A Little Bit Not Good

Hello. Tired of the circus already? Don't worry. Come sit down, rest your head a bit, lay back and look at the stars for a moment. This is my act and show, the only one of it's kind in the world and I promise you won't be disappointed. Oh? I wasn't talking about the stars. My name's Theodore. Just so you know what to scream.

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

I’ve seen the Ursula K LeGuin quote about capitalism going around, but to really appreciate it you have to know the context.

The year is 2014. She has been given a lifetime achievement award from the National Book Awards. Neil Gaiman puts it on her neck in front of a crowd of booksellers who bankrolled the event, and it’s time to make a standard “thank you for this award, insert story here, something about diversity, blah blah blah” speech. She starts off doing just that, thanking her friends and fellow authors. All is well.

Then this old lady from Oregon looks her audience of executives dead in the eye, and says “Developing written material to suit sales strategies in order to maximize corporate profit and advertising revenue is not the same thing as responsible book publishing or authorship.”

She rails against the reduction of her art to a commodity produced only for profit. She denounces publishers who overcharge libraries for their products and censor writers in favor of something “more profitable”. She specifically denounces Amazon and its business practices, knowing full well that her audience is filled with Amazon employees. And to cap it off, she warns them: “We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.”

Ursula K LeGuin got up in front of an audience of some of the most powerful people in publishing, was expected to give a trite and politically safe argument about literature, and instead told them directly “Your empire will fall. And I will help it along.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Home is where the heart is : Self Para

1. Write a self-para about a time when your character truly felt at home, whether home was a person, a place, or a notion He remembered his house as a cold, dark place where the ceilings soared to the heavens yet the iron gates reminded you that there was always a limit to dreaming. Here, in the musty air of a prestigious and infamous family, he existed. He refrained from using the word 'lived' because in their eyes, he didn't. Theodore was as much a part of the house as the ancestral vase in the library or the intimidating painting in the study. He was a decoration at most, to be admired from a distance and seen but not heard. His parents and relative were happy with his lot in the family, needing no new scandal to stir things up. All they wanted was an obedient, quiet child, And so Theodore sought to be the exact opposite. He was a child, prone to spontaneous outbursts and tantrums that were unbecoming and irritating to the rest of the dignified Scathelocks. To be fair to Theodore, he had tried it their way for a while but a word of praise every now and then did not satisfy his cravings for attention. He needed something more. Something only mischief, disaster and trouble could provide. And so, Theodore turned to the dark side of his family for advice. Long gone was the adoring boy who hung onto the words of his father's tales. Past was the age of adoring naivety and respect he held for his mother. All that remained of the old Theodore Scathelock was his impeccable memory when it came to the tales and the stars. But in time, he stowed them away too. Locked them up in the shelves of his heart and mind and immersed himself in the promiscuous side of London and all its sinful glory. Never had he been so liberated in his life. The adrenalin had him hooked from the first moment he stole something to his greatest feats of destroying an entire opera. Tales and intellect held no place in the infamy that overcame Theodore Scathelock. The only words that mattered were those that spread his reputation, that fed his ego, that wounded others. It was a long spiral into the darkness that he never quite completely recovered from. The long jaunts with odd mistresses and actresses left their sign on his face, a bruise, the souvenir of a fight, may have faded but it never quite disappeared. Each new sojourn changed him, for better or for worse, it did not matter. All that mattered was the attention. The same one that he never received from his family. But that all changed when his sister was born. He remembered her vividly, her face always slipping itself into his thoughts even when he was so far away. Her countenance was a splitting image of his only with more feminine features and an innocence that had been long lost on the Scathelock's boy. She greeted each day with a smile and an acceptance that he would have found pathetic in anyone other than her. She was happy and she was content and that alone should have made him despise her for the ease in which she slotted herself into his life. But her unconditional love for her, never wavering in the face of the gossip, broke through the ice. She loved him like his father and mother never did, ready to welcome him back into their house with a warmth that had never before pervaded the Scathelock household, nor ever again after his father had arranged her marriage. She never once doubted him and was quick to defend Theodore should anyone dare to slander his name. And because of her unwavering loyalty, and her ceaseless love for books, that Theodore took up his position as raconteur of the Scathelock house and assumed the role of her personal story teller. It was something small to him, to feed the imagination of a girl he himself had grown to love but to her, it was the greatest gift anyone could offer. Many a day were spent together, stories told by Theodore with his first fan always listening with keen ears. And for once, he did not feel like a mere object in the background, he did not feel like an ornament on the wall, he felt that he was no longer part of the house but at home. Such a personal feeling that had mellowed him out until she had left with a man twice her age. Then, he had resumed his role of decor until the Cirque de Reves. But he digressed, he was content to be a piece of furniture if he was her book.

[theodore-scathelock]

Story Telling for The Heart : Florence & Theodore

[runaway-florence-blog]

If Theodore expected to learn everything about Florence Blackwell in one night, he would find himself sorely disappointed. Guarded and intelligent, Florence wasn’t in the business of handing out secrets that were near and dear to her heart, especially not to men who had yet to prove themselves trustworthy. Her goal was to leave Theodore’s tent as soon as she possibly could for fear of what he might do or assume if she stayed for far too long, but it seemed like such a plan had fallen through as soon as it was made.

Though she had decided to stay in the tent with Theodore, Florence found herself doubting her decision as soon as he began to criticize her work and the fact that she wrote novels. “You’re assuming I want to become a performer,” she noted with nothing more than the lift of her brow, “and I’m afraid you’re quite mistaken. It’s a logical conclusion, but an incorrect one.” Though a spark of anger had been ignited by his words, Florence managed to wave him off as if he he was nothing more than a speck of dust or a small annoyance. From their last conversation, she had learned that such an attitude would harm him more than any wit or barbs could. 

Her attitude and agitation curbed dramatically as Theodore admitted that she was far  more interesting than the guests he had before. Though she wouldn’t admit it, Florence’s ego was a weakness and — though she was still on her guard — he had done a good job to play into her opinions of herself. She was no less wary of his intentions, but Florence decided to stay as she gave something of a smile and took a seat on one of the many cushions on the floor.

Truth be told, Florence was trying to convince herself that she held no bias against Theodore Scathelock. She wanted to believe she was too good for petty grudges and schoolgirl arguments, but as she listened and thought on her predicament, Florence realized that she had harbored quite the grudge against Theodore. Had it not been for her sour mood one particular day, she might have actually grown to like him.

She was enthralled as soon as he began to talk about stars. Leaning backward so she could better see the facade of a sky above her, Florence tried her best to imagine all those pinpricks as being two bodies that circled around one another n a continuous loop. Her mind could picture the phenomena if she concentrated long enough, but soon Florence found her attention drifting back to Theodore Scathelock and, without much thought, she found herself watching him as he told his story. It shouldn’t have been too surprising that she was more interested in the storyteller and his methods instead of the story at hand but, for all intents and purposes, Florence seemed to be quite interested in both the subject and the teacher.

She had heard from a few sources that Theodore was an excellent storyteller and that he could even rival Oscar Blackwood when he was in the right mood, but for some reason she hadn’t believed any of them. She simply thought he had charmed his way into a person’s good favor instead of actually earning it like any self-respecting person might… But now she had to deny her former prejudice. Theodore was evidently very good at what he did, and Florence found herself hanging on to every word. 

“What is the result of their explosion, Mr. Scathelock?” Surely something must have happened after a collision between two terrifying forces.

[theodore-scathelock]

He had definitely warmed up to the idea of having Florence Blackwell in his tent. If nothing else, it would be a change from the mediocre night he was having and there was nothing he enjoyed more than a game. True, this was not one he would often choose to indulge in, playing a gentleman to someone he had held contempt for, but he would be lying if he ever told anyone that the amateur author did not intrigue him in a way that many people had failed to.

Her admission to not wanting to be a performer was a clear of example of just the sort of enigma that Florence was. She, despite his claims, most definitely had the ability and if nothing else, the ego, to be one of the esteemed lot at Cirque de Reves. It troubled him that she held such a position so lightly. To belong to the circus, to hold a permanent place in its acts was something he had striven to. There was no better place for a writer than to be a storyteller in the circus. To be constantly praised, respected, acclaimed, was that not what they strove for in their narratives?

“I would have thought you would have at least tried to obtain a place. It would make following the circus so much easier.” He wondered how Florence kept track of the circus. Surely she must possess some fortune if she had kept up with their extensive touring, but he had not heard of many single women with that kind of wealth at their hands. Most left their upkeep to their husbands, dependent on their good favour for their every move. But Florence was not like them. Another reason to keep the author around even if he secretly despised her. 

He watched her relax, settle into the layer of cushions that permanently littered the floor of his tent, falling into the world that existed only in his worlds. He would often talk of his stories like that. Each raconteur had their universe, his own cosmos in which they pulled in their audience to show them the true magic behind the words. The better the story, the larger the little bubble world and therefore, the more people enchanted. Theodore had always considered being able to enamor an audience a small achievement in itself, a miniscule power he held over the person. Control was so vital to him that such a small grasp on something so seemingly uncontainable was beautiful to him.

Distracted by his thoughts, Theodore didn’t realize Florence had been watching him so intently until she had posed that question. And for a moment, all words dropped out of his mouth. In all his time, never once had he faltered in a show, especially not a private one to such a small audience. He had always prided himself on his fluency, yet it failed him now. He wanted to impress her, push beyond her obvious grudge and prejudice and show her there was more to him than the arrogant man who had so brazenly confronted her. And now that he was given that opportunity, he seemed to be throwing it away.

Instead, he hid his distress behind a smirk, one that had charmed all too many women in the past. It bought him enough time to find the answers. “It can result in several things. One of which is a core collapse. When this happens, there would be a supernova explosion, perhaps even a black hole. The result of this is both stars being eliminated along with every other object within a massive radius. It’s destruction on a grand scale, violent and remarkably tragic.”

