Flashback [Guest ST] Simply Irrelevant

[Aoren]

“Bright Eyes!” Cadmus exclaimed in greeting from the makeshift stage as soon as she asked for him. He hobbled down from the stage making his way toward her with a surprising amount of spring in his step for an old man. He was dressed even more absurdly than he’d been the night before. His robes were a smooth red velvet that shimmered with an almost icy sheen. There were a plethora of sunbursts upon the fabric of the robe each a bright gold with golden embroidery depicting mystical swirls upon the hem and sleeves.

The moment he stepped up to her he extended a hand then with a flick of his wrist produced a large silk cloth. He passed the cloth over his outwardly extended hand and as it fell away there rest a medium sized package in his hand which he prompted Fallon to take.

“I think you’ll find those garments to your liking. They aren’t as grand as mine but then judging from your skepticism I presumed you wouldn’t want to be as flashy as myself.” He chuckled then fished his pipe out of his robes. He retrieved a pouch emptying some tobacco into the basin of the pipe then with a flick of his wrist produced a match. He struck it on the surface of a nearby table then held it over the pipe puffing a few times before putting it out. He watched Fallon with interest.

When the wrapping of the package would be undone a very simple but elegant royal blue gown would be revealed. It was something out of a grand ball that a wealthy woman would wear. There was no gaudy embellishment or fancy pattern only the flowing evening gown. Whether Fallon reacted positively or negatively to it, Cadmus didn’t comment. A pair of silver dress slippers could be found beneath the gown.

“Now, when you’re done ogling your costume we have a show to rehearse!” He made his way up to the stage where stood a small table with a number of baubles and trinkets. He gestured to them with a sweep of his arm. “Behold the tools of my trade! You will be assisting me in making certain that these instruments work properly through the night. You will even be using them yourself at some point.”

On the table there was a hat. It was of the same color and pattern of Cadmus’s robe. The appearance of the hat made one wonder what the entirety of the old man’s wardrobe looked like. Next to the hat there was a deck of playing cards. While the face of the cards were normal in appearance the back of each card was artfully painted with the hand of Ovek, God of Luck. Next to that were a few ordinary looking rings with gemstones inlaid upon their surface. There were several silk cloths, what appeared to be a wand, and several ceramic bowls filled with different colored powders.

“Now I bet you’re wondering, how do all of these simple looking items allow me to perform the mystical things that I do? It’s quite simple really and I am going to share with you a little bit of my knowledge on how to do it. But first, we shall go over staging!” He gestured for Fallon to step up onto the stage an eager glint in his eye. He puffed on his pipe smiling before pointing to the makeshift wooden stage.

“Before you examine my bits and bobs, take a look at the stage. Tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary.” The grain of the wood would be normal upon first inspection. To the untrained eye it would appear to be nothing more than a stage put together rather sturdily on a spur of the moment. Which was quite odd in and of itself. Upon closer inspection however there were several small holes along the front of the stage. They were not big enough to notice if one wasn’t immediately on the stage able to look at them. Toward the center of the stage there were lightly drawn several sigils that seemed to be carefully placed so that they corresponded with the holes toward the front.

[Fallon]

There was two things with Cadmus that was already beginning to make her internally cringe. Firstly, it was the presently forced upon pet name of ‘Bright eyes’, which she tried her hardest to take in good humour. Secondly, it was the seemingly bottomless pit of energy that radiated from him. Where on earth did a man gain such vigour? Roughly exhaling, Fallon allowed the still garishly dressed man to pass the package to her. There was a twitch, eyes looking down onto the royal blue gown. She was unsure now whether to be impressed or not by such a garment, and it was perhaps at that moment that the initial two things that made her cringe moved up to three.

”Well… that’s an awfully… nice colour?” Lips parted, her face creasing as she looked down the fabric and tried to work out what exactly to think. It was a stage prop, a costume in its simplest form. Not that she knew exactly how to feel about that either. Even now she could tell it was something built upon the heat of the moment without any true formal training in the art of performance. She bit her tongue, a chew upon the lip as the man quickly continued on his way. Folding the package up, she tucked it neatly under her arm and followed after him to his table of bits and baubles. There was a lean down as she gave a scrutinizing look onto the cards, her gaze lifting onto firstly the card back.

