[M] Anima Mundi IC (Namingtoohard and Headwrapper)

[Headwrapper]

"I'll try," Mec said with a small laugh. He watched Shallan leave the room, a small smile on his lips as he watched in a reverie. A small part of him wished to spend more time with Shallan, to just chat the night away together, but he also did not want her to miss out on things they both knew she would enjoy. Besides, she seemed to be enjoying her time with the Misfits, and... Well, it probably helped her keep her mind off what she had to leave behind back home.

Mec frowned, finally pulling his gaze away from the door and sitting up firmly on the edge of his bed. His strength had come back to him after recovering from the light of the lanterns, and there was still some practicing to be done. Obviously it was nearly impossible to train his magic in the traditional sense, destroying the room but summoning plants or balls of flame was hardly discrete, but Mec knew there was something that he had long overlooked. The mage vividly remembered the vision he had when he attacked Olenna's doll in order to defend Shallan. At that time, he was driven by the fear of losing his friend at the hands of someone who just displayed their willingness and ability to kill in just in an instant. Maybe after all of this practice, such excitement would not be necessary to shine the same light on the world again. To see the world as it truly is, covered in the power that he wished to master.

It was not too difficult to see glimpses of it. In fact, he saw them more and more as he practiced. Stray threads, connecting someone or something to the environment around them. They always appeared so taught, on the verge of snapping given the gentlest touch, but they never seemed to regardless of the movement around them. Mec recalled how familiar the Anima surrounding Shallan was when he used them to win the little game Midir put them up to. Would he be able to find that same familiar energy again, perhaps?

Before long, Mec had kicked off his shoes and moved to sit at the foot of his bed. He pressed his bare feet into the wooden floorboards beneath him as he drew a long breath through his nose, and then gently let that breath go. He watched, trying to note a change to the air in front of him as he breathed out, but he saw nothing. He repeated the long breaths again, this time closing his eyes as he tried to feel the presence of the Anima again. It was not long before he could feel it, the gentle tugging of the world through the strings that were made up of the earth's very soul. Mec did not open his eyes to see it though, instead, he focused on trying to feel what he could through this new sensation.

One side of his lips curled into a smile once he was able to feel Shallan's presence. It was distant, but it was familiar. Not being someone who actively used magic, the magical energy around Shallan always felt small, but it seemed even more difficult to actively monitor it. Mec wondered if the lamps down below were influencing the ability to observe the Anima down below, in the same way it made it difficult to interact with it.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking the room back into focus. He gasped, nearly audibly, at what he could now see. It was not as brilliant as his incident with Olenna, but it was unmistakable how different the room had become. The cobwebs of light seemed to bind everything together at the same time, yet everything passed through them with no restriction. He wondered if Olenna could see the world like this through the help of her dolls, or if maybe the Anima provoked an entirely different sensation for her.

The bewildered mage stood, pacing the room silently, waving his hand through strings of light as he passed by. When he wanted to, he could feel the things those strands were connected to. Most of them seemed to lead to the earth below, but some may connect to a person, animal, or tree. Mec could not see those things necessarily, but he could tell at least what they were somehow. Eventually, he would settle back onto his bed, finally laying down on it completely. His eyes grew too tired of taking in the beautiful light around him, so he would close them to let them rest for a time. After a while, he could hear others enter the room, retiring to their beds, but he gave them no mind. He wondered if the traffic into the room meant Shallan might be returning soon.




The man awoke to the sound of a loud snore, before the source of the disturbingly loud noise shuffled in their bed and resumed a normal breathing pattern as they slept. Mec sat up, looking around the room that was now suddenly full of others from his new travel group, all sleeping away carelessly. The visible Anima was gone, and the old world, darkened both because of the lack of visible strands of light and the heavy curtains over the windows, was all that remained. He looked over to his travel partner, who was sleeping in the bed next to him. He could not help but watch her for a small moment, her face peaceful as she breathed gently, and her chest rising and falling with each breath.

After a while, he finally noticed the small platter that rest on the small table next to his bed. Judging by the selection of food, it was the more bland food that Shallan had mentioned would pass as a meal for someone with an upset stomach. Mec was hungry after the long fast, so he quickly munched down on the slightly stale food. Upon taking his last bite of a piece of cheese, he used his feet to pull his shoes closer to himself and put them on. He arose and carried the platter downstairs, deciding it would not be a bad idea to find some water as well.

