In a Sea of People I Search For You

[Saraya Arenais]

​

The carnival was in town.​

​

For Miranda this wasn't all together strange. Since the Confederacy had overtaken the planet it was growing steadily in wealth and recognition. Travelling circuses, carnivals and festivals all flocked to the mysterious planet to pay homage to "The Silver Stars" that had been lost there many years ago. At first the Mirandians hated it and rightly so. The crew of "The Silver Stars" turned to deplorable, indescribable acts in their desperation to survive. Some even said they turned to cannibalism. Mostly out of respect, the pilgrims usually left the crumbling shell of the dead fair be but most Carni folk were superstitious enough to stay far away anyway.

A dark midnight beyond compare cast a black shadow over the planet. Lining a stone path up to the usually empty wastelands sat bright floating paper lanterns, whatever was holding them up seemed to be completely invisible to the naked eye. They lit up the dark night and cast an orange glow into the still air. In the background the tops of tents made from the softest material and dyed fantastically bright colors cast jagged silhouettes on the horizon. In the distance the sound of children screaming with both delight and excitement filled the entire place with a jovial atmosphere. Tinkling jaunty music meant to lift the spirits filtered through the deep hum of a million conversations. There were people everywhere eating soft clouds of candy floss, talking, laughing, joking, having fun...

When you walk through the mock streets that are teeming with bodies your senses are attacked. Weird and wonderful people dressed in clothing to match shout of their wares from behind aged wooden tables. Some sold strange trinkets that promised to be filled with inexplicable magic, some sold food that seemed appealing until you looked at it. Interesting smells that can only be found at the circus melted together to make one not entirely unpleasant stench. It was sweet but savory, subtle yet invasive, it made you want to breath deeply and hold it there forever.

That's the magic of a carnival. Everything draws you in. The sights, the sounds, the smells, right down to the costumes the clowns wore as they teased passers by.

Tucked away, behind all the games and the food carts and the stalls, was a different kind of atmosphere. It was almost a world of it's own, a bubble you had to enter to notice it was there. A strange smell surrounded the tent that seemed to be coming from fragrant sticks of incense. The whole thing was nearly unnoticeable till the scent enveloped you and overtook your mind with a heady sensation. The structure itself was a deep purple color and looked to be far past its best. Strange markings gilded in gold and red covered the material from head to toe. In the doorway hung a curtain of pearly white beads that parted to reveal its mysterious depths. In front of the tent was a sign. The words on it, painted in gold, read:

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FORTUNE TELLER​

What will your future bring?​

-​

Tarot Cards | Palm Readings | Crystal Ball Gazing​

-​

50 credits.​

​

Standing in the doorway, leaning against a flap of material tied back by a slither of rope, was a woman dressed in garb typical for her occupation. The skirt she wore was ruffled, each layer made of thick material in blues, reds and purples. Bangles and earrings in a tarnished silver hung from every available space on her body. The only slice of color in the mismatched jewelry was a teal colored teardrop necklace that sat neatly in the small of her neck. The top that completed the whole outfit was a deep black with long, and rather irritating in her opinion, tassels that tickled her stomach as she moved. It hung off her shoulders and puffed out at the sleeves, held together by a rope in crisscrossing pattern across her chest. Tying her pinwheel curls back was a band of deep red. Every time she moved the bells attached to the band and her ankles made a sweet jingling sound.

Her deep black eyes watched the scene but no emotion filled them, none of the same curiosity and excitement that claimed most of the people there that night.

Often, when you've seen too much of something it loses it's magic. More so if you saw that thing as a child and relieved it as an adult. Despite having lived there for the better part of 11 years now the circus had never been that way for Iseult. The only time she remembered feeling what the crowds felt as they walked by was a long time ago. Her eyes scrunched up tightly, closing her vision from the mass of people and the terrifying memories that were bubbling to the surface. It still haunted her. How could it not when every time the carousel played its eerie tinkling tune she was forced to relieve that day. In the back of her mind a scream sounded out, her scream, her voice. It differed to the ones that already filled the night air. It was a scream of anger, sorrow and terror. Terror so powerful Iseult had to press her lips together till they turned white to prevent the same noise from escaping her throat once again.

A loud cheer coming from the big top at the center of the carnival crumbled the nightmare quickly. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she brought her ebony eyes out from under her lids. People would be flocking from the red and white stripped tent soon and their first stop was always her. Nothing put people in the mood for a glimpse of their future like an hour long show of daring bravado and near death experiences. Her warning bell had sounded and soon the queue for her tent would stretch as far as the eye could see. Iseult lifted her hands up slowly to inspect the intricately designed tattoos on her hands, though it wasn't necessary it was a force of habit. Previously they had been drawn on and the first job before she did anything else was to make sure they were still there, but of course, they were always there now.

Iseult took a breath. A deep, steadying breath. For a moment her head titled to the sky in the hopes of catching a glimpse of starlight. As usual, there was nothing but the blackness she had just drawn herself away from. Even if she could escape it, just for one moment, it would always be waiting for her behind the folds of the tent to claim her once again. When she brought her head back down to look at the spotlights stretching up into the inky night sky the darkness remained. Instead of the streaks of brilliant white light there was nothing. A few seconds later sparks of color invaded her vision like fireworks on a winters eve. If she weren't already so, Iseult would have been blinded by them.