For a moment she did not recognise the symbol, but it was only as the gloved digit reached down to tap upon the surface did she pause. Ovek, in Ravok? Well, each to their own she found herself musing. She was not sure if such other gods were exactly welcome here. Then again, if it was little more than a stage prop she doubted she could comment too much. Her Lykata gave a throb, followed by a nervous twitch. What was she involving herself in? There had to be more than what was just meeting the eye. Scrutinizing the powders she did not waste time upon the precious gems – she doubted that their lustre would give her any actual answers.

”They look like paint powders,” she muttered with a cock of the eyebrow. She would have reached out and touched if it was not for the words of Cadmus cut through the air once more. A flinch, a turn as she followed the hand down to the put together stage. Wood gave a creak, her head lowering as she gave a step over. Stooping, she ran the finger tips across the surface, eyes narrowing down. The faint knots, the signs of old stains marking the surface – accept they were not stains, she realised as her finger ran round the outer edge. Placing the package down she applied both hands onto the surface this time, brow knitting as she inspected it.

Rocking on her haunches she shuffled along to the edge of the stage to inspect the holes. There was a brush over of them, a gentle sway before she pulled away and looked back at him, ”Squiggles and holes? Let me guess, they’re your prompts for performance? Bad memory?” She shook her head, hands pulling off the gloves and exposing he pale digits to the open air. There was pause, a stand up as she moved once more to the faint markings on the floor, Marks, relation. Points. Prompts. I… wait. Hole, small,” she gave a pace, eyes flickering. A puzzle, a mystery waiting to be discovered before her. Fingers drummed, a press back of the still tangled morning hair, ”Triggers? No… do you… presser run marks?”

A challenge indeed, she needed to think outside what was immediately before her. Rocking on her haunches to gave a look up to Cadmus, searching his form for an answer or some insight as to what was exactly before her. Curiosity wrestled with practicality. She was here to work, not to ask questions or bring forth theories. A lick of lips, she begrudgingly pushed herself up to stand, fingers grasping once more onto the package, ”Work. Need to focus on things. The steps, what did you want me to learn. Wait. What order are the acts in? The Routine in which to follow.”

[Aoren]

“I’ll have you know, lass that I have an excellent memory. I never forget how to do my routine. And I never forget a pretty face.” The old codger gave Fallon a wink. The mischievous glint that was ever present in his eyes seemed to glow brighter at watching her squirm. As Fallon puzzled over the mystery of the platform before her he folded his arms over his chest chewing on the end of his pipe. When she rattled off her train of thought he gave a slight arch of his eyebrow blinking at her. It was as if he was simply waiting for her to piece together the puzzle. The obvious work she was putting into solving it made the old man smile. When she simply dismissed it he frowned. Grabbing the pipe in his mouth he set it on the table.

“Work? Focus on things? You are focusing on things girl. This is work.” He stepped forward pointing down to the feint sigils swirling over the surface of the platform and the holes they corresponded with. After gesturing to them he took one finger and prodded Fallon on the temple.

“Think, girl. That is the whole point of a magician’s work. Perception. Defying the imagination. Pleasing the crowd by drawing them in making them believe what they’re seeing isn’t possible. You can’t do that if you don’t pay attention to the details. I told you to tell me if you saw anything out of the ordinary. You did.” He gestured to her from head to toe.

“You threw away your gut instinct. I could see it on your face. Instead of following the trail of where your thoughts were leading you, you just tossed them aside. Wrong.” Whirling around almost as if he were executing a precise and exquisite ballet he spread his arms wide stepping to the center of the platform. The hem of his robes twirled gracefully, the sleeves were caught in the wind he generated by his movement. It was a grand gesture of delightful showmanship. If Fallon watched his movements closely however she would see Cadmus’s foot slide over the center of one of the sigils. At that exact moment he threw his arms forward angling his fingers downward as if he were about to conjure some mystical force.