A short while passed while Mec was near the entrance of the inn, drinking from a tall cup of water that he had acquired from one of the servers. The creaking of the front door caught his attention as it swung open, and in marched Clair, Godrich, and Ella. The trio looked like they were made of flames, Mec thought, with the way Clair's blonde hair contrasted with the dark reds of the other two senior misfits.

Godrich was the first to acknowledge Mec, a wide grin stretching across his face. "Hello Mec. I trust you're feeling better."

"I had no idea you would be such a handful," Clair teased as she walked passed. "Godrich, once I fetch everyone can you and some of the boys pack up what we left in the back last night?" She gave a knowing nod to Godrich before rushing up the stairs, Ella following her without speaking to Mec at all.

"Might as well get a head start, right friend?" Godrich laughed as he gave Mec's shoulder a pat.

Upon reaching the upper floor, Clair would visit the couple of rooms that housed the Misfits and wake the lot with a sharp whistle. "C'mon you smelly lot," she would say teasingly. "The baths won't stay warm for long!"

[Namingtoohard]

Even the most mediocre of beds had a way of feeling like a blessing, after so long spent on the open road. The thin mattress beneath Shallan seemed comparable the sort likely used by royalty after so long with naught but dirt and grass and occasionally a wagon bed upon which to rest her head, and she was seemingly determined to make the most of it. The girl remained entirely undisturbed by the light snores around her, and the gentle clamour caused when Mec awoke early, and slipped from the room. She began to stir only when Clair poked her head into their room, and woke good and proper only when the girl let out a loud, ear-piercing whistle.

Shallan jolted back into consciousness, and immediately came to regret that fact. Her mind was possessed by that slow, groggy fog that always seemed to accompany premature awakenings. A soft groan slipped from her lips as she rolled over to face the other direction, pulling the blanket tight about herself and forcing her eyes closed, as if doing so might allow her to ignore the intrusion, and will herself back to sleep. She went still at the mention of hot baths that followed, just a few moments behind, paralysed by indecision. Bed was amazing, but the opportunity to wash off all the sweat and grime that had come about as part of her travels? Well, that was an invitation she could hardly refuse, even if Clair hadn’t been around to kick their asses into gear.

Finally pulling herself out of bed, Shallan lingered just long enough to grab a spare set of clothes from her pack, before joining the long line of sleepy Misfits trudging down the hallway and the stairs beyond. She kept an eye out for Mec as they all passed, determined to apologise for her late return the previous night, but was rewarded with naught but an uncertain glimpse for all her efforts. Either she had missed him, or he was otherwise occupied elsewhere. No matter – she’d doubtless get the chance later, the next time they managed to catch up.

When she had originally heard the word bath, Shallan had been expecting the innkeeper to arrange something. Roll out some large wooden tubs, produce some jugs of hot water, and leave the Misfits to trickle through in small groups. She was surprised to find the group leave the inn behind entirely, instead indulging in a short and leisurely walk that ended at a nearby bathhouse The staff there greeted them with wide smiles and eager waves, seemingly having expected the group’s arrival, and ushered them inside without any mention of payment. Shallan couldn’t help but wonder if Clair had simply visited ahead of time and paid them a large sum for the entire group. She was under no illusions that the workers were doubtless more excited about the purse they’re receive for so many patrons, at the very least.

They were led into a sizable room, separated into smaller partitions by a pair of walls and a hanging curtain. They were currently drawn back, revealing that each one was filled with a small bench, a large wooden tub full of water so hot it steamed, and several pitchers, washcloths, and towels. The air was filled with steam, and Shallan could feel the heat even from here.

She was surprised to see that several of the other Misfits had already begun to shed their outer layers, chatting amicably between themselves all the while. Some of them moved to claim individual tubs in groups, moving with easy familiarity that implied a total lack of self-consciousness. Shallan was suddenly glad for the inherent heat that permeated the room, and she quickly ducked into one of the nearby alcoves, before pulling the curtain closed behind her. Shallan wasn’t quite certain if she would be allowed to bathe alone, or the uneven numbers would force company upon her sooner or later. Had she been feeling a little more prepared, or at least a little less flustered, she might have at least thought to seek out Tanya and Ashlyn, so she’d at least be with those she knew best. For the moment, however, it appeared that she was alone.