She knew what followed, what would always follow. After all there was a reason for her being here, in that particular tent. They happened few and far between and were rarely ever straight forward but the glimpses of the future she was "gifted" with were what got her into this mess in the first place.

Her vision faded in but instead of the big top in front of her it was the entrance to the Carnival. The multicolored balloon arch stretched high and wide to allow for the crowds of people surging in and out. For Iseult it was very rare to see that soon into the future. All her visions were so far forward there was no point in paying any attention to them as the future wasn't linear, it didn't travel on rails and its course could always be changed. At first nothing caught her eye, it was just the same old people streaming in and out of the gates all looking as happy as could be.

Until she saw him.​

He was standing in the center of her vision all tall and muscular and with more hair than she had seen on any man to date. But before she could really look the curtain closed on her short glimpse into the beyond. Once again the spotlights from the big top lit up her vision. Everything was back to normal or rather, nothing had changed in the first place. Why then was this overwhelming feeling taking over her body? If everything was "normal" again why did she desperately want to risk the beating to go and look for him? Iseult shook the thoughts from her head. The future was often confusing. Picking it apart and adding your own opinions and emotions to it just made it worse.

Her bare feet span against the plush carpet she stood on. With slow, measured movements she lifted the beads away from the door and stepped inside. In such a dimly lit room she had no chance of seeing where she was going or what she was doing. There had been countless times she had asked for stronger light or even just a few more candles. But what did they care if she could see or not? It would only ruin the mystery. So when she crossed the threshold to step into the tent, the darkness returned again. Iseult acted mostly on muscle memory now. She no longer needed to feel blindly around the room to know where the table was, or where her chair had been placed. She could see it in her mind so clearly, almost as if someone had taken a picture and nailed it to her skull.

The feeling of velvet under her fingers told her she had found her chair. When she sank into it a final sigh escaped her lips. This one was meant to push away the thought of the strange vision. The odd man would not come to rescue her like the feeling in her gut said. He would not walk through those tent flaps and sweep her away. He would not be her freedom. She said the words over and over in her head like a mantra until the sound of pearls clacking together broke its repetitiveness. A soft mumble from some poor, curious sucker alerted her she had company.

It was show time.​

[member=Asher Mossa]

 

[Asher Mossa]

Sleep was an elusive thing when one was bound to a spirit of the Mandragora, and for some odd reason, Lylek seemed to enjoy to bother Asher. The dark circles under his eyes were the telling sign of a man who did not sleep as much as he needed to, and the slight malaise which which seemed to gloss over the otherwise crisp and cool hue of them begged that he stop and take care of himself. There was always something to do, always someone the spirits wanted him to search out. He operated in shadow and silence. His years away from the crowds had taught him how to blend in, how to be invisible, and Asher Mossa certainly was. There were only a handful of people in the Confederacy that even knew him. Katrine, the nightmother, was the only one who truly knew his story at that.

Being invisible had its benefits, especially when standing amongst a crowd full of eager patrons to view a fabled fortune teller. The circus was alive, full of exotic attractions. There was only one that had Asher's attention. The fortune teller was not what she seemed, and the attention Asher had for the show was because the spirits had found her. A wayward child, they had called her as Lylek's voice rang in Asher's head. She was meant to come home, to be claimed by them. They had called her name, but she did not come to them.

Asher was under the distinct impression that he should have met her the night he placed his hand on the grimoire. It was up to him to find out why she had not come, and the circus was his answer.

The tent was attractive enough, the display for her talent and the cost of it were front and center. Nestled back with the "freaks" the tent was nothing more than a point of anger for Asher and the spirits. They were exploiting her gift for the sake of a profit when it could be used to right the wrongs of the galaxy, or to bring to justice those who needed to be. It was her to serve the spirits, not some greedy ring master that could only see her value in credits. It was enough to make Asher bust through the line and walked through the flaps of the tent entrance.

She was sitting there... in a room dimly lit for ambiance.

"She cannot see you, Asher..."

He simply nodded to the ever present and familiar voice of the spirit.

"Ask her for your future. We have already shown her you were coming. I feel we must show her again."

He sat at the chair, smoothing out his rustic tunic. He placed his calloused hands on the table. The wear on them was that of hard work, a life of farming and building. It spoke to the happiness he once had, the wife and son that he cared for. Many were dead because of what he viewed as a curse. Had it not been for Katrine's guidance, and the constant nagging of Lylek, Asher would still believe he was cursed. It was his to move on now, and that was easier said than done.

"They tell me you can see the future... that you hear from the spirits. What has the great Lylek shown you of mine?"

[member="Iseult Yver"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

How long had it been since the vision now? An hour, two?

By her count four customers had come and gone now, but it wasn't a very good way to measure time. Each one left with different emotions ranging from concern to happiness to confusion, all because of their glimpse into the distant future, but it was all a lie. Iseult did have real visions but they weren't under her control. They wouldn't come when she called. Whoever or whatever had blessed her with them held control over when and what she saw. She was their subordinate and their vessel. Not the other way around.

