Chapter Text
Hjaitr
You and Kal have joined the others at your earliest convenience. Ciceran waited until the fairgrounds cleared for the most part before summoning your troupe. With the usual hustle and bustle being so…normal, the sharp contrast of silence is terrifying, to say the least. Well, terrifying.
Uneasy.
Uncomfortable.
“What did I miss?” Kal asks. The unfortunate thing, you've come to realize, is that the latest addition to the Spellmere came at a rather difficult time.
You think about your word choice carefully. Between handling Tobias earlier, and having to carry Aspen back to her tent, it's been an eventful day you wish didn't transpire. Thinking carefully, you murmur a single line. “Some tension’s gotten to be a bit much.”
Nothing accusatory. Nothing that would lead to gossip. Only fact.
Your steps are strangely calculated today. You can't help but keep a strangely steady hand over the blade at your side. Things feel different. You wish that was a lie, you truly do. But lies, in moments like these, provide no comfort. Whether it be the way that caravan corner seems to be far too filled with people, or the way that the Stars don't even seem to shine as bright as they used to, things are different. You step aside to allow Kal to enter the area first. The gate closes shut behind you, and your eyes scan the outside to ensure you're not blocking the way for anyone. This is meant to be a private moment.
The tables from the pre-show event are pushed against some of the caravans. Surprisingly, there is nothing that sits atop them. Aspen and Chase keep their distance from the rest of the crowd, but they're visible from where you stand. You look down to Kal and watch for a moment as they take everything in. Again, you wish these were better circumstances for the new arrival.
“Sure are a lot of people here.” Kal murmurs. They fold their arms against their chest, tugging the sleeves of their tunic down to cover just a little bit more.
“You get used to it.” You say quietly. “Just one big family, after all.”
You make your way towards the usual spot that you stand at events like this. Mind you, this is really the first event that you have had to experience like this. Pre-show events are something sacred. This is no such thing. Your hand continues to rest on the blade that sits at your waist. You stand tall and at the ready, while Cal takes the chance to climb up and sit on the top of one of the tables next to you. Their legs dangle and swing as they continue to look around.
You jump ever so slightly when you feel a hand touch yours, but you settle the moment that you see Dita orange eyes staring at you. By the looks of it, she has had a chance to cry over matters. Her dark makeup around her eyes is running, and caked in the smallest of crevices around her eyes. Her expression remains stoic. Neutral. This isn't about her, and she is well aware of that. This will perhaps be a conversation held behind private quarters. She stays quiet, waiting patiently. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment before it trails off to the ringmaster that sits near the fire.
Ciceran has not changed out of their costume from the show. Their disheveled appearance is surprising in comparison to the rest of you, but they sit perched on a chair by the fire. They practically couch on the chair rather than sit, but you pay it no mind. You wait, itching for the cool relief of ale. Or whiskey. Or something.
Anything to cut this discomfort.
Ciceran stands and clears their throat. They remain in their peculiar position and wait for the crowd to grow hushed. There is no smile on their face. “I suppose you are wondering why I have called you here together. Prior to the end of the show, I received word that we lost a dear friend and member of our very own family. Should you look around, I am sure most of you have noticed that our beloved at Salem Moorewood is nowhere to be seen.It is with a heavy heart that I must announce that Salem is dead. I was the one to assess the damage, and the fatal wound to his chest would've seen to it that he would have met a rather painful end.”
The crowd begins to murmur to one another. There is the occasional gaze exchange between some of the other Spellsmere folk. Kal's gaze is fixed on you, and Dita squeezes your hand and Silent support. That uneasiness in your chest blossoms more, but you swallow it as best as you can. Bury it. Bury it. Ciceran raises their hands to calm the whispers, the noise.
“Now, Now.” their voice cracks ever so slightly. “We have seen to it that Salem is properly taken care of. There will be no hesitation or uncertainty in the fact that our dear friend, our dear brother, will go in peace. Salem was loved by many. by all. dare I say he was the best friend that someone like myself could have asked for. for those of you that are not aware, his mother met a very similar Fate on these very grounds that we speak on. I do hope that he finds peace and sanctuary with those he holds dear on the other side. We do ask that you show his loving husband, Tobias, as much support and encouragement as you can in these trying times. It is our responsibility as a family to support one another in moments like this. On my end, the gate will remain closed until tomorrow afternoon, at the very least. We will extend our stay here in Neverwinter if necessary, but if there is much protest we will move on as we always have. However, I do wish to give us all a chance to grieve and handle this situation accordingly.”
Kal nudges your side, and you take your gaze off of the Ring Master for a moment. “Where’s Mikko?”
Ciceran seems to catch on to Kal's question, despite the fact that you are standing as far away as possible. To say that you are not impressed would be a lie. Ciceran clears their throat once more before they continue to speak.
“This brings me to my next topic of conversation. " they continue to speak. " I have received word that, prior to our midnight soiree, there was an attack upon one of our very own. We have been most fortunate for an outsider, along with Dita, to step in and cure their wounds. Mikko is meant to heal and recover slowly. A recovery nonetheless, with his voice intact. I know. We all wished for the opposite it seems.”
The ringmaster's attempt at a joke seems to land, surprisingly. even you can't help but to chuckle, if only for a moment. Kal at your side seems to settle a little at this.
Ciceran adjusts their position a little, and they roll their eyes. There’s a mischievous grin on their face for a second before they wipe a stray tear from their eye. “For those of you that are afraid for what is to come …well, I do believe you should be. Fear is a natural thing, especially in moments like these. I will do my very best to protect you all, just as I always have. On a much lighter note, however, I do wish to introduce the newest member of our troop. I do believe they will be quite the asset to our team and it is our responsibility to ensure that they are welcome here within our very own home. not once have we ever had trouble with welcoming others into our home, have we? And so, I wish to welcome Kalri Turnstone to our Spellsmere family. Do welcome them with a warm applause or a smile when you see them. I do believe for the time being, they are under the care of our dear Dita and Hjaitr. However, again, I ask that you welcome them with open arms.”
The crowd’s focus has shifted. For only a moment – a lighter moment– the uneasiness has shifted. You smile a little and set a warm hand on Kal’s shoulder. A welcoming gesture.