's a performer like me! So I'm not the only one here. And, obviously, he has decided to play for some currency. I really should have thought of that. I'm going to need a place to sleep tonight. I doubt they'll let me room for free. I wonder if the mime has been here long.

The magician ran forward, pushing up against people until she was within the mime's vicinity. He wasn't from her time after all. A masked face, striped shirt, and red scarf would seem so convincing to her when she was hopeful. Yet, even in a small burst of disappointment, she couldn't leave. He was like nothing she had ever seen before. His arms were longer than the typical humanoid's, and he manipulated the instrument with such skill. Lacy watched and wondered, if and when he looked into the crowd and saw her, exactly what he was thinking back.

[The Mime]

Of those who bore him no malice coins of varying metals clattered their way to his claws, most nestling beside his little satchel, it seemed they did believe him a busker... still if they could give up this money with no regrets and to such a strange creature it would be shameful to not accept their good-will and charity. His perception raised for a moment to view the sky so big and beautiful above him... it was one of the things he always had difficulty finding lovely long words for, it was simply a wondrous thing...

That one will do nicely, yes, the sky a truly wondrous thing... and all those creatures who lived above, within and beneath it... what is this

Though his attention was indeed focussed on the playing, not giving a single note even a hint of falsified passion he found his sight caught on one unique lass... she had vestments very unlike those around her. No rough hemp or untreated cotton, he had seen denim but those marks seemed willingly made... not to mention dis-colours about her face that only those with wealth tended to have and they were so subtlely applied as well. Much as he loved being a maestro it was every musicians duty to be aware of when a tune should end and brought it to a soft finish, a soft breath exhaled to sweep along the listeners face as they crave feeling it rush back again to prepare for the very next sensation.

For now however no new sensation came, slowly lowering bow and fiddle, one clasped in each trio of manipulators and bowed to his reasonably gracious audience. One arm bringing itself in and bending parallel to his stomach, the leg on the same side, in this case the left... his dominant one curiously enough brought itself in as well, to place those claw tips upwards from the paving past his right foot. If only he could speak his thanks in this pose, perhaps it would give more feeling... but he was stuck with just notes and the written word. Then he lowered himself down... without breaking much of the pose in fact, his knee bending further and further as he indeed rested his whole weight upon a single foot and began his work of safely stowing away his instrument, a sleek, untarnished wooden case for his prized posession... it was just a shame he could not carry it as close to him as the Harmonica pocketed at his waist. Then the process of picking up those coins, claw after claw flicking them into his grasp with a skillful tap to uneven edges.

Then his mask rose and watched that girl... she stood out so much like him, but she was true flesh and blood, that he wasn't... she seemed so hesitant... not shy but wary and unsure. From his perfectly balanced position the Mime stretched out one arm and waved his hand back towards him... only hoping she could read, a little conversation was welcomed after performances.

[Midwinter]

Lacretia watched in fascination as the Mime, she referred to him as that for lack of a better word, skillfully flicked the coins into his grasp with a smart tap to the edge. Why, perhaps he had a magician in him at heart. It reminded her of this one trick she had done back in middleschool, the possibly most easiest bit of foolery she had come up with: Making a coin disappear. Obviously nobody had bothered to see that she had just dropped the coin on the floor. That was the thing with audiences…they were so trusting…so easily fooled. The girl couldn't help but suspect that each one wanted to be fooled.

She felt…almost watched from behind the mask. Almost being the key term because she couldn't be sure even though she felt sure. Investing surety in anything was asking for it. Surety in homes, friends, surroundings, luck… The only thing one could ever be sure of was change. The gesture in her direction surprised her somewhat. Lacy was unsure of how to respond. It wasn't as if she knew what he was, where they were, or…actually she didn't know anything. Yet she felt drawn to him and decided to throw her trust there. She needed to trust something.

The street magician walked forward carefully, stepping carefully (and perhaps affectionately) around some bright eyed children whose father seemed angered. It was in her nature to feel for young ones, especially after she had had heaps of siblings piled upon her since a young age. It came naturally to love all the young things and maybe that wasn't a good thing. It had certainly gotten her into fights before. Subconsciously she guessed she envied their innocence.

The girl got close to the Mime, watching him but smiling a little. She held out a hand, open for a shake, but then it occurred to her that the tradition that had been instilled in every human in her world might not be existent in this one. Lacretia was about to drop her hand to her side but then realized it might seem like she didn't want to touch him and that might offend him. Confused, she grasped his claws gently. They were fascinating. She ran her fingers over their surface for a moment before realizing she was being utterly rude.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She said, jumping back a little, blushing a bit too. "That was…erm…rude of me. I'm Circe."

Hell, he must think I'm some sort of a creep now. Way to go, Lacy!

[The Mime]

They were an unusual thing those claws, they didn't feel cold, nor hard... like silk shaped around a fire, or at least he fancied something like that. His vision traced completely and thoroughly along those cheeks, he did so enjoy watching a woman blush in innocence... he had no idea why, perhaps that it meant a good heart if one could blush honestly at a simple greeting. Slowly his left foot brought itself out from under him, closing the gap between the two and he rose up, she began to grasp just how lanky his frame was, towering over her by a clear foot and two inchs.

That soft black hair sweeping between arm and chest as he moved before settling out against his back once again, reaching his hand back out to her, tracing the side of his claw along the back of her hand... such soft skin and slender... it seemed only natural to inspect ones hand who had already inspected your own manipulators of the physical plane.

They just utter the word dexterity... an importance of ones lively-hood upon their fine movements... not a calouse nor scratch of hard labour upon them...

Towering over her to such a degree his claw slowly slipped from her grasp, dangling at his side, while his right foot, now no longer taking his weight for he had drawn up using the left... fished behind him, snatching up that satchel. His knee bent backwards and the thigh pushed back, bringing the bounty close to hand, fishing out a notepad and scratched pencil.

He hadn't meant to damage the tool of his communication, but it was not something he could always avoid, taking both writing implements in hand and with a few sweeps of his pencil out came a flowing masterpeice of writing... though the content was simply. He turned the pad and offered it to her.

Greetings, my name is... well Mime, for now, may I inquire as to yours?

[Midwinter]

She breathed carefully as he examined her hand, not wanting to disturb the moment. It wasn't as if she expected a misplaced breath to do much, but the whole situation seemed quite delicate for some reason she couldn't put her finger on. She almost laughed as she realized her thought process had pumped out a pun. …And the moment ended. He stood up, and it was then that she noticed how tall he was compared to her. Unfortunately such an occurrence wasn't as rare as she would have liked. Lacretia examined his thin frame and curtain black hair as he scrawled his message. His handwriting was skillful. Considering his silence, she had guessed that he was either mute or had taken a vow of silence. Given the facts that he did not seem old, and his handwriting was pretty enough to be practiced, she guessed the former. The irony of his name was not lost on her. It would mean, perhaps, the two worlds were not so different after all.