It was a tiring process trying to come up with something that would fit each individual person that stepped through her threshold. At first she had wiled away the hours trying to be creative about it and add to the mystery but nobody wanted to guess their future. They just wanted to be told what would happen and when, which meant she had to learn how to read people. The lighting situation left her blind so there was no way she could see them, so instead she had to listen.

She could tell what people wanted to hear now just from the sound their feet made on the carpet, the way they asked their questions, how they put their credits into her palm... It all added up. Couples were the easiest. They often only wanted to hear of their happy endings. Marriage, children, big house in the countryside, etc. People who walked in alone were often a little difficult but most of the time she reeled off the same thing she had said a million times before and it always worked. Yes they would be forgiven, yes they would be rich, yes they would eventually meet someone to love and cherish. Sometimes there was a rarity though.

The rough voice that met her ears felt like one of them.

Iseult felt the rush of air against her face as he sat in the chair. She heard the dull thud of his hands against the cloth lined table. All of that was normal, usual of a typical customer. It was his words that caught her off guard. A thousand questions brewed in her head. Who were "they"? What did he mean by "the great Lylek"? Why did the baritone of his voice sooth the frayed edges of her disturbed mind? Her pale white eyelids scrunched up around her ebony eyes in an attempt to see him properly. Her efforts were fruitless though, he was just a black shape on an even blacker background.

But she wasn't willing to risk the consequences of breaking her character just to sate herself, so she did what she always did.

Her patterned hand stretched across the table to find his. She could feel the rough skin under her fingers, worn down and rebuilt by hard work. There was a lot to learn about someone simply from looking at their hands and since Iseult couldn't exactly look, she felt. For a moment or two she allowed herself to do just that, tracing every prominent vein and feeling every solid callous on his palm. Afterward she rested his hand in her own, turning it up to face the cloth ceiling above them.

'Th-...'

The flashing lights came suddenly, invading her vision for the second time that night. Though it didn't make much of a difference, she shut her eyes tight. What faded into view was something Iseult had never seen before, her first look into someone's past, not their future. The man that stood in the center of her black prison was the same man she had seen only hours before. He wore a smile on his face and a child on his hip, somewhere in the distance she could hear the sweet singing of a happy woman. A feeling of peace passed over her, she could feel the contentment that surrounded the family, but it was short lived. The shadow of death came swooping over and turned his expression into one of grief. What followed was much the same. Everywhere he went the darkness followed, stealing all that he loved and all that he held dear with no mercy extended to anyone.

The scenes faded and provided her a moment of relief, even if it was still in complete darkness. Iseult didn't know but she was about to get all the answers to the burning questions she had asked herself before. The future that followed felt more like a dream. It was both his and hers and tangled so impossibly she couldn't make much of it out. Three things stood out the most, almost as if they had been burned into her mind. When her eyes opened again they were still in her vision: a book, a beast and a name.

Iseult let his hand fall from her own to hit the wooden table once again. She couldn't bring herself to continue with the "mystical" facade. Something was urging her to ignore what may follow and that it wouldn't matter if she was just brave enough to take the chance.

'I saw what you were, what you are and what you shall be. I saw your wife and child and what became of them. The shadow that haunts you-...'

Her lips were half open, throat ready to continue on to do the one thing she promised she wouldn't ever do, tell someone their future. Not a lie or a story spun from thin air, their real future. Iseult shook her head and drew her hands away from the table. She couldn't bring herself to do it so instead she looked up, taking a random guess at where his eyes were. There was no other reason for him to be here, no other possible explanation for what she had seen. That same feeling that this man would lead her to a different life to the one she knew now was back and it was so strong she couldn't ignore it anymore.

'Ryloth, the Mandragora, the grimoire... I saw them all. Please, answer me something. Are you really here to help me?'

[member=Asher Mossa]

 

[Asher Mossa]

The vevelt cloth which rest on the table was a welcome sensation against the rough hands of the Mandragora. It was something he had not felt in a long time, such an expense to help sell such an elaborate ruse. Yes, Asher knew how the visions worked. He’d seen one himself. His mind would forever be linked to a witch who did not remain among them. The bond was strained but permanent, and as he had seen into her past, he knew the spirits worked behind it all.

His own past had been exposed. Lylek seemed to like to open up the most painful parts of his life to any who had the sight to see it. It seemed, by the expression this fortune teller had taken, that she too saw his past. The soft and gentile manner in which she held his hands was new, yet familiar. It was a touch he had long forgotten, the fragile and light way of a woman’s hand.

As surely as she had seen his past and future, Asher sighed. A small curse was muttered under his breath, directed at Lylek. The two clearly had a love/hate relationship. Asher had wished on some days the spirits had never called to him, or that he had been wise enough to keep his hand off the grimoire, but he had not been and they had called to him.

Her eyes were filled with hope and uncertainty, though they were not completely directed at him. Was she blind? He could not nod, but he was not going to raise his voice above what anyone else could hear. Asher nodded, though he was certain she did not see it.

“Then you have seen what he wanted you to see, and anyone else he can find for an audience. My tragedies seem to be amusing to Lylek. The cloud is mine to break, as are the chains which have you bound to this place. You are not just escaping, but this carnival that would treat those touched by the spirits as freaks has been sentenced.”

