» Your life is not a disaster, Faerra

[Alexander of Naxen]

Mid-April 201, H.E.

He kept to familiar pathways these days: after his run-in with Guardswoman Vaughn, Alexander had no desire to be lost or out of place again. It was not the Dog herself who had frightened him, but how relieved he had been to meet her. Getting lost was a scary thing. Alexander had not been scared at the time, or rather, he had not let himself feel that fear until he was safe, but now he kept himself out of trouble, even more than usual. Usually he stayed close to familiar markers like the southern bank of the Olorun River, Palace Way and the Temple District.

Today, though, Alexander just had to make an exception. He had heard about a shop in Prettybone – usually Alexander did not particularly care about the so-called quality of sweets. They were sweet, he was twelve, it was a winning combination. But he had heard about a sweet shop in Prettybone that everyone said was the best. Today Alexander had coppers burning a hole in his pocket.

He ran down Palace Way with the carelessness and lack of self-consciousness he was almost too old to feel. Outside of the Palace, Alexander felt younger, more like a child. He felt good. He could just run because he liked how the wind felt tangling his hair and chafing cold against his skin, instead of running because an instructor ordered him to warm up or because he had been given punishment laps for whatever infraction. He did not have to worry about how his tangled hair would look like girlie curls and how the other boys would tease him, and as long as he was careful nothing tripped him up, because no one deliberately wanted to.

Alexander had run until, puffing, he reached the dead center of Kingsbridge. Well, the dead center more or less. From there he looked down at the Olorun, then closed his eyes. Alexander tilted his face up, feeling the sun and the wind, letting the sound pillow against him, ignoring the smell of fish. Silently, he made a wish. He thought it, but on ‘Goddess, please,’ he mouthed the words.

Then he opened his eyes, grinned, gave a bouncing turn and started off again, into Prettybone.

It was almost an hour from the time Alexander made his wish to the time he left the shop, his pockets lighter of coin. He had enjoyed being just a kid for a while, his mouth filling with saliva as he stared at the sweets. Alexander thought nothing better could happen that day. He walked, rather than running this time, letting a lemon kiss soften and dissolve on his tongue. Lemon kisses were far from Alexander’s favorites – he liked sweet sweets, not sweet-sour sweets – but sometimes he fell into a mood.

He swallowed what remained of his lemon kiss, though, when he saw the troupe in the square. Alexander stared, awed beyond coherent thought. They were amazing! All that movement and color and twirling! They were the knights of beauty, he thought. He slipped out of the way, finding a spot he could stand still and watch without getting in anyone’s way. Alexander was too busy staring and too wonderingly wide-eyed to notice traffic.

[Faerra Críwen]

"Ladies and Gentlefolk! Come one, come all, stop on by to see the amaaaazing Críwen performers!" Jenir Críwen bellowed loudly to the passersby, gesturing to the covered wagon behind him and hoping to draw some attention. His sons and daughters rolled their eyes and elbowed each other; their father always thought that their street act must be announced to the world for it to get some attention. They all prescribed to the thought that actions were what caught people's attention. One could stand around all day proclaiming about how they were the best but see no profit because you never actually proved it.

When he had judged that their father had talked enough, Bror (the eldest) nudged his younger brother, Eidan, who nudged Flynn, who nudged Faerra, who nudged Briav, who nudged Gwyn, who nudged Ciaran, who finally nudged Bo. The youngest Críwen grinned broadly before flipping up onto his hands. Walking up to where Master Críwen stood, Bo looked at the people walking by upside down from betwixt his arms. He waved to a girl about his age, who stopped to stare. There. The attention was caught.

In a tumble of brilliant colors and streamers, Ciaran, Briav, and Gwyn flipped and sprung. Each held two brightly colored ribbons in their hands, which they waved about as they did their acrobatic tricks. As their flips grew higher, their tumbles more impressive, and their tricks more astounding, more and more people began to stop and stare.

