Realistic or Modern Cover My Traces

[Stanza]

Little redhead friend of the sparking choir, from a kindle, you will grow into a raging fire. What a sight! What a lovely sight! What an end to life! People are fuel; everybody burns. Just a little push and maybe some will learn what a life is like, what a life is like; what it's like to burn.

( Closed Thread for Grammatic )

Naronil was nice this time of year. It was a recurring theme in the traveling Tiefling collective's sarcastic quips about their latest destination, littered heavily with disdain. This, of course, never left the safety of the trusted core who knew and safeguarded each other's secrets.

Suspicious and rumor-spreading individuals had regarded the troupe with distrust not long after their arrival. How convenient it was for a local House of Commons to spontaneously catch fire not two nights after their arrival into this bustling region within Naronil! Scandal! Scandal that attracted gossips and higher society alike.

Madame Levesque's Traveling Cirque was home to fiend-blooded beings of immeasurable talent and often, bewildering beauty. Lithe contortionists, fire-based stunt performers, contemporary dancers, acrobats, and of course... the aerial silk performers. No performer seemed to be held in higher regard than another. There were no stars; each had their own feature. Their own set piece. Each told pieces of an overarcing story.

As much as the less savory members of the Cirque wished to be cheeky with their transparency, the program that night told a classic story of forbidden love: two star-crossed companions entangled in an impassioned tug-of-war between the heart and head. The program had everything one might expect of such a story: jealous suitors, disapproving families, and of course, the two lovers caught in the middle of it all.

Among these performers - a side character that night - was a Tiefling with flaming red hair, apple green skin that glittered along with the rhinestones of her white leotard, and two nubs for horns gently sloping out from her forehead. A lithe figure, whose devilishly spaded tail expertly adjusted to aid her with the pitfalls of gravity among the pair of aerial silks. Like the others, she moved expertly, an almost otherworldly talent who had seemingly devoted her life to the arts. Spins, inversions, the Casket, and more - a series of poses, contortions, and other daring aspects of aerial choreography dazzled the crowd, just as they had been dazzled by the jugglers, the fire eaters, tumblers, and other stunt workers.

All part of the act; the Cirque did pride themselves on perfection, after all.

This evening, rather than linger backstage after her segment, the Green Tiefling dressed down, washed the stage makeup from her features and the glitter from her skin, and wandered out to find an empty seat amongst the crowd to watch the rest of the show from a spectator's position. Her eyes scanned the crowd with passing interest as she searched for a spot.

 

[Grammatic]

A Tiefling troupe going by the name Madame Levesque's Traveling Cirque arrives in the province of Yesren, one of the southern provinces in Naronil bordering the Tiefling province. At first glance this was not too much of a concern for Callan Decker, PALADIN agent and enforcer of the peace. Many people had their gripes and stigmas against the Tiefling people, but Callan was not among them. It was not because he was any humanitarian of great acclaim, more just he did not have the time or energy, or the interest for that matter, to commit to disliking an entire race of people simply for existing. He had three hundred reports to sign back at the division office before the week was over tomorrow for the lords sake, who had time to to join anti-Tiefling groups? A person was a person until proven otherwise, something that could very well happen in the modern world.

So, while the arrival of the Cirque in Yesren might have piqued the interest of local law enforcement, and those looking for a good time, it had not even sounded on Callan's radar. Until the House of Commons suddenly burned down. Fingers naturally pointed to the Tiefling troupe, and an initial investigation by the locals had turned up no clear evidence. That was where the investigation ended for them, but for PALADIN, it had only just begun. With the resources available to him, Callan was able to look into the affairs of other provinces of Naronil, nominally independent realms in their own right, and began to see a pattern. It was never obvious, and the targets tended to change, but almost inevitably within a month of the troupes arrival, there was some form of antigovernmental action taken.

So, while his reports added a new layer of dust to them on his desk, Callan had gone to investigate the Cirque. He had left his cloak behind; the white and blue article of clothing would scream his identity to anyone who saw it, if they did not sense the magical warding that was woven into every fiber first. Callan needed to be subtle in his initial approach, see if he could spot anything odd. He had visited the Cirque for the past week on a regular basis and seen on a consistent basis a rather plain, if creative, organization. None of the usual hallmarks of people trying to hide a dark secret or criminal enterprise, both things Callan had seen numerous times during his time with PALADIN. No, this Cirque was going to great lengths to appear rather ordinary.

This made Callan all the more suspicious.

He sat in one of the large tents that night, watching a variety of performances. He took efforts to make himself look interested, but not overly so. A simple man out enjoying the performances, not an individual who watched every microscopic movement of the performers. He noted how the contortionists could use their abilities to get through barriers. He saw how the acrobats could use their talents to climb structures or vault walls. The fire-based performers in particular would be the best trained in how to start, and control a flame...

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the sudden cheers of the crowd, and Callan snapped his head up, a smile quickly crossing his face as added his voice and clapping to theirs. The crowd was starting to thin out inside the tent, the men and women once shoulder to shoulder with Callan departing to finally give him breathing room. The brief intermission as the stage was reset gave Callan time to check his Z-Slate; a magical device created by the gnomes of Pollic capable of holding vas amounts of information. He made a few notes on the glowing screen, his attention briefly taken away from his surroundings.

 

[Stanza]

Of course, the Troupe excelled at performance both on and off stage. The smattering of individuals both involved and not allowed the guiltier parties to blend in seamlessly so long as their veneers of innocence held. And so far? They held frustratingly well. Plenty of fingers indeed pointed their way, but an investigation had yet to find substantial enough evidence to insinuate a single Tiefling.