Feeling equal parts sheepish and silly, Shallan slowly moved to place her clean clothes on the bench that was nestled against one of the walls, before turning her attention to the tub itself. She dipped a hand into the water, and was pleased to find it at the perfect temperature – not quite too hot for her to stand, but almost. Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the thin curtain door that separated her from everyone else, Shallan took a deep breath, before finally peeling off her dirty clothes. She set these down on the bench too, a good distance away from her clean ones, before finally slipping into the large wooden tub.

Shallan was quick to sink into the water, submerging herself up to her collar. She’d place her arms on the outer rim of the tub and lean her head back, eyes fluttering closed as a blissful sigh slipped from her lips. She almost imagined that she could feel the dirt slipping from her skin, and her muscles loosening beneath the water’s heat. She allowed herself to linger for a brief few moments, doing her best to simply relax and enjoy the experience.

After a time, Shallan finally decided that she should finally get on with things. It was only a matter of time before the water became tepid, or she lost her privacy, or the others packed up and prepared to leave. She reached for one of the nearby washcloths and a jug filled with soap, and began the gradual process of cleansing days’ worth of grime from her skin. Whilst it wasn’t quite as relaxing as simply laying there and enjoying the sensation, there was comfort to be found in the routine of cleaning herself, and the satisfaction that accompanied the process.

She could hear splashing and the gentle murmurs of conversation from the alcoves next to hers, but Shallan paid then no real mind. Out of habit just as much as intent, Shallan began to sing softly to herself as she worked. She had chosen a melody that was both simple and familiar. One that her mother had sung to her often, as a child, where she didn’t need to think about the notes or lyrics. They flowed freely and easily, her pleasant Mezzo-soprano filling the air. Shallan’s tone was soft – she didn’t sing loudly enough to eclipse the sounds coming from the stalls next to her. Not completely, at the very least. Still, even if they could hear her, she suspected that none of the Misfits would mind. They were performers, after all, and she just another anonymous member amongst them…or so she thought at the time.

[Headwrapper]

A reluctance came over Mec as he and Godrich began to walk towards the hall that he had just fled from the night before, and his steps slowed. There was no good way to excuse himself from following Godrich completely, and as Mec tried to formulate one, he realized the white lanterns in the room were not lit, or maybe the morning's sun shone too brightly through the windows to be able to tell. After realizing this fact, Mec lowered his head, and marched through the hall after Godrich, not feeling any of the effects he had the night before. It was peculiar that the lanterns were so much more effective when they were lit, as to simply reflecting sunlight off of their surfaces, but Mec was thankful for the respite from the danger they posed.

The back room was small, crowded, and fully packed with the items the performers must have used the night before. Various outfits and accessories lay in piles throughout the place, and the large decorative feathers and fans were neatly piled on any open flat surfaces that would accommodate them. "Let's get to it!" Godrich declared before picking up a large chest. He and Mec made a few trips back and forth between the room and the wagon, occasionally stopping to sort out a few items that may have needed to remain in the backroom for future performances at the same tavern. After a while, a group of Misfits had passed by, and Godrich stopped a few of the boys to help them with moving everything.

When the small parade of Misfits walked passed, Mec did not manage to catch a glimpse of Shallan. He wondered if she may have passed by while he was preoccupied with loading a heavy crate into the wagon. Upon returning back to the inside of the inn, Mec took a moment to admire how confidently Godrich lead the other Misfits, snappily directing them to perform the tasks that needed to be done, and inciting urgency as he did so with his a strong, willful voice.


A smirk spread across Clair's face as she watched the groggy Misfits arise, responding to her call to awaken. With a bounce in her step, she turned to lead the way out of the tavern and to the bathhouse. She was dressed rather differently than she had been recently. Her pants and shirt were traded in for an outfit more flashy, sure to embellish her already charming looks. Her long, blue skirt swayed as she walked, occasionally revealing her brown walking boots. Her yellow shirt had no sleeves, revealing the soft and healthy skin of her slender arms. A belt that matched the color of her skirt wrapped around her waist, almost serving to bind the two different articles of clothing together more than keeping anything in place.

A cheery greeting awaited her and the troupe she lead once they arrived at the bathhouse. Clair grinned once they were lead inside, feeling the steam fill her nostrils and the heat of the room warm her skin. She stood aside, allowing her people to take first claim of the baths before them, as well as allow herself a moment to approach the keepers of the bathhouse. She spoke to them for a short while, and then emptied a small purse of coins into their hands, and pressed a few extra silver coins into their palms. "A few more will be on their way soon, if you would be able to accommodate them also."