Faerra winked at her brother, Flynn, before they too stepped out from under the shadow of the wagon. Up till now, the crowd's attention had been so distracted by their younger siblings that they had completely forgotten the rest of the troupe. The brother and sister were very much alike. Tall, fair-skinned, and dressed in a mix-and-match assortment of clothes and colors that somehow seemed to fit seamlessly together. Each began their act separately at first.

Faerra tossed an orange ball high, high into the air. Then a blue, purple, and green ball. Laughing, she caught the first ball right before it hit the ground. The crowd gasped again; then they laughed. The young woman dove for the third ball, tossed it, turned a somersault, caught the next inches off the ground, and popped it back up into the air. The crowd roared.

The young woman heard murmurs. "Oh! They're wonderful!" "I've never seen a troupe like them before!" She and her siblings exchanged pleased smiles. Faerra juggled and somersaulted and dove. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her older brothers whipping blazing poles around their heads at incredible speeds and performing all sorts of intricate tricks and patterns with them. Flynn caught her eye as he moved closer, throwing the multi-colored balls high in the air. They began passing to each other. Twelve balls now flew through the air. Faster and faster, the duo went. Green, yellow, red, purple, and blue blurs drew lines between the two. The crowd was shouting now, cheering them and the rest of their family on.

Suddenly, Flynn and Faerra each executed two neat back handsprings, landing neatly on their feet. Skirts swishing and twirling around her like a rainbow, Fae plucked the falling balls out of the air as easily as if they were fruit on a tree. She deposited them in a pile on the cobblestoned; now it was time for the finale. Normally their shows weren't this short, but the Críwens had wanted to give Corus just a tiny taste of what had arrived in it's streets. That would leave them wanting more.

Her father, Bror, Eidan, and Flynn tumbled into a line behind the pile of colored balls, standing shoulder to shoulder. One, two, UP! all counted inwardly. Faerra, Briav, and Gwyn hopped onto the shoulders of the first four. One, two three, UP! everyone counted again. A hand grasp, a scramble, a hop, and Ciaran and Bo were standing atop their older sisters' shoulders. Using their toes (all the Críwens were barefoot) those on the bottom reached to grab the balls in front of them, flicking them up into the air with expert tosses of the ankles. The balls began looping upwards, turning and spinning up the pyramid. Eight came from the bottom. Six passed from the middle. The youngest Críwens turned the rising balls back down towards their brothers and father on the bottom. It was quick work but simple; the nine of them were all wide smiles. Standing in such a way, tossing the balls, and festooned in such colors, they truly looked like a foreign band of gypsies. Not only were the balls colorful but so were the Críwens clothes. Skirts of red, purple, green, and blue over pants of maroon, black or brown for the girls. White blouses were adorned with ribbons or bells, brass necklaces, earrings, anklets, and bracelets flashed in the sunlight, off of male and female alike. The men wore breeches of black or brown, but their shirts were colored with the same hues as the skirts of their sisters and daughters.

There was a flash of light and a boom from behind, no one really knew from where. (It was Mistress Críwen lighting off a cheap firecracker). Down the pyramid tumbled like a colorful rain. Ciaran and Bo went first, somersaulting off their sisters' shoulders to land neatly on their feet. Next went their sisters, flipping off in a swirl of skirts. The balls dropped to the floor. The crowd applauded. The show was over.

While her brothers and sisters went through the crowd, gathering the thrown coppers, Faerra went to collect the balls. Some had rolled into the crowd when they had bounced to the ground. She spotted one, a sapphire blue, rolled up against the foot of a small boy. She skipped over to him.

"Hello," she greeted, eyes twinkling. "I see you've found my ball. Did you like the show?"

This post has been edited by Faerra Críwen on Oct 28 2009, 06:30 PM

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander enjoyed the show very much, though he found it a little overwhelming. There was too much going on for him to follow everything at one time, and his eyes darted back and forth with the constant feeling that he was missing something. He felt a little dizzy with the excitement of it all. Throughout the performance Alexander held himself back, very out of the way. All those people! Even knowing they were not looking at him, Alexander felt embarrassed by the concentrated attention of the crowd. But he clapped along with everyone else, his fingers splayed wide and the skin on his palms taut as a drum, all the while grinning the same way he did when he looked through the right marble on a sunny day.