The street magician placed her backpack on the ground lightly and rummaged until she found a pen and notebook. It seemed only fair, seeing as he couldn't talk, that she revert to the same form of communication as he. With a nimble twitch of practiced muscle in her hands she made the cap from the pen 'disappear'.

I am called many different names but I suppose Circe will work for now.

Her handwriting looked odd compared to his. The street magician's was hardly as elegant, but more cramped and pointy. It had developed as a process to save paper when writing down things such as guitar tabs or magic trick instructions. She supposed someone could tell a lot about another from their handwriting.

[The Mime]

Slowly the Homonculous studied her writings, producing his reply in a far shorter time... it was not alien to him, but the writings were, odd... not in their design, or placement but the symbols were a tad different than his own... not quite Common but close. Was she capable of speech?... mute humans were not a freak occurance, it did happen... but it seemed in his mind she was fully able, only hoping she had a far easier accent to comprehend than the last girl he met many moons ago. But even with this study he had not avoided seeing that sleight of hand, a very clever little manipulation of the fingers... Father had taught him it a few times, just very simple stuff such as coins and leaves...

Skillful little actions that reward patience, practice and also deception... still only a fool would learn magic in order to be a better liar... it is entertainment and a cause of wonderment, to see eyes sparkle when you can make a small object vanish into thin air, such a sparkle...

Staring... bad if people can see your eyes, but he got away with it, partly because his eyes weren't really something visible... and secondly they never rested on a females bust... he had yet to grasp the obsession he by all rights 'should' have with that part of the anatomy. Finally he offered up his reply, claw stroking along her fingers as it was passed.

I was going into the tavern for a spot of noise, would you perhaps like to join me Circe?

He was starting to wonder just how that name was pronounced, politeness or not, even one afflicted with such utter silence did appreciate sound... it was why he continued being a musician. The drive to be one had always been there since his birth, but he fell in love with sound as much as writing and so tarried on. There was that compulsion he felt when around certain women... he studied her face like he would a sunset, with all that same curiousity and longing...

[Midwinter]

Lacy nodded and decided that she should probably talk at least a little, to show that she could actually talk. Later if he heard her speak then it wouldn't seem like she was holding out on him. Something about his gaze made her feel a little bubbly and eternally more curious. She produced the cap from the pen from his shoulder with a little grin, standing on her tip toes to close the gap and make the reach. There was something about him that made her feel more okay with closeness. It was always easy to make things disappear. Making them reappear was the hard part. She felt like she was being watched again, but didn't particularly mind. The gaze she thought she was feeling seemed as innocent as that from the children, who were observing the encounter amusedly. They seemed to find the pair of entertainers interesting.

"I would love to join you, Mime." Lacy said, putting her writing things in a pocket in case she needed it later.

The street magician looked around to see that some of the crowd had inched away from her slightly. So…they've finally noticed the odd one out? she asked herself. The girl looked down at the children and extended a hand, palm out and flat horizontally. Carefully, she blew softly and a couple of daisies appeared in her hand. The children giggled happily and reached out to take them but their father instantly stepped in and began pulling them back. Lacretia was startled, and maybe her pride a bit pinched.

The night was beginning to come on, and she could feel it in the way the breeze picked up. It had lost its gentle puff of cool and became a whoosh of cooler air. The atmosphere, she noticed, was cooling down with the weather. The crowd that had bustled around her so fast that day was beginning to thin. Windows were suddenly appearing to illuminate a little outside of their damp wooden frames.

Lacy knelt and got her black jacket. Quickly, she pulled it on. She gestured for Mime to lead the way. She was eager to go inside one of these places and learn more about her new companion.

[The Mime]

That did present a bit of a problem, he hadn't studied this area thoroughly enough to really be aware of the lay-out... still such a thing was not difficult. His shoulders raised and lowered in silent laughter at the little displays of magic she made... he was enjoying it yes but forced that display so that others would be aware of it, he had this urge to make another display as well... to run his claw along her cheek, to feel that heat slowly shifting away from her blush. He resisted however and instead glanced about the parting crowd, one tall gentleman was watching them with quite a bit of mirth, a perfect subject to aid in finding the tavern.

Without a click nor clack Mimes claws moved along the paving as he walked towards the man, giving a soft wave with those lethal protrusions of what looked like bone, before gesturing to the sky, the man was confused but then no suprise. With an inward smile Mime was looking forward to what some may call showing off and gestured for the gentleman to remain still, then as he patted the mans shoulder took hold and with but a single movement was lifted right off the ground, supporting his non-existant weight with just a single arm.

A soft bend and his feet came down upon the other shoulder and there stood the Mime, the watcher and now podium utterly speechless, he felt nothing pressing down on him, the Mime spending this moment scanning the area before giving a soft hop down and shaking the mans hand. He was too busy laughing and confused to really be worried that he shook hands such a lethal looking creature and on returning to Circes company the Homonculous pointed down the street and then offered his elbow... perhaps she'd understand the gesture, he had grown to love these kind of close-knit interactions. Presented themselves very rarely as well...

But as they walked, others watched... no longer thinking of the show and just thinking of the wickedness contained in those actions, flowers from thin air?... a feat of movement not even the lithest weaver could manage, ridiculous stuff... or at the least, evil. Clasping a book of words claimed to be holy Muldavious, a hunter of many things watched them... wondering just what kind of action this would call for, he had no doubt in his mind that action was indeed needed.

[Midwinter]

It seemed as though the mime enjoyed her mini-performance, judging by the shoulder movement. Lacy watched Mime's feat of movement in amazement and appreciation. Something told her it wasn't just a trick. It was hard to even begin bending her mind around how someone would begin to move like that using only primitive apparatus. That thought reminded her of her current predicament. She was who-knows-how far away from NYC, around people she didn't know, and suddenly it was beginning to really hit home. The weight settled around her shoulders almost like another jacket. Shivering a little, she stepped closer to Mime.

His presence was comforting, and she took his elbow. It was quite old fashioned, but then again, quite modern she guessed. Lacretia couldn't help but scrutinize every bit of him she could while she was so close. It was almost as if she wanted to memorize every detail. It took a bucketload of self-restraint for her not to reach out and touch his claws again. They were just…so unlike anything she had seen before. It managed to distract her from the homesickness that was lurking somewhere. She mentally squished it farther down.

The gesture was to down the street. The street magician assumed it was the rather jolly looking building with a huge sign on it reading "INN". Well it probably couldn't get much more obvious then that. Something did tweak at her mind consistently. It bothered her somehow, how the mirthful man did not understand Mime. That meant Mime's existence might be a lonely one due to communication issues. She knew better than to assume that everyone he met knew how to read his handsome script.

Deep within the bowels of the chapel a cluster of clerics gathered together. They never particularly enjoyed the presence of outsiders in their town, especially ones that did not…fit. Needless to say they were not fond of the silent one or the little witch that had so suddenly been sprung upon them. They probably did not have enough evidence to appeal to the village elder for action, but they truly believed an opportunity would present itself.