He reached his hand just under her chin to gently guide her face so that her eyes were kind with his. Asher did not see anything that would make her blind. He had heard of people like her, from a place so bright that even the high noon sun of the light side of Ryloth seemed dim. We was going to have a hard time on the night side, where the Mandragora had claimed their residence.

“You must follow my lead, Iseult,” he spoke her name though she had not given it to him. She would know her sight had been true, and he was here for her. “There is about to be a lot of commotion, and I need to know that I will not lose you in the chaos of what isaboit to happen.”

Asher stood and walked over to her. His strong calloused hand reached for hers as he helped to her feet.

“No matter what, do not let go of my hand.”

With the final instruction given, Asher pulled her from the tent. The cries of ofther who had been waiting their turn soon fell on the ears of all near by. Kidnapping was the charge, and the intended result was achieved. Security was now chasing them through the sea of patrons whose credits the carnival desperately wanted to fill its coffers and accounts.

[member="Iseult Yver"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

Iseult was used to silence, it was an old friend, but the silence that followed her question was the longest, most painful silence she'd ever had to endure. When he finally released a sigh that shattered the quiet air the relief on her face was palpable. All the tension in her shoulders and neck released as his breath did. The sigh was followed by a choice curse that was so familiar to her that it didn't even raise a brow. Who or what he was cursing at was unclear, nor did it matter much to Iseult. Both her face and her voice had a serious, stern tone to them as she replied.

'What I saw wasn't funny. Nothing about your past is amusing and nobody finds it as such. Not even the spirits. You will help me break my chains and in return your chains are mine to break. We will free each other. Your task just happens to be here and now, and in the literal sense of the word. For the moment yo-...'

Iseult was about to tell him he shouldn't be so hard on himself. She was about to rant on to a relative stranger about his not entirely unfounded negative thoughts but she stopped herself just in time. Never in her life had she wanted to share the future with someone but for some inexplicable reason she wanted to tell him, just to reassure him. She wanted to tell him everything would be alright, that his pain and worries wound fade eventually.

But the truth of it was she didn't know.

You can't see the someone's feelings in the future, only the roads they might take. She had seen his path and it was more promising than he appeared to give himself credit for. There was no saying if he would be happy in a few months or a few years but the spirits had tasked her with the job of ensuring that he would be eventually. It would be a payment of sorts for his liberation of her. Their lives were tangled together now, at least until they had fulfilled their debts.

His rough fingers caught the edge of her chin and chased away the wild thoughts that were scattered in her mind. Never in her life had anyone touched her in such a gentle way and if they had she didn't remember. It was Iseult that did the touching usually, though she didn't have much of a choice, and she did it on her terms not anyone else's. So his simple motion made her breath catch in her throat. In that one moment she was grounded and the belief that this man really would save her was beyond any common hope, it was now a raging fire of certainty. She couldn't see him but she could feel his eyes on her. Her own flicked left and right quickly in an attempt to work out where his face was.

Her name on his lips provided truth to the confusing events and it was enough for her to utter a sobbing laugh that was part joy, part relief. The sound of his feet against the plush carpet was the only indication he had moved at all. When his hands found hers again there was a confidence behind them that set her ebony eyes blazing with determination. It was really happening.

'I won't.'

The calloused hand in her grasp would be her lifeline and no amount of persuasion or reason would convince her to let it go.

There wasn't much time to say anything else. His strong arm was tugging her through the flaps of the tent and into the night that lay waiting outside. The first breath of air she took was liberating and it tasted sweeter than she remembered, even with the sickly smell of burning sugar lingering from the candy floss machines. She could see now, or partly anyway. Each time the floodlights from the big top washed over them she caught a glimpse of her rescuer. He looked just the same as he did in the vision, from the long flowing hair to his stiff leather boots.

She didn't have long to marvel at him though.

Carni have a way of sensing displeasure in their customers, it comes as second nature to them. So the instant the crowd began their slightly louder than normal ruckus they had very little time before someone would notice, and they did. Big brutes with muscles ten times the size of their brain were making their slow way to the purple tent. Iseult tightened her grip on Asher's hand as they started their mad dash through the throngs of people.

'Where are we going?!'

It was hard to keep up and the strain of it showed in her tone of voice. The thick skirts surrounding her legs kept tangling up in her feet as she tried to run. If it weren't for Asher's hand she would have tripped over at least twice by now. Every time she turned to look behind them the men seemed to be closer, of course it didn't help that she could only see them intermittently. Iseult scooped up her skirts in her hand to try and free her feet. The layout of the circus was completely unknown to her. Every time they set up it was completely different maze than before and Iseult was always forbidden to explore anyway. She could only hope that Asher knew where he was going because if not they were in deep trouble...

[member=Asher Mossa]

 

[Asher Mossa]

“I don’t think it’s funny either,” he shot back a little frustrated with her lecture, or what seemed like one. “And I certainly don’t need you telling me what my task is. That’s what Lylek does... constantly.”