When the ball rolled to a stop at his feet, he picked it up and held it, rolling it between his palms the way he would a marble. It was pretty. He couldn’t see through it, but it was pretty. Alexander smiled at the ball, remembering how it had looked flying through the air. What he wouldn’t give to juggle like that…! His own juggling abilities were decent; he could keep three or four balls circulating with both hands, and was learning, albeit slowly, to juggle three balls with one hand. But he could not imagine juggling the way the performers had.

When the woman spoke to him, Alexander looked up in surprise. He had lost himself in daydreams and not heard her approach. Some knight. “Oh,” he observed, realizing what she had said. Alexander’s heart thudded. Being approached by one of those amazing acrobats was like being approached by Samden of Kennan, the sort of thing which went very well in daydreams, but in real life left one stammering and looking like a fool.

“Yes,” Alexander said, meaning that he had found her ball. After a moment the copper dropped in his brain and he held it out to her, offering it back. “And… yes,” he added. “I liked the show. Very much.”

((Sorry for the shortness))

[Faerra Críwen]

Faerra's grin grew wider---if that was possible---as she saw the young boy's reaction when she spoke to him. His eyes widened and his face went completely blank, as if all coherent thought had fled the moment she had approached. "Oh..." he managed to get out. "Yes." The young woman quirked an eyebrow in amusement. He was funny, this one. There was a moment's hesitation while he stared at the blue ball in his hand before he held it out to the performer. "And... yes. I liked the show. Very much," he told her, a little self-consciously.

Instead of taking the ball, Fae executed a rapid backwards handspring. Her feet pushed her up into the air, her back arched and her head tilted backwards while her hands reached for the ground. They touched and flipped her upright once more. That took time to explain but it happened so quickly there was only time to just notice it. The young woman adjusted her blouse with one hand---it was cut a little too big for her and kept slipping off her shoulder. Críwens always wore short-sleeved shirts, no matter the weather, both to allow freedom of movement and to flaunt the signature tattoo that they all were extremely proud of.

The young performer studied the boy in front of her, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she did so. Her eyes were bright and curious. He appeared to be her brother Ciaran's age, she estimated. A quiet fellow, very quiet. But he looked nice, and he really had seemed to enjoy the show. That made him a friend, in Faerra's opinion.

"Can you juggle?" she asked. She had seen the way he had looked at the ball and rolled it around in his palm. He had the proper awe about him that came when someone who knew the craft saw it done expertly. "Here," she handed the young boy two more balls: a green and a yellow one. "Show me what you can do. Or, better yet..." The young woman danced backwards, her now empty hands open to catch a ball. "Try juggling with me. It's always more fun to do it with a partner."

((It's fine, no problem. Mine wasn't much longer. ))

This post has been edited by Faerra Críwen on Oct 28 2009, 02:27 PM

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander instinctively stepped away when the woman flipped back. He was not afraid, but the way she moved, graceful and sure and strong… Alexander had been trained to see movements like that as indicators that it was time to fight back. It was the way Samuel moved. Alexander was careful; he knew how not to seem like a threat. She was only likely to notice his muscles tensed, at the ready – if she noticed anything – but if she went after him, she wouldn’t land a blow.

When she did not attack, Alexander was not surprised in the least. She did not look like a threat; her smile reached her eyes. It was something a good squire would be ready for, though, an attack at any time, and something only a very bad knight would not instinctively expect. Once he registered her as merely doing a trick, Alexander smiled, appreciating the stunt. It was pretty neat.

“Can you juggle?”

Alexander nodded, smiling. So surprising! He had expected little from this hobby. He had thought juggling would be fun, something to enjoy, something to do a few mornings instead of shooting practice. Already dexterous, he thought the skill would come easily. He needed that. He needed to do something easy that he did not have to think about.