“The other however, results in the stars merging. Forming a larger, brighter star than either of the two. While inexplicably beautiful, it’s unstable. It will die and become a red giant far quicker than any other star. But still, it’s definitely a sight to behold.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Women and Drinks : Lucian & Theodore

It had been a long day, perhaps one of the longer ones that had occurred during his tenure at the night circus. The astounding appearance of the sun had been an amusing one, he had not expected such a heat wave to hit the town, which was rather thoughtless of him considering it was almost summer. But he had yet to shake off his winter coats and suits and therefore, was caught unaware when the heat hit, leaving him bothered and irritable for most of the day. The crowds were kind enough, putting up with his bad temperament despite the rumor of Italians being extremely fiery, but he was forced to bid them an early farewell, almost driving them away as he sought time for himself. Theodore was almost certain the day would not get better.

As with many other occasions in his life, Theodore Scathelock was proved wrong. Syracuse seemed determined to make up for the astronomer’s misery during the day. It offered him a reprieve in the night, a night that was supposed to be spent attending to the adoring fans of the circus but at the moment, that seemed more of a chore than a profession that he had chosen. So, he had taken off again, a recurring bad habit of his and he had made his way to the closest bar.

Syracuse’s night life was definitely one of the more lively ones in the European continent: the people were lively, the bars packed and the beverages cool. It was no secret that Theodore had a small preference for the Sicilian town for its nightlife and drinks. Anywhere where a woman and alcohol could be found, almost certainly, one would find the Scathelock not too far behind, stirring up trouble or finding a new conquest. Drama and the Scathelock name tended to come hand in hand and Theodore was no exception.

But tonight, he had tired of women and danger. Like him and scandal, the two seemed to always come together. An ill-fitted pair if he had any say in it but if they weren’t so irrevocably bonded, he wouldn’t have had the fun he had experienced through his life. His world centered around women and the gossip they felt compelled to spread, they were the ones who fed the fire ad the rumours that made up his reputation. It was all too convenient really. To have one come with the other, Theodore had been lucky that that was where his calling in life had come.

The bar was lukewarm, but the beer was cool and the people amicable. He chatted casually at the counter with a few of the locals, discussing the circus yet never revealing that he was part of the important production. They were displaying their talents to the locals in a competition, one that would surely decide who were the most talented of the lot. And therefore, Theodore had been ordered to keep a low profile, at least until the population had time to witness his act before they judged him. Therefore, the explanation for his subtlety in tonight’s events.

It was a while and a few more drinks before he noticed someone, someone he recognized. He was not completely confident with every name but he could place their faces often enough. This man, he had definitely glimpsed around the circus more than a few times, seemingly jovial and well-tempered. And if that wasn’t enough, he was dressed in the circus’s signature colours, a dead give away to any performer. Theodore felt compelled to talk to him, more out of curiosity than courtesy for his fellow traveller. But it still forced him to leave the group of rather rowdy men and approach the man.

“Hello. What are you doing here? Drinking by yourself is not the way to pass a night like this.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Story Telling for The Heart : Florence & Theodore

[runaway-florence-blog]

What had Theodore done to deserve a visit from Florence? She thought she might tell him that she had been surprised to hear such a riveting story about stars coming from a circus tent, but Florence realized that such a compliment would only serve to inflate his ego. At the last moment, Florence frowned and offered little more than a wave of her hand, “Curiosity is what brought me here. Nothing more.”

Had Florence known that she was sending Theodore’s thoughts reeling simply by entering his tent, she may have chosen to pay a visit earlier than she had. If she knew that she was puzzling to the man before her, she would have used it to her advantage – that was simply how Florence Blackwell operated, especially when concerning people she didn’t quite care for. She was intelligent – perhaps a bit too much in this case – and so she attributed his response to her appearance as little more than smugness; he had no reason to wonder why she had decided to grace him with a visit, and – in fact – he shouldn’t have cared.

But he did, and it was a good thing that Florence was completely unaware of the fact.

“I had expected you to be something more glamorous,” she looked about his tent, to the dim lighting and the scattering of pillows about the floor, “though I shouldn’t be terribly surprised. This seems to require minimal effort, and I don’t see you as the type to exert yourself.”

He was absolutely right about a talent with manipulating words. Florence had barely noticed it before due to the fact that she was too immersed in her own words, but Theodore had a knack for twisting and manipulating the english language so it could serve a purpose more fitting for him. It now made sense as to why he would target her writing and her craft, especially since he was immersed in the same kind of dealings; words were powerful and writers tended to be the most jealous of companions.

After having spent a minimal amount of time in Mr. Scathelock’s tent, Florence felt drained of her emotions and wit. Perhaps it was the surprise of finding the man creating such lovely stories, but she felt weary and terribly out-of-sorts; caught off-guard, Florence had nothing to do but look about the tent and put forth her best effort to mask her wonderment.

You wouldn’t be here? Why? Because it’s me telling the stories?

It took more than a few moments for Florence to gather her words and formulate and answer, but when she finally replied it was with a smile and something of a sigh. “Not quite,” she corrected, “but I suppose you’re close enough.” Had she not told him that she didn’t value scandal and she tried to distance herself from it? Yes, she could remember that moment quite clearly, but it seemed as if Theodore himself didn’t quite remember the argument a week or two prior.

“Another lost soul?” She pondered the idea, still pointing her direction toward the entrance as she let out something of a laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll have to try harder than that, Mr. Scathelock. Though I find it surprising that you turned away a room full of lost souls upon my entrance; perhaps you would do better to find them and finish your story. They seemed interested.” More interested than she was, perhaps. Then again, Florence was still lingering in the tent… and that spoke volumes as to how much curiosity she held toward the man and his stories.

It was the prospect of a story that gave Florence a final pause. She had heard most of one story, but the idea of a private session intrigued her enough for the woman to frown in contemplation. “I have no prejudice, Mr. Scathelock,” though it was a lie, she had managed to convince herself that it was no more true than if she had claimed that she wasn’t enjoying the cold weather, “you’ve simply jumped to conclusions.”

It took a moment longer before she finally stepped forward and occupied one of the pillows on the floor. Unwilling to venture out into the cold once more, Florence found that she had made herself comfortable in Theodore’s tent long before she actually decided to stay, but such things were unimportant. Her attentions were focused on the storyteller on his stool and – for the first time since she had spoken to Theodore – Florence seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. With a placid smile on her face and her posture held at something more comfortable, she appeared to be a portrait of amicability.

“Well, Mr. Scathelock. Tell me a story.”

[theodore-scathelock]

 “Nothing more? Are you sure?” He didn’t waste time disguising his words behind an elaborate façade that usually accompanied his sentences. He truly wanted to get to the bottom of the enigma that was Florence Blackwell and he had discovered that merely hinting at what he wanted to know would get him nowhere. Why she had chosen to venture into his tent, why she remained, despite her attempts to excuse herself, why the woman baffled him constantly, she was a puzzle he had yet to figure out that only got more infuriating with every passing day.

But they were no longer on the grounds of the circus, a place where they had to be mindful of language though their last conversation had broken all the rules of common etiquette and courtesy. Florence had made her way into the abode of one of the most scandalous men that had ever graced the circus. And Theodore was determined to have cracked they mystery of Miss Blackwell by the end of the night.

“Extravagance was never really what I sought.” He reached down, picking up one of the many satin cushions littered around the floor. Theodore played with the golden tassel hanging off one of the corners, keeping his eyes trained on Florence. “But I think that little pleasures such as these are luxurious enough for me. For now at least.”

“And not everything is about convenience.” He threw the cushion back onto the tent floor to join it’s companions. It sailed across the room before landing with a muffled thump on other pillows. “There’s a lot more to my act than just lamps and cushions. It takes far more than comfort and atmosphere to bewitch an audience the way I do. The stories, for one, need to heard and learnt. One doesn’t gain a reputation for story telling by simply repeating the same tales over and over again.”

“And just creating your little novels isn’t enough to earn you a place in the circus. I suggest exploring more before you attempt what I do.” He stopped himself before he could go any further. This situation was quickly turning sour, much like their previous encounter. But he had no desire to force their exchange into such a hostile situation. To put it simply, Theodore was tired. And to have to battle against Florence would not only leave him thoroughly exhausted but it would also ensure the author a vital victory over him, something he simply couldn’t have.

But beneath that, he did not want to fight Florence. She had come to his tent, and a part of him said that she should be treated as any other guest. He had lectured her on her prejudice against him but to hold such a petty grudge against her would by hypocritical. Her admission that he was close was enough to soothe his wounded ego for now. Theodore would reach the truth soon enough.

“And who is to say that you aren’t interested in what I have to say?” He quizzed her, though he already knew the answer. The sparkle in her eye told him everything he wished to know. She was intrigued, riveted to the idea of the tales that had been shared in his abode. Whether or not Florence consciously did it, she had given Theodore a little piece of information that was a small victory. “You may not be a lost soul but you definitely seem willing enough to stay in my tent. And,” he paused for emphasis. “You were far more interesting than them anyway. I’d would rather have you over them any day.”

Her adamant statement that she had no personal bias against him was hardly comforting. It was obvious that she did not prefer to be in his company and lying through her teeth would not serve to disguise that. But regardless, Florence was his patron for tonight, not his enemy. And her consent for him to start this show from the top was enough motivation for him to begin telling his stories again. His mind searched for some particularly interesting tidbit for Florence, some overwhelming piece of knowledge, something that would make her rethink her opinion on Theodore Scathelock.