With that out of the way, she kicked off her boots in a corner, and proceeded to stroll between the aisles of separated baths. Her bare feet pressed against the warm stone beneath of her as she walked with a particular weightlessness, effortlessly weaving her way through as she sought a bath to claim or join. As she searched, she passed by one bath that was concealed with a thin curtain. It was a rare sight, since the Misfits rarely bothered with such courtesies when among each other. Clair drew close, curious, before pausing to listen from a soft sound coming from within. It was a voice, either a woman's or a young boy's, singing a sweet melody. The notes, the rhythm, seemed to familiar, and Clair quickly realized why. Although the range of notes used were not difficult for a trained singer, the ability to use those pitches, occasionally leaping between octaves, was difficult. Clair only knew of a couple of performers in the troupe who could manage to sing a barely passable rendition of the song, and that is why it has not been performed since the death of Mistress Teresa years and years ago.

With no warning, Clair abruptly shoved her head through the curtain, and her eyes widened upon seeing who was inside. She hardly minded that Shallan was occupied with washing herself, as her mind hardly managed to move passed the fact that it was Shallan responsible for the sound in the first place. "Is... is that the Moonwalker's Ballad?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she stepped through the curtain. "I hope you don't mind if I join you, Shallan. You weren't saving a space for Mec, were you?" She winked and bit her lip mischievously as she added her ladder comment. Like clockwork, she stripped off her clothes, the ornamental and flashy colors giving way to reveal her bare skin.

She turned excitedly towards Shallan. "Where did you learn that song, Shallan? Can you really sing it? The whole thing? I shouldn't have interrupted you. You will sing the rest, won't you?" She slipped into the tub, causing some of the water to splash out because of the additional displacement. A large smile shown across her face in anticipation, her eyes watching Shallan hungrily. "We have not performed The Night of the Moonwalkers since Mistress Teresa had passed, as we had no one who could sing some of the songs. I do miss her singing those songs."

[Namingtoohard]

Whenever Shallan performed in front of an audience, be it one person or many, she always found getting started to be the hardest part. Nerves and confidence meant that her starts were often shaky, and it was only after the first few lines that she was able to relax and really show people what she was capable of. That didn’t seem to be the case today, though. Maybe it was the illusion of privacy her little stall provided, or the inherent knowledge that everyone else nearby was a performer themselves, and thus less likely to judge. Whatever the case may be, the music flowed freely today. Shallan slipped from one note to the next almost effortlessly, as graceful and composed as any dancer, and the lyrics were quick to follow suit.

The familiar and repetitive motions of cleaning herself had almost become secondary by the time that Clair drew close enough to distinguish her singing from all the other background noise that filled the bathhouse. The sound of the curtain being drawn back was enough to jolt Shallan out of her reverie, interrupting her singing mid-sentence. Her eyes flew open and her gaze quickly flickered towards the doorway, her song interrupted by a noise that was half gasp and half squeal. Shallan started to rise out of the water on reflex, trying to cover herself with her hands, only to realise partway through that doing so was only exposing herself more. She sunk back into the tub then, slouching enough for the water to come up to her collar, whilst her mind tried to catch up with the frenzied pace Clair seemed to be setting.

“What? Oh, uh, yes…I mean no, not at all.

Off-balance as she was, Shallan’s stuttering made for an awkward response to the first handful of questions that Clair posed. Had her cheeks not already been flushed from the heat of the water and the steam it produced, the girl had no doubt that she would have been blushing. Feeling more than a touch awkward, she averted her eyes when her new and unexpected guest began to undress, before scolding herself. The other Misfits certainly didn’t care about nudity, and it seemed that their new leader was no exception. She was simply making things more awkward for herself, acting this way. She’d need to try and relax a little.

“My mother taught it to me, back when I was still living at home. She was a trouper herself, before she settled down, and decided to pass on what she knew. She used to sing that song for me when I was little, and when I got older, we’d always sing it together” Shallan confessed, answering at least one of Clair’s questions. Several memories sprung to mind at the mention of such times, but Shallan quickly pushed them aside, lest she become overwhelmed with homesickness. Almost subconsciously, she’d straighten up a little when her new companion moved to slip into the tub herself, doing her best to make room. She’d rest one arm along the outer lip of the bath, whilst keeping her other hand below the waterline, her original task momentarily forgotten.