It was an abrupt comment, short and defensive, but she had said something which made him on edge. Twice now she had eluded to knowing more than what she was letting on. His nature was to want to know, and at the same time he frustrated with the spirits for showing her and not him. The curse he believed he had was his to break. That is what Katrine had told him. Her experience had led her to believe Asher could, and she made him believe it as well.

Asher still was going to do what the spirits beckoned him to do. He was always and ever their loyal servant. As they pressed through the crowd all Asher could think about was getting Iseult to Ryloth, and then his task would be complete. She would need to touch the grimoire which meant that Asher would have to escort her to the altar of the eternal flame. The last time he had done that, he had been bound to another. The spirits really needed to stop meddling in his life.

“Ryloth, now stay close.”

Asher turned to face the brutes coming their way. He had been trained as a Jedi, and had a few spells under his belt. A few words in the Mandragora tongue were muttered under his breath and the ground beneath the brutes began to rumble.

His hand gripped Iseult tighter as he turned to run again. What he did not want her to see was the ground open to swallow the their pursers whole. No one needed to see the death and darkness that followed Asher. Despite his attempts to draw his power from the light, Asher knew of the shadow which hung over him. It was a shadow that Iseult was drawn into now. Like any in his life, the spirits had put her life in jeopardy as well.

Unfortunately, Asher wasn’t sure under the chase where the entrance was. Turning a corner, he ran into a group of more security agents. He sighed as he drew out his lightsaber. The veridian blade snapped to life. Iseult was told no matter what not to let go of his hand, this would test it. Rushing ahead, Asher cut through the first man, spun toward the second, and lunged to stab the third. The three were dead in no time, and Asher was still, focusing on the surroundings until he knew where the exit was.

“This way...”

[member="Iseult Yver"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

Iseult scowled, making her brows meet and cause delicate lines in between them. His words were sharp and filled with annoyance. Understandably he was confused and upset about her mysterious manner, when she got the chance to meet people they often were. Usually it wasn't in her nature to snap back at them when they bit. She had lived a life of servitude and subordination so it wasn't her way to react to anger but she didn't like the tone of Asher's voice.

'Well you were the one suggesting it was funny in the first place. And please don't presume I'm telling you anything. I think you're smart enough to figure out on your own that I'm not the one calling the shots here. You misplace your anger. Whoever you're really upset with its not me, lets make that clear right now.'

To be completely honest, she was shocked at the sound of her voice. It was just as harsh as his had been, just as short and defensive. Some part of her regretted it the instant it left her lips but another part told her to stick up for herself. It had been a long time since felt brave enough to do anything other than what she was told. In some ways it felt like he was already freeing her, by giving her a voice she thought she had lost long ago.

* ​

Ryloth.

Iseult had already been there, or at least, she had seen it. The image of the planet, half dark and half light, flicked back into her waking mind. Memories of the vision that occurred only moments ago flooded back one by one even as they ran through the crowded carnival. The name "Mandragora" was being called out in her mind by a million different unrecognizable voices, they all harmonized making an eerie tune that played out in her head like a children's nursery rhyme.

Asher stopped suddenly, making Iseult stumble face first into his chest.

Whispers in a foreign tongue met her ears, for a moment she was confused about where they had come from. A second later she realized that it was Asher. Her eyes found his strong jaw and, between the flashes of light that granted her vision, she watched his lips moving. The language sounded so familiar but she couldn't put her finger on why. Each lilt of every word sent a wave of a strangely comforting feeling, like they belonged on her tongue as well as his. A long, low rumbling noise erupted from the ground beneath her feet. Before she could turn her head to see what exactly was happening Asher had her hand again and they started on their mad dash through the never ending crowds.

She could still hear their screams though, they grew quieter and quieter as the pair ran further away.

Iseult craned her neck to try and get a look at chaos behind them, but by the time she had managed it they had gone too far. They stopped for the second time in their mad attempt to escape, though this time it seemed this time they were a little stuck. Three more guards blocked their way forward and it looked like they weren't budging without a fight. A soft sigh left Asher's throat, Iseult thought it sounded more like he was irritated by it all rather than frightened as she was.

The blade burst into life and cast her into a bizarre jade tinted world. Sure, it was better than the sparse vision she had before but there was something scary about the shadows it cast across everyone's faces. Asher was quick, so quick in fact that Iseult was sure her arm was going to pop out of the socket just from trying to keep a hold on him. It was unusual but she had never seen someone die before, that night she should have seen at least five but Asher moved like a whirlwind. She was so focused on trying not to lose him by the time all was said and done the three guards had been replaced with three bodies.

Another tug on her arm told her they were off again.

'Do you even know where we're going?!'

Iseult didn't know either but she wasn't exactly stupid. The deeper into the carnival you went the more expensive things got and right now they were standing next to a stall that was selling bottles of dusty home-brewed liquor for 100 credits a pop. She dug her heels into the ground to try and bring them to a stop. It was a risky move but at least they could figure out some kind of a plan.

[member=Asher Mossa]

 

[Asher Mossa]

Asher decided for now he was going to ignore the fact she snapped at him in return. He simply looked at her with a cross and stern look that told her she was treading into places that she was not allowed to go. Just because she had a vision did not give her the right to correct him on his manner or thoughts. Was he mad at Lylek, yes, it was a constant feeling it seemed. However, she was the one that had decided to correct him. Was she Lylek’s mouthpiece to him now.

