@lostandfoundfortune (( this ))
The circus has come to Talonstadt. Late spring hangs in the air with its sweet smell of wildflowers and tickle of tall grass against naked ankles. Among the regular townsfolk of Talonstadt walks a beggar. His looks are nothing special; his dirty skin and brown clothes nearly cause him to blend into the gravel road. To anyone but the man himself, he looks like a believable part of the tableau. And, like all of the other folks, he has been drawn to the colorful tent and the performers, who drum up excitement for tonight’s show by showing tricks and playing games and selling sweets.
This beggar produces a silver for a candied apple, savoring the sweet as well as the sour and the crisp crunch with which he bites into it. He rarely indulges himself, but today reminds him of something. It smells like perfectly-aimed arrows and arm wrestle competitions. It tastes like a blue tiefling with a pink lollipop trailing her step.
It takes the beggar the better part of ten minutes to rid himself of the sugary mess afterwards. Treat consumed and sharp eyes ( and sharp mind ) having taken in the scenery around him, he knows where to look for his goal next. But he doesn’t even have to be a mastermind to find it; he can simply follow the delighted gasps of a little crowd of men, mostly women, and a few older children. Card-reading is not something little kids find interesting, but here and there one holds onto their mother’s skirts and look at the performer with large, round eyes.
Caleb follows the stares and finally sees the tiefling he has sought for weeks now. Mollymauk Tealeaf is reading a woman’s fortune, bejewelled hands gesturing to the cards in a way that makes it look as though he is absorbing magic and knowledge directly from them. His movements are enchanting, as is his confident voice as he tells the woman of her future, healthy grandchildren. And Caleb is reminded of something Mollymauk has not said yet: ‘ I left every town better than I found it. ‘ The woman sobs with joy and even leans across to take a hold of his hands for just a moment. Mollymauk will be right when he says those words.
When the spot across from his former, future, never traveling companion is empty, Caleb makes his move. He moves through the little crowd with mumbled apologies, and lands on the blanket knees first. The smell of jasmine is overwhelming when he breathes deeply and looks up at his former, future, never friend. “Would you read me my future, Mister Mollymauk?”
