Lucian O'Dorchaidhe

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” [rp account]

[lucianodorchaidhe]

ivory lines lead || quebec

[poppet--murray]

Poppet felt badly for what she had said to Lucian–truly she did. She was both Irish and Catholic in name if not in practise. He was as well, she knew, but she knew little else. 

 Try as she might, she could not bring herself to regret the sentiment behind the words. Perhaps she did not wish hell upon him, but pain, surely. Suffering, even, if she was being honest. 

 There had been something in the way he pushed her away that felt like betrayal. Something in the way he had held her only moments before that felt like dishonesty. Something in his kiss that felt like love. 

 And since Calcutta she had been moody. Now in Quebec, the weather matched her mood. 

 Her orange-red brows stayed furrowed like stormclouds on her face. Her small pink lips pursed like lightningbolts.

 So the rain came as a welcome respite. As the clouds spilled their contents, so did her eyes. As the wind wailed, so did she. 

 But when she left her car to walk outside, she grew too cold too quickly. She meant to hide from the rain and from those who would not dare venture out into it with the animals, but found a man with a cold heart instead of cats with warm bodies. She would have left if she had not gasped–a horrible, beastly sound she could not have replicated if she tried–in a strange combination of anger, pain, and fury.

[lucianodorchaidhe]

As the door opened, Lucian heard a sound like fire. Intense with heat and grit and pain, directed in some way toward him. This was not the sound of his close companion. This was spiteful and raw and in so many ways well-deserved. Before turning to face her, the man braced himself for the sight of her soaked to the skin, dripping with rain and fury. He did not have to guess whether or not she would be radiant, that much was a given. One hand steadied against the wall, the other holding close the small cat he’d been comforting he turned to face her.

Despite the effort he’d made to prepare himself, the sight of Penelope, hair all curls and beauty, standing in the doorway to the barn, knocked the wind out of him. He stammered, trying to say something that might make her stay despite everything, but breath would not come. He saw her turn away slightly, as if she were about to leave and suddenly it was too much for him. Lucian crossed the space between them in only a few strides. With a tender urgency, he grasped her hand and managed to gasp out, “Stay. Please.”

Against his better judgement, his eyes found hers, and he was lost. For over a month he’d tried to convince himself it was a fanciful thought, a brief encounter he’d somehow made out to be far more than it was. But now, gazing into her eyes, Lucian realized how ridiculous that had been. She was his gravity, what tethered him to earth. And now, if she’d let him, he would never let her leave again.

[perrfectly]

Source

[lucianodorchaidhe]

ivory lines lead || quebec

The past few weeks had not been kind to Lucian. Since Poppet’s departure from his train car in Calcutta, sleep evaded him more than usual. What little rest he managed was accompanied by fitful dreams; he dwelled on her parting words as they shuttled around in his head. 

Having grown up in an abbey with little company but monks and animals, Lucian was of the more religious of his peers in the circus. Though it was a sanctuary in its own right, a monument to the spirit of something greater than any one of them could understand, it did not carry with it the weight of damnation for a majority of its patrons. He’d seen a certain fear in the eyes of the illusionist that made him question his claims, but nothing like the wrath of Catholicism impressed on him by the nuns in his childhood. 

Lucian had known in the moments before making the decision to ask her to leave that an element of suffering would be involved. That as much was clear from the stabbing ache in his chest as Poppet expressed her own hurt. The guilt of it all was only assuaged with his conviction that an absence of him in her life was an evasion of further hurt; that though nothing could be more painful than having her in his life, the possibility that consequences from his contemptible past could drag her into their depths was—at least in his mind—a more abhorrent outcome.

The events in Sicily had only further cemented this belief. Lucian reconciled the torture of seeing her with the knowledge that an absence of him in her life made her safer. That his love for her was grounded in denying himself of her presence.

Here in Quebec, the chilly air was a welcome respite. They were greeted by a spectacular thunderstorm on their first night; the pop and crackle of the lightning reminding Lucian of the lights of the circus. He had always felt more at place in the rain, its reputation for grimness a relief from the oppressive heat and cheer of sunshine. He did not look so out of place here, taking refuge in an overcoat and thick scarf.