[The Mime]

Mime himself drew closer to Circe, though for reasonably dissimiliar reasons. It was true he wanted to be closer, why he had not the foggiest inkling of a momentary flash to a thought... it just felt right to be close to someone of the fairer sex, also it seemed to brighten her up, loneliness was something he could cope with without much worry, he didn't savour it, or prefer it... it was just something he could handle. A sudden fierce gust swept past them, everything on the stranded girl fluttering and reacting, yet that sheet of silken hair and that scarf maintained their own unique method of wavering to the attention of wind.

He had yet to really make a mark for himself, at least one that was entirely favourable and established... being known simply as a unique creature was something that did not matter how he reacted or indeed acted, it was reliant only on his exposure to the general populace. Perhaps he wanted to be a hero, all those tales of the swordsman Spriggan did always fuel his curiousity, but he seemed so ill-suited... a squirrel had attacked him the previous week and he set the nibbling furred dervish onto a tree branch before simply walking off. Upon reaching the inn there was an unusual lack of din... these were often places of debauchery, heavy drinking and vulgar words, but it seemed adventurers did not often make their rounds about this place.

Upon pushing open the door for the lady, his thoughts were confirmed, farmers... labourers and all other assorted villagers were merely enjoying a thorough banter upon whatever they could above tankards of mead and ale, a wood fire took up most of the far wall but it barely gave off a fraction of the warmth currently spilling out towards these two strangers. Mattered little that it wasn't directed at them, one couldn't help but smile in such a presence of familiarity and honest friendship. Using his free hand the Mime brought forth a few of todays newly acquired coins and placed them in Circes grip, nodding towards the bar and then once she had finished looking it over, gestured to an empty table near the corner, hopefully she would understand it was only to get herself something... it wasn't his fault he was bad at communication, he did try so very hard.

Then like a whisp of wind his arm left its entwined position with hers, sliding his talons along the material of her jacket before slowly stepping to their reclusive little table. His graceful, lanky form... seemingly, shrinking as he walked, shoulders and neck lowering, knees further bent as he tried to avoid the gazes of many people.

[Midwinter]

Lacretia held her breath for a moment as Mime held the door open for her. Indoors smelled worse, if it was possible, then the outside. All the odors of people, unwashed fabrics, and grimy surfaces in the streets crammed into a small area with bad ventilation. However, she got over herself and walked into the building. The overall jolly atmosphere put her more at ease, as her eyes drifted over the friendly crowd. Running a hand through her black hair, as she tended to do when uncertain of what to do, she looked to her companion. He did look quite out of place, but then again, she probably did too.

The street magician blinked as Mime placed some coins into her hand, gestured at the bar, and then at an empty table. It didn't take her long to figure out what he was getting at, but by that time he was hunching over and walking away. The girl felt bad that her new friend was offering to buy her a meal, and she promised to pay him back somehow, very soon. With that slightly jaunty walk of hers, she moved over to the bar and waited until she got the attention of the man behind it. His arms were huge and there was a scar running in a diagonal across his rough face. It looked like he could hurl a cleaver or two if someone decided to mess with his bar. Lacretia did not intend to cross him any time soon. What the hell should I order? I mean its not like I can ask for pizza. Something universal would be good. What is universal? Damn, I should have gotten out a bit more. The bar definitely could use a good wipe or two. Prayers to whoever is up there that the food is more hygienic then the rest of this place.

"Could I have two bowls of soup please?" she asked, eyes slightly downcast.

Lacy knew she was acting a bit meek, but that usually helped her avoid trouble anyway. The man grunted and held out his hand. Well he's a sociable one. Note to self: Hmmgrr means yes…or does it mean four coins? Hrm… Quietly she held out her own hand and offered up a fraction of the coins Mime had given her. If the bartender guessed she was new to the currency he might try to take it all off of her. Like hell she'd let that happen. Swiftly, the bartender took three coins off of her and shouted something as unintelligible as he last comment to a woman behind him. With a twirl of graying skirts and red curls, she turned and left through a swinging door. In almost seconds she was back and pushing two wooden bowls of steaming hot liquid into the girl's hands.

"Thanks, ma'am." She said

"No problem, kid. I'm getting paid, you know." The waitress gave a teasing wink before swirling off to the next customer.

Lacretia couldn't help but smile a little to herself as she pushed past some full tables in order to reach Mime. She set down one bowl of soup in front of him, and took the seat opposite from him. She felt something squish under her feet and was about to look to see what she stepped in, but then decided she didn't want to know. The girl decided to wait for Mime to begin eating before starting her own meal, as it was only polite. Suddenly, inspiration struck.

The girl reached into her pocket and drew out the pen and paper. She flipped to a new page and bent her head as she scrawled a new message onto the lined paper.

Thank you, Mime. Please tell me how I can repay you.

[The Mime]

Upon reaching the table, a pondery came over the Mime, due to his rather lanky proportions if he sat like a normal person a lot of his leg length would be under the table and likely pass the sides of Circes chair... it was too much to draw his knees up and there were certainly to be odd looks clinging to his frame if he were to perch. Mayhaps he could just risk it and hope she wasn't put off by the unexpected closeness of the whole situation... clinging upsidedown to the rafters suddenly seemed a more tempting option than making that kind of awkward situation.

But then... she dosen't need to have all those eyes brought on her for my own failings, best to try and blend in...

Reaching the table he reached out with his left hand, allowing those three claw tips to slide and run through those deep grooves, tracing all those worn in shapes and lines. Then while doing that, used his other hand to lightly stroke against the entirely smooth and soft scarf wrapped around his neck, even now the tail was fluttering lightly against his back. With a silent glance to the approaching magic girl the Homonculous slowly brought himself down into the chair, indeed, as thought his legs passed right under the table and out the other side... his claw-toes giving a gentle squeeze at the thin air as he adjusted to this new position.

... awkward...

Of course there was further issues when the bowl of soup was below his mask, glancing to it, then to her as he those sparkling eyes... watch him, she was... waiting.

Perhaps in this instance it is not the ladies custom to go first, oh my... what should I do...

Looking down his sight worked over the spoon, it was shaped something like a pen... in the vaguest senses, shouldn't be tricky... but yet, somehow it was... he had never held a spoon before, nor any cutlery except a knife for that matter. It was proving itself a mighty opponent for his normally faultless grace in life... every few moments there would be a sound of wood grating wood, then three pointy objects hitting into the table surface as time and again he attempted to trap it between his claws yet fail. He wasn't all that absorbed in the activity, but to look up, would be to meet her gaze and see a withering glare of embarrassment. It did go up slightly just to take note of the, well note she wrote for him to dote upon... oh and there was a coat in the corner.

You could aid me in this battle of being against tool... it seems many things are opposed to those lacking true opposable thumbs...

[Midwinter]

Lacretia almost died of embarrassment once again that day upon witnessing the mime's struggle with the spoon. How thoughtless of me. Hell, one would expect me to be more problem sensitive then that. Hmm, what would be the best way to fix this. I don't have any string, besides that would be a bitch to untie. Feeding it to him would probably just humiliate him and be highly awkward for us both. What do I have on me that could be of use? Oh… why didn't I think of that sooner? The magician bent her head in some recognition of her lack of sensitivity.