“Most stars you see from here,” He began, gesturing at the facsimile sky above them. “are actually binary stars. That means they are a pair of stars, circling around an imaginary point of gravity, in orbit until they combust. They are always together, drawing material from one another as they are so close. They appear as one since we are so far away from them and they are so close together, but there are billions of systems like that. They are actually far more common than the single star system we have.”

“There are almost always two stars, though there’s a mass restriction. If the stars are two big, they collide and explode. Two giants, two monsters, should never be put this close together. The result are almost always explosive.”

[the-shadow-quaintrelle-blog]

Starry Night || Rebecca and Theodore

[the-shadow-quaintrelle-blog]

Scathelock.  That was a name she had heard before, never quite in favourable terms, but she had indeed heard it.  The name was whispered to her as gossip when she was still circulating the higher social circles of London.  There was always some drama with the Scathelocks, though Rebecca had never cared to remember the details.  She was sure that Theodore’s drop to the circus would have made its way around to her ears had she not chosen to leave, or maybe it already had and she just couldn’t recall.  Either way, the name just added to the enticement of what she assumed would be the night’s activities.

“You certainly aren’t the first, and probably won’t be the last.” She wondered how many girls had fallen under his spell.  Is that what was happening to her? Was she letting herself fall prey to a pursuer? Or was she charming him?  From what she could tell he was playing her, leading the way, and she was just following.  It felt strange, and Rebecca didn’t like it.  Yes, she reveled in his flirtatious manner, but she was put off that he seemed to have the upper hand. All she needed to do was step up her game, but see as how he didn’t exactly fit the description of the men she normally charmed, she was clueless as how to approach the situation.

“I have won over more patrons than I can remember, as I am sure you have too Mr. Scathelock.” Rebecca bit her lip and stared into his eyes, giving him a teasing look. “You’re right, it is getting rather late.  I think I will have to take you up on your offer. Are there any more rooms to your tent or just this one?”  She played with the ruffles in her dress, never breaking eye contact as she waited to see what he would do next.

[theodore-scathelock]

Theodore was thoroughly intrigued by Rebecca. She was a mix he hadn’t seen in a while. Someone who had once been at the pinnacle of high society and decorum, yet had chosen to spend their days in a place where infamy and controversy ran wild and with a fervor that was both repulsive and enticing to the upper classes. She had cast aside a luxurious life for one filled with uncertainty and delirium, one that would ensure her name passed along in conversations. Rebecca Weatherall reminded Theodore too much of someone, she reminded him too much of himself.

He was not sure whether this aspect that what had drawn him to the woman, or whether it was her significant beauty or the flirtatious manner in which she had approached him. But while these aspects enamored him, there was a part of him that was wary of quaintrelle. It was not often that he was the one being pursued, the hunted instead of the hunter. Such a vulnerable position, he almost let a frown slip onto his face. Being the weaker of two never boded well with the astronomer, even in such a fickle game as love.

Her admission was amusing, to say the least. It revealed a lot about her character. That she took pride in her appearance, acknowledged the sexuality that most ladies tended to shy away from. But it also promised that this encounter would be temporary, which was a comfort to Theodore. He disliked clingy women, those who developed attachments in what were only one night stands to the story teller. And at this, he found himself laughing.

“I suppose it is better that way. A lady like you, tied down so early in life. It would do you no good.”

“Really?” He feigned innocence at her accusation. “I’m fairly sure I could name all my conquests Miss Weatherall. I could even point them out if we were to encounter them.” He then proceeded to wave away the topic. Talking of past jaunts didn’t entice another. “I’m sure we could find you another room in my tent somewhere. Whether or not you would want a room apart from me is a different question all together.”

“I highly doubt after all this flirtation you would be content to just pass the night sleeping.”

[theodore-scathelock]

TNC Challenge: Prompt 2

Physiological Needs : you appear to have everything you need to survive physically. Maslow speculates that without satisfying basic needs (food, shelter, health) one cannot achieve higher levels of development. This generally makes sense, but the history of starving artists and successful artists who tanked after they became wealthy is important to note.

Safety Needs: you appear to have a very safe environment. Maslow speculates that without enviromental stability (security, safety, consistency), you can't progress to higher levels of development. Neuroscience research would appear to support this, as higher stress contributes to higher cortisol levels, which impair memory and thinking functions. However, low stress can also lead to obesity and cardiac degeneration. The lazier and weaker you become, the more stressful the most minimal tasks and stimuli become.

Love Needs: you appear to be content with the quality of your social connections. Maslow speculates that discontentment in your connections with others stalls development. Whether the resolution of love needs comes through good relationships and/or learning to be more internally fulfilled is a question Maslow does not answer. But history would suggest many advanced minds had few relationships so this stage would seem to be more about resolving internal perceptions than as a call for measuring/achieving happiness by quality of external relationships.

Esteem Needs: you appear to have a high level of skill competence. Maslow speculates that until you develop a good skill set (talent, trade, expertise that you excel at) you will be unable to develop further as an individual (much less reliably support yourself financially). This could mean being a good musician, painter, doctor, carpenter, etc.. On some level this stage also requires getting over the need to be appreciated for that skill, internally and/or externally. Even if you develop a skill, you still might be hung up on the need to have other people validate you or you might internally doubt yourself. Then again, you might not be appreciated, or appreciate yourself because your skills are still too undeveloped.

Self-Actualization: you appear to have a low level of individual development. Maslow speculates that individual development is the pinnacle of existence, this means pursuing a career/life that really fits who you are and want to be internally (not based on external and societal expectations). The self actualized person is free from superficial concerns and is internally honest.

[theodore-scathelock]

Story Telling for The Heart : Florence & Theodore

[runaway-florence-blog]

That voice. She had heard it before.

Florence was unsure of what possessed her to alter her usual route through the circus that night, but she found herself passing a group of tents that was entirely unfamiliar. It was strange – usually she kept with an unvaried route since the circus changed to often, but now she was passing acts that she was certain she had never seen before. It was a testament to the sheer size of the circus, but it was also somewhat frightening. She might have even taken more time to ponder on such thoughts if she hadn’t been caught off-guard by a familiar voice.

If she had known that she was listening to Theodore Scathelock’s stories, Florence wouldn’t have stopped at the entrance of the tent to listen to a man ramble off facts and stories about the stars. She wouldn’t have ever let herself get sucked into the melancholic and beautiful world that was being created only through words, and she certainly wouldn’t have been jealous of the kind of tales the man could weave together. If she had known she was listening to Theodore Scathelock, Florence would have walked away as if nothing strange had happened.

Unfortunately, she lingered a moment too long. Her curiosity swelled to the point of bursting and she finally stepped into the dark tent, hoping to go unnoticed by the speaker and the crowd he was bound to draw. Lady Luck certainly wasn’t smiling down on her – actually, Fortuna seemed to be scowling – for it took one step in the tent for Florence to realize her mistake.

Theodore had barely spoken before she put the pieces together; her eyes met his and a horrified chill ran through her body. The very same man she had become intrigued by was the man that she had insulted not very long before; he was the only person in the entire circus who she hated on sight and who had managed to catch her on a day that would undoubtedly incur her wrath. He was the one who thought he could win a battle of wits against her and, inevitably, he had lost. This was Theodore Scathelock, and he was the last person she thought would be behind the flap of the tent of a storyteller.

It took a moment before Florence figured out why people were filtering past her, out of the tent and into the cold and crisp air. His story hadn’t ended, but the session had been halted abruptly due to the fact that she had made her presence known prematurely and she was sure to regret such a thing in the future.

“Mr. Scathelock,” she said after the last visitor had managed to leave the tent, “It’s certainly a surprise to see you here.”

As she stepped into the room, Florence made no move to discard the heavy, velvet cloak that was protecting her from the biting cold of Sweden’s night air. All she did was remove the hood that shielded most of her face from his view and, for a moment, she thought she might have made a mistake in doing that much.

Florence looked more pale since they had last spoken, but she didn’t look sickly or even remotely unhealthy. No, the flush of red against her nose and cheeks foretold of her long walk through the cold, as did the dappling of red against her ears and the fact that her hair had been let down for the first time in a very long time. She looked different – foreign – and she felt the same way.

“So, you’re a storyteller?” A long silence passed between them, “I… wouldn’t have guessed.”

Feeling off her guard, Florence immediately looked toward the exit of the tent and then to Theodore Scathelock. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought…” If she thought what? That he was behind the story that had reeled her in? “… I shouldn’t be here at all, actually.” At that she took one step back, one step in the direction of the entrance of the tent. It wasn’t a challenge – there was no anger behind her eyes this time – but instead it was confusion and perhaps a little bit of concern that sparked her interest.

Why hadn’t he told her that he told stories?

[theodore-scathelock]

Theodore hadn’t expected Florence to stay, much less enter the tent after he had called her out, ending his show abruptly. He had expected her to flee, much like she had in their last encounter, but no. The woman had stayed, boldly approaching him with as much countenance as she could have possessed, considering she had been caught eavesdropping on the performance.

“And it is even more of a surprise to see you here. What did I do to deserve this visit?” He answered with a smugness he could not keep from his voice. Why had the author arrived at his tent, especially after rather vocally proclaiming to avoid him at all costs when he had last approached her. The thought that he had somehow attracted her attention flittered through his mind for a moment before he dismissed it entirely. She was a sensible, smart woman. She would not so easily be wooed by looks or one confession of interest. There had to be something more to it.

He debated several ideas as to why she would even dare to listen to him. He had thoroughly aggravated and insulted her before, to the point where her demeanour would be questionable to even the most casual of women. She had avidly stated she would like to avoid the scandal that surrounded him. Perhaps she had stumbled on his tent by accident, as many visitors often did. But if she had happened upon his show by accident, why had she lingered at the entrance, obviously eager to see him?

