Keep Them In The Air

[Kit Rowan]

Day 65, Season of Winter, 506 AV

This time they had set up in the street. The pavement had turned to dark grass that blew in an imagined wind, Darilava stood tall, pale and elegant, out of place in the sun, his pale, transparent skin enough to make a watcher wince, his face lined and weathered with age. Wheat stood a little behind, lifted a hand to his mouth and yawned, loudly.

Kit felt a little safer knowing that Whet was there watching her. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes and she saw him slump against the wall, tip his hat over his face to keep out the sun. Only a little, though. She shifted back and forth, stared up at the elder Symenestra with a child's seriousness. He plucked a small brown something from his pocket and tossed it at her.

She raised her hands, caught it, stared down at it. It was a leather ball, sewn together into a haphazard sphere. She tossed it from hand to hand before looking up at Darilava. There were more in his hands now, one, two, three . . . he tossed one into the air, and it made a high arc. The other balls joined it, and Kit watched as the continued in a neverending circle, propelled by the spider's hands. "If you insist so sternly on wasting yourself, there is need for other talents to develop. You will fall, girl, you will break like a precious doll dropped to the floor, and when you do, you must have other ways to entertain."

He caught them one by one, pocketed them all again. "Today, you learn to juggle one ball."

"One ball," Kit said. Her face was flat, her voice bland, with the edge of a question in it.

Darilava rolled his eyes and threw his hands up into the air. "Try, then! keep the ball going ten times, first attempt, and I shall praise you! I shall plead your forgiveness! I shall supplicate myself to you, girl." The only reason he would say that, ever, would be if he was convinced beyond recourse that she would fail, fail, fail. Kit gritted her teeth and began.

Kit tossed the ball from her left hand to her right, up, held out her hand to catch it . . . And the ball didn't go where she expected. It fell inches to the side of her hand, hit the ground with a soft impact. Kit stared down at it, disbelief plain on her face. "Your hands are keen and quick, but you should know they cannot act on what they do not know. This ball is a thing unknown to you. You are too accustomed to throwing, never catching," Darilava spat and oh, Kit's cheeks went red! "Again."

[Kit Rowan]

She threw it too hard, and it fell outside her reach, too low, it zipped past her fast and landed on her toe, a slippery grip when she tried to toss it over to her other hand and it went flying off to the side. Kit winced at Darilava's scoldings; "Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!"

She went scampering after the ball, leaning over and snatching it off the ground, turned around and trotted reluctantly back to Darilava. "Not good enough, girl!" He said.

"I'm trying my hardest!" Kit shouted back at him, arms at her side, one hand clenched into a fist while the other tried in vain to crush the leather ball in its grip.

Darilava snorted. "There is no try, not in this. The profession you 'want?' Cold, humorless. You know why I teach you this? Should you follow this foolishness to the end, you will do yourself an injury. Is not a matter of if, merely when. And then, will the world wait? Will it stop and allow you the rest you need?" He cut the air with his hand. "No! And it never will! Why do you refuse to understand this?"

"I understand plenty," Kit hissed. She tossed the ball slowly, hand, hand, air. She followed it with her eyes, caught it tossed it to her other hand, tossed it high . . .

"Don't look," Darilava warned. "You must get used to not seeing the ball."

Kit breathed in deep and looked straight ahead. Catch, throw, throw, catch. Throw, throw, catch. Throw, throw, catch. Her hands at long last began to fall into the rhythm, and Kit felt her pulse begin to rise as she made it ANOTHER time! Yes!

"You don't understand," Darilava said, and the anger had gone from her voice. He seemed more subdued, now. "Every day it's the same, but it gets a little harder. Your body begins to ache, your fingers go stiff but your watchers are still as demanding as ever before. They don't care what you did before, they don't care how you've entertained them, they'll abandon you like trash, leave you—"

Kit caught the ball and held it this time, tucking her hands behind her back and offering Darilava a smile. "Done." When he stared she said "ten times. You said ten times. That was ten."

A look of boundless frustration overtook her mentor's expression. Darilava shook his head and ran a hand over his face. "Do it again, girl."

[Kit Rowan]

Kit furrowed her brow as the sun beat down, the irregularly warm but still comparatively cold winter breezing running over the back of her neck. The ball wavered in the air as she tossed it, threw it, just barely she caught it in her hands. Kit felt those eyes constantly prying, looking for some mistake to catch and nettle her with. Kit bit down on her lip, bear down, and the ball began to steady. She kept it going for ten, twenty, thirty . . . Darilava didn't say a word. It wasn't until she broke fifty, yes fifty that he sighed, pulled a second leather ball out. "Stop."

"So you've mastered the art of 'juggling' one ball. This is not something I would wish too watch, nor even two balls! Especially not in your clumsy hands." He began to fling two balls of his own in a circle, catching them with an ease that Kit narrowed her eyes, feeling a spike of jealousy take her. She watched as his ball sailed through the air . . . Just as one reached its highest arc, he sent the next along its way. It looked impressive but he was doing it slowly . . . Perhaps for her benefit?

No, she rejected that thought. Kit started juggling one ball as she had before and threw the other after it. Figuring out what to do wasn't the issue; it was timing it correctly. She let one fall, then the other. She let one fall. She let one fall. She held it, her hands finally realizing what it meant to juggle two balls. It was quicker now; Kit had precious little time to actually respond. She paled at the thought of three leather balls . . . But it was actually an easier transition between juggling one ball and two than it was from no balls at all. Perhaps three would be the same?