His frustration was soon presented with an outlet in the form of the guards trying to stop them. Though once they were dead Asher tried to move forward again, Iseult had planted her feet.

“Where Lylek tells me to go,” his answer came without hesitation.

That was the crux of the matter. Asher went where the spirit guided, and he led them deeper into the maze of the carnival. There was one objective the spirit had given him before they could leave. The ringmaster, the man who had kept Iseult locked up was going to meet his end. This wasn’t just about liberation. This task was about ensuring that the only thing to bind Iseult would be the spirits themselves. Whichever spirit chose her would be the one she would be bound to. No man would own her again. It was freedom in the purest sense.

“I told you to stay with me and follow my lead. Though it is not really my lead we are following is it,” he said tossing her own words back at her. She would know it was true, and likely find it annoying that her point was advice for her as well. “You do not have to trust me, or even like me. Trust Lylek. Our business here isn’t resolved yet. Your freedom must be secured permanently.”

He stopped for a moment and turned to look at her when they were in a well lit area. They managed to be alone, for however brief a time it would be.

“I didn’t want to make you party to this, but it seems that is not what the spirits want. Where is the ringmaster... your jailer?”

[member="Iseult Yver"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

There hadn't been any point at all in trying to stop him in his tracks. Even with her full weight behind him trying to bring them to a halt felt like it would be nearly impossible. So she gave up with a frustrated sigh and instead focused on keeping hold of his hand. His short lecture made her roll her eyes up toward the sky.

'Have I not done just as you said? I've been keeping hold of your hand this entire time and I've followed your lead.'

She didn't know what he meant by freeing her permanently and it didn't cross her mind to ask. She was too preoccupied trying not to mention the fact that she had already proved she trusted him a million times over just by leaving with him. Despite the fact that they had met only an hour ago she held an intimate knowledge of him, a knowledge that a stranger had no right to possess but she still, it couldn't be ignored. She did trust him and she couldn't not like him, but she still didn't have to put up with his attitude.

They stopped in a clearing that was lit enough for her to see. Her free hand reached up to her face to rub at the ebony orbs as the light flooded into them. It was the first time she could really see since she had arrived at this forsaken Carnival. He had asked her a question but it had fallen on deaf ears, she was too lost trying to soak everything in. Since Iseult wasn't sure when she would be able to see again she wouldn't miss the opportunity to look over every single detail. The tents, the grass, the lights, the colors... It felt as if she were looking at the world from a fresh point of view.

With his hand still in her grasp she twisted round, letting her curious eyes scan over everything they could find.

When they finally landed on Asher and his solemn face she had the good sense not to gawp, but her jaw did drop a little. Even though his mannerisms sucked he was rather attractive, even she couldn't deny it. As she scanned over his face she could see his pain more clearly, it was etched into every crease in his skin and screamed out at her from behind his eyes. It broke her heart in way that was beyond any words, the fact that she knew the reason behind the grief made it even worse.

But his eyes...

She had never seen a shade of blue like it. The moment her black orbs found them she was entranced. They remained locked onto his gaze for longer than was completely necessary before Iseult finally came to her senses. Her head shook slightly as she tried to clear her thoughts to remember what his original question had been. She craned her neck to look at the three peaks of red and white striped material that towered in the center of the Carnival.

'He'll be in his dressing room in the big top. There are still two more shows to perform tonight. I can't be sure on the time, but if I'm guessing right we have an hour before it starts. There's a separate entrance that leads on to the dressing rooms, but it's always guarded.'

Iseult had nothing else to say on the subject. She wasn't an avid fan of violence, considering most of the violence she'd seen had been directed at her, but some people deserved it. The cruel pig looking man that had robbed her of her childhood, dignity and life was one of those people. Once she had answered Asher her mind reeled back to the first part of his sentence. Something about it made her raise an eyebrow quizzically. Iseult gave his hand a soft tug in the direction of the big top to get them going again, there wasn't much time to waste.

'What did you mean by you didn't want to make me party to this?'

[member=Asher Mossa]

 

[Asher Mossa]

Was she still not understanding that Lylek was pulling his strings right now. They didn’t have time for him to stop and explain that he was not simply leading her on in some chase. They kept moving until she stopped under the light with him. His hand still held to hers until she asked her last question.

For his own, Asher looked over the woman. In the light she seemed different somehow. There was something about her dark hair, dark eyes, and her pale skin. The striking contrast was something that he was attracted by. His hand came up to her cheek. It was a gentle and cautious touch as his eyes met hers. She could see him now, but he still had to explain the truth.

“I am not just here to get you out of here... Lylek wants him to pay... What I didn’t want was for you to have to see all this. I’m not a... I’m not cold hearted, but it’s what they want. When people like him enslave the ones they claim...”

It was difficult to admit that he was about to kill a man for what the spirits wanted, but she would understand in time. For the first time since they had met his manerisms calmed. They still had to move though. Staying out in the open was a bad idea, and so was letting the plan sink into her mind.