Sure that the gloom and the rain would keep the bright young girl he so admired indoors, the animal trainer took this time to visit his charges and soothe those upset by the storm. Inside, the hay was warm and the musk of the animals put Lucian at ease. He could not offend here. The door creaked open and he thought nothing of it, assuming it was one of the cats, come in from the wet or Ciara—who’d been scarce since the thunder had started—come to keep him company

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

[poppet--murray]

Eyes closed and mind elsewhere than her feet, Poppet barely noticed as she felt herself being pulled up, but a small gasp escaped her lips as Lucian pulled him into her. Soon, she began to truly lose herself, and it was to her as if they were one being, linked in an infinite moment. 

But all too soon he pulled away, and she listened in confusion as he apologized.  “No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, Lucian, don’t. Don’t you dare apologize to me for a kiss, not now and not ever, for there shall never be a kiss from you that I am not grateful for. And I couldn’t take if…” She was shaking her head again. 

She looked up him ardently, staring him down with a renewed passion, “I couldn’t take it, Lucian, if you were ever sorry for a kiss from me." 

She dropped her hands from their spot on the back of his neck, and took his hands in hers, holding them tightly, her eye contact unwavering. "Do you hear me? Please,” she begged, “hear me and know what I am telling you is the truth, Lucian, and nothing but it. Please." 

[lucianodorchaidhe]

The thought of opening himself up after so many years of solitude was something he couldn’t fathom. There was a part, he didn’t know how strong this part might be, that wanted to lock up any and all sorts of feeling he possessed so that he may never have to deal with them again. Lucian had been on his own for over thirty years; he had adjusted to that sort of life as well as anyone ever could. He didn’t want to hurt Poppet, but there was no way to move from this point that didn’t involve some sort of heartbreak on her end.

Lucian looked at the girl before him, sun peeking through the curtains to glint off her red hair. She was so beautiful. It almost surprised him that he’d never noticed before today, but then he wasn’t much for noticing anything these days. While he wanted nothing more than to pull shut the door and kiss her till the stars shone brighter, the sensible part of his brain pushed that notion off the table.

There was a strange feeling growing in the chest of the animal trainer as the girl standing across from him admonished him for apologizing. It was a rare moment when someone made him feel sheepish for asking forgiveness. Though he tried his best not to, a small smile escaped the corners of his mouth.

She was shaking her head, telling him not to feel sorry for their kiss. It didn’t matter what she said, he knew that, no matter what, he would never feel sorry for kissing her, even if he wished otherwise. Because of course, regret would make all of this easier, he wouldn’t hate himself quite so much for falling so hard over a cup of tea that he was kissing a girl young enough to... no. He wouldn’t go there. Not now. Not with her still in the room.

Poppet held his hands held in hers, their dainty form dwarfed by his, rough from work and calloused from ropes pulled and shovels held. Her eyes were on his again, drawing him back in. Lucian heard her and believed it was the truth. He knew the implications of what she was saying and what what at stake if she let things continue the way they were headed. Slowly, and with great effort on his part, he pulled away from her. He grabbed the gloves that had come off at some point during the conversation and handed them to Poppet. 

“I think...” he swallowed, the words thick in his throat. “I think it’s best... you shouldn’t be here. It was untoward of me to invite you in. I... wasn’t thinking.” Lucian couldn’t meet her eye. The very last thing he wanted to be doing was asking her to leave, but he was rather afraid of what might happen if he didn’t. While he couldn’t have cared less of his own reputation in the circus, he could not bear to tarnish Poppet’s. 

Once Poppet had left, Lucian pulled shut the door to his train car, a note he would not be performing tonight haphazardly posted outside of it. He lay in the oppressive Calcutta heat and let it envelop him. Ciara joined him on his bed as he let out a single pain-filled sob.

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

[poppet--murray]

The table was small, just big enough for the small tea service set before them, but any space, any separation from Lucian suddenly seemed too much for Poppet when he kissed her. 

A simple touching of the lips was enough for her. One small touch and she was already swept in up in a whirlwind, but when he touched her cheek and pulled her closer, it was as if she abruptly forgot everything she’d ever been taught.  She didn’t remember to be shy and coy. She didn’t remember to pull away, and leave him wanting more. She didn’t remember that a lady didn’t kiss a man, not ever. That a lady only let a man kiss her. 