“What else did you expect me to be?” He asked, resting his hands on his hips. “There’s not much else a person can do in the circus when his only talent resides in his ability to manipulate words.” The circus was meant to amaze and astonish, something that was the forte of those who were physically talented. For Theodore, story telling was one of the few vocations the circus offered that made good use of his skills.

Regardless, the fact that Florence had not assumed that he would have a profession that revolved story telling spoke volumes about his words. Had she not picked up the signature flair he had in his style? He had been told many times that his sentences were often structured as if they were meant to tell a story, loaded with words that appealed to the senses and filled the mind with images. Did Florence not see any of that? Or was he simply losing his touch? His ability to bewilder the masses was the sole thing keeping him in the circus, if he were to lose that, he would be without a home or the means to inspire the impropriety he sought. 

That sole thought, the thought of leaving the circus brought terror to his mind, but the more dominant emotion was indignation. He would have to show the author his prowess in the art of narration. It seemed petty that he had to prove himself to a reveur yet he had learnt that Miss Blackwell was unlike anyone he had ever seen before, not yielding to the stereotypes that he commonly characterized people by. Maybe that’s why it was so important for him to be worthy in the eyes of the otherwise insignificant author. 

“You wouldn’t be here? Why? Because it’s me telling the stories?” He chuckled a bit, surprised that her personal distaste of him had clouded her judgement. Did she not know that quality should be dictated by skill, not personal bias? If he had anything to say about himself, he would consider him among the best of the raconteurs in the circus. “And here I hoped that my ability had managed to convince another lost soul to come to my tent.” He ran his hand through his hair in a gesture that could be seen as frustrated but compared to the people he had had to deal with, Florence was a relief to the unfortunate day he had.

“You’re here already. Why not enjoy what my tent has to offer?” He moved towards the wooden stool, resuming his position as the teacher, the story teller, the main attraction. He gestured towards the pillows strewn across the floor. “I don’t mind holding another small session for you Miss Blackwell. If you’re willing to put aside your prejudice and listen to me for just a moment.”

[the-shadow-quaintrelle-blog]

Starry Night || Rebecca and Theodore

[the-shadow-quaintrelle-blog]

“I’ve had a wonderful evening here at the circus, thank you for asking.”  Rebecca couldn’t help but blush at offer he had made.  Now she had to contemplate how she was going to spend the rest of the her night.  Though she was quite interested in discovering the secret behind the lighting of this very unique tent and how he was able to capture the beauty of the night sky in a series of optical illusions, she couldn’t help but feel this offer was different from most of the similar opportunities she received.  Usually it would be her chasing after the boys, most of them feeling a little stunned that a lady could be so forward.  But with him it was different.  With him her desires seemed to be met with mutual intentions, both of them normally being the pursuers rather than the pursued.  Not only were the feelings of the situation mutual, but this was also a circus performer.  Rebecca had gone after numerous patrons before, although never found a circus member whom she had taken such an interest in.  Well, no circus member besides Jasper May.

Rebecca had wanted Jasper since the moment she laid eyes upon him.  Even before they had spoken for the first time she could tell he had secrets, ones she wanted to discover.  Whenever she got the chance she would go and see him, most often when a patron was hurt she would direct them to the doctor, never being so lucky as to simply run into him while wandering the twisting and curvy circus paths.  Lovely as her dream was, she had to come to terms with the current fact that it was unattainable at the moment.  Rebecca liked to stay optimistic and hope for such to occur in the future, but she had to be as honest with herself as she was with everyone else, always keeping that realistic fact it might never happen present when she dreamed.

Still, there were was a more pressing proposal at hand.  The proposal at spending the night with the man of the stars.  Assessing him as she would anyone else, trying to determine what she could about him, there wasn’t much to read. Finally deciding that her curious nature would rather discover the secrets about the man rather than the stars that he talked about, she told herself that she could always come back another time or read up about how such visual effects may be achieved.  “I have no doubt that you will Mr. —” Though she most certainly didn’t need to know his whole life’s story in order to progress, she would prefer to at least know his name.  Rebecca drew closer to the man, her pleasant smile slowly shifting into a coy little smirk.

[theodore-scathelock]

Theodore smiled, an almost genuine one that time. It always felt wonderful to be compliment by a beautiful woman, regardless of the circumstances. It fed one’s ego in a way that was unique to such an event. Rebecca Weatherall was most certainly a very beautiful woman, surpassing all others he had seen that night. Her reply to his offer was certainly encouraging, not to mention the fact she had enjoyed his show, another point in favour of wooing the mysterious lady before him.

He had seen her around the circus before, he was sure of that but he had never been one to forget a pretty face, especially not one that was willing to play along in his flirtatious games. If he had met her previously, why had he not remembered her? He was always looking for a new conquest and one so close to home would allow him to work at it while they travelled, instead of leaving them behind to the unpredictable schedule of the circus. This bothered him, especially with someone so openly inviting as Rebecca.

“Theodore Scathelock, the one and only.” He bowed from the hip, grinning to himself. Women were easy to please. If he played his cards right, there was no doubt that she would succumb to his charms within the night. If not, then there were always other days where he could work his magic on Rebecca Weatherall. She was tied to the circus, not the town so wherever the circus went, she would follow. All this, added up in the favour of pursuing the woman.

“I wonder, how many men have you won with your looks before tonight. I must not be the only one to be overwhelmed by your beauty.” He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. His fingers played with the cuffs on his sleeve, trying to take his mind of the more calculative aspect of philandering. But he wouldn’t get attached to her. She was just a past time after all, a hobby on the side of his work at the circus.

But he hoped she would be interesting. His last few affairs had been rather mundane. They all screamed, cried and sobbed in the same way, he even observed that a few of them had used the same chosen insults as each other, hurling them with all the coherency of a person who was half asleep and drunk on emotion and euphoria. But he was still surprised at the colourful language that came out of their mouths every time.

“It’s getting late. I do hope you find a comfortable place in the circus to rest. If not, my tent is always open to beautiful women like you.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Story Telling for The Heart : Florence & Theodore

It was another mediocre night in the circus, a night performing just like in any other circus. Sweden hadn’t been as thrilling as he had thought and to be honest, he was disappointed. There was so much he looked forward to doing, only to have those hopes shot down each and every time. Conflicting schedules, bad weather and every now and then, a rather rowdy fight that barred him from visiting half the bars in the vicinity.

That’s why Theodore was in his tent, telling stories in a perfectly fine night where there was plenty to be doing. He was more than a little annoyed, and despite his best efforts, his reluctance leaked into his myths and explanation, marring the brilliance of the tales. But regardless, his chronicles still garnered crowd after crowd into his tent, an endless stream of people all there to fill their heads with his knowledge, whether he gave it willingly or not.

So, he played his own little revenge, a little retribution for the bland, dull time that he was greeted with when he came to their town. He told stories that broke the hearts of the children, that disgusted the adults and used so many technical terms that they failed to make sense half the time. But still they stayed. Whether it was out of courtesy or whether they truly cared about what he was telling them, the audience remained until the end of the show, where they left confused and bewildered at what they had witnessed.

That was the case with every crowd tonight and this one was no different. Insipid, dreary people who had come here just to rest, not to hear the magic he was able to weave. Their children were too active, shifting constantly, breaking the spell he wished to construct over the audience. It was infuriating that his art was dismissed so lightly, viewed as mere entertainment and not the artistry that took genius and creativity to create. Such blatant disrespect tempted him to cut the show off now, leave them hanging as he paused in the middle of a tale, anger seething beneath his skin when he caught sigh to of somebody that made his smile retake it’s place on his face.

“But of course, the larger a star is, the brighter it is, the quicker it dies. That’s because the larger it is, the bigger it’s core is, therefore, it burns more fuel. While our sun has been burning for millions of years, converting Hydrogen into Helium, other stars such as Eta Carinae are expected to turn into supanovae at anytime now. Alpha Centuri, the biggest star closest to earth will only have another couple thousand more years before it expands and shrinks to a white dwarf state.”

It was quite a depressing thought. The brightest, most beautiful things were the shortest lived, even when they were talking about the leviathan beings that roamed the skies. That rule however, was not just applied to them. It applied to everything, including the prying figure at his tent door.

“I’m afraid we shall have to stop here. There’s a certain person who seems to be interested in talking to me. Even if she is afraid to admit it.” He gestured to the person in the door way. “You may come in now. Miss Florence Blackwell.”

[the-shadow-quaintrelle-blog]

Starry Night || Rebecca and Theodore

Rebecca slowly picked her head up from the silk pillow he was resting it on an looked around the room. She had listened to the lecture with a group of about seven others. A group of three were already standing and making their way towards the tent’s exit. Probably only spending one night here, she thought, trying to get as much in as they can. At her feet lay a couple, intertwined in each others arms, just gazing at upwards.

She had quite enjoyed the lecture. At first it was the stories and myths intrigued her, there was an air of mystery to them, and hearing the explanations and scientific sides of the stories satisfied her. It was her first time visiting this tent and Rebecca didn’t want to leave any bit of it unexplored or unexplained. The thousands of secrets and wonders of the circus are what kept her interested after all this time, and although she could only hope to possibly learn them all, those secrets that she did find she want to solve entirely. For the magicians she didn’t ask for an explanation of the act, knowing she wouldn’t receive one, but this tent was no magic act. 

There was a rustle to her right, a pair of male patrons who had also observed the show were getting up to leave. Although one of them was worth chasing after, she decided that she would rather talk to the performer. When she had first entered the tent, it had taken a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light, and by that time she had already been lying down, so Rebecca had never gotten a good look at the man. Turning her head in the opposite direction she spotted him, his back turned to her. Without wasting any time, Rebecca jumped up and made her way over to him.