And already this un-knight-like skill had impressed Ashlynn of Irenroha and now got him a chance to juggle with a real acrobat! Life could be so wonderful in the strangest of ways.

Alexander had never juggled with anyone else before, though. He hesitated. Momentarily he considered saying so much. Alexander knew better, though. Would he complain in his classes that he ‘didn’t know how’? Of course he would not: he would do his best and know whatever he did wrong, he would be corrected. Or whacked round the head and corrected, but either way, he would know. He thought back to how the acrobats had juggled and tried to mimic it, throwing one ball easily towards her, a few moments later sending the next, staggering them in a slow rhythm. He was learning something new: he needed the mercy of slow motion.

[Faerra Críwen]

Faerra was by no means unobservant. With the profession that she had, you needed to always be alert. A flip at the wrong time and you could crash into a fellow acrobat. When juggling with her brother, she needed to always be alert in case of an accident---or joke---when he flicked the balls with more force than they were practicing with. She was quick on her feet, her eyes always moving, always watching. It seemed that the young woman was never still. That was partly true, if only because she couldn't bear to not move. That said, she did not miss the reaction that the young boy gave. She cocked her head, looking at him from underneath her long eyelashes, clearly puzzled. Why did he tense his muscles so? She did not understand. It was almost as if he expected her to lash out and hit him or some such foolishness. What a strange lad.

When she asked if he could juggle, she was very pleased to see him nod. He smiled, though he appeared a bit hesitant. She smiled at him encouragingly, he appeared to be one who knew his way around the basics of juggling.

Fae was ready for the ball, when he threw it. It was tossed in a lazy loop that arced towards her waiting hand with an easy speed. She caught it deftly, allowed her hand to allow for the speed, before flicking it back at him. The second one was already in one hand by the time she tossed the first. The boy was going at a slow pace, but she was very pleased with his abilities. True, he could not hold a candle to even her littlest brother Bo but he had not had the advantage of living with a family of performing gypsies.

The two passed the balls back and forth with a nice, slow speed. Faerra grinned at the boy. "You're doing great!" she told him. "Can you do it a little faster?" She didn't wait for the response. Besides, often people said "no" because they were too afraid to try, when in reality they could cope very well. And where was the fun in that? You never tried anything new if you did things that way. Faerra waited several more rounds for the boy to get comfortable with his rhythm before she began to toss them back a little faster. She allowed less time from when the leather hide of the ball hit her hand to when she released it.

"So do you have any family around here?" she asked, conversationally. "By the way," she added, flashing white teeth in a grin. "My name's Faerra. What's yours?"

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander enjoyed the easy pace of the double juggling. He kept up without too much effort. It was easy, and it was fun, like a game almost. Alexander did not get to play very many games. He had never really been a child – by the time Alexander was old enough to run around on his own, four or so years old, old enough to know the way home and to know not to stray, he was also old enough to take orders when they were given. In Naxen there had been so much to learn, so much catching up to do, and so many things he had never seen before, that Alexander explored more than he played, and he was mostly alone. Play was more than just fun, for him, it was a novelty.

Faerra increased the speed without waiting for Alexander to say if he could manage or not, so he kept silent. Whether quietness was learned or innate for Alexander even he could not say, but he was not one to babble or go on unnecessarily about anything. She did not need an answer. He did not offer her one.

"So do you have any family around here?"

It was not a question Alexander had been asked in recent memory. Most people he spoke to either knew his family simply for the Naxen name, like the nobles, or took him for himself and never seemed to mind who he came from, like Hiro. How could he answer that? It was not clever to go around telling everyone you were a noble – but this was Prettybone. It was different from Lower City. Even so… family? He had Tristran and Ilaine, but that was not how they would describe him.

