The Gathering Fields

Loki stumbled out into the bright sunshine, squinting his grey eyes against the harsh glare of another average day. Unnecessary strings of beads clattered as he pushed through them, allowing an acrid, pungent smoke to coil out of the dark room behind. The whining sound of a badly played (abused) reed flute followed, before both were cut off by the heavy wooden door that served its purpose in keeping the daylight out. A bit eccentric, highly eclectic, and entirely purposeless, but the clientele loved it - it was mystical. It had a supernatural allure. And it ran on lots and lots of dried herbs and shiny, river-polished stones, so it was time once again to leave the cave of cons and enter into the bright, shiny day to go get supplies.

At least, long legs had the habit of eating up distance, even if Loki had the habit of alternating long, ungainly strides with short stumbles as he struggled to stretch them out during the walk out of town and into the fields. The bag slung over his shoulder shared the same gaudy decoration as the rest of the "fortune-teller's" shop and bounced along merrily as he went, flashing red and purple, with fake coins stitched to the fabric in pseudo-gypsy fashion.

The lad stopped as he neared the sound of running water. Loki - Spark, as his family affectionately called him - dropped his satchel unceremoniously to the ground, and promptly followed suit. He stretched out his lengthy limbs, falling back into the high grass groaned. "Dragon's breath," he growled with sarcasm as he pinched off a bit of dry grass, and puffed it into a bit of smoke and a spark. "There isn't even a thing as Dragon's Breath. If there were, I don't think I'd want it around, myself." He grabbed another leave and set it alight, the fresh green smoldering and smoking for a minute as it turned to sticky ash. He ran his fingers through his messy mop of blonde hair, then grabbed a handful of dry foliage, crushed it in his palm, then tossed it up into the air and watched it pop into tiny flashes of light and smoke. Blame a kid for enjoying his time off?

Again with the woods?! You'd think after the last few misadventures Silence had she'd steer clear of nature altogether, but it was better than dealing with people laughing at the circus acts and calling everyone freaks. "Bloody sightseers have no manners." she muttered. She saw smoke in the clearing and walked into the open. There wasn't really much to expect outside the city, but a string bean with blonde hair setting things on fire was far more interesting than finding an abandoned campfire. "Well that depends, dragon's breath when it yawns or dragon's breath when it wants to roast you alive? Both are pretty bad if you ask me but I'd choose the yawn, nothing good usually comes from dragon fire. What brings you all the way out here, don't like the city?" Truthfully when nature was quiet and sunny it wasn't a huge deal, it was days like when the circus found Fredrick and the enchanted road she traveled with Jackdaww the Klutzy Knight that she despised.

There was something about this boy that seemed familiar to her. She'd never met him before she was certain, but after a moment of inspection- aha that was it!- his brightly colored clothes! "You must love attracting attention with all the colors you wear. Thought the flying circus was the only one of its kind, nice to know that it isn't." Now it was entirely possible that she was mistaken, but only people from Yarrowitz and people who worked for circuses dressed like this boy and herself, in her own opinion (which never really did matter much to other people). "Name's Silence, what's your name stranger?" After all the rambling she'd just. . .well. . .rambled for lack of better wording, it would take a miracle for her to get a serious answer and make a good impression all at once. "I don't bite I promise." The yellow and orange clad fire breather had been tempted to say that when she first walked up, but it would have felt far more awkward then than it did now.