“I wouldn’t get too many ideas. I doubt I could sing it anywhere near as well as Mistress Teresa used to. Besides, singing for myself or a small group of friends is one thing, but standing up on stage, in front of a huge crowd? I’m not sure I could ever do that…no matter how much I might want to, sometimes, when I’m watching your other performers up there.” It was a more honest admission that Shallan likely would have allowed any other time, but it was hard to feel embarrassed about such things now, given their current setting. She had also let Clair’s request that she continue slip past unanswered; an oversight that wasn’t entirely accidental.

[Headwrapper]

Brown eyes glistened when Shallan spoke, eagerly offering their full attention as Clair listened about how Shallan had learned the beautiful song she had been singing only minutes before. Clair managed to ease herself more below the waterline, and the ends of her loose blond curls floated gently on the surface of the water, like golden crescent-shaped lily pads. She paid her loose hair no mind, fully intending to have to wash anyway. Her pink lips pursed into a smile as Shallan neared the end of her recollection of her mother's tutelage. "Your mother must have been quite talented herself," she said. "It would certainly explain where you got you're talent from. Likely your beauty as well, I'm sure."

Her lips pulled back into a pearly white grin when Shallan shot down the idea of singing in front of a crowd. "Well, I guess you're no Mistress Teresa," she teased. "It's only natural to be anxious of performing to a crowd. Every time we do it are sharing a piece of ourselves with the entire audience. I've grown up living a trouper's lifestyle, and I still have times that require me to cozy myself up to the idea."

Clair sat up straighter then, readying herself to actually utilize the bath. "Well, no sense in letting the warm water go to waste while we're chatting away," she declared. She spent the next several minutes washing herself, concluding her bath by rinsing her hair thoroughly with the help of a nearby pitcher. When she was all done, she dried herself and wrapped her body and head in a towel before sitting on the nearby bench. She closed her eyes, remaining silent for a long moment, feeling the warm steam of the room warm her skin and continue to relax her muscles after loosening them in the bath. If nothing else, she was preparing herself for the long day ahead.

"You should consider utilizing that talent of yours. If nothing else, I would love to hear more of your singing." She spoke through a grin, her eyes remaining unopened. "Something I've learned about the world over the years is that those that have talent, or intelligence, or ambition, are a minority in this stagnant society of ours. It's easy for folks to find a means to survive and continue to do only just that: survive. It takes a special kind of person to take the next step and thrive, to stretch their wings and find real enjoyment from life." She drew a long breath and sighed as she opened her eyes. "Just my couple of coppers," she said cheerily.

"Hopefully after I speak to the right people today, we will be finding ourselves rather busy during our stay here at Tulburry. We will be performing nightly at the Purpleberry, alternating between the dancers and the musical talent, and if nothing else I would like to secure a few times to perform our plays during the days. If nothing else, we can build our own stage just outside of the town and perform our plays there- people love the allure of a hidden back-alley show. All of that being said, we could probably use an extra set of hands preparing for the performances. You know, dressing, fixing hair, makeup, maybe restringing a lute or a mandolin here and there, that kind of thing. Would you want to help out if someone shows you the ropes?"

[Namingtoohard]

The lull in conversation that followed Clair’s unexpected declaration proved both timely and welcome. Shallan had been reeling ever since the troupe leader’s unexpected appearance, and found herself thankful for the chance to try and recover some semblance of her composure. What’s more, the brief break from conversation allowed her an opportunity to try and gather her thoughts, and mull over everything that the troupe’s leader had just told her. The compliments she had been given were, despite how flattering they may have seemed, the least of her concerns right now. News that even someone as experienced and practiced as Clair struggled to stand up in front of a crowd every now and then made gathering that sort of confidence seem an even bigger hill to climb, but…well, if she could learn to do it, despite her own personal struggles, why not Shallan?

With her arms folded over her stomach and her head turned to one side, Shallan was so lost in thought that she almost jumped out of her skin when Clair finally finished washing herself, and began to climb out of the bath. She turned her gaze back towards Clair whilst she was drying herself, and immediately felt another wave of embarrassment strike her. Shallan turned her attention elsewhere again – as if she had suddenly found the bathwater fascinating – whilst mentally scolding herself for being so awkward. Had she not just resolved to try and be more relaxed about this sort of thing a few moments ago? She’d forcibly push the thought from her mind as Clair began to speak, nodding along absentmindedly.

There was no doubt that some measure of what Clair said rang true. Shallan didn’t agree with all of it, but there was enough to make her stop and question. She had always enjoyed singing, hadn’t she? Wished that she could make a living doing something she loved, whilst travelling the world and seeing all there was to see? What better opportunity was she going to get than this, when she and Mec were actively working with a group of travelling performers? Their arrangements might be temporary, but she’d hate herself later if she didn’t at least try and make the most of it.