“I have a sister who’s a priestess,” he said, after a moment’s thought. “Denise. She’s in the Temple. I don’t have as much family as you… not in the world, let alone in Corus.” At least, not that he knew of. If his mother had any living family, Alexander did not know them. “They are your family, aren’t they?” he asked. “The people you perform with. You look like you’re family.” When she asked his name, he replied the way he always did if someone other than a noble asked: “Alexander.”

[Faerra Críwen]

This young boy was a quiet fellow. She was not accustomed to such silence; she had grown up with a troupe of loud and boisterous Críwens who were always making jokes, laughing, and pulling one prank or another on each other. Fae had never really met a truly shy person before, and it made her more curious than ever. Were people born that way? Since they didn't talk out loud, were they always talking to themselves? What made them quiet like that?

“I have a sister who’s a priestess,” he said in answer to her question of family. “Denise. She’s in the Temple. I don’t have as much family as you… not in the world, let alone in Corus.”

Faerra tilted her head in disbelief, her hands still keeping up the easy rhythm of juggling seemingly of their own accord. She had done much more difficult things than this; the young woman did not even have to concentrate to perform this task. Her hands knew instinctively what to do. "That it?" she asked. "Only you and your sister? Goodness. Must get awful lonely at times."

“They are your family, aren’t they?” the small boy asked. “The people you perform with. You look like you’re family.”

Faerra executed one more neat handspring, landing back on her feet in time to catch the balls as they flew towards her. Instead of throwing them, she gazed at them admiringly in turn. There was a blue, the color of a stormy ocean; a green that reminded her of the faraway forests and meadows, and then a yellow as bright as the sun. She loved the colors. Looking back up at the young boy she nodded in affirmation, her earrings jangling with the movement. "That's right," she said. "There's eight of us, not counting mum and da." She turned to look back at the family's covered wagon. Most of all the tools were packed up and hidden from view and her family seemed to all have dispersed. They did that frequently; after shows all would go their own separate ways to either sniff out the competition or find good street corners for future reference. The only Críwens left were Flynn and Bo, who had apparently been put in charge of guarding the small wagon. Fae gestured to them. "Those are two of my brothers," she told the boy. "That one's Flynn, he's older than me. Then that one is my littlest brother, Bo." She pointed at the small Críwen, who was in the process of seeing how many handsprings he could do without getting dizzy. "He's nine," she said with a touch of pride. "The others are around somewhere. If you see any person with a tattoo on their arm, you can be sure it's a Críwen."

"Alexander," was the response given when she announced her name. Her eyes sparkled. "I like that name," Faerra said. "Alex-and-er." She rolled the name around on her tongue. "Good, strong name. So what do you do? Are you in a trade or something?" The young woman looked him over once more. He was dressed in nice clothes, made with good material. The colors were a bit drab, but not everyone's tastes went with her own.

The street performer's eyes alighted on the bag that was tied to Alexander's belt and her entire face lit up with delight. "You went to that sweet shop didn't you?" she asked. "I've been dying to go into it ever since I saw it... two hours ago. It looks amazing. What'd you get?"

This was the way all Críwens were. They maintained a childlike enthusiasm and passion for life that left many breathless and exhausted in their wake. Jumping from subject to subject and place to place, they always had a curiosity about them that astounded many "wiser and austere" men and women. But it was part of their job. How could you be a street performer and bring the magic to the streets if you were not as vivacious as a child?

This post has been edited by Faerra Críwen on Oct 30 2009, 01:26 PM

[Alexander of Naxen]

“Well…” Alexander thought for a moment. It would be strange for a boy of his class not to have any other relations, even not to have parents at his age. “When Denise went to the temple, our father was really upset. He won’t talk about her anymore. And our brother never liked me, but when Papa disowned Denise, Tris – that’s my brother – Tris sort of blamed me. There’s another sister, Ilaine, but no one is very close with her. And we’ve all got a father, but he lives out in the lake district, and my mother’s dead.” That about exhausted Alexander’s litany of relatives, and it was not a happy one to think of: the sister who treated him with kindness and the one who didn’t, the brother who would sooner spit on him than speak to him, the father who… well, Alexander was never sure just how his father felt about him.

