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Zein had been with the circus for nearly half a year now. It was odd being with a group instead of alone, but for the most part, he found it to be enjoyable. The people were friendly and some were even fun. He had even taken on the role of mentor of sorts to a young Judean boy of all people. Zein wasn’t sure if he just saw some of himself in Arih or if he just plain liked him. However, they seemed to have latched on to each other and he wasn’t about to complain.
Their first few lessons were simply about learning basic tricks: how to form a proper distraction, how to perform a slight of hand, even how to retrieve items from someone looking the wrong direction. Arih was a quick learner, always curious and willing to try what Zein suggested. That was something he liked about the kid. He had never thought of himself as one who particularly liked children, but Arih was certainly a special one.
The one thing he did find myself feeling a bit guilty about was that Arih wasn’t the street urchin that Zein had been – meaning, he had family that actively was looking after him. Zein had formed a natural connection with the boy, but had never thought to ask his sisters about it. Although they were in the circus and such things were expected, particularly in this one, he still felt the slightest bit guilty. Shouldn’t he at least tell Arih’s sisters how the boy was progressing? He was not a parent—he hoped—and he was not sure what his obligations were in this case.
All around he felt awkward about this encounter, which was not the way he normally felt about women. It was a situation that reminded him of his youth, before he discovered exactly how easy it was for him to talk with the opposite sex. In this case, however, he had no ulterior motive of trying to seduce Miri. In fact, he hoped he was about to prove his worth and purpose to her. She was leaving her brother in his care half the time—he wanted to ensure her that Arih was all right. In fact, thriving. He was very gifted.
It was an off morning for the circus, so most were at rest or about in town. Zein went searching for the circus’ fortune teller. He didn’t have to search long, finding her outside her tent and alone, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have a conversation about Arih with the boy around.
“A Sugh for a glimpse of my future?” he asked once in range of the girl. It was more of a way to break the tension than an actual proposition. He had no inkling of what she charged – was a silver a gross under- or over-rate? Further, he didn’t much believe in future telling—if someone had told him his as a boy, he would have done everything in his power to prove it wrong. Zein always made his own path and didn’t rely on the gods to dictate to him. Still, it seemed like a nice enough of an icebreaker as any.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Zein had been with the circus for nearly half a year now. It was odd being with a group instead of alone, but for the most part, he found it to be enjoyable. The people were friendly and some were even fun. He had even taken on the role of mentor of sorts to a young Judean boy of all people. Zein wasn’t sure if he just saw some of himself in Arih or if he just plain liked him. However, they seemed to have latched on to each other and he wasn’t about to complain.
Their first few lessons were simply about learning basic tricks: how to form a proper distraction, how to perform a slight of hand, even how to retrieve items from someone looking the wrong direction. Arih was a quick learner, always curious and willing to try what Zein suggested. That was something he liked about the kid. He had never thought of himself as one who particularly liked children, but Arih was certainly a special one.
The one thing he did find myself feeling a bit guilty about was that Arih wasn’t the street urchin that Zein had been – meaning, he had family that actively was looking after him. Zein had formed a natural connection with the boy, but had never thought to ask his sisters about it. Although they were in the circus and such things were expected, particularly in this one, he still felt the slightest bit guilty. Shouldn’t he at least tell Arih’s sisters how the boy was progressing? He was not a parent—he hoped—and he was not sure what his obligations were in this case.
All around he felt awkward about this encounter, which was not the way he normally felt about women. It was a situation that reminded him of his youth, before he discovered exactly how easy it was for him to talk with the opposite sex. In this case, however, he had no ulterior motive of trying to seduce Miri. In fact, he hoped he was about to prove his worth and purpose to her. She was leaving her brother in his care half the time—he wanted to ensure her that Arih was all right. In fact, thriving. He was very gifted.
It was an off morning for the circus, so most were at rest or about in town. Zein went searching for the circus’ fortune teller. He didn’t have to search long, finding her outside her tent and alone, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have a conversation about Arih with the boy around.
“A Sugh for a glimpse of my future?” he asked once in range of the girl. It was more of a way to break the tension than an actual proposition. He had no inkling of what she charged – was a silver a gross under- or over-rate? Further, he didn’t much believe in future telling—if someone had told him his as a boy, he would have done everything in his power to prove it wrong. Zein always made his own path and didn’t rely on the gods to dictate to him. Still, it seemed like a nice enough of an icebreaker as any.