Not more than a second later there was a popping noise and a flash. Red smoke suddenly shot up into the air just as Cadmus made a downward sweeping gesture with both of his arms. The edges of his sleeves caught the smoke causing it to spiral up forming a wide arc that circled up toward the direction of the old magician’s hand. With that display finished Cadmus placed his hands on his hips.

“Nothing is what it seems, girl. Nothing is supposed to be what it seems. That is the first lesson in being a stage performer. If you can master that, you can dazzle any audience with some class and just a little flare. The second lesson?” He glided over to the table picking up his pipe popping it back into his mouth. Cadmus chewed on the tip before he continued.

“Trust your instincts. They are not often wrong.” With a grumble he sniffed studying Fallon for a moment.

“If you look closely you’ll see that there are sigils inscribed lightly on the surface of this platform.” Gesturing for her to move closer he pointed at one of the sigils.

“The symbol just to the right and a little above each sigil is a trigger. Each sigil corresponds with a hole along the forward part of my platform. By pressing on that trigger…” He stepped over to the table pointing at the powder on the table. “…that is released.”

“Now I’m sure you’re wondering what that is. I’ll tell you it’s not cheap which is why I buy it in quantities but just a pinch is enough to produce the smoke you saw. The triggers cause a mechanism in one of those holes to ignite the powder. How does that work? That’s what I pay a Glypher and a Philterer in Zeltiva to figure out when I visit them every other season.” He gave Fallon a wink. Never mind if she knew what a Glypher or a Philterer were.

“Now then, we’ll get to the routine in a moment. Pick up one of those rings. Roll it in your hands. Examine it. Notice anything?” Each ring was set with a jewel. Should Fallon pick one up she would notice that the jewel upon the ring was slightly offset as opposed to the others. Indeed if she prodded it the jewel would slide open to reveal a small compartment that was just large enough to hold some of the powder or perhaps another small substance.

[Fallon]

For a moment she looked upon him with a blink, eyes barely lifting from where she was standing. Her brow was still furrowed as the man gave his words, encouragement that had long been lost behind the seasons to simply think. And beyond what was obvious no doubt, and that was a difficult task to achieve. Whatever happened to good old fashioned books and paper? And instinct? Relying on that often got people hurt and killed. No, cold hard logic was the way forward - and her young stubborn mind would continue to believe that until later years. Lips formed into a line, her eyes focusing upon him as gave the disapproving look and she was told to not go against instinct - it was something in her that made her internally rebel.

Still, she followed him patiently as he brought himself above the mark. Her form twitched, head lowering as she watched the feet move and his stance be taken. There was the large flinch backwards at that point, both arms raised defensively in surprise. Her head snapped back and forth, thoughts spurred into action as the smoke and colours obeyed his whims. Skin prickled, a pivot of movement as she took those steps around to survey the scene correctly. Where was the source, where did it come from? Hairs rose, the smoke plucked and pulled towards his hand and her eyes darting upwards to it - looking and searching.

Even as he brought the small performance to a close, her eyes were still fixed upon him - surprise and wonder as to what was going on before him. Those words repeated, expanding and growing out into possibilities. Ideas and things in which to act upon. At least until he explained himself and what had occurred. Perhaps then she could begin to grasp his disappointment to her own denial of instinct. And with that, all of what was before her begun to make sense. A clever collection of mechanics and pulls. But that only then lead to the question as to how he managed to summon the smoke up into his hand. With a mumble she spoke, "Definitely not paint powders then."

Taking a crouch down she once more returned to the careful inspection of the stage, "Glyphing huh?" she looked down to the marks upon the floor, her mind ticking over that it was possibly something related to magic - it appeared to be the only reasonable answer at present, "Just looks like a bunch of pretty squiggles to me. Who would think, such things would allow such movement. Almost as if..." she paused, caught her words and shook her head, "I don't know. Something."