She forgot, and because she forgot she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly over the table. Because she forgot, she knotted her fingers through his thick curls, holding him now in a way that said, I won’t let go. 

[lucianodorchaidhe]

Lucian had only kissed one other woman, when he was a young man sailing with traders. She was the daughter of one of the patrons and it was a simple chaste kiss that never made the man envy the relationships of his peers. But as Poppet's lips moved with his, and her fingers twisted and knotted in his hair, it was like one of the hundreds of shattered pieces fit back into its rightful place.

Suddenly very unsatisfied with the cumbersome tea table, Lucian stood, bringing her with him. Moving his hand to her waist, he pulled her closer to him, without the barriers of furniture between them. He was lost to her touch and the maddening way her fingernails dragged along his scalp. Deepening the kiss, he held her close until a soft breeze ruffled his hair. The door was still open.

A thousand thoughts raced through his head, and they all came to the same conclusion; despite the fact he felt as if he could do this forever, he didn't feel it fair to the younger girl to drag her headfirst into his life. Because if they continued doing what they were doing—lips crashing together as beautifully and naturally as the waves upon the shore—then she would become an important fixture in the life of a man who could barely find his way to sleep at night, much less navigate matters of the heart.

And so with great regret, he broke the kiss. "Penelope..." he began, biting back the disquietude that grew with every second and looking into her eyes. It was there he saw a growing affection, a storm of absolute bliss and the acknowledgment of risk. To lose that, would be to cause damages far worse than an indecent action, and so he faltered as to how to proceed. "Penelope," he began again, "I'm dreadfully sorry for my impetuous behaviour. I do hope you know this was not my intention when I invited you in for tea."

Lucian was blushing madly, hoping she didn't perceive regret in his words. While he knew that the moment she left his quarters, he would likely spiral into a mess of anxiety and confusion, torn between the fluttering she was inducing in his heart and the worry she would become just as weighted by his past as he was, there was no point in making her privy to this fact.

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

[poppet--murray]

Poppet nearly let an apology slip from her lips as she noticed his pained expression, but soon his eyes met hers again, the very thought of it seemed utterly ludicrous. The way he looked at her… as if she were all that existed, it made her feel as if the two of them in the room were all that mattered. Liz, Edmund, they didn’t matter. They were as insignificant as the fleas she carefully combed from her cats each night. Though she was not aware of it, she was slowly gravitating towards this strange, wonderful man, and she was gazing at him in much the same manner. Very soon, they were near enough to touch. much too near to be proper. “Lucian…” she breathed, her voice less than a whisper and intended for his ears alone.

[lucianodorchaidhe]

As much as his thoughts screamed at him to break the eye contact and pull away; to retreat back into his carefully constructed walls and push away the notions that were likely building in Penelope's mind, there was another force that pushed back. When her lips parted as if she were about to say something, Lucian's concentration was completely shattered. The space between them was lessening and whether she noticed it or not, he was hyperaware of the few inches separating their faces.

When she whispered his name it was like something inside him snapped. Rational thought dissipated with the slight breath that warmed his skin and the normal protocol that kept Lucian a perfect gentleman seemed to have short-circuited when she touched him. His name was still registering somewhere in his brain when he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips softly against hers.

Before he knew what was happening, his hands reached up to cup her cheek, pulling her a bit closer to him.

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

[poppet--murray]

Poppet laughed at the idea of a fox’s nose in his ear, but when he made eye contact, she stopped almost abruptly, her smiled slowly fading. 

She had been previously unaware of exactly why eye contact was contact, but now she had no doubt. There was an odd intensity to his gaze that seemed to wrap around her being, not entirely unlike an embrace, but then again nothing like it at all. She could feel her heartbeat in every extremity. Not faster, just…stronger. 

He looked away only an instant later, but it felt like she’d spent an infinity in his gaze. He muttered something about the weather, but she had no interest in it. 

Wordlessly, she moved her tea cup aside and leaned across the table, her brow knit in curiosity. 

She knew she was being far too forward, but it seemed she was too far past the point of no return. 

She placed two gentle fingers under his chin, lightly lifting his face. She returned her hand to her side, unsure of if he would look up, but sure if he did, it couldn’t be something she made him do. 