“My name is Asher, by the way, but, I am sure the spirits have already told you. You can hear them, see what they see when they want you to. Soon you will learn to control it more than you do now. I can’t know all they have shown you about me, but please, whatever you do, do not feel sorry for me.”

With that they were off to the tent she had indicated. The window she had given him was small, but they would find him, and they would leave. It was sure to be guarded, but Asher could get around them. With a small spell, fog began to settle around the tent, and with little effort they slipped into the tent.

“Take me to him...”

[member="Iseult Yver"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

He touched her cheek for the second time that night and though she knew his hand was rough it felt soft against her skin. It was warm and comforting, so much so that she lent into it with an unexpected smile. She could hear the shift in his tone of voice and felt relieved that it wasn't the same harsh one he had used before. There was a hint of conflict in his steely blue gaze, like he didn't want to finish the rest of his sentence, but she could guess how it ended.

'I think we both know by now that the extent of my involvement in all this is neither your choice or mine to make. But... I appreciate your concern for me all the same.'

Getting through the Carnival was easy now they were tucked away behind the stalls and the crowds. Lamps were hung sparsely through the makeshift maze of tents. Passing between each one plunged Iseult into darkness and then back into the light, but she wasn't really paying attention to what she could see.

She was listening to Asher.

The idea of being able to control the visions that had haunted her for so long was so far fetched she very nearly laughed. But something stopped her. It was a crazy thought but the night was already a never ending mess of crazy and as they drew nearer to the big top Iseult had no doubt things were going to get crazier. So, she swallowed her disbelief and decided to focus her mind on his last few words.

'I don't feel sorry for you, I think you're brave. After all this time you're still here. I have seen people give up for less. I've seen them burn every shred of remaining hope till all they had left were regrets, guilt and nothing left to live for. But you're not one of them. You might not see it now but there is still hope left in you.'

They slipped inside the big top as if it were the same as any other tent in the Carnival. Iseult nodded firmly at Asher's request and, with his hand still tightly in her own, they set off to find the ringmaster. The material corridors were made out of the same red and white stripped material that covered the rest of the tent. Jovial noises of the performers getting ready leaked out of half open door ways as they passed by but Iseult kept them close to the wall and hidden in the shadows, despite the fact that she was blinded by them.

It seemed to go on forever but eventually the corridor came to an end and Iseult stopped outside a large set of double doors. They were open just a crack and a thin strip of orange light stretched across the floor to light their way. A big yellow star was stamped on it peeling yellow paint with the word "Ringmaster" written across it in black. Iseult's expression soured a little and she turned to face Asher, keeping her voice low as she spoke.

'So, are you expecting me to wait out here?'

[member=Asher Mossa]

 

[Asher Mossa]

“Please do not mistake my compliance for bravery. Perhaps one day it will be bravery, but until that day, I am simply doing as the spirits lead.”

Asher spoke in a way that made it seem as though he didn’t believe himself. He didn’t mean to come across as cold as it may have sounded, and he looked at Iseult with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

She was right. The choices he was making were not just his own, but guided, still, he was going to follow through, and as much as he wished that he could leave Iseult out of the mess that was about to be, he could not. It was much too late for that. Their hands never let go of each other. It seemed silly that he would actually maintain his hold on her, but there was something about it that made him want her close. After what had happened to her since her time at the carnival, Asher felt protective of her in a way he could not say if anyone else. It was an odd feeling.

When they reached the door, she asked him if she was to stay. He sighed and shook his head.

“I’ve brought you this far, I can do it you know, what they want, all while still holding your hand.”

He gave the hand a squeeze and lifted it slightly for her to see. With a grin, he reached out and knocked on the door. The deep baritone of the ringmaster answered, and shortly the door was opened. Asher raised his hand and a wave of force energy sent the man flying into the room. Hand in hand, he walked Iseult into the room and closed the door. His lightsaber ignited. Tucking it under the chin of the man who was now on the floor.

“You’re circus is closed. The spirits want you to pay, and while they would like it slow, I’m feeling generous.”

Without hesitation he plunged the blade into the man’s throat. He turned to Iseult.

“You’re free...”

[member="Iseult Yver"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

The cold Asher returned too suddenly and without warning, but she didn't have much time to react to it. Almost immediately after she could feel his gaze on her and a genuine apology left his lips. Part of her felt it was a bad idea for her to comment on the subject of his past as it was clearly a sore spot and rightly so. Apart from the history what did Iseult know of what he had suffered? What did she know of the grief, the torment, the guilt? Absolutely nothing. But it seems no matter how hard they tried the topic was difficult to avoid.

'It's okay, I understand. Who am I to tell you any of these things? You've endured horrors no human should have to bear witness too and no vision or conversation will ever enlighten anyone to what you really went through. I have no right to comment on your life and I'm not pretending to understand or offer you advice.'

Iseult wasn't trying to lie to him or tell him poorly spun stories to make him feel better. Though a lot of what she had said was her own opinion it was based on a solid truth. She had seen his both his past and his potential future. They had little personal knowledge of each other but she was determined to make him see the light at the end of the tunnel. Not through flattery or distraction but with facts.

'But I don't mistake you for anything other than what you are. Like I said, you might not see it now but there is still hope and you are brave. I don't say it to try and bring on some grand revelation of self-worth. I say it because it's true.'