Pressing herself up she made her way carefully to the table and the assortment of tools - no longer simple trinkets in her eyes. Bare fingers flexed over them, obeying his words for now as she picked it up. Taking it up for closer inspection, the low mumble of words beneath her breath as she took to her vocal thinking, "Big jewel. No signs of those marks... glyphing?" She gave it a turn round, the finger brushing against the stone surface and the object in question being lifted to the light. There was a pause when the compartment was revealed, her expression changing to of deeper thought, "Small... could you possibly fit powder in there?"

Brow raising she looked upon Cadmus and then back down to the edge of the ring, "But that wouldn't make sense. I mean... on the presumption it's the same powder. There isn't a trigger as far as I can see. So, unless you had another way to use it, or another method of ignition - which would have to be incredibly small - it can't be for that smoke," she gave a snort almost in amusement, "So, another substance of some description that you don't need a lot of." Gingerly she placed it down and then looked back to the stage once more, "Unless, there is also a trigger on there to do it." She needed more time to think, and she had a feeling that simple observations would not quite reveal what exactly was put into it. Exhaling she shook her head again, "I think I'm stumped this time. Completely. Is this the bit where you enlighten me and dazzle the audience?"

There was only a final nod then, her blue-green gaze turning. She knew the tools now that were being used, it was just learning the method - at least, that was what she kept telling herself. Of course, the main entertainer would be the judge of that, she was just the additional assistance for the performance, "Ready when you are."

[Aoren]

Cadmus watched Fallon carefully as she examined not only the sigils lightly drawn over the surface of the platform but the jewelry as well. He would let her puzzle it all out for a few moments. When she turned to him the old man gave a nod.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now let’s see how well you can follow instructions, hmm?” He gave her a wink before making his way down from the platform.

“Now then, the evening will start much like it always does. The drunkards will haul themselves into the tavern one by one, or two by two if they’re especially desperate, anyways! They will haul themselves in and when they do it means they’ll come looking for a bit of excitement. We will give it to them.” He leaned forward giving Fallon a once over. He brushed his fingers over the length of his beard. Fallon would practically be able to hear the wheels turning in the old man’s head. He was up to something and undoubtedly it would make Fallon uncomfortable.

“We’re going to have to work on your social skills. Are you any good at charming people? Actually…” He seemed to reconsider his words. “…scratch that. You’re a terrible charmer.” Cadmus cleared his throat studying Fallon for a moment. He tapped his chin before snapping his fingers and nodding, struck with what must have been a brilliant idea.

“I’ve got it!” He waded through the dining room moving a few chairs and situating a few tables in an apparently random pattern to clear out a corner.

“I’ll start the evening here. We’ll kick off the night’s entertainment with a lovely diddy.” He gestured to one of the nearby tables. “You’ll start the evening here, perhaps with a nice glass of wine? Yes. Red wine. It will contrast nicely with that gown. It may also help you be less stiff.” He leveled Fallon with a stare.

“When I play my song, you will get up and begin to dance. Yes..and…” He paused mid-stride then turned to stare at Fallon. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?”

“And before you babble on about how any of this has to do with putting on a show of illusion and trickery, think on those two words. Illusion. Trickery. That’s the whole point. You can’t just throw mystifying things at the common man and expect a pleasant reaction all the time. You have to ease him into it. Get him open to the idea of a more relaxed frame of mind.” Cadmus strode past Fallon picking up his pipe. He withdrew a pouch from within the folds of his robes then emptied a bit of tobacco into the bowl of the pipe. Procuring a match from seemingly nowhere he struck it on the surface of a table then lit the pipe giving it a few puffs before putting out the match with a few flicks of his wrist.

“The key to any successful illusion is not convincing someone that what they are seeing is real, but that it is possible. If in the furthest recesses of their mind a man believes that what he is seeing could be real then he will question whether or not he should look into seeing if it isn’t. Part of that illusion is subtly convincing your audience that you are no more out of the ordinary than they are. Once you have done that, then you can really confound their imagination.” He took a drag on his pipe exhaling the smoke through his nose. There was silence between them as he let Fallon digest the meaning of his words.

“Now then, let’s see if you can dance.” Cadmus walked to the opposite side of the platform. He leaned down rummaging through a black bag.