"My bad, sir. Hold on a moment…" she murmured

The girl leant over the arm of her chair and began to rummage through her backpack once more. She usually kept it in a handy spot such as a pocket or up a sleeve, but it wasn't as if she had prepared for an outing when doing the spell in her room. Moving through wads of junk, her hands eventually brushed what they were looking for. Lacy drew out a small black plastic box and opened it, revealing a wad of clear magician's wax, only standard material for beginner levitation. Pinching off a bit of it, she rolled it in her palms until it became soft and malleable. The girl snapped the box shut and stuffed it back in her bag before turning back to her dinner companion.

Once more, Lacretia took hold of the pen and poised it above the notebook paper. How best to phrase this so it doesn't sound completely strange? Yeah, well it is strange isn't it? Its' not like I've got a better idea. I'm arguing with myself again. I really should stop that.

Chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, the street magician began to write. I have an idea, it’s a little weird, but it’s the best I can think of. I can give you some magician's wax to stick the tools to your claws. Its soft, so you can scrape it off any time you'd like. Its invisible too, if you don't want people to stare. Well, partially invisible, but if you don't draw attention to it then alls well. She sat back to read over her note once more. It seemed slightly…lacking eloquence, but she was tired. Actually, thinking on it, she was never eloquent. Well, so much for that excuse. Quickly, she crossed out the first sentence and wrote instead. I think I can help. It sounded a bit more certain then the first shot at it.

Quietly, Lacretia pushed the notebook over to Mime's half of the table and awaited his reaction to her idea. It was a bit farfetched, she knew, but unless she could find some string it was the best she could do.

[The Mime]

A rather ingenious solution... magicians wax?... I know many substances they make use of is magical but invisible and sticks to surfaces?... what a curious creation, sadly however

He looked down the soup bowl in front of him, shoulders lowering in a silent sigh...

Grasping the spoon was merely an annoyance, this in itself is the problem, I am, nor ever am hungry... how best to explain this when I do not comprehend it myself...

His right hand lightly rapped its claws along the table edge, his mind being consumed in momentary thought as he attempted to work out some amiable solution to this. For being of a magical nature she had failed to grasp just what manner of creature he was, but then everyone failed to grasp that... perhaps father made him too well. A quick stirring of the soup might make her begin to sup of it herself, but then what if she beleived he wasn't eating for reasons of a pompous or haughty nature... for all his eloquence in writing and fanciful mannerisms he liked to beleived himself poor and one of the many... despite his utter uniqueness.

A few people were beginning to stare on seeing that neither of these people were eating and passing secretive and likely to be, impervious notes between each other... reading was not often a large part of a farm-hands education, math certainly... but not reading. Finally he began putting pencil to paper and mulling over a reply...

They do say it is the best policy...

A thoughtful suggestion miss Circe, but it is not the true issue, you see I have no need for either water nor food, soup falling into both those categories and well, it is merely my inability to partake of this meal that vexes me, though it is entirely my own fault for not being specific that I merely wished for you to get something. The Magicians wax does pique my interest though and I do not wish to lose my pride to but a mere spoon

Perhaps that bit lacks the sharpness for wit... oh well

Finishing up he turned the note around and pushed it gently to her eyeline.

[Midwinter]

Lacretia watched as Mime read her note and began to fidget awkwardly. Her brow wrinkled in concentration as she tried to figure out what she had said that made him feel like that, and what he was thinking at that moment. As far as she could determine, if she recalled what she had written correctly, it wasn't anything at all of an insulting nature. Then again, she was in a different world.

Aching with curiosity as he began to scrawl a reply, the street magician shifted so that her legs were crossed under her as she sat on the chair. Running a hand through her hair, she awaited his response. When he slid it over to her half of the table, she began to read eagerly.

His response surprised her, but not unpleasantly so, much like his physique. It made her wonder exactly what he was. Her brother, the nerd whose cloak she had borrowed before arrival, was talking about so called "mythical" creatures all the time. If only she had paid more attention to his ramblings at the dinner table or read more of those cheap fantasy novels he slit his wallet for. That knowledge would certainly help in a situation such as this. Hmm, I don't quite recall him ever mentioning a being like Mime. I suppose I could think person, but the meaning of that isn't exactly clear. Does 'person' apply to sentient beings, which Mime certainly is, or only to humans, which Mime certainly is not? However, it matters not. Mime is better company then most of the populous back home, I have to admit.

Pushing the question to the back of her mind, Lacy reminded herself to focus on what was going on at hand. She began to notice the people around them staring, but pointedly ignored them. Being an entertainer requires thick skin. Reaching forward, she stuck the clear ball of wax to the edge of one of Mime's claws, pressed the spoon into the wax.

Reaching forward, she pulled the notebook closer so she could begin to write again.

Well, even if you do not need to eat or drink, at least have some fun with the wax any way. I highly doubt it is as interesting as you might have thought, but you can do some fun things with it.

Pushing the message in Mime's direction, she picked up her own spoon. The girl stared at her meal for a moment before wincing and deciding to take the plunge. Quickly, before she could chicken out, she spooned a bit of the soup into her mouth. The effect was instantaneous. Lacy hadn't known she was so hungry until that moment. Suddenly exactly how clean the food was didn't matter so much. It tasted wonderful.

[The Mime]

Closing his claws lightly around the spoon, now with the aid of it help, mostly in place... the Mime looked at the eating utensil. It was wooden, a simple elm tree... but the carvings were so fine and minute, such a thing you would not expect to see in a tavern like this. Carpentry and whittling had been appealing little notions to him, in his pack there was currently a small chunk of wood he had been trying to fashion into some shape but inspiration just had yet to hit him. This spoon had been carved out of many hours of attention, probably left behind by some mysterious traveller who carried every amenity of life required and one day forgot his trusted spoon, an eating aid he had never been without since setting out on that grand adventure when just a boy...

Or perhaps not, but still, it is a rather nice spoon...

The sensation of that wax clinging to his claw was unusual, but it paled a lot with that contact by his female companion tonight... on shifting her legs a foot had brushed against his shin, it felt odd, he hadn't expected contact and well it sent a jump through him. Father called it suprise and said that it was a terrible thing to put on a man with a weak heart... did that mean it was a good thing when done upon someone with a strong heart?... father didn't answer all his questions. As he sat there mulling all this over like only a curious homonculous could, Mimes vision flowed from the corner of his masks eye-slit to behold a similar scene only in the barest facts on the opposite side of the tavern... a male and female, sitting at a table... but while Mime was stretched out and slumped by the sheer lack of space... they sat close, elbows upon the table, fingers upon fingers.

