Time stamp: 22th of Fall Location: Courtyard of the Sky Shhhh. That weird cat. He didn't know really why, but it was hard not to think about his yesterday's encounter. Mathieu wasn't one to dwell on past events, but he caught himself thinking - even merely thinking about it was strange to him - about that Kelvic. How much did the rest of the goat sell for? What was she going to buy with the money? Why did he even care? By the gods he hated when his mind played tricks on him. He slowly inhaled and lifted his arms. The show was about to begin. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to the art of Fire weaving. If you would please stand back and by no mean try to get near me during the show. It is for your own safety, he loudly called in his habitual monotonous and almost cold tone. Gah, speeches. He had never been good with them. Usually a crowd would just begin to gather when his show was on the way, hypnotic fiery juggling doing all the work. His words were never one to be interesting to listen to - he didn't choose his trade so he could quip and sputter nonsense all day long. She seemed really interested by fire, this one. Would she come to watch the show? Shhh, since when did he become sentimental about the customers. They were here to enjoy the spectacle and to produce the money he needed to live. Let us begin than, he said, grabbing a bottle of paraffin on the ground next to all his tools of trade. He would usually have everything in his cart, but Wind Reach was just not adapted to that. His horse had been left in the stables and his cart not far from it. He took a sip of deadly poison - should he swallow it everything would be over - and lit a torch. Last time he pulled a trick with his hand only. Last time his hand almost went useless from the mistake. Coordination, he would need to work more on this. A second too soon nothing happens, a second too late you would have wished nothing happened. Raising the torch toward the sky, Mathieu spat the liquid toward the fire, igniting the strange fluid into a wild inferno. As the flame went up into a huge fireball the whole vicinity had instantly gone boiling hot, the crowd gasped and took a step back as it usually did. Some of them wore awestruck expression on their faces while others feared what had just transpired. But Mathieu didn't care, his gaze locked on the destructive element that was the core of his show. He felt it like every other time he breathed fire instead of air, as if his face would melt down, as if staring into the sun itself. So painful, yet so clean and pure. He would not close his eyes at the sight, lest his eyeballs would burn away, staring at this magnificent state of art that was such infernal fireball. In a matter of seconds was the fury over, bringing 'Oh' and 'Ah" all over the place. Yet although his lungs anguished for air he would not dare breathing yet for that would be his downfall, his death. All the oxygen around him had been burnt away and he wasn't keen on getting poisoned with carbon dioxide - though he knew not a thing about it specifically, it was just that his mentor died this way. He would usually go and get his weapons now. He would usually light them and start his terrifying yet hypnotic dance. But he caught himself looking at the crowd. Was she watching the show? Was she enjoying it? |