“Where did I…” the sound of various utensils jingling around in the bag could be heard. Accompanied by the cloud of smoke that seemed to be hanging about the old man’s head it made for an amusing sight. “…what did I do with…Ah! Aha! Here it is!”

Cadmus stood back up withdrawing his lute from the bag. He slid a chair out then situated himself upon the seat. With a small cough and another puff on his pipe he nodded to Fallon. Then his fingers were plucking at the strings of the lute. It was a simple melody, nothing grand or vulgar but a small tune that one could easily dance to.

[Fallon]

Part of Fallon went rigid when Cadmus winked at her, her chest tightening and her eyes darting back and forth across his features. She could hardly get a reading on the man, his ways flittering to and fro quicker than she could grasp. There was a deep inhale, ears twitching as he described the scene of the evening. Drunks, lots of them, all ogling up at the stage once the show begun. There was a pause at that point, the still frame of cheering voices and the hooting for more - at least until he once more grasped her attention.

In response to his moving in, she moved away eyes looking down the bridge of her nose, as he scrutinized her. For a moment she blinked, hands rising up and ready to push him away should he move further into her personal space. There was a puff of cheeks at the comment of her lacking social skills, a narrow of lids as she held back the urge to protest - it was not professional conduct was what she kept reminding herself. A deep breath, the rise and fall of the internal energies as she instilled calm. No, she had to deal with him herself - that much was beginning to grow apparent. There was no mentor to save her now.

"Wine? I... well... I am not stiff! I'm just... wary," she objected and gave an awkward shuffle, her fingers scratching at the back of her head before she wriggled the gloves back on. Her eyes stared back, meeting as he listed off the rest of his plan. Arms folded at that point, a shake of the head as he posed his question, "Can't dance to save my life. Never shown how and probably have two left feet to boot."

Not that he seemed to exactly listen to her words. Already he had continued on, explaining the nature of creating the illusion. So she was to be one who was planted among the people, the face in the crowd led to lure them up into the performance - the warm up act. She could understand the concepts, the thoughts behind them and how it worked. But she could not help but feel that she was being put in a position she could not perform to. Chewing at her lip, she looked away to where the audience would be sitting, her fingers rising to scratch upon the back of her head once more, and inhaled the smoke that was exhaled.

"I understand, but..." she gave a shrug, defeated almost. She was not comfortable with this one bit, "I can't dance. As I said before. I don't mind partaking in the illusion, and we both know that I'm doing this for assisting but... I really cannot dance." No, he was not listening already the lute was out. She stiffened out of reflex then, the glowing feeling resting upon her cheeks as he pulled upon the strings. Her eyes widened slightly at that point, a glance to the side and then a look away to someone - a plea for help with the situation before her, only to receive nothing. She was definitely on her own, and thus had to make the best of it.

Firstly there was trying to find some composure and to make sure she did not panic. To do so would only make herself seem like a fool - not that she probably looked far off already. She pinched her brow, and then pushed back the tangled hair. An inhale, followed by an exhale. The tune still twanged quietly, her mind focusing on the noise and the gentle beat. A shuffle of feet, a rock up onto her toes as she swayed in place. A single step to the side, her lips pursed into a line as she tried to find a sense of movement to the rhythm. Another step, her brow creased, her form paused and then promptly she hesitated. Swallowing, she withdrew the foot and gingerly let her toes tap against the ground. Eyes lifted and looked upon the man, her lips having simply pursed into a line as she considered the next move if she had the strength to do it. This was far from her forte, she knew that and he knew that too.

"Mister Cadmus? This is... difficult," she admitted as she tried to find some swaying motion - and promptly failed. "I... you sure you want me to do this? I mean, I'm certain you could teach a horse to juggle sooner than I could learn to dance." Of course, the other option would be to simply to fill herself with as much alcohol as possible and simply do - but as there was little experience as to how well she could hold her drink, she felt that was far from an option.

[Aoren]

“Gods girl, you look like a beaten corpse wracked with convulsions!” Cadmus stopped twanging away at his lute sitting forward in his chair. He fixed Fallon with a stern stare that said he was thinking. Sighing he rubbed at his nose. Setting down his lute he made a placating gesture toward her.