As she stood directly behind him, the last patron left the tent. She lightly tapped him on the shoulder, and put on a smile. “That was a lovely lecture, but I was just wondering if you could show me how you did the lighting.” As his face came into view her smile became genuine and her interest in the conversation double. “Well it seems like the lecture isn’t the only lovely thing about this act. Hi, I’m Rebecca Weatherall.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Theodore admired the crowd at this time at night. Sweden had definitely its fair share of beautiful people. If he weren’t working, he definitely would have pursued a few of the women who had come into his tent tonight, unknowingly tempting him to give up the façade he had spent so long building. Oh, the scandal it would cause if he had pursued the widow he had seen that night. He was certain it wouldn’t take too much persuasion to charm her into his bed.

But alas, he had chosen to remain in his position, not deserting his lamps for the promise of perhaps a warmer companion. Theodore was beginning to doubt his decisions, the night had offered no new promise of a playmate yet and it was most certainly disappearing quickly. Despite the turmoil running through his head, he let none of the visitors in his tent see that. Instead, he smiled impeccably at them, hoping the gesture would be enough to settle them down.

“Not many people are too keen on finding out what makes up a star. They are content in their ignorance, happy to gaze forever and never think. They settle for just seeing and never knowing, which in my opinion, is completely idiotic.” He chuckled to himself, watching an almost disgruntled expression fall over his audience. People in this time and era never took truth well, as any and every truth was an insult and only compliments were lies. “But their stupidity is effacious. All stars are made up of either Hydrogen or Helium. Simple. The collision of the protons causes the energy and light we receive. Not that complicated, but probably infinitely difficult for their brains.”

With that, he waved his hand, dismissing the crowd who were a little disgruntled at the last few comments but were nonetheless pleased with the show. He waved them away, wishing them good bye and a pleasant night, even though his one had been nothing but. Theodore had waited far too long for something to happen and it was irritating that the last crowd had held no spectacularly stunning women. He sighed to himself when he felt an almost polite tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he smiled. His patience had been rewarded after all.

She was charming to say the least, with a smile that echoed his in pleasantry and words that sung with a promise of something more. “And it seems the stars aren’t the only beautiful thing out on this night. I trust you’ve had a pleasant time Missus Rebecca. But trust me, I can offer you a better time than those stars ever will.”

[theodore-scathelock]

The Past Makes Us : Grimur & Theodore

[grimurr-deactivated20130728]

It was dark, too dark to think anyone could live or even see anything in this room but Grímur prefered it like that. He felt comfortable sticking to the shadows, where he could pass by unnoticed, with the careful and soundless steps of a cat, always had – or, well as long as he could remember which wasn’t really all that much. Nothing, to be precise.

Bent far over, the curious man cast a flickering shadow in the scarse light of a big candle right next to him. It’s wax constantly dripping onto the table where it had already created an alien figure which some mad contempary critics might have even call art. The ever hungry flame sighed for his touch, reaced for it with desperate fingers wanting to caress his skin; to taste the flesh. And in doing so had already nheated up his face now burning displeasingly under the invisible touch. Grímur prefered the cold.

The way Grímur sat there at his table, counting the money he had earned it might as well have been a mother protecting her child, as if he feared someone might all of a sudden jump right through the wall just to take it away. It was a habit he had developed, a beahviour left over from his past life and Money at the moment seemed to be the only thing getting him any closer to his goal. He need it, loads of it to pay the expensive doctors all around the world. It wasn’t that he was unhappywith hir current life in the circus, (joining the night circus had been the best decision yet) rather the feeling of incompletness. A piece had been taken from him and he wanted it back.

But, alas, the money wasn’t quite enough to afford another doctor. With a frustrated sigh Grímur put the coins back into a small sack, when he heard a knock at the door. Wondering who it might possibly be, he hurried to hide the sack coins in his drawer before he quickly turned towards the door. At first only opening it by a small gap he saw Theodore the Astronomer of the circus shot him a crooked smile. Most times he liked the man, especially his stories when they could take you somewhere far far awayunder the black night sky he had trapped in his tent. With a million stars looking like pins stuck on a dark blanket to shine ready to lure in anyone who surrendered himself to Theodore.

„Well, hello Theodore, to what do I owe the honour?“, Grímur sang in an almost sweet voice if not for the dark underlaying tone while he pushed the door openen just a little more. He was a private man and even more.

[theodore-scathelock]

Theodore peeked through the gap in the door, noticing the tattooed man. Grimur. He smiled at him, hoping the warm gesture would allow the man further access into his private life. Grimur was an enigma, as most people were when you first meet them. But somehow, the illustrated man had kept that mysterious aura about him, wearing it as he did like a well fitting coat. It was not often that Theodore admitted to not knowing a lot about somebody. But then again, not many people found men like Grimur in their life.

“The honour is only mine, I assure you.” The sweet eerie voice of the surprisingly intimidating man chilled him to the bone, causing goose bumps to form on his arm. “I was just wondering if shutting yourself up in a room all day is the ideal way to spend your life.” It was a little taunt, not nearly as insulting as some of the abuse he dealt out to those unfortunate to anger him. But the living state was his friend, if he had any at all, and Theodore was inclined to keep the man around.

“I admit, it’s not the perfect day one would wish when they look to adventure out into the world, but it is Iceland and if nothing else, there will be plenty of traders from overseas wondering around. And I would like to look for a lamp.” It was half a lie. He wasn’t particularly inclined to find an addition to his already enormous collection but if he were to obtain such a thing, it would simply be an extra along with being able to coax the reclusive man out of his solitude.

“And who knows what we may find there? It is a port town after all, we just may find the doctor you’re looking for.” Theodore smiled charmingly, another one of those gestures that he had mastered over the years. It took years of practise to be able to persuade some one as quickly as he had. He had become a virtuoso, only instead of playing with instruments, he played with people, making them dance as he would and do what he wanted. 

But then again, he always had a soft spot for the man. Whether it was pity or the foundations of true friendship, he wasn’t sure. His friends before the circus were merely pathways to his infamy, dumped as soon as they had fulfilled their purpose. But maybe it was different here. Cirque de reves had opened him to a world he would’ve never experienced and perhaps that in itself, had changed him.

[theodore-scathelock]

Outshining each other: Esther & Theodore

[esther-lynch-deactivated2013050]

“My social status? Pray tell, Theo, how could you possibly know what my social status is or was? I’ve not told a soul about my history, so I don’t think you would be privy to that kind of knowledge. Most people don’t make that kind of assumption unless they’re certain of the information. Of course, you’re not nearly as clever as most people.” Esther’s heart pumped at an accelerated rate as the insults and offending remarks were exchanged, racing as the rush of an argument triggered her short temper.

The fire dancer scoffed and rolled her eyes, finding it hard to believe that this man was capable of doubting her abilities when it came to manipulating flames. “I’m old enough to have given birth to three children, Theo. I think I have the appropriate age to be performing. I also think you have looked over the fact that I have been practicing at my craft every day for the past 5 years and never have I doubted myself. Chandresh would not have hired me if I were mediocre.”

“I do know how to read, Mr. Scathelock. In fact, I know how to read and write in two languages. If you like I could insult you in Spanish as well, it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I assure you.” Esther was seething, and it was evident on her features. There was no way she could hide her emotions anymore, she was far more concentrated on defending her honor than masking her feelings.

“Like a match, you say? I suppose that’s why the reveurs keep coming back to my tent night after night. Some of them men, of course, but you’d be surprised how many ladies show their faces. Oh, what am I saying? You’d be surprised if I told you the Earth revolved around the sun and not the other way around.” Esther could spit on him, but her saliva didn’t deserve to land on this pathetic man.

His remark made the girl laugh. “Obviously you would say something about lying with whatever being you could. I’m sure one of the animals on the side of the road would be obliging, seeing that I have not witnessed a woman by your side since we’ve met.” It was a terribly low blow, and Esther immediately felt her stomach rise up to her throat. Even so, she refused to take it back. In that moment, she was concerned that he would have a decent reason to strike her.

The fire dancer steadied on a chair just in case before continuing with their argument. “If they are such little dramas, why on Earth do you care so much about them? Can’t you stop being such a sewer rat and stay out of my business? For goodness’ sake, I am positively sick of hearing you ramble on about my affairs!!” Her chest heaved after the particularly loud comment, jaw clenched with rage.

Esther faltered for a moment. Had she really hurt him so much? How had she done such an abominable thing? Sure it was unintentional, there was no way she could have done such an atrocity consciously, was there? The girl looked down at the ground, taking an instant to formulate her response to his accusation. “How have I done him wrong, Theodore? I live my life to please and still you say that I have hurt him? I must have a twin that is doing him harm, because I am not capable of causing him pain on purpose.” The girl’s weaker side showed through these words, the side that believed every word Theodore was saying.

She internally chastised herself for showing her defenseless side prior to answering him. “I am in a nightmare, Mr. Scathelock. You do not know the things I have been through. If you did, you would not be provoking me. You would be pissing yourself in fear.” Esther stepped forward , feeling taller than the man, casting aside how he was bigger than her in almost every sense. 

“If it breaks, it does not work properly. I’ll throw it away and start over.” She was lying. If Amon were to break her heart, she would surely tie herself to the railroad and wait for a train to end her miserable existence.

“Still, it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Something I’m sure you will learn one day.”

[theodore-scathelock]

“Trust me, there’s more rumors flittering about the circus than you would ever care to know. And more than a few of those little whispers are about you.” Theodore left his source of information vague. He had heard more than enough about the fire dancer from his interactions with the reveurs and the visitors but some of the dark things he had procured about Esther Lynch he had done through rather unsavory methods. “And as for being certain, I’m one hundred percent sure, that the streets were where you came from and where you should be at this moment. And I would take great pleasure in being the one to throw you back to where you belong.”