Curious... they do seem taken right from those novels in fathers collection... what would Circes reaction be to such a thing?... what would mine be, hmm

Now with the 'rather pleasant' spoon in his grip Mime decided to well... no other phrase for it really, play with his food, swirling and twisting the surface of the soup with but a few gentle swishes. Very lightly he took down another note upon his own pad and slid it to Circe.

This is very curious matter, I have not come across anything such as it, what are your uses for it?

Before she could take it he was about to withdraw to add something more when his claws landed upon her hand, points avoiding her dextrous manipulators and merely resting there. That expressionless yet fully emotional mask looking up from that to her before his hand slowly began to retract, though no change had occured physically she could certainly get the impression those eye slits had widened.

[Midwinter]

Lacretia watched on in amusement as Mime examined his spoon, now in his grasp due to the aid of the wax. She sipped her soup some more, trying not to just drink it as fast as she could (although she found it a highly tempting notion). The texture was coarse, but in a hardy, not abrasive way. The fluid was an odd green, and the street magician guessed it was probably mashed up herbs due to the strong taste. Small tan bits of meat floated around, but Lacretia didn't have a clue what it was. The meat tasted slightly sour, but in an almost sweet manner, reminding her somewhat of a pickle. It must have been a creative cook that…Oh wait…It could be some creature I haven't seen yet… She shivered a bit, and poked the chunks of flesh to the sides of her bowl. For all she knew she could be consuming a creature like Mime.

So, deciding to become a spur-of-the-moment vegetarian, she took big spoonfuls of the vegetation and watched her companion toy with his food. The magic wax was doing its job. If she hadn't known what she was looking for, she may not have noticed the clear glob at all. Lacy tried to remember what brand it was. If she ever got back home she was definitely going to purchase from that line again. Magician's wax was hard to find, if you wanted to go for the good stuff. Actually, I guess, it’s the way you use the wax not the wax itself that pulls of the trick. A bit of lying here, a flick of the wrist for misdirection there…never seen.

The girl was yanked out of her musings by the sound of a pen at work, and she noted that Mime was scrawling another message. Interested, she tried to subtly fold her legs under her a bit more so she could get a tiny height boost and take a peek. Well its not as if this is a game or anything, so its not cheating really. Its not rude either, is it? I mean I'm going to see it anyway…

This is very curious matter… she read just before the pad was slid over to her side of the table.

So, he hasn't seen the like before? I guess I could share a secret or-

The street magician started slightly from the contact of his claws. When he withdrew, she could have sworn his eyes widened even if she could not decide if she had actually seen it happen. Lacretia smiled a bit, to let him know it was okay, and held out her hand for him palm up. If he really found her hand that fascinating…

In the meantime, she spoke softly. "I use it for magic tricks. Well its not real magic, of course, you probably know that, but entertaining sleight of hand stuff that's supposed to look like magic…"

[The Mime]

He had almost dropped his spoon in that moment of suprised, particulary on seeing how she started too... but thankfully the wax held it there in a rather unusual manner, suspended from his main claw and even his strangely high senses did struggle to truly make out what he was looking for. Sleight of hand, it was such a fun thing when tricking the senses, or at the very least, to trick a persons focus. Still on her offer he felt inclined to accept, reaching out with his free hand and placing claw upon claw onto her palm, the tips slipping past trailing across her life line and other such marks skin obtains from years of use before nestling at each side of her wrist.

To think of all the laughter and suprise those digits brought in her years so far, such a curious thing, how effect does ones hands have upon life itself... they shape the objects around us, they feed us when we are hungry... remarkable when thought upon in a slightly different context and hers... are soft, is that all I can really muster up to ponder on such a thing?... oh my...

While watching her his spoon hand dipped once again into the soup, enjoying the feeling of force along his claw, the wax took the brunt but it shifted and moved so delightfully along the length of his lethal appearing appendage. A strange thought drifted into his mind that candles would not be out of place here, but quickly pushed that aside when he began a great crusade of sifting through the soup before him. His explorations rewarding him with chunks of soggy leek and cabbage, a glimpse of savoury and even the hinted rariety of a rose hip.

... I feel like such a child, I have never before had food with which to umm, well play... I hope she dosen't mind

Turning a claw side-ways by some instinct driven by his left shoulder the Mime found his digits stroking along her palm and was quite enjoying the sensation.

[Midwinter]

Lacretia held still as Mime examined her hand, and watched him play with his food. It was amazing how he didn't seem to be compelled to communicate in a way other than contact. If it was her she would probably have been scratching out another note or something of the sort. Actually, thinking about it, not being able to talk would probably kill me. Well not kill, but be deranging to some effect. Maddening. Is maddening a word? Mad-ening. Hrm, well…whatever. How the heck do I get so side tracked? Seeing her companion sort through his food in such a fascinated manner brought a smile to her face once more. It occurred to her that she would miss him when she returned home. If she returned home, that is.

The street magician stared at her friend's mask, trying to imagine what kind of a face could lie behind it. Was it that his face was monsterous enough to require the cover of a mask? Could it be that his face was as elegant as the rest of him seemed to be? Maybe the mask was his face. How was she to know? Slowly, the girl stirred the small remaining bits of meat in the tiny bit of soup left over in the bowl. What else is out there? I think I'm coming to the realization that I want to be here. How, amusing. Thinking about it, what could be better? No school, no gang bangers, no frickin' chavs, no responsibility, no expectations to meet for the first time in my life. I think, no I'm sure, I want to explore this place while I can. I want to see everything and do everything here.

Lacy noted that Mime's exploration of her palm was feeling uncomfortably good. Time to move on, perhaps? Slowly she took her hand back.

"I'd like to show you a bit of what I do, if you don't mind. Some people pay me to do this back home, and I don't have money to pay you back right now so I'll put on a bit of a show instead." She said, giving him a little wink for effect.

What trick to pull off? What trick would be good. Ah. The disappearing ball. I shall simply place the ball in the palm of my hand, and voila it shall disappear. Nobody sees it happening. Well, that's what it said on the instruction manual. I believe it, given Penn and Teller's little stunt on Criss Angel with their balls and potatoes. Would it be wise to try a trick I'm not so familiar with yet? At such close quarters too… Hmm, well it definitely seems like the best kind of show-off piece for such an occasion.

The magician reached into the pocket of her jacket and bulled out a small white ball. With a small flourish, she pulled back the sleeve of her left arm and held her palm out flat in the air. Part of the illusion was to imply wordlessly that there were no apparatus, no tricks behind it. Lacretia suppressed her nerves with a cold familiarity. She was a performer. Nerves hadn't gotten in the way before and they certainly wouldn't now. With the utter focus of determination to do a trick right, the girl focused on the ball as she placed it on her extended palm. "Dissapear" she mouthed. She twitched a muscle in her left arm, knowing that the ball would land behind her in the right hand behind her back, a near undetectable move. She had been practicing this one for ages.

The ball instantly winked out of existence. That's right, kids. I did it, I did it, hell yeah I did it… Lacretia suddenly noticed something was wrong. She hadn't caught the ball. It wasn't in her hand. Chances were Mime had seen her little ball go flying then. Damn it!