“Maybe you should just stick to socializing. You can at least do that. Mingle about with the crowd. You’re an observant one, Bright Eyes so I’ll give you a few tips. Firstly, never talk about anything personal. If you want to warm up to someone make the conversation all about them. Secondly, don’t frown so much. You look like a frumpy old house cat with a bad case of the bubbly guts. Thirdly, and most important, never tell the whole truth. You don’t have to lie but you don’t have to tell someone all that there is to what they’re seeing.” He gave her a wink then rose from his chair striding back up to the stage.

“Now then, down to the nitty gritty!” Cadmus adopted a sly smile as if there was more implied in that statement than the words alone. He reached up adjusting his hat. Spreading his arms extended them to Fallon gesturing for her to step closer.

“Take a good look at the insides of my sleeves there, lass. Tell me what you see.” Upon close inspection Fallon would be able to note that there were thin pockets lining the insides of his wide sleeves. The fanciful appearance of his attire, the ease of his motions, and the somewhat padded material of the robes served as an easy way to conceal the fact that there were pockets present. Once she noticed them Cadmus would reach inside each and withdraw flamboyant handkerchiefs. There were but two of them each one a garish shade of green reminiscent of pea soup. He set the handkerchiefs aside then wove his hands over one another producing a scrap of parchment no bigger than his palm. With a smirk and a wink he tugged on his sleeves.

“All part of the act my dear, make people think I produce things out of thin air when really this whole garment is lined with pockets. With just the right amount of dexterity I can pluck what I need from any one of them. You will too!” Stepping up onto the platform he tapped his chin for a moment as he thought.

“When the time for my show begins, I will ask for a volunteer. You, are that volunteer. I will call you up onto the stage. You will then take your place by my side and I will hand you my hat.” He removed his hat from his head. Not surprisingly, the old man was balding slightly with the crown of his head being circled by long waves of grey hair. Waving at Fallon to come closer he extended his hat to her.

“Feel inside. Go ahead, girl. It’s not going to bite. You should feel a seam in the lining of the hat with a button. You’re going to open the seam and pull out what you feel inside. No. I’m not going to tell you what it will be. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.” He gave her a wink. With a chuckle he withdrew his hat replacing it on his head.

“From there you’ll just follow my instructions. It will be a simple bit really. Just a little something to get the audience warmed up to some of the bigger and better tricks. After that I am going to ask one of the crowd members to bring up a chair. You will then have a seat. That’s when things are really going to get fun.” Stepping over to the table he picked up the deck of playing cards.

“We’re going to have a little fun with these. You’ll find they’re all ordinary and the only thing you need to do is follow my prompts when the time comes.” He gave the cards a shuffle before setting them back down.

“Any questions so far? Your part really will be fairly simple. The key to what you need to do is keep up the crowd’s enthusiasm.” Placing his hands on his hips he quirked his head at her awaiting any inquiries Fallon might have.

[Fallon]

"Oh, so you know what that looks like then?" She raised an eyebrow and managed to barely hold back a wiry grin. Despite its rather macabre imagery, part of it did managed to humour her in a strange way. She gave a quiet count to the three points he stated, a muted nod as he went through them in her mind. They repeated, eyes flickering back and forth between him and the audience in which she knew she would be mingling in with. People were far from her forte, but this was work so she had little choice but to deal with them. She remembered the previous evening, the opening words to their conversation registering in her mind, "Nothing Personal. Never the whole truth. And no frowning. I can do that. Unless Vayt's incarnate appears, to which I'm allowed to frown to deter him off?"

It was a poor attempt to humour, to which she quickly allowed herself to return to silence and back to learning. Stepping closer when he asked her too, she gave only a peer to his sleeves. Fingers rubbed at her jaw, before she wiggled the digits to the fabric for a closer inspection, "I see your arms. And I see a sleeve," She begun to talk her way through it. The gloved tip gave a prod, feeling it out and catching the thin fabric, "Are those tiny pockets? With... handkerchiefs," She blinked, a moment of stun before she turned her gaze to him, "Well... I suppose if you have a cold you're well supplied."