[lucianodorchaidhe]

The girl's laughter cut off, and he noted a curious expression crossing her face. Sharply reminded of the reasons why he so rarely kept the company of others, Lucian tried to pinpoint exactly what he could have done to make her feel uncomfortable. There was of course his initial act of inviting her in for tea, something that could be perceived as a bit too forward. Their conversation had been rather innocent, if his brief comment was disregarded. She didn't seem uncomfortable, or at least she hadn't until the paths of their eyes had crossed. Lingered.

And that was precisely why Lucian avoided eye contact; truly they were windows into the soul. They opened up doors and revealed more than they ought. Even a brief glance could change a dynamic, shift the balance just enough so that everything was sorted in a different place.

Only briefly registering the sound of porcelain sliding across the table, Lucian was still shifting through his thoughts when he felt her touch under his chin. Where their skin met, electric currents sent rapid fire pulses to his brain, causing him to wince ever so slightly. It was involuntary, his general aversion to human contact habitually reacting, not registering that perhaps, he didn't mind so much. Her hand moved away, but the sparks continued sending shockwaves through his skin.

He couldn't pretend as if he'd never noticed her before. A pretty girl like that was entirely too hard to miss; but his hatred of judgment had always caused him to look at the less concrete aspects of her. Rather than the smooth curve of her jawline, he focused on her intensity towards the things she cared about; instead of noting the bell-like tones of her voice, he looked at her eagerness to learn. But as his face turned slowly upwards, he became rather aware of the perfect cupid's bow her lips formed as she smiled. Pressing his lips together he glanced up once more at her eyes, trying to gauge her reactions.

[lucianodorchaidhe]

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

[poppet--murray]

Poppet raised her hand politely and shook her head, choosing to ignore his faux pas with her “don’t worry about it,” gesture.

“Your leopard, does she eat solid food? Or has she been taken away too soon by the damned breeders?” She asked, unable to disguise her disgust at breeders that took young animals away from their mothers before they could be weaned, forcing them to be fed cow’s or goat’s milk, which couldn’t be as good as what their mothers produced.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t swear,” she said, a bit embarrassed.”But I suppose now we’re even,” she smiled.

“Anyway, if she’s eating solid food, she may just be picky. My cats’ll do the same thing.You might just have to find something she likes. Cat’s are funny, that way, like children who won’t eat their vegetables. At least mine are. You wouldn’t believe the variety of meat I have to find everywhere we go.” 

She looked down at the fox, who she half expected to start purring. “You’re an odd creature, Ciara,” she smiled as Ciara looked up at her. “I rather like you.” The fox barked at her, and she laughed. “My cats like to wake me up with incessant meowing,” she said, turning against to Lucian, “I can’t imagine what it’d be like to wake up with her at your ear.” 

[lucianodorchaidhe]

Lucian couldn't help but chuckle. "The problem wasn't Eira; I wanted to keep her nursing, and she was more than happy to oblige. The trick was to convince Sonya that a leopard cub was really a tiger. She's starting to warm to the idea I think. I'm keeping a close eye on them both." He poured some more tea into his cup, thinking about all the tricks he had to use to even get Eira close to the mother tiger. It was really a stroke of luck that she had cubs the same age, and Lucian was very grateful.

It was interesting to hear someone else refer to their animals as children, though, the more he thought about it, the more Lucian realised it was hard to imagine a relationship between man and beast that wasn't mutually respectful. He knew they existed of course, he had rescued enough animals that he was not oblivious to the horrible treatment so many incurred. "I think of my animals as children too. I don't suppose I'll ever have a family outside of them, so I guess it's rather fitting." The comment was oddly personal, slipping out unguarded. Grudgingly, the man began to acknowledge that Poppet's presence was rather comforting, and he was curious as to why.

Carefully averting his eyes from looking at her in any way that might be perceived as indecent, his gaze fell upon her bronze coloured curls. He noted the way they caught the sunlight, glinting as if they were spun from actual metal into the thinnest strands. They looked a bit more curly than usual, the air causing them to unravel from what he was sure was a long process of taming. He ran his fingers through his own mess of curls, suddenly conscious of the fact he had literally just rolled out of bed. Blinking rapidly, trying to rid his mind of the current train of thought, he focused on the comment Poppet had just made.

With a soft chuckle he replied, "It's not so much the noise as her incessant prodding. She's rather fond of sticking her nose in my ear and nipping at my fingers." He wriggled hands that were criss-crossed with faint scars from years of animal training and fighting off those who tried to hurt him.