“If you can find someone to babysit me for the first couple of days, sure. I’d be happy to help out. If its half as entertaining as watching from the audience, then working backstage probably doesn’t feel like work at all” Shallan answered, a smile flickering across her features. Doing her best to muster up her courage and steel her resolve, she would take that as her own cue to climb to her feet, and step out of the bathtub. A part of her wanted nothing more than to quickly grab the towel and cover herself, or seek out some other sort of privacy, despite the fact Clair had her eyes closed, but Shallan did her best to resist. The girl forced herself to dry herself off slowly and methodically, just as Clair had done a few moments earlier. It was a small victory, but it felt like an important one. Once she had wrapped the towel around herself, and had claimed a second for her hair, she’d finally speak up again.

“And…well, if you can find someone willing to practice with me, and maybe give me a couple of tips, then I’ll give some thought to the whole ‘utilizing my talent’ thing. I can’t promise anything will come of it, but…I’m willing to try" she offered, finally. It felt like a weak response, even to Shallan's ears. A roundabout way of coming back to a topic they had already left behind, and one that hinted at both her desire and lack of confidence in one. Hopefully it would be enough.

[Headwrapper]

The size of the troupe leader's grin doubled in size when Shallan gave her answer. It only grew even greater in response to the additional annex to the announcement. "I think we've come to quite the agreeable arrangement then," Clair chuckled. She then stood and carefully unwrapped the towel from around her dampened head, letting her long golden hair fall to her back. She was dry enough now to get dressed, and so she began to do so.

The towel that served as the lone obstruction of the view of her bare flesh came off, and Clair tossed it onto the edge of the bench before reaching for her undergarments. She flashed a glance over to Shallan as she began to dress. "If I didn't know better, I'd think they don't bathe, where you're from. Oh, I don't mean offense to you, it's just amusing how bashful both you and Mec seem to be about nudity, even in a bathhouse." She chuckled a little after she spoke, but acted mostly preoccupied with the task of putting back on her expressively ornamental clothing.

Once she was fully dressed, less her boots that she had lefts by the front door, Clair set out to leave and attend to her errands. "I think young Sarah should be the one to help you learn the ropes of your new job," she said to Shallan before departing. "She serves me well as my own aid, and is very knowledgeable about the needs of our troupe. Find her and let her know why I sent you, and I'm sure she will oblige. She might still be somewhere around here. Oh, and I do hope to hear the rest of the Moonwalker's Ballad later. I must go make my appointments now." She smiled cheerfully and nodded before leaving the bathhouse the same way they had entered.

As Clair was lacing up her boots, sitting on a large rock that sat outside the bathhouse, she focused inward and took stock of herself. She felt normal, physically, and for now she seemed to be in a agreeable mental state. She still had one doubt, one she had been diligently ignoring except for these moments she spent alone. When would the next episode or spell caused by the hex placed on her happen? Realistically, it was only a matter of time. Mec's powers were supposedly keeping the curse at bay, but they have failed before. How could it be helped? She could not keep Mec at her hip, and it would not be much help besides. The only chance of discovering a permanent way to vanquish the curse is for Mec to do so alone, hidden in the shadows.

What kind of sorcerer would target a troupe leader, anyway? Clair considered this question countless times since the first visions and dreams she had through the eyes of what she called her beast: her cursed form. She may have been on a few people's bad side, it was only bound to happen, but it was impossible to recall a situation that would warrant such a punishment. Regardless, Clair hoped that whatever or whoever the source was, that it had decided to stop at only cursing her and no one else in the Misfits.

"There you are," a high pitched voice rang, the flaming red hair of its source just as intrusive.

"Hello again, Ella. You're prepared to visit Lord Hornson I take it?"

"Of course, I don't know why you felt like you need to come. We both know he prefers red-haired maidens anyway."

"Maidens," Clair repeated smugly as she jumped to her feet. A large smile shown across her face, one much more sinister than her usual magnetically charming one, as she watched Ella huff and begin marching. Their heading was towards one of the large houses that lay outside the main part of the town, connected only by a long road.