Sucking in the air she focused on throwing away the previous moment of awkwardness that consumed her. It was to be an act, a moment up on stage to throw caution to the wind. It was something she was far from used to. She was used to being silent within the crowd, far from flamboyant in nature and simply stepping out of sight were possible. And it was perhaps then that part of her begun to resolve herself into simply embracing what was before her, taking it for what it was. There was another series of nods in understanding, and then gingerly she felt the inside of his hat. It was indeed gaudy like the rest of his clothing, and as she peered into its depths and felt the button that was there did she pause, "So, I'm not allowed to know what's in there now?" She paused only briefly, "A surprise then? Wonderful."

Her eyes gave a roll, her hands finally withdrawing to rest within her pockets. So that was that then, she was going to be a stage prop - at least she would receive prompts to as and when to do things, "Instructions, always make things straight forward. We're uh... you're not going to get me to do anything risqué are you? I mean... like..."

She stumbled over words after that, her toe nudging against the ground whilst the cards were shuffled. It filled that moment of silence as she frowned. Questions, there was always questions. And with that there was always the possibility of answers, "Simple, quite. And questions I always have a lot of. Enthusiasm, how so? I mean, I know what it is, but it is the sort of enthusiasm," she blinked and then looked to explain herself, "Natural, exaggerated, attention focusing?" She brushed back her hair, a rock upon her heels as she considered another question, "What sort of prompts? Visual or Verbal? Or is that a surprise too?" She let her lips curl into a smile, "I suppose that would be one way to keep me on my toes."

Then suddenly she snapped her fingers, "Anything you definitely don't want me doing? Or to try and avoid doing?"

[Aoren]

“My dear, we will have a considerable amount of more pressing things on our mind if the Lord of Pestilence graces us with a visit.” Cadmus shuddered the humor of her attempted joke obviously lost on him.

“Yes! Handkerchiefs. Cloth. Tools of the trade. Also, the pockets make for handy compartments for bits and bobs of all sort.” The old man chuckled at her remark about colds. Though it hadn’t been made in jest no doubt it was still rather amusing. He cleared his throat listening to the concerns that Fallon listed off. He placed his hands on his hips studying her intently for a moment a look of mock astonishment on his face.

“Do you take me for a gutter snipe? A purveyor of paltry prostitutes? I am a man of class, dear Bright Eyes. I will not be lowered into defiling the sanctity of my profession by lacing it with fleshly frivolities!” Though there was a grimace on his face there was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. As to the rest of her questions he waved them off.

“My dear you are putting far too much thought into this. Simply do as I say, when I say it. The whole idea is to convey to the audience that you “volunteered” on the spur of the moment. Never mind the fact that I am giving you things to ponder beforehand. Trust me when I say that you will do fabulously!” He walked up to Fallon placing his hands on her shoulders as he gave the young woman a once over from top to bottom. A slight frown touched his face as he made tutting noises under his breath. Rummaging through his robes he produced a handful of coins. Grabbing Fallon’s hand he pushed them into her palm.

“Now then, I want you to go into town. Take a nice soothing bath. Think not on the pressure of entertaining an audience but of freely enjoying yourself being part of a social event. If you can push away the anxiety and look at it from that perspective you’ll find this won’t be such a miserable endeavor after all.” With that Cadmus gently nudged Fallon to be on her way. “Return at the seventeenth bell this evening. The night’s entertainment begins promptly at the half past the eighteenth bell.”

Whistling to himself Cadmus directed his attention whatever preparations he would need to delight the audience that evening. For her troubles, Fallon’s role in the night’s entertainment was relatively minor when one thought about it. Of course, Cadmus had specifically said not to think about it but had he done that knowing that Fallon would do precisely the opposite? Who could say? The man was as slippery as a bar of wet soap with intentions as clear as mud.