Looking up, Lucian abruptly made eye contact, noting the soft shade of bluish-grey, the same colour of the seas he'd often traveled, buried in her eyes. Hastily, he looked away, suddenly intensely interested in the pattern of the china. "I... uh... how are you enjoying the weather. Am I the only one to find it so dreadful?" Though arguably the most boring topic of conversation, the weather was the only topic he seemed to come up with, the colour and intrigue in her eyes still dancing across his vision

[lucianodorchaidhe]

Wha's all this, then?

I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you’re talking about.

[lucianodorchaidhe]

Monreale Duomo || Lucian and Ellie

Lucian's head was spinning; the tension between the different circuses was palpable, and seemed to fill the air no matter where he went. He tried to think of somewhere peaceful to go clear his head, knowing that his tent was simply not an option. The nightmares were becoming worse, and it was this that prompted an idea; Father O'Dorchaidhe kept volumes of maps and books on religious sites, many of which were in Italy. Now, Lucian knew Italy was a bit too far, but he remembered a cathedral that was located on the outskirts of Palermo, within walking distance of where the circus was currently stationed.

A church was exactly where Lucian needed to go; he hadn't visited one in quite some time. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that London was the last time he was in any sort of church, and what happened while he was there- an involuntary shudder crossed his shoulders.

Giving a short whistle, Lucian called Ciara by his side, instantly feeling better as her tail brushed his legs. The extent to which he relied on the little black fox was admittedly unhealthy, the moments she was away from him filled with anxiety. Ever since she'd come into his life, Lucian had started to progress, he could hold conversation with minimal eye contact, he didn't completely shy away from interaction, she made him better.

Ciara too had been living a better life since knowing Lucian; she no longer went hungry, her spastic movements were now much smoother. Her family was killed by trappers when she was a pup, leaving her to fend for herself in a world where young foxes rarely survived. In some sort of strange dynamic, Lucian had become a father-figure, and she learned from observing other humans what made him different, unhappy. The bond between the two was far different than the bonds between Lucian and any of his other animals. In a way, she was almost human.

Ciara nudged roughly against his calf. Looking down at her, he chuckled, "You have four legs, it won't kill you to walk a bit." She nudged his legs harder, letting forth a short bark. He laughed again, a bit louder, and picked her up, placing her on his shoulder. She trilled, and he scratched the fur behind her ears. "You know, once we arrive at the cathedral, you'll have to sit outside," he said in the voice of one slowly explaining something to a child.

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

[poppet--murray]

Poppet smiled at the cup set before her, “It’s beautiful,” she said, watching the bundle slowly unfold and tinge the water with its color. She’d had plenty of teas everywhere from London to Beijing in vibrant porcelain cups from all corners of the world, but never something so delicately lovely as this. 

She listened, enthralled as he described his animals. “I’d love to see your cats, but I’m afraid I only work with kittens. The only use I’d have of adult cats is breeding, though I’d love to meet them,” she said, slipping into a habit she couldn’t break of referring to animals just as they were people. In truth, she often preferred them. 

The fox rose from her spot by Lucian and nudged at Poppet’s calf. She set down her fan and bent slightly to scratch its head, “Hullo, there, lovey,” she said. “You’re just a little sweetheart, aren’t you? Just like a cat.”  She turned to Lucian again, though she kept one hand behind Ciara’s ears. “She is like a cat ain’t—isn’t she?” This was another one of her habits, common grammar she’d begun to speak on as a child. She didn’t often slip into it, but when she was comfortable, the proper ways of speech often eluded her. She wasn’t sure what it was about her fellow trainer that made her feel at ease, but perhaps it was the way he seemed to understand his animals as she did hers. 

“She wants undivided attention when she craves it, but when she don’t—” Poppet shook her head, “Doesn’t, sorry, when she doesn’t want attention, she’ll just sit and stare for hours.” 

[lucianodorchaidhe]

Lucian sipped the tea, listening to her as intently as he could without looking at her face. He hoped she wouldn't find him horribly rude, but there was just something about people that made him uncomfortable, regardless of who they were or how well he knew them. There was something about faces in particular that made it hard to focus, eye contact most of all. When he looked at people directly, especially during conversation, he was distracted by minor details: the twitching of facial muscles, blinking patterns, the intricate patterns of veins within they eyes, the lines of the face; there were so many different variables that it was far simpler to focus on the slowly unfurling flower in the teapot or the creases in his trousers.