Motive? Certainly: anyone with even the edge of their thumb on the pulse of Maelis knew about Venedmar's recent acquisition of Tiefling lands. There'd been peaceful protests by day for quite a while after that; it took a while for the more violent protestors to truly begin surfacing. After all, where many held ire for Noronil after its decision, nearly all held equal fear for Venedmar, should they cross too great a line.

So with a clear motive and circumstantial evidence, how could they have pulled off such a feat without concrete enough evidence to pin them yet?

Callan's presence, of course, wasn't immediately noted. After all, there were plenty of spectators; what was one more?

... What was one more?

The Green Tiefling found interest in this after she found an empty seat off to the side to look on, when she noticed this lone figure. A show like this tended to be a social event: people brought family or friends to experience the show with them, just as most would a movie theater. Lone viewers weren't unheard of, of course, but the Tiefling found this to be particularly curious.

The use of a harmless magical device during intermission also wasn't unheard of, surely, but her curiosity had already been piqued. Oodles of possibilities surrounded his reason for being there, and with the recent buzz surrounding the scorched House of Commons, she just had to test the waters. A protective itch, she decided.

While figures shuffled out to stretch, relieve themselves, smoke, or obtain a quick snack during intermission, the woman - listed in the playbill as Eden - swept over while Callan's attention was on the device and settled easily into a chair directly next to him.

"You know," she started in quieter tones - projected only enough to be heard over the gentle, ambient din of conversation and people milling about the space. She almost seemed careful to not risk potentially startling him. "Typically when I see someone alone here and checking their device, they've been stood up. Are you doing well, friend? Enjoying the show so far, at least?"

 

[Grammatic]

Callan did not initially notice the presence at his side. Chalk it up to being run ragged with cases, trying to watch a room full of hundreds of people and take notes, but the fact was Callan did not realize someone was next to him until they spoke up. He jumped a little, both a natural reaction and one he had carefully trained over the years. Sometimes pretending to be more off guard than you really were gives you an edge. A small smile pulled at the edge of Callan's mouth, one might almost think of as a guilty smile, and he slipped the Z-Slate into a pocket of the simple pants he wore.

"Nailed it right on the nose," Callan said, quickly taking in the details of the woman speaking to him. She was a Tiefling, and despite having lost the makeup and outfit, he recognized her as one of the performers from the act. They were young, approximately around his own age if he had to guess, though such things were hard to tell with other races. His mind went into overdrive against his own will, analyzing every detail about the woman and thinking through his options. To state he had come here expecting a date might be suspicious; it would imply that his own really for coming might have been to see that individual. It would not hold up to light if it was discovered he had been coming here for several days now to investigate. It was safer to leave the impression he was here with friends. That option was harder to corroborate, and could easily be deflected.

There was potentially another reason at the back of Callan's mind for why he did not want to ay he was here waiting for a woman, but he locked that down quickly. He was here on business.

"My friends have been talking about this place for days now, they were supposed to meet me here but I guess they got sidetracked." Callan made a mental note to make up the identities of said friends to use in the future in case he needed to maintain that alibi. Maybe he would just draft the Squires from the PALADIN precinct. Callan was sure they would enjoy a little field work. "You were great out there, by the way. Its amazing seeing you dance through the air."

 

[Stanza]

Callan successfully drew signs of mirth from the Tiefling: crinkling at the corners of her eyes, the tell-tale crescent-shaping as her cheeks raised from a lip-compressed smile, perhaps the result of her trying not to so much as snicker at the same time. His apparent (albeit slight) jump successfully threw her off the trail enough for her to quietly question whether or not she was being paranoid.

She indeed appeared to be around his age, with minimal signs of the passage of time as of yet. With a similar expected lifespan to Humans, it was likely easy enough to determine she likely hadn't yet reached 30 years old. Either that, or her skincare regimen needed to be plastered across beauty magazines. ... Yeah no - definitely just the typical signs of youth.

Her hair was a bit of an unruly mess after the performance, hanging loose around her shoulders and face, and only haphazardly brushed. Up close, it was easier to determine an eye color: a sort of fire engine red devoid of the black sclera that so many other Tieflings in the Troupe possessed. A sharp gaze. Impish, in a way, but all the same assessing.

Lucky for him, the Tiefling had in fact not been present on previous nights while in Yesren. With her in particular and without the eyes of one who had been there, there was no risk of being found out when it came to his prior visits. This was likely the first time she'd been visibly present... anywhere within Yesren that week, come to think of it. Where she'd been the previous nights? Anyone's guess.

Eden's gaze lingered on Callan's features. Not unlike him, she was studying the details, from the shape of his eyes and nose to the style of his facial hair. That same smile lingered, though it had since calmed when he seemed to confirm her spoken suspicions.

"Ah - an unfortunate thing. I hope that their side quest was equally worth the distraction." There was a sort of ... almost warmth in her tone; it almost seemed to hint toward laughter. The story he gave was a solid one: solid enough that her suspicions were lowered another notch.

The compliment helped, of course: her features lit up slightly, from the lifting of her eyebrows to the softening of her gaze. Her lips even parted slightly with just the faintest peeking of subtle fangs during a brief flash of teeth. "Oh! Thank you! This has been my life; I wanted to perform with the Cirque since I was a little girl. Dream come true, actually being able to. I'm so glad you liked it."