“I cannot vouch for Chandresh, only for myself. But in the little show you’ve just put on for me, I can say my experience was less than satisfactory. Mediocre would be a compliment in your case, for the word far exceeds the quality of the performance I had just witnessed.”  He smiled, shuffling his feet into the floor of the tent. “But you never were that good at playing with your fire, I doubt anything would change just because of my criticism.”

The fact that she knew how to speak Spanish did come as a bit of a surprise to the astronomer, who had only ever heard the fire dancer converse in English. But then again, there was a lot he had yet to uncover about Esther Lynch. “Fluent in two languages and you still have nothing worth saying? You really are the worst of everything aren’t you? Is it a goal for you to be as boring and dull as you are? Curse at me all you want, I doubt that speaking to me in Spanish will change the value of what you have to say.”

He paused for a moment at the comment of the recurring visitors. True, Esther Lynch’s show was among the best of the best. That however, did not make the performer any better a person. “The earth goes around sun?” He mockingly applauded the fire dancer, letting the bitterness of the supposedly kind gesture seep through. “Well done! But then, I’d be surprised if you knew anything at all Miss Lynch, let alone the basics of astronomy. “

“Obviously you are not only dumb but blind.” He found himself partially yelling at the fire dancer, letting the cool demeanor slip from his face. “Did somebody drop you on your head as a child or were you born just this naturally dull? If you have yet to see me with a woman, I’m guessing playing with your little party tricks must have done quite a number on your eye sight. Either that, or you have the mental capacity of a cow, which is very fitting given your appearance.”

“And I am sick to death of constantly having to be in your presence. Believe me Esther, the feeling is mutual.” He almost spat those words out, letting the venom seep through his words. “But you are neck deep in my affairs and I like to keep a close tab on those.” He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hateful to someone, but Esther Lynch was more than deserving to bear the full brunt of his hate.

However, Esther’s attitude toward their conversation had changed drastically in the last few minutes. Something that had once been a crusade, with shots fired on both sides had turned something more of a once sided fight, with himself thoroughly dominating the war. Theodore watched, his mood improving with every minute, as the fire dancer’s defenses crumbled under the mention of the magician that had plagued their conversation.

“A twin?” Despite the weakness that the girl had exposed to him, the astronomer found himself more vicious in his assault than ever. “Is it that easy to pass of Amon’s sorrow? That you can shove it off on some make believe entity, so that you won’t have to take the blame for all the pain you’ve caused? You are nothing but a little girl, still believing that everything you do is right. If you live for him, then you might as well die because every second you spend near him only breaks him even more.”

He laughed in the face of the fuming fire dancer. “This nightmare is of your own making Miss Lynch. Don’t expect me to be afraid, in fact, I find this entire situation very… entertaining.” There was nothing to be afraid of, he had told himself that over and over again. But somewhere deep down, Theodore knew that Esther’s threats were one hundred percent genuine. And still, he pushed on. 

“You’re still naïve.” He knew such a statement was vague, but it was all Theodore could muster at the moment. “You believe love makes people? Do you believe that it is better to love? What about heartbreak, Esther? What about the deliberating pain that destroys your soul? Will you condemn Amon to this simply because of you believe that you can make things better with love?”

[r-cullen-deactivated20130525]

Star Gazing // Theodore & Richard

It was a dark night at the circus. The clouds were thick and blocked out the stars, allowing just a sliver of moonlight to peak through. Richard sat outside his tent, watching as the clouds danced across the sky and listened to the trees blowing in the wind. His show was in the middle of some changes, which gave him more free time than usual. Most nights he went and watched the other circus members performing, but tonight he wanted to see the stars. He hoped that the clouds would give way eventually, and sat there for quite a while before giving up. An attendant came out asking him for help and he obliged.

He walked into his tent, newly renovated for more seating and even more dangerous acts. Spinning wheels were scattered about the arena, swings hung from the ceiling, and new target boards leaned against anything sturdy enough to support them. His attendants were struggling to push the stage back, but to no avail. The new stage was much larger than the old one, and contained 2 modified skeet pullers; it was to be the new opener for Richards show. He hurried to his attendants aide and together they managed to push it toward backstage, leaving a large dent in the ground where it once stood. The attendants rushed to fill it in and went on setting up the rest of the arena. Meanwhile, Richard went backstage to his desk, where he took out a list of circus performances he had heard about. He thought to himself, “Maybe I’ll just go see a show.” and he went down the list of people. At first, he considered a couple shows he had gone to see before, either Levi’s or Natasha’s, but then he saw a new name at the bottom of the list. Theodore the Astronomer.

It had been only recently that Richard heard of this show, but he heard that Theodore was an extremely intelligent performer that could bring the stars to you in ways that no one could. He put the list back on the desk and grabbed his coat, heading out toward the Astronomer. There wasn’t a long line that night, seemed like the weather scared off much of the crowd, but the knife thrower still had to wait for some time. Usually, he would have walked right in, but this performance was more of a story than an act, and he wanted to hear it from beginning to end. It seemed like he waited for an hour as the line grew shorter and shorter. Finally it was his turn. He walked through the entrance of the tent alone and entered the Astronomer’s sanctuary. The ceiling and the walls were covered in shining lights, much like the stars in the sky. Silk pillows were scattered all over the floor, welcoming the knife thrower to relax. Richard picked a spot in the center of the room and sat down, gazing at the wondrous sight all around him and wondered when the story was going to begin.

[theodore-scathelock]

It was a cold night, the air having a certain chill to it that was unique to Ostersund, Sweden. And perhaps, that was the reason for the lack of people entering the astronomer’s tent on a night like this, instead choosing a more dynamic show, like the ones held in the fire eater’s tents. Still, even on a night like this, where sometimes there was only one spectator at a time to listen to his stories, there were still those eager enough to brave the cold to hear of his mystical tales.

It had been a long night, a mere trickle of visitors and reveurs coming through his tent but that small flow was constant, wearing away at not only his patience but his attentiveness, as they seemed to be captivated by his words, not making a sound. It was like being alone in a tent and if Theodore were to close his eyes for but a moment, the illusion would be complete. Emptiness, lost in a starless sky on a chilly night, as if he were but a sick man, accepting his fate and not an astronomer, story teller, a raconteur of the revered Cirque de Reves.

But that stillness, that silence was ephemeral as he heard the flutter of fabric as the tent door was flung open.  He peaked through his eye lids at the intruder and was shocked at who entered. He had had his fair share of performers arrive at his tent, looking for an escape in the everyday chaos of the circus, but it was the very first time that the knife thrower Richard had ventured into his tent. Theodore watched keenly as he sat down among the cushions and took his place, staring up almost aimlessly into the tent roof that had been transformed into the sky.

It was then, that Theodore began his story.

“Of all the constellations in the sky, there are none more known about than the seven sisters.” He gestured to a small cluster of lamps, each glowing faintly beneath the black cloth. “Some say that they were the beautiful daughters of the titan Atlas. And because they were so perfect and divine, yet eternally sorrowful due to their father’s burden, Zeus immortalized them in the stars so that they would not have to suffer yet their beauty could still be admired. Others say they were pursued by Orion, the great hunter. And to escape, they became doves and flew up to a hiding place in the stars.”

He leant back in his chair, eyes cast up to the flickering lights that hung above the tent. The constellation he had spoken of lingered in his mind, thoughts of the story flittering in and out of his head, filling the astronomer’s brain with little whispers of knowledge. But it wasn’t the seven sisters that had caused his mind to remain focused on the tale, regardless of their famed beauty.

“I wonder how many people run away and hide everyday. In the circus, one might as well be among the stars and the tents will be our sky. Imagine all the lost treasures, stowed away in our own little haven that have yet to be found.”

[runaway-florence-blog]

Morning Lamentations || Florence and Theodore

[runaway-florence-blog]

Florence could easily stomach silence – after all, silence had become something quite coveted in her household during her girlhood – but when that silence was brought about by Theodore Scathelock, she found herself uneasy. He was plotting – he had to be! – and she had no way of knowing what thoughts were brewing in his mind; he wasn’t an open book like many of the members of the circus, and she knew for a fact that he was the type to do the unexpected simply for a reaction. Theodore was a wild-card and Florence hated that about him.

His advice on women came as a wonderful relief; though Florence didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, the incessant drone of his voice was enough to fill the silence but it also worked significantly against Florence’s nerves. Such was the price she had to pay in order to be rid of the silence that caused such unease.

“Oh, please. You don’t have to understand anyone to have a purely physical relationship with them.” Florence was nearly certain of that fact. Her husband hadn’t understood a word of what she said, and yet he certainly had wasted no time in claiming whatever marital relations he was entitled to. Theodore was no different – or so she assumed – and he had no reason to bother with technicalities like names or occupations when he wanted only one thing. Why would he waste his time with that? Especially when the circus was constantly moving.

When her age was brought into question, Florence simply stared at Theodore as if he had just sprouted another limb. What part of her age or marital status was any of his business? If she hadn’t been so determined to keep her marital status private, Florence might have snapped at Theodore with every intention of revealing the fact that she was married. Instead, she only shook her head and clicked her tongue thrice. “So you’ve already resorted to petty insults? My age? My, my… I’m disappointed.”

But she wasn’t. Not really. Florence understood that she was supposed to be offended – and she was, on some level – but the idea of marrying didn’t appeal to her. If something to trivial mattered to the budding author then she wouldn’t have run away to the circus, she would have stayed at her home with her doting husband and the potential of a house full of children. “Time may be ticking by, but I don’t see how that is any of your concern. Unless, of course, you’ll be asking for my hand. If that’s the case, then you’re doing quite a poor job of it.”