"There's a lovely little leopard kitten, Eira. I think you'd like her. I picked her up from a collector who had no use for anyone but her mother. All her brothers and sisters had been sold off to the highest bidder, but she was too small to fetch much of a price. I picked her up for pennies. It's a bit of a challenge getting her to eat, but she's doing well. I think she's starting to make friends, and I'm sure she'd love to meet you" Lucian said fondly, smiling to himself. Because he lacked any sort of family, Lucian tended to view the animals like children or friends, referring to them with as though they were human. 

When Ciara trotted over to Poppet, her trainer's brow wrinkled slightly in confusion. The little fox was among the more friendly of his animals, but she didn't often take to strangers. Yet, she prodded the young lady to garner affection and almost purred in contentment when she complied.

"She must really like you," he said with a smile. "I've never quite been able to tell whether foxes are canine or feline, they look like dogs and yet their mannerisms," he nodded to Ciara, "are so catlike."

The young lady seemed oddly at ease, a characteristic very foreign to him. Her vocal patterns were more relaxed, she seemed slightly less guarded than he was familiar with, in fact, she seemed almost... Lucian shook his head, trying to shake off the analytical behaviour he seemed unable to help.

Lucian laughed softly, "Yes, she and I have that in common. Solitude doesn't seem quite so desolate with a warm body by your side. Though I suppose solitude is hard to come by for a lady such as yourself."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the nervous gentleman instantly regretted them. They made him sound presumptuous, and though he meant it as a compliment, he doubted she would view it as such.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't quite... my intention was not at all... I do apologise-" Lucian stuttered out, trying to make amends.

[lucianodorchaidhe]

tea with poppet

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

[poppet--murray]

Poppet was well aware of the improprieties of accepting an invitation to a gentleman’s car in what served in the Circus as night, but from the looks of him, he wasn’t getting much more sleep than herself, so trying to allow him to go back to bed wouldn’t work. She was more concerned with rudeness, than impropriety, though, so she politely accepted. 

She’d have offered a walk, but the air was stifling, and while it wasn’t pleasant within his car, at least she didn’t have to move. 

“Your fox there, Clara was it?” Lucian’s accent, while not terribly strong, was still a bit undecipherable to Poppet, who was terrible with accents that weren’t her own but did the best she could. “She gave me quite the fright before I realized she was yours.” 

Poppet closed her parasol and leaned it against the wall before pulling a fan from the concealed pockets of her dress, cotton but still stifling with all the layers underneath. 

“Stood at the edge of the tent where I was training my animals, then let out a dreadful bark. Nearly knocked me over,” Poppet laughed lightly as she fanned herself. 

“So, what about you? Any new additions?” Poppet loved chatting with the other animal trainers in the circus, and though she strove to tactfully steer conversations in her desired direction most of the time, when she was around other who were in contact with animals, she couldn’t help but ask clumsy, direct questions.

[lucianodorchaidhe]

When she paused, there a was a part of Lucian that wondered whether it was appropriate for him to invite her into his train car. When she accepted his offer, however, he hoped she wouldn't him all to imposing, and opened all the curtains to let in some light. A bit old fashioned, he preferred natural light over the electrical, but didn't mind so much using a hot plate to heat up the kettle. While they waited for the water to boil, Lucian picked up the fox that was nosing around Poppet's parasol.

"It's Ciara actually, and I'm afraid I have no idea what she was doing near your tent. I do apologise, she's normally so well behaved. I don't know what's with her today," he ruffled the fur on the top of her head endearingly. She yawned in response, leaning into his hand and wriggling comfortably into his lap. "I'm grateful neither you nor her were hurt."

The kettle whistled and Lucian rose to prepare the tea and answering her questions as he went.

"Since there are so many beautiful exotic creatures, I've picked up quite a few animals the past few weeks. I'm not sure we'll be able to keep all the creatures, but if not, we'll be able to fetch a pretty price for them," he offered her a cup and saucer. Lately the trainer had been favouring herbal teas and so he offered her a beautiful teacup of blooming tea. Spending so much time alone caused him to become quite good at simple activities like botany. "I hope you don't mind herbal. This tea is common more in China than India, but I find it looks just as lovely as it tastes."