[Namingtoohard]

Clair’s words, even those spoken in self-professed jest, were enough to keep Shallan feeling off-balance and embarrassed. Was it really so odd, the way they had done things back home? Clair certainly seemed to think so, but she was a trouper, and thus lived a very particular lifestyle. Would the actual residents of this town agree with her way of thinking, or did they value their privacy a little more than her travelling companions seemed to? A question that would likely go unanswered, given that Shallan had no intentions of just walking up to a stranger and asking, and they’d likely be on the road again within a couple of days. The entire discussion was just food for thought, and little more.

Clair’s parting words were met with a simple nod of acceptance and a soft-spoken farewell. Then she was gone, leaving Shallan alone within her little chosen cubby once more. She lingered in silence for a few moments, considering everything that she had just discussed with the troupe’s leader. After a few moments, she’d finally remember herself, and decide that it was time to move on. Even so, the girl took her time when it came to trying herself off, before finally slipping into the clean clothes that she had brought along. Only when she was good and ready did she throw back the curtain, and step into the greater bathhouse once more.

The sound of her bare feet padding against the tiled floor seemed to echo throughout the building’s interior, even amongst all the other noise. A quick glance around was enough to confirm that a handful of other Misfits had already finished up and started heading back, but more still looked very content where they were. Plenty of semi-familiar faces continued to lounge about, relaxing in the warm water and chatting with those nearby. Baths were just as much a social event as a matter of personal hygiene for a lot of the Misfits, evidently. Was Sarah amongst them? Shallan had no way of knowing.

During the short walk towards the exit, Shallan once again failed to locate Tanya or Ashlyn. That was a pity. Aside from the obvious reasoning of wanting to see her friends again, one of them doubtless would have been able to point Sarah out to her. As it was, she had no way of knowing if they were currently in the bathhouse, had headed back already, or were still waiting for their turn. Shallan couldn’t quite say she liked the idea of interrupting the various groups still bathing to try and ask after them, and so she left the bathhouse behind, and began the journey back to the inn.

The short stroll back down the street proved to be rather enjoyable. The gentle warmth of the baths had helped soothe the aches and pains that came with an amateur’s life on the road, and for the first time in weeks, Shallan felt that she looked somewhat presentable. What’s more, the cool morning air was a stark contrast to the heat of the bathhouse, and helped to banish any residual sleepiness after their rude awakening that morning. Shallan would have been tempted to continue it, if she didn’t have other business that needed attending. With a measure of reluctance, she slipped back into the inn once more.

As soon as she was inside, Shallan cast a quick glance around, once again checking to see if Mec were nearby. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, wasn’t she? A part of her couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of Clair’s suggestion, when she told him. Was it eagerness or apprehension that stirred in her chest? Perhaps his response would help her decide.

Regardless, her first scan of inn’s ground floor fell flat. There were few enough people hanging around at this time of morning, and Shallan didn’t catch sight of him. No matter. Instead, she made her way up the stairs, heading back towards their shared room. She’d take a moment to dump her dirty clothes inside, setting them aside for future cleaning, and then worry about what came next.

[Headwrapper]

"Good work, boys!" Godrich stood tall, his chest puffed out in pride in the work that he and the group had accomplished that morning. "They should be keeping the baths warm for us. Let's hurry, you lot deserve it. Plus, we smell like a horse's ass!" He ushered the others along, stopping for a moment to speak to Mec. "Mec, a moment? I need help with something on the wagon." The two walked to the wagon, nearly overflowing with the various tools and props used by the Misftis in their travels. Godrich began untying one of the knots used to secure a thick blanket over top of everything. "I think something is falling out, just wanted to reorganize... Hold this part for me would you?"

With Mec securing some of the cargo, Godrich dipped his upper body under the blanket and began reorganizing the contents that were underneath to help them fit better. "You seem pretty strong for an amateur traveler. Did you do labor work back home?"

"Just a shopkeep," Mec responded. "Receiving shipments and organizing the stock does require one to have some strength though."

"Ah. Alright just one more thing and... good." With that, Godirch popped back out from underneath the wagon's blanket, and began retying it over everything. "So the shop did not suit your fancy, did it?" He asked as he continued to work to finish his task. He stood up straight once he was done, glancing back towards Mec who was yet to answer. "Your work. You had said before you had no reason to stay back home, so you chose to travel with your partner as she practiced her craft, yes?"

Mec had almost forgotten all about the cover story that he and Shallan had been using. "Oh, right. Not much to learn working in the same shop all the time."

"I see... Well, I hope your travels help you find what you seek then. Let's hurry to catch up to the others, shall we?"