A contradictory soul? Yes, Florence supposed she could admit to being that much. Her mother used to say something of the same, though Florence never paid any heed to what her mother had to say… the woman was a nutter on her best days, flighty and emotionally unstable. Then again, living in a house full of rambunctious children might do that to a soul.

With a roll of her shoulders, Florence gave a reply that was just as noncommittal as she could make it. “Contradictory or not, it’s still none of your concern.” Though she had handed Theodore a small victory, she evidently wasn’t prepared to admit that… not aloud and not yet. Besides, the day was young; she hadn’t any reason to walk away and leave Theodore to thinking that he had managed to addle her nerves or – worse yet – win.

She had the mentality of a child, as did he, and that mentality was perhaps the only thing keeping them in close proximity. Neither adult wanted to admit that they could be bested by the other, and so they continued to throw insults and verbal barbs with every intention of outlasting one another. The only problem was that they would eventually run out of material – someone would have to admit defeat – and the pair in question was likely to resort to something more physical than verbal ammunition if that moment came to pass.

“As much as I’m sure you want me to believe that I should fear you, I highly doubt that any of your threats aren’t hollow.” Florence gestured to the scene around them, to the workers who were busying themselves after a night of performing and to the crew that fixed any little problems that may have arisen in previous shows. “Even if you were to make any sort of advance, I’m afraid there are plenty of witnesses to attest to the fact that I certainly don’t want you. And that brings up another point, now that I’m thinking on it…”

She paused, stepped forward and knit her brows together as her eyes began to light with the spark of the challenge that was about to issue. “You want someone to want you. Even if you pretend not to care, that’s still a fact. You would rather break someone down and make them beg simply because that would feed your enormous ego, and you wouldn’t dare do anything to me right now because I don’t want you.”

She thought she had made her point quite clear with that message, but his remark about winning caught her ears just as she turned to leave. The odds were against her? Florence turned slightly, lifting her brows and offering a smile that could only be described as pleasant – if someone was watching, then they might have thought that she was politely bidding goodbye to Theodore Scathelock.

“I may be the one walking away, but you’re the one calling after me like a child. You’ve proven my point, Mr. Scathelock. Before you further destroy your image, perhaps it would be best to return to your tent?” An encouraging nod was all she gave before she turned again, clutching her journals as she tossed a final remark over her shoulder, “I’m only tenacious when it comes to things that interest me. Good day, Mr. Scathelock.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Maybe it was just Florence’s presence, or her knack for words, or her indescribable ability to render him speechless at certain moments that kept Theodore around long enough for him to get offended. It certainly had to be something, it was impossible for him to stay around someone this long without the person having some sort of redeeming aspect.

Or maybe that’s what made Florence Blackwell so unique. That she was so irrelevant, so pointless, so…useless, and yet he found himself here, behind a ticket booth, passing a perfectly good morning with banter that had failed to escalate to the shouting and attention that he had craved. He was so tempted to simply walk away, leave the budding author to herself and what ever story she had yet to carve out in her journal. But that would meant losing. And perhaps one of the things he hated most, Theodore Scathelock hated losing.

He shifted slightly at the mention of a physical relationship, as if he were uncomfortable. But behind what most would see as an act of nervousness, he was smiling. “Even if you do enter a ‘purely physical’ relationship, you’ll always get attached. Women eventually get affectionate towards things that are meant to be temporary, as if somehow clinging to what has to be lost gives it value.” He may have been a little harsh of the feminine half of his species but many mornings dealing with one night stands who refused to leave the circus had left him cynical of women.

The petty remark about her age was a little immature, in hindsight, but the reaction Florence had given him made Theodore regret not pulling the old maid card earlier. She stared at him as if he had just murdered someone in front of her, like any woman would of course. However, she didn’t seem as bothered by it, making him frown. “Petty insults? Miss Blackwell, I was only pointing out what needed to be said. It was nothing more than some advice with good intentions. I assure you.” He was lying, of course he meant to offended her and Florence would see that. But, there was no harm in pretending that he was trying to be nice.

The comment about marriage however, blew him away. He chuckled at the thought of him settling down with anybody, especially her. While it would definitely interesting to see how long he could convince somebody to go to the altar with him, he firmly decided he would enjoy his bachelorhood before even attempting such a stunt. Theodore smiled at Florence, in a rather pleasant way as he kicked the grassy terrain with the tip of his shoe. “If I wanted to ask for your hand, I’m sure you would hardly be able to resist. And all this talk of marriage, it would seem you’re the one looking for some company.”

Her answer was noncommittal. Contradictory or not, it’s still none of your concern. Theodore wanted to frown, show his displeasure at being cast aside but he wouldn’t. That would show Florence how vital she was to him at the moment and that would be a victory for the little author. And he had given her far too many already in this single morning, more than he would give to most people if they were to talk with him for about an hour. So instead, he wore a mask of geniality, letting the remark slip past in him favor of more opportunely things to discuss.

They were children in a sense, children who had yet to realize that pointless bickering would neither get them anywhere nor end anytime soon. Except that they were adults, sophisticated, intelligent and with a vocabulary to match. And they had pride. Maybe a child would have walked away in pursuit of more enjoyable past times or retreated to their toys and games but adults, adults had to win. They had a tendency to want victory the way a child wants candy. Only for some reason, doing this above the age of twelve is no longer being spoiled, it’s a way of life.

“I certainly don’t care about witnesses or going to jail.” He said, wondering if Florence was serious. “It might even be more interesting than the circus. But if I were to do something bad, it would also mean dragging your good name in the dirt too Miss Blackwell. And you’ve always been one to avoid scandal.” He was making an assumption but he knew it was accurate. Florence Blackwell screamed modesty though if Theodore had learnt through their eventful discussion that she was nothing like she seemed.

His smile fell at Florence’s next words, the façade he wore slipping off his face like a mask that had been untied. He frowned, feeling the anger bubble up inside him as Florence pulled apart everything he had built up. Perhaps he had underestimated the writer, thought he had been quick to grant her the title of wordsmith. Whether intentionally or not, Florence had pulled out something vital to Theodore and showed it to the world. And he didn’t know what to do.

He did crave attention, yes, but to have somebody pronounce it in the way she did was humiliating. It made him sound like a lonely child, something that he never was and would never be. And while he did sink to childish insults when provoked, he thought himself above such immaturity. And most definitely, he believed that he did not need a person to feel like he was worth something. Florence Blackwell however, disproved this all in the matter of a minute, quite possibly less.

He watched in silence as Florence, trying to hide his glare as she smiled all too pleasantly and walked away, wishing him a good day as if the morning could have been anything but. Theodore thought he saw fear in the way the author clutched her journals to her chest but this woman was fearless enough to provoke an animal. Fearless or just incredibly stupid.

Still, he found himself smiling after the woman and calling out to her, perhaps like a child in this aspect. He would give her that victory if it would make her stay. He had yet to make her pay for his silence after all.

“Then I shall do my very best to interest you, Miss Florence Blackwell.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Outshining each other: Esther & Theodore

[esther-lynch-deactivated2013050]

Esther laughed at his weak attempt at a jab, though his remark about her show made her face heat up. “I have a wide variety of skills, including stabbing with all kinds of silverware. I’d be glad to demonstrate if you offer to be the victim.” She knew she was good at what she did; there was nothing she did better than play with fire. To have him deny her talent was something to be expected, but it still made her question herself for a moment. She had been working at it for too long for anyone that wasn’t an expert on the craft to critique her.

“I would love to see you try to do what I accomplish every night in this tent. The part where you burn half of your pretty face off would be particularly pleasing.” Reaching into an occult pocket, the fire dancer took out a match and quickly lit it on a chair, which were made specially to serve this purpose. She held the long stick out, offering it to Theodore. “Oh, what am I thinking? You’d burn down the entire circus. Can’t have children playing with fire.” Esther blew out the flickering flame, watching out of the corner of her eye how the smoke curled and dissipated in the unmoving air inside the tent.

His apparent dislike for the pet name made the girl grin devilishly, finding it foolish that he would let his discomfort show so easily. “I assume you think yourself very clever, looking up at the heavens and trying to understand them. What are you waiting for, Theo? Do you expect an angel to fall from the sky so you can finally stop being the inexplicably jealous man you are? I hate to tell you that I do not believe that will happen any time soon.” Esther was not very subtle and neither was her offense. She rarely beat around the bush, preferring to get right to the point, right where she knew it would hurt the most. Though torturing him slowly would certainly be pleasurable, she simply did not have the patience for it.

Her eyes narrowed into slits before she spat out her defense. “That would indeed be a blow if I gave a damn what the women think. As for the men, do you honestly believe I will ever see them again? But this is not the point, I wear this type of clothing so it doesn’t catch on fire. I would have thought you could deduce that. Such a disappointment to see you have a less than bright mind.” Esther’s lips joined to form a mocking pout. “As for the leash, I am not a dog and Amon wouldn’t and couldn’t restrain me for the life of him. No one can.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms before scoffing. “Really? If you hadn’t told me, I never would have noticed. Thank you for that mind blowing piece of information. You’re telling me thing I already know, dear Theo. What i would like to discover is what exactly you heard. For all I know Amon didn’t tell you anything and you just overheard him. I wouldn’t put it past you to eavesdrop.” 

“I’m not stupid, you know. I know how to treat Amon, I’ve known him for a long time.” Her words were not laced with venom or anything of the sort, To her surprise, she was actually trying to reason with him. She shook her head once before continuing. “You don’t even know what we were arguing about. If you did, you certainly wouldn’t be here. Either that, or you’re too daft to know when to stay out of something that is none of your business.”