Pouring himself a cup of his own, he looked into the cup. "I picked up a few snakes, a couple monkeys, and some absolutely gorgeous cats. Some of the little ones are a bit feisty, but they'll be lovely as they grow. If you care to visit I'm sure one or two of them would be splendid for your act."

Lucian adjusted his glasses as the fox resettled around his ankles. "Again, I"m dreadfully sorry that Ciara startled you, she's a little more... affectionate than most of my animals. Something I didn't expect when I first found her."

Sipping his tea, the man attempted to make eye contact. "How are your cats doing? All right I hope?"

[poppet--murray]

A Distraction || Poppet and Lucian

The sun was up behind the clouds, but Poppet couldn’t sleep. Between Edmund’s accident, the Liz debacle, and the fact that Widget seemed to be acting just a little off, her mind was racing constantly. Neither her books nor her performances alone could console her.

It was for this reason she’d plucked an entire litter of kittens from a nearby breeder. With their long coats and exotic appearance, she knew they’d be high maintenance, but also that they’d be stunning. She was up all hours of the day training them, her eyes growing increasingly bloodshot, though she couldn’t sleep for more than a few moments.

She was, without a doubt, exhausted, but the show must go on, and every night she stood on her stage in the middle of the path and smiled and flourished and winked at the young men in the audience. An ego boost, mostly, but she had to admit she enjoyed the looks on their faces.

Of course, after each show she slipped away so skillfully they’d never know where she’d gone, and that was just the way she liked it.

It was her exhaustion, though, that distracted her from what was going on around her. It was this distraction that allowed a small black fox to sit in at the edge of her borrowed tent for nearly the full duration of her training.

She nearly tripped over her skirts when it let out its strange wheezing yelp.

She corralled her kittens into their carrier, a cage built in thin wrought iron bars and a soft white pillowed bottom, before turning to the fox.

She bent down, her tiredness clouding her judgement, and reached a hand toward the animal. It did not bite or claw, though, and instead nudged her hand, much like one of her kittens would. She scratched its ears and smiled. “You’re one of the Irishman’s, aren’t you,” she said. She carried the kittens to her car, setting them free within and the fox followed her all the way.

She turned outside, a green parasol perched on her shoulder and the fox led her as she followed. “I’m going mad…” she muttered, “following a damned fox all around.” She shook her head but continued on the path the fox set.

The fox stopped at a car, one she assumed was its master’s. She raised one delicately gloved hand and knocked. “I’m terrible sorry to wake you, but I seem to have something of yours,” she said as the fox let out its bark once again.

[lucianodorchaidhe]

Lucian turned restlessly, the soft sheets tangling up in his limbs and damp with sweat. After the events during their stop in London, he had been plagued with nightmares. Shadowy figures wove in and out of his dreams and he hadn’t got a decent night’s sleep in months. The shades donned during his performances helped hide the circles under his eyes and he was thankful that his act required almost no interaction with onlookers.

In fact, it was during the performances that he felt most at peace, despite the audience, all he had to focus on was being in tune with whatever animal was opposite him. Last night had gone particularly well, but when Lucian returned to his quarters, he became overwhelmed with a bout of severe exhaustion. His nightmares were worse than usual, causing him to rise from his bed and walk around the grounds.

Thick and heavy, the night air was not much different from Bangkok: unpleasantly warm and humid. Compared to Östersund, it was downright dreadful, and yet, still far better than the stuffiness of his train car. The air caused Lucian’s hair, so normally well-groomed, to undo into a disarray of curls.

As his boots pressed creases into the springy grass, Lucian hummed a melody that was a mix of this and that, strains from Debussy and Brahms, favourites of his. He loosened his vest set about to gather some flowers to perfume his room. With a small set of sewing scissors, he clipped some musk roses, tying them up with a loose bit of baling twine, he returned to the car to place them in a vase.

Collapsing once more onto his bed without bothering to change into his nightclothes, Lucian fell into a fitful slumber until a rap on the door startled him awake. He smoothed out his shirt and vest as best he could and opened the door to Poppet and Ciara. Taken slightly aback by the both sight of someone outside his door and the brightness of the sun, Lucian nodded curtly.