Two bald men in cloaks watched as the girl performed her first bit of true magic, unknowingly. They hissed silently at the sin. One of them would report to the superior priest and village elders. Action must be taken.

[The Mime]

Near the church stood three men, two farmers and one... outsider in a way, yet no one was going to argue with his presence, a witch-hunter and a rather infamous one too. Not everyone could be pleased at the display the two magic visitors were making and always best to be on the side that judge.

"I tells ya sir t'were a monster, thin and agile but a demon it was"

"Very true, they do often try to beguile the unfaithful with subtle yet wholly evil apperances..."

There was a mutterance from the other farmer, arms folded and looking away from the witch-hunter, the man looked like he had been carved from a willow, every sharp angle on his face was thin, strained and gaunt. His skin seemed three sizes too small and was barely stretching to fit his features, large deep black pits resided under his pale blue eyes, like they had lost their colour from everything he had born witness to. Even his hair seemed stretched across his skull, a selection of grey strands pinned to the back of his head. His garb was of a large black wind-breaker, though it seemed to have been fitted for when he was a young man, the collar so side it left his entire neck exposed, displaying the shrivelled adams apple and bones sifting through the skin.

"Do you wish to say something?"

"... t'weren't subtle he stood out like a sore thumb"

"That is irrelevant, it openly practiced witch-craft and was in the company of a female who also made use of deceptive magics..."

The dissenting farmer was about to mutter something more, perhaps along the lines of 'did no harm' but thought better of it when his friends elbow bruised a rib. Narrowing his eyes the Witch-hunter looked much like a persian cat facing a strong wind and simply walked off to gather his followers. They had been going from village to village, torching those who deviated from the path of good and then moved on, usually swelling their ranks with the faithful. They were currently at the out-skirts of the settlement but were ready to move at a moments notice.

---

Mime leaned in closer as she displayed the disappearing act, wanting to get a good visual sense of just what motions were needed but then... well not even a poof and it was gone. He couldn't resist, immediately his hand reached out and lightly poked a claw at her palm, not hard enough to cause pain but it was certainly sudden, his slightly marked mask raising up to meet her eyes.

That was quite a delightful deception but then why does she seem a tad un-nerved... did something go amiss?

Parts of it were simple enough to grasp but truly that ball had disappeared, he would have seen it lift into the air or roll along the underside of her arm.. strange there was not a single sign of it. He attempted to give her applause but of course, it was entirely silent, still the gesture of his hands hitting together made his appreciation obvious. Next he had to write the point, if only to add more to his thoughts of the little display, edging it towards Circe.

Bravo madam, is that a technique any can learn?... it seems a tad enhanced from simple sleight of hand and no payment is needed, with no need for food, water, or indeed shelter I have no need for money

[Midwinter]

She let her companion check her palm, although that was a relatively pointless act. 1. If the trick had gone according to plan it wouldn't be there. 2. It sure as hell wasn't in her palm and she didn't have a clue where it was. That irked her although she tried to hide it. A trick out of one's control was a trick failed. Lacretia smiled graciously, and gave a mock bow from her chair at Mime's applause. She watched as he wrote down another note and slid it toward her.

Is it best to be honest in this case or shall I continue with my showman's persona? I suppose it would be best to do both, and maybe incorporate honesty into the act. I mean, why not? Nobody believes a magician…when they're telling the truth anyway. Its always the wrong way with audiences. They'll believe your lies and then scoff at the truths. However, Mime seems to be quite an astute individual. If one audience member can pick up tricks it would most certainly be him. He seems to almost have an eye with which to know what to look for.

The street magician used the pen to scrawl down a reply, not as hasty as before although still in earnest. While she was in performing mode she acted more self-confident, relaxed, and charismatic…perhaps a bit overly confident. That, however, was standard magician personality. Everyone loves a cocky showman. Even if Lacretia didn't go all the way, it had seeped into her performing persona due to the fact it was too classic to let go of all together.

It is not wise to refuse money. What if you decide to pick up another instrument? The cello, perhaps, or maybe the guitar? Then you would need money to get the choice instrument on which to exert your musical prowess. The technique, I cannot teach you. This is no magician's law but in actuality I have no idea of how the trick was supposed to be done. I made a mistake, you see. However, I'll try and make a ball appear.

The next ball, however, had to be a purple one. She didn't have time to reach into her bag and try to find a ball of the same size and color of the one she had just lost. Leaning over the small table, Lacretia reached toward the top of Mime's head, planning to make it seem as if the ball had been resting there all along. "Abra cadabra, appear for me, dear." The girl said, grinning impishly, and plucked the small purple ball from her friend's head with her right hand. However she did not see the ball from before reappearing on the back of her left hand, which had remained flat on the table.

A company of strangers newly arrived in the tavern did see the mysterious appearance, though, and they didn't find it entertaining in the slightest.

[The Mime]

Another instrument... indeed I had not given thought to expanding my musical talents. Perhaps learning the piano, but then those who perform so delicately do so with four fingers and a thumb, I am at something of a handicap

He gave a flex on looking down to the claws, before readying himself in order for the trick to be finished. As her hand moved to his head not even the limpest gust of a breath was felt upon her arm, nor did he literally move... a person can remain still but for him it was like seeing a statue. Giving another clap of approval on seeing her whisk a ball from his head the Mime let his mind wander a tad upon what he had seen.

Such a delightful smile, like the smile of a girl who found a uniquely pleasing flower and was doing her best to hide it from all others, deceptive honesty... I enjoy that term, it rings true with this, such delight on her face, it appears to be an act but I do beleive shes really enjoying this

The Homonculous watched her with great interest, he did not know fully why he found her interesting but he could work that out later, when moments were not quite so crucial. In fact his sight had remained on her face for so long that, well he hadn't noticed the ball either, nor did he notice the strangers who had entered the tavern... or how they were slowly ushering people out, table by table as they got closer to the beings of magical means. Normally all it takes is for one erratic sound to bring peoples perceptions back to the full picture and even with one so unusual as the Mime this was no exception. A chair sliding against the floor in just precisely the wrong way, a loud screeh and his masked visage flicked round to see the approaching, cloaked strangers.

Though he seemed to have no nose, the scent of charcoal and burning in general had its claws deeply ingrained in these men and their garb. The head of the group approached slowly, fully obscured by his cloak and clothing, then he reached out, a finger with as many digits as the Mimes, though it hadn't always been like that. Only the index and middle finger remained with the thumb, the rest were burnt stumps, a mere centimeter or two past the knuckle, this hand grasped the ball that had made its reapperance on Circes hand and then he quietly stepped back. The Mime felt un-nerved by how many eye-lines fell upon him and his new friend, all hooded and weathered... he could make out bumps in the robing and trench-coats that matched to glimpses of weapons he'd seen on his travels.

Can I help you gentlemen would seem a rather erroneous greeting... for I would certainly not help men such as this... oh dear...