“Sometimes blood isn’t all that defining of family.” How could he explain Hiro? Alexander thought of Hiro as his brother – like Hiro had said. But he knew how some people still thought of the Yamani, and even those who did not hate them considered them cold and foreign. Didn’t they understand?

Obviously not.

He just listened as Faerra talked about her family, nodding to show that he was paying attention when he had no idea what to say. What must it be like, he wondered, to have so many relatives who were close to you and love you? He couldn’t imagine, that was certain. Alexander did not have any relatives who loved him. He was no fool, he knew that Denise’s kindness wasn’t that same as love. When you loved someone, you were there when things were unpleasant, not just for an occasional hello-how-are-you and a hug. It was more like with Hiro…

It was the first time Alexander had thought about loving Hiro in exactly those terms, but he knew he did. He had taken care of Hiro and he knew Hiro would do the same for him. And Hiro had listened to him when he was upset, and taken his side. There were only the two of them and they did not exactly have a shared history, but Hiro was more his brother than Tris, that way.

He did not like the way she said his name, making it out into three syllables. He was used to people saying his name critically, and whenever they did they were really criticizing him. “I’m a page. You know, a—” Alexander stopped himself. He had not just begun to say, ‘a baby knight’! “…a knight in training,” he said instead. That was a much more acceptable description.

He was glad when she seemed not to care what he had said, moving instead to comment on the sweet shop. “It’s impossible to leave that place,” he said. “They have so many good things!” He honestly did not fully remember everything he had bought there, because, being Alexander, he had preferred to buy lots of different types of things instead of just his favorite. Of course, one of his all-time favorites – gingerbread – he had been unable to resist.

((He can't be juggling and holding a bag of candy--his juggling is not that good yet. Maybe it's tied to his belt or something...? I dunno. But he's not as good a juggler as all that ))

[Faerra Críwen]

((Oh, lulz. You're right. Fixed!))

"Sometimes blood isn't all that defining of family." Fae raised both shoulders in an expressive shrug. "I wouldn't know," she remarked. "I never stay in one place long enough to have friends outside of my family." She was not sure that the young boy heard her. After his last statement, Alexander's gaze seemed to turn inwards as if he were pondering what he said. He appeared to be thinking of something, or someone, too in-depth to really noticed what she had said. The young woman decided not to interrupt his thoughts; as boisterous as she was, she was not rude. Good manners had been instilled in her at an early age.

Faerra decided to distract herself by seeing how far backwards she could bend. When she was in a perfect arch, her palms flat on the warm cobblestones and her head looking at the world upside down, she began seeing how quickly she could shuffle back and forth. She had not gone two inches when Alexander suddenly said, "I'm a page. You know, a... knight-in-training."

The young woman righted herself. "Really?" she asked, her admiration evident. "I've never met anyone who was training to be a knight. Gosh. You must work really hard." Fae looked at him with a new amount of respect. It took time and dedication to pursue a career for so long, the way the pages did. She heard it took them eight years to finally reach knighthood. Of course, the Críwens spent much longer than that mastering their art, but that was different. That was fun. Well, each to his own, she supposed.

“It’s impossible to leave that place,” Alexander said in reference to the candy shop. “They have so many good things!” Fae nodded vigorously. "I know what you mean," she told the boy fervently. "My favorites are the hard caramel drops that just melt on your tongue." She closed her eyes, sighing blissfully as she imagined the warm sweetness in her mouth. When Faerra opened them once more, her hazel eyes were sparkling with a new thought.

"Hey, I bet you know the city real well, don't you?" she asked the young boy. "Do you know of any other good places to perform? Places that are likely to get a lot of crowds, you know." Fae had been standing still long enough, she needed to get out and move. Not just do those simple tricks to help stretch and pass the time, she wanted to get out and explore. Maybe Alexander would come with her. He seemed to be a nice boy and one that she would enjoy exploring the city with.