"I'd offer my thanks for returning her, but I feel it would be misplaced; Ciara is often the one who attempts to bring me company," he said, looking just past the girl and attempting some form of humour. It was all too true; whenever Ciara had run off, she'd always returned with a stray or other form of company. This was the first human she'd brought back and Lucian didn't know quite what to make of it.

There was a bit of uncomfortable silence, in which he nodded at Ciara to go inside. When she did not move, the gentleman looked to Poppet with a resigned smile. "Would you care for some tea?" He asked.

Although he offered the tea more out of politeness than anything else, there was a part of him that genuinely hoped she would say yes. He would be the first to agree that more often than not, he did not enjoy company, but recently, Lucian wondered what it would be like to at least make the effort.

[thenightcircus-rp]

Lucian O’Dorchaidhe ☛ 34 ☛ Animal Trainer ☛ FC: Hugh Dancy ☛ OC

Lucian was found on the front steps of St. Lucian’s on the moors of Ireland. Father O’Dorchaidhe took the child into the abbey and began to raise him as a child of the church. His name was taken from the saint of the abbey and the father who ran it. What was called an abbey was little more than a run-down old church that housed Lucian, Father O’Dorchaidhe, a few old women, and was hardly ever visited by anyone else. The eclectic nature of the Father caused the abbey to house many oddities. Without other children to play with, the young boy made friends with the stray dogs that came to inhabit the abbey. Although the dogs were his favourite, he also was fond of the foxes and red deer that wandered through the gardens. When Lucian was sixteen, Father O’Dorchaidhe died and rather than fall into working the potato farms, Lucian made his way to Dublin and stowed away on a passing cargo ship. Hidden amongst the boxes and crates, he awoke to the foreign sounds of shrieking birds and snarling cats. All the years among animals gave Lucian the uncanny ability to soothe the beasts around him. When the traders came down, they were so impressed by the order that he had instated that they offered him a chance to help them on the high seas. With nowhere else to go, he sailed with them for a bit until watching the animals leave became too much of a burden. He departed the ship while they were docked in London, and happened by chance on Le Cirque des Rêves and it is here he’s found his home.

Because he grew up without much human interaction, it’s stayed very much the same through his adult life. Lucian cares for and helps train any in the circus, extending beyond the acts to include those that watch the tents, pets, and even adopts a fondness for the strays that skirt around at various locations. For a long time, he did not have an act, and just looked after the animals of the tents. But one night, a reveur watched him coax a black fox from one of the rabbits and curl around his shoulders. There were no words exchanged and no hackneyed gestures, just a look and a nod and a trill in the back of the throat. Startled when he noticed an observer, the fox reacted similarly, mirroring his movements. Patrons of the circus come to Lucian’s tent for a simple, enchanting act as disquieting as it is enthralling. While Lucian uses many different animals, the most enjoyed is always with Ciara, the fox from the first night. Since the act began, the numbers have started to grow and it’s not clear whether it’s because of his act or because somehow the patrons know the charmingly handsome man is still single.

Those who meet Lucian are instantly intrigued by his warm politeness and quiet demeanour, but rarely make it further than that. It’s not so much that he dislikes other people; rather he does not often keep their company and in turn does not know how to interact with them well. Most say it was just his upbringing, being deprived of human interaction but it might just be because he relates better to animals, but he also displays signs of ASD, a condition that has yet to be discovered in the 19th century. Lucian is wary of others and how they react to him; he constantly diverts eye contact, finds it hard to connect with others, and as a result has very few friends. Le Cirque des Rêves has been wonderful at helping him expand, but he still holds reservations. He is a very anxious person, prone to occasional violent outbursts, but for the most part, is well spoken and reserved. An intensely religious person, his routine involves prayers and visits to churches nearby wherever the circus is currently stationed. He reads as many books as possible and can be found roughly sketching on scrap canvas. Occasionally he is burdened by the abandonment he often experiences with close to him and it, in turn, prohibits him from developing deeper relationships with those that do surround him. Despite the fact he’s been part of the circus for ten years, he still finds it hard to feel as though he belongs.

Not fond of Sebastian and his cold behaviour, but tolerates him

Admires Isobel from afar, but is too insecure to act on it

Identifies with Marco and their shared difficulties