[Midwinter]

Lacretia visibly jumped as a strange man approached the table, stealing the ball that had reappeared on her hand with a mutilated hand of his own. She knew the expression on his face…she had seen it several times before in NYC. Usually those confrontations ended in gunshot or the snapping sound of broken bones. The girl had never stuck around long enough to actually see the conclusions but like most other street rats, hurried down another dark ally. She was perhaps the slightest bit ashamed, but knew she'd take the same route if given a second chance. Rather one person than two die, correct? There was probably nothing she could have done, anyhow. Cheap tricks weren't going to save you when you had the nozzle of a gun pressed to your temple.

Lacy stared up at the stranger with defiant eyes, the look she gave the school councilor back home. What the hell do you want, bitch? Yeah, that's right. Throw it at me. I'll take you down. Okay, so maybe that wasn't the most rational way to go. She silently inhaled and exhaled slowly for a moment and then softened her gaze. The street magician swept some of her black locks from her face and turned more obviously to the one intruding on her space.

"Give the ball back."

[The Mime]

"Girlie wants her ball"

"Wants her trick back to put in the bag"

"She wants her artifact back"

"Silence!"

They spoke with throats hoarse from preaching rhetoric, these men had damaged their vocal chords from yelling out damnations and curses in the dry air of a blaze. That scent and their general demeanour gave rise to that theory in the Mimes mind, he had read of these kind of people in the Spriggan tales and each time he felt they were shown a tad stereotypical... but indeed it looks like only one breed of people could do this sort of activity. While the leader of the group looked down upon them the Homonculous gave a flex of his claw and soon found its movement blocked by a heavily barbed knife of silver, a tad worrying but he did discover thanks to this that the witch hunter was not symetrical, he had five fingers on the knife holding hand. Rotating a claw the Mime gave a light tap to the blade before it was ripped free of the table and then slammed down again, the three digited performer of music just managing to shift his arm away in time.

Rather rash... umm... how to best handle this situation

Despite those two thrusts of a bladed instrument the main witch hunter had not let his gaze fall from Lacretia, his hoarse rasp of a voice issuing forth and bringing a rush of hate filled air to glide across her face.

"Flame or Blade to end your crimes, you will choose, only those who resemble gods people should be offered one, that familiar of yours will share the same fate you pick"

In all this tension the Mime really wanted to rap his claws but since one hand was now resting upon his lap, thought the better of it, any harder and the knife would have went through the table and into his thigh, that would have been rather unpleasant.

Familiar?... I barely know her... oh wait, yes I see now, oh my

[Midwinter]

It was around the time when the moronic leader nearly poked Mime with his blade that Lacretia realized exactly what was going on. Mother ****ing witch hunters. Well what else did I expect? I stumbled into something equivalent to an Amish village and this is what I get. The street magician mulled things over for a second and then determined that she didn't really need that ball anyway. Leaning forward in her chair slightly, Lacretia grabbed her writing implements and began to stow them in her backpack. The witch hunter ran behind her and leaned forward, most likely to hold the blade against her throat or something equally threatening/dramatic.

Lacretia chose her moment to push her chair back, and send the wooden back into the man's stomach with a satisfying thump. She wasted no time in grabbing one of Mime's claws and trying to pull him out of his chair. They were going to run. The followers weren't quite sure what to do with their leader recovering from a blow, but eventually got the jist when the poor panting man gestured with his blade violently. They began to draw various sharp objects from their pockets and close in on the table.

The girl wasn't quite used to such situations, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She slid her backpack off of her shoulder and swung it wildly in the direction of the men in front of her. Daggers, blades, etc are useless when knocked to the floor, accidentally embedded in the arm of your friend, or if your hand was just crushed by the ridiculously heavy textbooks of a highschooler. Lacretia ran forward, scraping a large crude blade off of the ground as she went, screaming for Mime to follow. Dipping one shoulder, she knocked several surprised guys out of the way, heading for the door.

"Come on, Mime! Don't give the bastards a chance to recover!"

Thinking about it, this isn't much different than second grade. You've got a circle of stupid big guys surrounding you, but relatively useless without the witty leader. Just hit 'em with what you've got and hope it works, right?

Just then, several men cloaked in white burst through the inn door, but regally and quietly. If it is possible to bust into some place gracefully, they sure as hell accomplished it. Each man was bald, and their cloaks covered with many small symbols. Their eyes were wide, with dialated pupils. Lacretia skidded to a stop in front of them, not sure whether or not to use a blade on holy men.

[The Mime]

Mime had indeed been moved by Lacretias quick escape attempt, being so very weightless he was being yanked through the air by her simple grip upon his claw, his seemingly fragile body of lanky proportions hitting against several of the magical-female-cremators before finding his feet upon the rafters running along the ceiling. Exactly how he was able to walk in this state, feeling like he was pointing and laughing at the very basis of gravity... how very cruel of himself, but he followed along... suprisingly his mind was not working a mile a minute, he was doing his level best to keep all thoughts to the present situation than running off on tangents.

Once the performers momentum ceased the Holy men found themselves facing a truly ludicrous situation, a girl of not exceptional build had managed to injure several of their rougher mannered compatriots. Her fingers were wrapped around an implement of ivory from apperances and attached to that, was a demon of black and white standing with perfectly unnatural grace upon the ceiling. The Mime raised a hand to wave before quickly withdrawing it on seeing his claws, the tension of the scene being a little defeated somewhat as his scarf drooped for one of the few times and landed itself upon Lacretias head.

"Witch, Witch!"

In the very broadest sense perhaps, but that seems an awful generalisation... alas these are awful people, I should do something, I may not know her powers but to attack with merely a book bag seems something borne from lacking combat skill... but what?...

It was never a good sign when a holy book of considerable size and thickness was brought into vision, the thing had faded blood-stains upon the pages and cover, the Homonculous could not help but feel that book had been badly abused just like the victims it was used on, reprehensible... utterly. Still this was not a good way to view the situation and with nary a shift of claw he released the rafter and spun to land immediately behind Lacretia. His claws lightly plucked at his scarf resting upon her head and placing it back behind him, just in time for her to see the leader of the whites approach. He couldn't fathom what drew such a reaction but the Mimes free arm reached out and then wrapped across Lacretias mid-section, pulling her back against him.

Faced with such an unusual creature the Holy man stopped his approach, his thumb hitting soundly off the cover of his lifes meaning, sounding like a heart-beat but the panic sounded to be more of Lacretias than his own... perhaps a good judge of visible characteristics?... deduction would be helpful in order to back up blind accusations.

"Unlike those ruffians, we do not harm women if it is avoidable... your lifes work as bringers of life make you very important to us... if this demon has co-erced and forced you upon this path this situation can be resolved with a simple public flogging and signed confession... we understand not all have a will strong enough to resist the words of evil that these abominations spew out in such a canocophy of heresy"

My words sway here?... I know it dosen't fit the mood but that is rather amusing in concept, her arms getting ready to swing again, I beleive our decision is made... at the least, if I do this she can still get away without being charcoaled.... here goes

His arm came tighter around her mid-riff, his other doing the same and she felt his body press against her back, lowering down slowly and then... of course, there was silence. Shattered glass breaking itself further off the wooden and dirt flooring, the wooden frame broken and hanging by mere skelps of wood fibre. Outside the tavern the Mime had landed upon his back, sparkles of glass fragments marking his black and white apperance before sliding off by some unseen barrier.