[Alexander of Naxen]

Never staying in one place long enough to make friends seemed terrible to Alexander. As difficult as page training was, it had given Alexander the opportunity to make friends; he would never admit how much he had needed that opportunity. Who would he have if he only knew his family? Who would love him? In his heart, Alexander knew even his father’s love was heavily conditional. He had disowned Denise, a proper daughter, a daughter born within his marriage, and she had Lady Evette to love her, too. It was the other side of Alexander’s wish to make his father proud by becoming a knight, the fear of disappointing him with failure. Alexander was only a bastard. What happened if he failed?

He had better die, he thought. If he didn’t become a knight, it had better be because someone ran him through.

She nodded when she asked about working hard. “It’s a lot to learn,” he said. “A lot… it’s a lot to master,” he clarified. It wasn’t enough just to know, and it was a matter of life and death. He caught all the balls, since she seemed to have had enough of juggling. Thinking about the life and death made Alexander a little uncomfortable. He was afraid to die, but that was all death was to him, a fear, not a reality. But dropping juggling balls in a performance was the difference between a few coppers. It was nothing like a bad swing in battle.

He shook his head. “I don’t really know the city,” he admitted. He did less punishment work than a lot of pages, but he visited the city less, too. When he did venture out, well, he had only recently begun to do more than visit the temples. “I know my way around, that is—” except in the Lower City, as he had learned, “—but I don’t know where you could draw a crowd.” He shook his head again. “I’m sorry.”

[Faerra Críwen]

"It's a lot to learn. A lot... it's a lot to master," Alexander told the street performer, referring to him training to become a knight. She nodded in understanding; she could just imagine the amount of work to become that proficient with all weapons. It seemed mind-boggling. The fact that boys the age of her brother Ciaran and younger were taking part in this grueling work seemed crazier still. However, speaking of his work seemed to make the young boy uncomfortable. His gaze dropped from the young woman's and returned to the cobblestones and his shoes. Alexander appeared more than a little ill-at-ease. He seemed a bit more comfortable when the conversation switched to Corus, itself.

“I don’t really know the city. I know my way around, that is—but I don’t know where you could draw a crowd. I’m sorry.” The young boy shook his head in apology.

Faerra lifted both shoulders in an expressive shrug. "No matter," she told Alexander, flashing her teeth in a broad smile. "I was sort of hoping you didn't know, anyway. That way I can just explore!" She lifted her arms heavenward as she said this, leaping backwards into a back handspring. The longer people knew the street performer, the more they became aware of the fact that tricks such as these were as easy as breathing for the young woman. Therefore she performed them often and almost without thinking.

The young woman tilted her head, regarding the young boy in front of her with twinkling hazel eyes. "Want to come with me?" she asked. "It's always fun to another person to explore with. We'll pick a direction and who knows where we'll end up?" Fae laughed with the sheer excitement of it, spinning rapidly around in a circle. "Oh, I love exploring," she cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Do you want to come with me, Alexander? It's sure to be fun!" With Faerra, things were never not fun.

[Alexander of Naxen]

This woman was starting to seem flat-out strange. She was like the happy, female version of Samuel. Her tricks especially reminded him of his teacher, how he had clapped to try to surprise Alexander, to test his aptitude. Except that with Faerra, none of this had anything to do with him. He was just some boy who happened to be there. It gave him a funny feeling. Alexander was so used to being stared at, whispered over, hated. Faerra made him feel invisible. More than almost anything else in the world, Alexander wanted approval – of all the things in the world he could possibly have, that was what he wanted most, because only Mithros or the Goddess could make him a part of a real family and why would they? – but barring that, he should like to be invisible.

“Okay,” he agreed to go exploring with her. His voice was soft. Something about the city made Alexander feel shyer than usual. It was strange, a place he did not know very well. In the Palace he knew the grounds like the back of his hand – he had a sprinkling of tiny scars near his thumb, a freckle near his wrist right over the blue vein, a faint pale scar and another freckle that made the division sign if you looked at it right.