Her eyes remained locked on what little of the door she could see as she waited for his response to her question. For a few moments Iseult genuinely believed he was going to leave her on the other side of the door and honestly? She was relieved by the thought of it. In the few minutes they had taken to walk through the corridors the plan had settled in her head. She'd had the time to come to the realization that someone was going to die in front of her.

Asher reassured her with a squeeze of his hand, which emptied her mind of all the worries that had made it their home. In return she offered him a smile that was supposed to be confident but came out looking nervous instead. Before she knew it he was leaning over to rap against the aging wood in front of them. The knock filled her to the brim with morbid anticipation so strong it made her feel sick.

A deep, rumbling voice crept through the crack in the door and made Iseult shudder. It was strange to think that something so simple could have such power over someone. But the second it sounded out every muscle in her body froze and her lungs struggled to take in air, the grip she had on Asher turned vice-like. She was thrown back to that fateful night, that voice was the last thing Iseult could hear before her vision faded out and her life changed forever. She knew why she was afraid and she knew it was unfounded now that his life was coming to an end, but the history involved in that voice held too great a power over her.

If it weren't for the ringmasters cry as he slammed violently into the ground and the soft tug from Asher as he walked forward Iseult would have stayed that way, frozen to the spot in fear. A long moment passed where she couldn't bring herself to look at the man squirming under the floor. The cool tone in Asher's voice gave her the confidence to open her eyes. For the first time since she'd arrived at the Carnival Iseult looked her kidnapper in his face. She expected to feel guilt, remorse, mercy... some kind of emotion to tell her she wasn't as cold and heartless as the man before her was, but nothing of the sort came.

Instead all she could think about was how it was all nearly over.

The teal green blade tucked under his chin did as its master bade and, not for the first time that night, ended a man's life. She watched it disappear into his throat and heard the strangled cry pain as he died. It was hard to say exactly how she felt, there were too many emotions fighting for dominance in her head. Her lifetime of servitude had come to an end in the space of a few short minutes. Unintentional tears slipped from her eyes as a slow smile of realization crept over her expression.

Iseult broke the one and only promise she had made to Asher since they had met, she let go of his hand. She didn't think he would mind considering what she did next. All inhibitions were thrown to the wind and Iseult found herself wrapping her arms around him tightly. She couldn't help sobbing into his tunic but it wasn't through sadness. Gratitude was often hard to express and when you owed someone as much gratitude as Iseult owned Asher it was practically impossible. All she could do was stem her tears long enough to whisper a few words.

'Thank you...'

[member=Asher Mossa]

 

[Asher Mossa]

The deed was done, and Asher felt no different about it. Perhaps the words she used to try and build him out of his self loathing, or whatever it was he was doing, had inspired him to make it quick. He knew others saw more to him than what he saw of himself. The spirits certainly did. There was a tone to her voice though, one which told him she had seen more than what he had been through. Everything in him was tempted to ask, but Asher did not want to know. The question would still be largely centered around what he believed about himself, a perspective that was slowly changing. For now, Asher dismissed her attempts to get him to see what she called the truth, but not in a rude or cold manner. It was simply that until they were out of the carnival, they had not time to debate the finer points of what was and was not.

Killing the ringmaster had been relatively easy because Asher had no weight attached to it. He wondered if it would have been a thing Iseult could have done, but the way she had frozen before they walked through the door did not give him confidence. She was truly trapped then, truly enslaved. With the man's death, she was truly free.

Her embrace was soft, although excited, and her tears were warm. Asher stood with her for a moment and just let her cry. It was not a hard thing to do, and because his late wife had often had moments similar to this, he knew to just hold her. There were no words that he could say that would make the moment any better, in fact speaking would subtract from it somehow. Something deeper was at work, and as Asher held the woman close, the more he could see it. The spirits had not given him a task, but they had guided him to a person. What she would be to him was still a mystery, but as usual with Lylek, this was not about the task, it was about him. It was also about her. Iseult would learn that in time, if she had not already.

A hand nervously ran itself along her hair as she continued to weep and choke out her gratitude. Asher simply tried to calm her with a more gentle manner.

"Shhhh... Shhhh... it's okay. You're free, and I truly am not the one to thank. The spirits, they sent me, they showed you I was coming. What has happened to you here, it will never happen again, but we have to ger out of here first. Once the Ringmaster is missing, and security knows that you are, they will hunt us."

WIth that, Asher took her hand once more and headed down the corridor in the opposite way they had come. He figured their best bet was to find the crowds once more and try to blend in. Unfortunately the hall led them out into the center ring, something Iseult was likely trying to tell him. Security focus on them, fingers pointed in their direction. Before he could fully react, blaster bolts were flying their direction, and Asher called his lightsaber to him once again. This time his challenge was to get them out of there without harming any innocents. Once again he mumbled under his breath and filled the room with a fog.

Asher squeezed Iseult's hand as he powered down his lightsaber. As long as she trusted him, they would walk right out of the tent and into the crowd, where hopefully they would pass through the exit without any more incidents. It was time to make it to his ship, and return to Ryloth. The spirits were desperate to meet her now that she was free.

[member="Iseult Yver"]