He let her keep it up. "I don't understand you stubbornness in this," Darilava said, shaking his head. "There is a better, easier way open to you. Surely there is someone you could settle down with. There are mothers in Alvadas as well. Your mother gave birth to you. It need not be a struggle between your god and your family. Your bloodline will end, girl. There will be nothing left of your mother and father in the world once you all meet Lhex in his office. Why does this not bother you?"

For a moment, she ignored him, focusing entirely on her juggling. Her hands had fallen into a pattern now, and juggling was less a calculated effort and more a thing that she maintained by inertia. Kit licked her lips. "Why do you even care? Don't your people just ruin girl's lives? Isn't that what you DO?"

Darilava winced. "I have given birth to all the children that my body will allow," he said. "I have burned human women with more kindness and humility in their little pinky than you have in your whole body for the sake of my family. And then I was done. And yet you refuse to sacrifice anything!"

"Sacrifice?" Kit sputtered, and one of the balls fell through her hands. "Murder doesn't turn into a petching virtue when you hang 'for my family' on the end of it!"

Darilava drew back as if struck. He opened his mouth, closed his mouth. His face twisted into rage, then something stranger that Kit could not read. "Continue to practice." He turned away, marched. "We are done here."

[Kit Rowan]

Kit had thought that Whet was asleep standing up, but the moment Darilava turned the corner and walked out of sight he clapped his hands, loudly. "Trickster and Rhaus above, the air here is too thick! Little fox, where are you?" He pulled his hat from his head, stepped forward and spread his hands, wide and grand, a smile like Syna rising blossoming across his face. He was dressed in rich clothes, purples and oranges and reds, all glistening silk two degrees more fancy than he could have possibly been able to afford.

"Right here," Kit said, her voice heavy, letting the ball fall out of her hands, sighing.

He held a hand over his eyes and scanned as though at a distant horizon, passing right over Kit. "Did I hear someone?" He asked the air. "Surely not! There's no performer to be seen. No color, no energy! A gray world! Little fox, where are you?!"

Kit rolled her eyes, remembering this exercise. She gave Whet a slanted smile, spread her stance and let a careless hand rest on her hip. "Right here, old man!"

"Oh! Oh! I heard someone," he snapped his fingers, closed his eyes tight, as though conjuring some long-lost memory. "But who? Surely no one important!"

"I am Kit Rowan!" Kit said, feigning cheer, and raising her mood by the mere act of pretend. "The best damn acrobat Alvadas has ever seen, you bet your eyes!"

"Ah!" His eyes snapped on her, and his smile, impossible as it might have seemed, grew yet larger. "I knew someone was there! What a pleasure to see you again." He stepped forward, leaned down and clapped his hands on her cheeks. "Careful, little fox! With a sweet face like that, you'll steal the hearts of gods!"

"Oh stop it!" Kit stepped back, waving his hands away, blushing at the compliment and already cheery. Whet was incapable of being serious, and it was a feat of heroic effort to stay somber long in front of him. Which, Kit supposed, made Darilava something of a hero.

"Don't let the spider get you down, little fox." Whet gave Kit a little wink. "I know you'll go far!"

Kit raised an eyebrow, put the other hand on her hip. "Didn't you say you were the liar of the pair?"

"This is Alvadas, little fox!" He made a wide gesture that included the streets, the sky, the whole city. "Where there is no lie that cannot be made true!" Kit's smile went critical, and she began to giggle into her hands to make peace with the sudden swing of mood. "You're not wrong about him, you know, but no good'll come from rubbing it in his face."

Kit's smile fell away as sudden as it came. She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes. He's the one who keeps needling me. Every single day. The same thing!"'

He waved her complaints away. "Oh give it a rest, little fox! There's nothing you can do to hate that man more than he hates himself. He's a creature of responsibility, spat out by the same bindings that chained him. He can't bear the sight of a beautiful free spirit like yourself. Can't face how free he could have been."

Kit frowned. "Could have been?"

Whet shook his head, smile wry. "Not my story to tell. Ask another dumb question while he's drunk, and maybe he'll let that spill too. Now! How do you say your goodbyes?"

Kit shrugged and gave Whet a deep bow.

"Oh no! You're such a darling little girl! If you're proud and want to let it show, give me a curtsy!"

Kit gave Whet an odd look. "I'm wearing trousers."

"That makes you less of a girl?" Whet rolled his eyes. "Whether you wear a skirt or trousers, whether you bear a child or walk the world doesn't matter. If your city has taught me anything, you are whatever you want to be, and nothing else matters. Can I get a curtsy from a lovely little girl?"

Kit smiled for him, broad and honest. "You're the best, Whet." She crossed her legs, bent down and spread imaginary skirts.

"I live to entertain." He laughed, turned and raised his hand into the air. "And so, I think, do you."

[Skerry]

Grades

Kit

Skill	XP
Juggling	4XP
Observation	3XP
Rhetoric	3XP
Busking	2XP
Acting	1XP

LORES :

• Basics of juggling
• Juggling: Don’t look at the ball
• Darilava’s “sacrifice”
• Darilava: Could have been free?
• Curtsying in trousers

Notes:
Nice little thread that introduced Kit to juggling but yet wasn’t totally focused on juggling so wasn’t boring. Gave you one for acting along with the two for busking because Kit sort of adopts a persona not her own. That’s my thoughts anyway. Well done and keep up the good work!

Remember if you have any questions about or problems with your grade then feel free to PM me.

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