We must run but to where...

[Midwinter]

Lacretia glared as the circle of men closed in on the pair of entertainers, chanting the word "witch" over and over like some sort of mantra. We're screwed. By the looks of it, those holy men aren't here to save us. The street magician straightened out her shoulders, trying failingly to look intimidating. Her heart was hammering and she couldn't really think straight. The thought almost made her laugh. It wasn't like she thought straight normally either. Lacy hugged her backpack to her. Yeah, she'd use it again. All beware the dangerous back pack! Oh God don't let me try and actually fight these guys off with it. Give me something cooler…like a shot gun or something. At least let me go down looking cool.

She barely felt Mime's scarf land on the top of her head. When it did, it basically blinded her. Adrenaline pumping through her, Lacy allowed herself to remain still. She had to trust Mime. If not him, then who would be able to get them out of such a mess? It certainly wouldn't be her and her backpack wielding skills. Lacretia tried to calm herself, and think about the unusual softness of the scarf on her head opposed to the movement she could hear all around her. However, that didn't work as well as she would have liked. The beginnings of a panic were growing in her chest.

Suddenly, the blindness was lifted. Lacretia turned to see Mime behind her, and was abruptly pulled close to him. Rapidly, the street magician flicked her eyes across the room. The robed men in white were advancing, a large dangerous book in their hands. There were stains, drips, running down it. She guessed it was blood. She instantly wished she hadn't guessed that. Why, why do I always guess right when it bothers me most? What's the motherfucker going to do, hit me with the book? Is this some sort of retaliation for whacking up his men with my backpack full of textbooks? I thought priests were supposed to turn the other cheek or something… I dunno, these guys don't look terribly catholic or Buddhist or anything else mellow.

The head white-cloaked-whacko advanced, drumming one thumb off of his book's cover. Lacy almost giggled. Were they going to do a tribal dance to the beat? Suppose they'd be sacrificed. The girl didn't remember her foster brother saying anything about priests and sacrifices…or perhaps, once more, she just hadn't been paying attention when he ranted enthusiastically. Then suddenly, the man's mouth opened…

"Unlike those ruffians, we do not harm women if it is avoidable... your lifes work as bringers of life make you very important to us... if this demon has co-erced and forced you upon this path this situation can be resolved with a simple public flogging and signed confession... we understand not all have a will strong enough to resist the words of evil that these abominations spew out in such a canocophy of heresy"

…and spewed a bucket load of shit… Well, had she been expecting much else?

She felt Mime pull her closer. My life's work as bringers of life? What? Oh… EW. What a pervert. As if that's my goal in life. Coerced. That word sounds familiar. Talked into? Tempted? Well whatever. Public flogging and signed confession?!?!?! Oh that bastard had better be kidding. As if. Besides, I think I'd rather try and fight my way out of this with Mime then stick around to be beaten and become one of their 'bringers of life'. But as it turned out, there was a third option. Against her back, Lacy felt Mime bend down and then suddenly there was silence.

The street magician felt herself and Mime go catapulting up and away. She must have blanked out for a moment, because the next thing she remembered she was lying outside, on the ground with Mime, with shattered glass all around them but not on them. Holy shit! He did not…just…jump out the window…Holy shit…what have I gotten myself into?

"Come on!" Lacy said, her voice slightly shaky

She knew they needed to get out of there fast and to somewhere the priests wouldn't think they would be able to hide. Where? Well she didn't exactly know. She was the new kid in town. In country. In world and perhaps universe, actually. However, there was the fact that they were being chased by a bunch of knife-wielding hooligans to motivate her into doing something.

Lacretia grabbed one of Mime's claws, and pulled. She fled down a back ally, jumping over trash and who-knows-what's refuse lying in piles, just trying to leave the scene of escape. Suddenly she found herself in front of a dark building with basically nobody around. Building? Nobody outside? She wasn't going to complain. But who would possibly let a pair of ragamuffins who were being chased by local authority take shelter in their home?

The girl noticed a stone fence around the side of the place. It was dark outside, so she was having a hard time seeing, but she could see its outline. With a silent gesture for Mime to follow, she walked up to the wall and stuck one foot in-between the crack of two big rocks. Grabbing onto a handful of ivy above her, she pulled herself up pretty far. With some of that entertainer dexterity needed to pull of larger tricks, she hoisted herself up onto the top of the wall. Straddling the stone fence, on shaky legs, she pulled her knees up close to her and slowly stood up. Then, reaching beside her, she grasped around until her hands found the window sill. Feeling around, Lacy traced her fingers up to the top of the sill. Holding on tight, she brought one leg and then the other over to the bottom lip of the frame. She crouched a bit so she could get her legs actually inside the window, and then slid into the room.

"Did you see that?" Lacy called down to Mime in a voice only loud enough for him to hear, "Just do what I did and get up here!"

The girl's eyes were barely adjusting to the light, but she could make out a rack of clothes next to her. Perfect. They could use disguises! Quickly, Lacy began pulling things off the rack, not noticing or caring about what she was going to put on.

[The Mime]

There was not a claw-fall on the ground behind Lacretia, as she ran and pelted for dear life the Mime was quite literally floating behind her. When she had taken off and gripped him the Homonculous had just let his feet slip off the ground, in her rushing state trying to guide her would seem foolish and it required no exertion at all for her to hold onto him. Through the streets he wavered and rested in the air, his body resting merely an inch from the ground on her slower movements, he often wondered how it would feel to find a strong wind and simply jump into it, be propelled across vast lands and assailed in all directions... to be at the whim of the winds, tempting.

As they reached the walled in building The Mime extended a few foot-claws as he sank down, raising himself up solely by them to stand beside the girl he knew as Circe. His mask tracing the magicians movements as she pulled herself quite... well it was hard to describe it, at the least he quite enjoyed seeing how she moved. Her offer of repeating all that was not something the Mime would really refuse but they were being pursued from the sounds echoeing down the streets so he decided to take the quickest option. Giving a fast forward hop his toe-claws reached out and seemed to pinch at the pin-prick holes marking the bricks, then with one swift push from his leg propelled himself up onto the wall... then, well he simply jumped once again for the window sill, landing solidly on both feet.

While Circe busied herself with trying to grab garments the Mime hunched down in order to fit his lanky frame through the open window, shuffling with utter silence to stand near her, sight poring through the various cloth coverings and getting a slightly sickly feeling.

There is not a single outfit here for a man...

Though The Mime could be seen as being genderless he was male, raised as a male and unlike a very small sect of the male population, was not thrilled at the potential prospect of dressing like... well a loose, woman judging by some of those skirts and low slung corsets.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.