The lads who stayed behind to repack the troupe's belongings were the last to arrive and the last to leave the bathhouse. Mec hurried to claim a tub and scrub himself clean as soon as he arrived. As he hurriedly dried himself off, he realized he was beginning to look more like someone who had been on the road for a while. His hair had grown quite a bit since he had left home, a few scraps and cuts here and there, was he thinner even? If you want people to trust you right away, then look handsome, he remembered his father telling him once. If you want them to ignore you, then look like someone who has been ignoring himself. Mec wondered which of the two options was more advantageous in his current situation.

Once dressed, Mec left the bathhouse and began trekking back towards the inn. He wondered where Shallan was now. She likely had bathed and found something else to occupy her time while Mec was already preoccupied. Between the events of the night before and now this long morning, he was already starting to miss her company.




Around the backside of the inn, an unmistakable pair jabbered away as they performed their tasks. "He's still crooked," Sarah sighed as she carefully added stitches to a pair of torn trousers.

"Not that crooked," Shaun mumbled, looking over the wooden doll he was repairing. "Once you put the clothes on it'll cover it up."

"Once you put the clothes on it," Sarah said, tossing the now-repaired pants over at Shaun. She hopped up from the large log she used as her perch. "I need to go, some of the girls wanted help getting ready for some street performing. Maybe if they have a good day today they can pass a few extra coppers my way."

"You should just take a... a mandelion and sing yourself. You would probably make way more than just a few coppers. Your voice is prettier than almost everyone's."

"It's a mandolin," Sarah scoffed, before turning away bashfully. "And... I know... But I can't... Besides, the troupe needs me for other things. Clair does too." She shook a hand towards Shaun to halt his next protest. "Just finish the dummy. Clair says we'll need it starting tomorrow." With that, she hurried off, back into the inn.

[Namingtoohard]

A quick question, posed to another Misfit in passing, was enough for Shallan to confirm that the boys often went for their own baths immediately after the women had finished washing up. Knowing that Mec was probably among them, Shallan was quick to conclude that he was likely out of her reach for the time being, and there was no point in trying to search for him now. No matter. Whilst she had wanted his opinion on Clair’s proposal, it could wait until later tonight. She could find something else productive to do in the meantime, surely.

Shallan was quick to leave their shared room behind, and began making her way back towards the main area of the inn. She hadn’t been given any more jobs to do, but several ideas and possibilities lingered at the front of her mind. The woman slowed, however, when passing the second-story balcony that looked out over the stage. Laying a hand on the wooden railing, she allowed herself to wonder, just for a moment, what it would like to be up there herself. To stand before a crowd and perform, just as the dancers had done last night. To have the spotlight, and the eyes of the audience, upon her whilst she sung, or acted ,or danced.

Could she do it? Could she truly imagine herself standing up there, bearing her soul to a waiting crowd, and endure their scrutiny? Clair certainly seemed to think she could, if with a little bit of help. The idea still frightened her, truth be told, but the potential rewards…besides, this was something she had wanted as a little kid, wasn’t it? To follow in her mother’s footsteps like this? Yes. The more she thought about it, the more convinced Shallan became that she’d never forgive herself if she passed up this opportunity. Even if it didn’t work out, she had to try, at the very least.

Feeling a renewed sense of determination, Shallan was about to move on, when a semi-familiar voice reached her ears.

“There you are, Sarah!”

The familiar name caught her attention, and Shallan quickly turned her attention to the room below. She was quick to locate the source – a gathering of Misfits on the lower floor, including her own friend Tanya. Even as Shallan watched, the group conversed for a brief moment, before making for the stairs together. Her eyes widened in something akin to surprise. What sort of lucky twist of fate was this? Shallan quickly turned away from the balcony and moved to head them off, determined to stop Sarah and talk to her about Clair’s recommendation before her resolve faded.
She met the group near the top of the stairs, just as they were stepping out onto the landing above. The natural bottleneck meant that Shallan had placed herself more or less directly into their path, and they would need to go right past her to make it to the rooms. Tanya was quick to give Shallan a warm smile and a simple nod of recognition, but the others, with whom she didn’t know quite so well, seemed content to mind their own business. It was on her, then, to speak up.

“Um, Sarah? Clair sent me to come and find you” she finally managed, after a brief second spent finding her voice. It took almost all of her self-control to stop herself from fidgeting, or otherwise seeming too awkward and nervous. She still didn’t know exactly which one Sarah was, so she’d be relying on the girl’s response to clue her in.