There was a lot of energy to Faerra. Alexander wanted to be like her. He wanted to be playful and exuberant. Maybe, he thought, if he spent time with her that vivacity would rub off. Fun. Alexander did not know how to have fun with other people. Fun meant playing marbles. “Which way do you want to go?” he asked, looking up at her and awaiting direction. Alexander was very young, and, given his experience, extremely naïve. He had some reservation, but he looked at her with trust.

[Faerra Críwen]

When the young woman asked if Alexander would go exploring the city with her, his reply was so soft she almost couldn't hear it. "Okay," he told her at a pitch that she almost needed to incline her head to hear. Tilting her head to one side, Fae looked at him with renewed curiosity. This quiet way the boy had about himself was unfathomable to her. She was used to boys like her brothers, those who yelled and laughed and tumbled around in the dirt with the dogs and turned cartwheels faster than the eye could follow. Alexander moved and spoke with such an air of... well, it could almost be described as timidity. Yet he was on-edge at the same time, as if too loud a spoken word would send him cracking into pieces. He needed to enjoy himself. Alexander looked like the type of boy who had not had fun in quite some time.

"Which way do you want to go?" he asked, looking up at her with the simple expectation and trust that one would expect of a puppy. Faerra's heart went out to the little lad. Mayhap after she would take him to visit her family (if she decided he could handle it). Some time with the boisterous and fun-loving group of Críwens might be just what he was needing. But that was after. For now, they had a city to explore.

"Let's see..." Faerra lifted one hand to adjust the silken bandanna that kept her brown and red curls away from her face. Closing her eyes, she turned around in a circle several times. When she stood still and opened her hazel eyes, she was facing a direction that would (maybe) take them down to Flash and the districts after, if they followed the main direction of the broad thoroughfare. But Faerra had no intention of simply walking down a street, where was the fun in that? "This way!" she cried, already trotting forward at a good clip. "Come on, Alexander!" she called over her shoulder, eyes twinkling with fun. Once more her feet flipped up over her head till the street performer was standing on her hands, lifting her head backwards to view the young boy right-side up. "We'll never get anywhere if we walk that slow," she laughed. "Come on! Catch me!" Vaulting to her feet, Faerra took off in a swirl of colored skirts and a jangle of bangles. Judging from his wind-blown curls, Alexander looked the type to enjoy a good run. Let's see if he could catch her.

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander was not sure exactly how he felt about this woman. She was exuberant and vivacious, and he enjoyed the feeling that she really didn’t give a rat’s shiny pink butt about him. If only that skill could stay with him, to be used at will. He would disappear any time Samuel or any of the other bullies came near him. He did not know what to expect from her, and that lit him up with excitement, someone so utterly out of the ordinary.

She started down the road and Alexander started after her at an easy pace, but he stopped when she called back to him: "We'll never get anywhere if we walk that slow. Come on! Catch me!" Why did folk always have to do that? Why was it always about how he wasn’t as good as anyone else?

Just what did she think, anyway? All his life Alexander had known to push himself. With his mama, he knew better than to complain; she did not want to hear about a tummy ache unless he was throwing up, and even then, what was he complaining about having got it out of him? In Naxen, he had so much catching up to do it seemed he would never, ever be free of work, so he worked as much as his confused, worn body and mind could manage. Now here he was in page training, still smaller than most boys his age and having to work very hard to prove his worth. He lacked the right blood, after all.

When Faerra challenged him, something in Alexander snapped. It was his free day. He had earned this. He had earned it with good behavior, no punishment work, free time. So rather than be good-natured and keep pace with her, he did what life seemed to want him to do: he pushed himself. He ran ahead of Faerra. He ran until he hit the next street. It was not a long run and only left Alexander breathing hard, appreciating the cool wind.

He stood and waited for Faerra. All he needed was those few moments to show that he wasn’t useless or inferior.