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18th Bell

The day had come and gone. With it came the mounting anxiety of performing, however small the role, in front of an audience at the Silver Sliver that evening. The regulars were already making themselves comfortable with their drinks. The dining room of the tavern was full of patrons who had made the local haunt a second home, newcomers and foreigners to the city alike. Spinning tails of the entertainment that was to unfold that evening at the hands of Cadmus the Stupendous!

Speaking of the old man, he was making a show of himself in front of a small cadre of slave traders who were passing through the city. The melody he twanged out on his lute was delightfully obnoxious as usual. The words that accompanied it…even more so. To those listening it was a rather comedic tale of a man who woke up to find that he’d laid down with a whore who had left him with a little something “extra” in the morning. For his part he would prompt Fallon to visit this patron or that patron, to mingle with this person or that person either through visual cues or simple introduction. The evening was unraveling fairly smoothly with many of the patrons looking forward to the main event. It was a subject of both curiosity and speculation with some wondering if what Cadmus was rumored to be able to do was the result of trickery…or real magic. It would be a short ways through this song that a particularly frisky man, likely more than a little drunk, would bump into Fallon. His breath was heavy with alcohol…among other things.

“Weeell. What have we here, missy? Fancy yourself a proper lady do you?” The man in question wasn’t exactly unattractive but he certainly was no head turner that was for sure. He had an average face with average height and an average build. He sauntered up to Fallon, his dark hair on the curly side of things and his brown eyes raking over her form liberally.

“How’s about you spend the evening with a proper man then, eh?” He gave Fallon a pointed look. Cadmus seemed preoccupied with a patron who was completely enamored with the interior of his hat.

[Fallon]

Fallon cocked a single eyebrow, but held her tongue to his facade of surprise and the lacing sound of amusement. There was however, the slight curling of the lip, the simmering down of humour to put on a working face. It was becoming increasingly difficult however with the seemingly energetic nature that was coming from the older man. Addictive, influencing, and contagious, she gave a pause as she weighed up his words and recorded them to memory. So she was being told not to worry, that was perhaps something that went against her grain - to not worry was not to think, something that was not normal to her. Part of her internally writhed to that, her teeth gritting and her lips pulling back to reveal a slit of white.

Eyes gave a flicker down to hand as he pushed the coins into her, gloved digits clawing them in to her grasp. There was a pause, her head cocking to one side as she tried to work out what she was supposed to do with it. Her mouth opened in protest, her raised brow falling flat as she looked down upon it once more - dumbfounded almost as to the nature of it. The gaze scrutinized him, a gentle nudge to send her on her way. And so, with the steps of uncertainty she did simply do as she was told and escaped for the meanwhile.

When she did return, Fallon was of course clad in the dress that was given to her. There was an uncomfortable shirk in the material as she tried to get used to it, the feeling of exposure making itself known very quickly to her form in many a way - she was almost tempted to don her trousers underneath, but she was certain the old man would notice in a blink of an eye. Her gaze gave a narrow, a deep inhale as she tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that was bubbling up on the inside for just a little while. It would be a lie to say she was not nervous, her mind flickering back and forth between mentally rehearsed lines and possibilities that could come about.

Of course, Cadmus and his name had spread like wildfire across the lips of the patrons. That was what her ears picked up as she quietly sauntered her way through the bodies, the stem of a wine glass gently twisting between her thumb and forefinger. There was the glance to those about, the occasional smile as she mingled in as a silent observer and a potential pretty piece to look at. When the drunk however gave a step into what she would refer to as her personal zone, her mind snapped to attention and solely onto him. Perhaps it was only then that she was grateful to have only taken a few sips of the liquid.

"A proper lady?" She responded rhetorically, the flicker of an amused curl upon her lips as she tried to push down the feeling she was being mentally undressed by those eyes. There was the gentlest swirl of the liquid within the glass, "For a proper man?" Somewhere beyond she was certain she could hear the lewd lyrics of Cadmus floating across the crowd, "Well... are you going to show me what a proper man is like then?" She looked up from beneath her brow then, a gentle flutter of eyelids as she attempted to go for a more teasing option. At least, until she sidestepped away and spoke in a more purring tone, "Or, will I have to go hunting for one myself?"