Esther let out a puff of air as she walked closer to him and placed her hands delicately on his shoulders. With all of the sweetness she possessed, she smiled. “There’s not a chance in hell I would ever do that.” The girl let her arms fall back to her sides and backed away. “He is already broken. I’m trying to heal him, and even if I can’t, it doesn’t matter, because I still love him.”

[theodore-scathelock]

“I’d be surprised that someone of your social status would even know how to handle cutlery, much less maim someone with it.” He smirked as he saw Esther’s face heat up. If he was going to relegate a scoring system to their argument, he would have to say that single move had earned him a few points at least for extracting such a reaction from the fire dancer.

Theodore watched in half hidden amusement as she danced around, wondering for a moment if Esther actually knew what she was talking about. To imply that he had no skills what so ever was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard. “I’m fairly sure the only thing capable of burning down Chandresh’s life work is you. And if children shouldn’t play with fire then I believe we have a very valid reason to kick you out of the circus and back onto the streets where you belong.” Perhaps he was going too far, but that was exactly what he did. That line, he believed, was only made to be crossed.

“If you wish to critique me on my work, then I suggest you learn how to read first Miss Lynch.” He smirked, trying to play the card more playfully than it was. “But then again, why would such trivial things matter to you? Keep on playing with your little sparklers, they won’t make much of a difference. You’ll pass on through somebody’s memories just like the match you extinguished. Not even the men who gawk at you will care once someone more beautiful comes along.”

He kept up his mask, not letting the fire dancer see how he was seething underneath. He should’ve expected the blow, he had insulted her craft after all. But to imply his stories were merely wishes, that they were nothing beyond a poor man’s prayer truly cut him deep. “As for wishing for an angel to fall from the sky, I would rather a devil. They would warm a bed far better than any celestial being from heaven. Regardless, my stories would last far longer in someone’s mind that your pathetic little tricks will. “

I wear this type of clothing so it doesn’t catch on fire.

Theodore wanted to laugh at that comment honestly. Wouldn’t it be ironic if by some chance the fire dancer was set on fire? It would be a terribly sweet revenge for him, retribution for all the pain Miss Lynch had caused him if the flames she played with so easily turned on her with the ease that she had caused his friend to turn on him. That would truly make Theodore Scathelock’s day. Now if only such an unfortunate accident were to happen to Esther in reality.

His mood turned sour at the mention of eavesdropping and a frown made it’s way onto his face.  He may be the lowest of the low in Esther Lynch’s eyes but even he was above such base procedures. “If you think I need to eavesdrop to hear about your little dramas Esther, then you are obviously in need of more than brain replacement surgery. If even the most introverted visitors will hear about our fight in the morning, then what will they say when the darling couple of Cirque de reves decides that they have to have a very vocal argument.”

Theodore felt the sickening sweetness behind the smile that Esther Lynch had handed him. He knew it was an exact mirror of how she felt, not that one needed to read her smile to know that, Esther would be more than happy to provide a less than flattering description of the astronomer to any reveur who would listen.

“If you’ve known him for as long as you claim, then I would be more than happy to hand over Amon to you. But all you’ve done is hurt him. And every single time he comes crawling back to you because that’s what you know he will do each and every time.”

“And do you believe love will make everything better?” Theodore snapped, losing a bit of the calm that he was so used to wearing. “Do you believe that this is going to be another happily ever after? This isn’t a fairy tale Esther, this is real life. And if you can’t get your silly, delusional self to realize that,”

He smiled, imitating Esther Lynch. Perhaps they would be the adults that Amon craved them to be, pleasant in all aspects except their words. For there was nothing in the least nice about their little talks. 

“then hopefully someone finally breaks your heart."

[runaway-florence-blog]

Morning Lamentations || Florence and Theodore

[runaway-florence-blog]

Florence didn’t enjoy scandal – in fact, she tried to stay as far away from it as possible – but it was impossible to avoid confrontation for one’s entire life. She had managed to ignite a scandal by running away from her comfortable home, so what would one more little problem be? Theodore needed to learn his place and Florence couldn’t resist the urge to show him exactly where he belonged – or what she thought of him, at least. The only issue – and it was one that Florence hadn’t actually considered – was the fact that Theodore not only loved scandal, but he was good at it. His life, his family, and his entire being was, simply put, one big scandal; he knew the ins and outs of social circles better than Florence could have imagined. She had decided to take on a titan, but unfortunately she was no Perseus.

She was, however, a wordsmith. In five words she had most accurately summed up the extent of the scandal she had endured during her life – or had she? There was still so much that Theodore didn’t know – so much she wouldn’t tell him and so much that five words simply could not communicate – but, for not, she felt as if she had won. He wasn’t asking more questions and she wasn’t going to provide any answers. With five words, she had silenced Theodore Scathelock.

The urge to laugh came and went when Theodore insisted that many reveurs stayed with the circus simply because it was the fashionable thing to do. Florence herself liked to think that they would have left if they could have, that they would embark upon lives that didn’t require moving constantly and living in such a way that came with no real guarantees. Then again… why would they? They had become accustomed to their preferred form of living and moving frequently had become habitual; they had no reason to leave but infinite reasons to stay. So she remained silent, pondering over the thought while continuing to stare straight through Theodore – perhaps he was right. But only this once.

“Bedding a woman and understanding a woman are two different things, Mr. Scathelock. While I’m sure you have plenty of experience with one of those things, you’re proving that you’ve none at the other.” Her brows lifted momentarily, falling only when she was referred to as Mrs. Blackwell. That was a title she tried to shed as soon as she entered the circus, as well as her marital name of Edison.

“It’s Miss,” she corrected without much thought. “Miss Blackwell.” Though she understood that she was opening herself up to comments about being a spinster or old maid, Florence brushed Theodore off and instead focused on his commentary regarding poison and it’s uses.

“Assuming I would ever need to be avenged, I would rather do it myself rather than waiting on someone else. Besides, I think I’ve proven that I’d rather not wait for a problem to go away.” The last two words were inflected in such a way that it seemed as if she was telling Theodore to go away, which wasn’t far from the truth. She did view him as a problem, though she didn’t feel the need to voice that – surely he already knew.

You overestimate your worth.

The idea gave Florence a pause, but a grin soon captivated her features as she found an opening to use in hopes of getting rid of Theodore for good. “We are in the Cirque de Reves and I am but one person; what you say is true.” She paused, perhaps for dramatic effect or perhaps in an effort to collect her words, “So why don’t you find something else to do? As you’ve already stated, there is plenty to gawk at.” His threats were equally addressed, “You may laugh at me, but I’m smarter than to believe you would do anything too rash. We are in public, after all – should we be alone, then I might consider the situation in a terrifying light. But that isn’t the case. You’ve only proven that you’ve already lost.”

Florence gave a moment to let those words sink in as her grin turned into something more smug and satisfactory. “Now, if you’ve nothing else to say, I think I will be taking my leave.”

[theodore-scathelock]

Theodore hated silence. It was a quiet killer, ironically. It slaughtered gossip, annihilated comfort and massacred laughter. It was the bane of the world that he lived in. There was so much that could be done when someone left a conversation hanging. So he did his best to fill it with whatever he could. Blackmail, secrets, lies even, were all fabricated in the hopes of eliminating the cursed affliction that hung over society like a plague.

But what he hated the most when that ‘peace’ was created by him. True, those times were far and few between but every now and then, even he struggled for words. One of those rare times was when he first joined the circus. He was struck dumb when he was told to do something. Of course, loquacity and volubility followed suit but that single moment where his words abandoned him was seared into his mind.

So, the silence with Florence hung over him like a red banner, constantly reminding him of his short-comings and failures with the subject. Had he really been bested? No, Florence may have been skilled at manipulating words but she was not of the same caliber as him. He had won his way into the circus with his stories alone. It was his words that gave him an advantage, a control over those who were unlucky enough to be caught in a war of words with him. And he was not going to lose to a lowly reveur who was incapable of producing a simple novel.

“They are not as different as you think.” He retorted, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended too. “In order to bed a woman, you must understand her and vice versa. There’s no way around it, no matter how many women would like to pretend there is a gap. If they simple enough to allow a man into their bed, then they are easy enough to decipher.”

He smiled at the comment about being a Miss, knowing that Florence had just given something away. “I apologize. I didn’t realize a woman as old as you would still be single. Isn’t it about time you settled down? Found a man and stopped dancing around the world following a circus that is as controversial as it is popular? The time is ticking Miss Blackwell. One day you won’t be as pretty as you are today and there’ll be no one to come up and offer you company on a morning such as this.”

“And as for waiting for the problem to go away, are you not waiting for met to get bored? My dear, you are truly a contradictory soul.” It wasn’t an insult nor a compliment, merely an observation on Theodore’s behalf. The more he stayed around the budding author, the more intrigued he was. That was her special ability, to hold the attention of those who would rather do far more interesting things that fight a half hearted battle with her.

“Anything rash?” He chuckled to himself, hiding the growing smirk behind his hand. “Have you not heard anything about me? I may just be more of an enigma to you than you are to me. I have never cared whether a woman is the epitome of dignity or nothing but a lowly actress from the slums. I highly doubt that something as simple as being in public is going to stop me. So I suggest you change your thinking and be a little bit more wary about who you chose to converse with." 

The conversation seemed to have taken on a more humorous light for Theodore. “All this talk about winning,” He dragged his words out, as if he wanted to lengthen the conversation. “is there truly any point to it? Because is anyone of us is to walk away with the victory, then the odds are against you Miss Blackwell. You are the one walking away, after all.” He knew using her name was going to aggravate her, but what was the point of playing this game if someone didn’t get angry at some point in time? The allure of competition existed only because of it’s tendency for violence.

“So come and stay a little longer. Show us this acclaimed tenacity that you have professed. After all, the day is only just beginning and we have the rest of our lives to decide who wins and who loses.”