Zein had been with the circus for nearly half a year now. It was odd being with a group instead of alone, but for the most part, he found it to be enjoyable. The people were friendly and some were even fun. He had even taken on the role of mentor of sorts to a young Judean boy of all people. Zein wasn’t sure if he just saw some of himself in Arih or if he just plain liked him. However, they seemed to have latched on to each other and he wasn’t about to complain.
Their first few lessons were simply about learning basic tricks: how to form a proper distraction, how to perform a slight of hand, even how to retrieve items from someone looking the wrong direction. Arih was a quick learner, always curious and willing to try what Zein suggested. That was something he liked about the kid. He had never thought of himself as one who particularly liked children, but Arih was certainly a special one.
The one thing he did find myself feeling a bit guilty about was that Arih wasn’t the street urchin that Zein had been – meaning, he had family that actively was looking after him. Zein had formed a natural connection with the boy, but had never thought to ask his sisters about it. Although they were in the circus and such things were expected, particularly in this one, he still felt the slightest bit guilty. Shouldn’t he at least tell Arih’s sisters how the boy was progressing? He was not a parent—he hoped—and he was not sure what his obligations were in this case.
All around he felt awkward about this encounter, which was not the way he normally felt about women. It was a situation that reminded him of his youth, before he discovered exactly how easy it was for him to talk with the opposite sex. In this case, however, he had no ulterior motive of trying to seduce Miri. In fact, he hoped he was about to prove his worth and purpose to her. She was leaving her brother in his care half the time—he wanted to ensure her that Arih was all right. In fact, thriving. He was very gifted.
It was an off morning for the circus, so most were at rest or about in town. Zein went searching for the circus’ fortune teller. He didn’t have to search long, finding her outside her tent and alone, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have a conversation about Arih with the boy around.
“A Sugh for a glimpse of my future?” he asked once in range of the girl. It was more of a way to break the tension than an actual proposition. He had no inkling of what she charged – was a silver a gross under- or over-rate? Further, he didn’t much believe in future telling—if someone had told him his as a boy, he would have done everything in his power to prove it wrong. Zein always made his own path and didn’t rely on the gods to dictate to him. Still, it seemed like a nice enough of an icebreaker as any.
Amenemhat did not like for those in his employ to be idle. He would likely not take kindly to the sight of Miri standing outside of her tent, twisting herbs and strands of wildflowers between her fingers, doing, well, nothing. At least, that was how it would appear to the naked eye. But Miri of Lea was never truly doing nothing. The gods were always whispering tidbits of this or that in her ears, and there was always something to observe.
For instance, she knew that the passing slave boy was going to meet a violent end at the hands of one of Hamidi’s beasts, though the gods did not care to tell her when. She spent an entire hour discreetly one of the acrobats as Thoth lamented her upbringing in great detail. Miri took pride in knowing as much as possible, and listened raptly to every word spoken, both inside her head and out. No prophecy was too small. Each word helped her weave together the grand tapestry of life, which she provided snippets of to clients each night. Something as small as the color of a stray cat’s eyes could mean the difference between Miri understanding some of Anubis’s cryptic words or failing completely. If she had anything to do with it, Miri would never fail.
She knew she appeared odd to her large family, and that they loved her merely for her connection to them. Had she not been a member of the Tempest of Set, they would see her only as an odd, pretty girl, likely in need of a good whipping to set her straight. She saw, too, the way some of them looked at her in awe, as though debating whether she could really hear the words of their gods, the true gods. Those that decided she was simply crazy never dared to speak the words aloud, but Miri noticed the slight shift in the colors of their eyes. Some of them pitied her, and some of them honored her, and ultimately very few of them mattered at all.
It was with slightly misted hazel eyes that Miri of Lea turned to Zein as he approached, staring at him unblinkingly. Watching him perform was one of the special delights of her week; she sometimes snuck into the main tent to watch acrobats soaring through the air, or Zein throwing swords with ease. It was reassuring to know that it was the man before her—a man with the same mother tongue as Miri and all of her siblings—who was in charge of her little brother’s education. When they had first arrived at the circus, Miri had vaguely worried that there would be no place for Arih among the tumblers and jugglers. And, in fact, she saw little of her brother these days, though from what she knew he was progressing favorably.
“I would not charge you,” Miri said firmly, arching a brow at the man, not adding that she was meant to charge more for true readings. He was not here to have his fortune read, anyway, though she could not yet discern his true purpose. Zein was a crowd favorite, and beloved by many within the circus, too. The why of it was not difficult to read; even an obtuse child would be able to make that prediction.
Continuing to twist the wildflower between her idle fingers, she waited to learn his purpose. She had been told her lack of words could be disarming, but to Miri, words were one of the most precious commodities of all. She could guess, or wait for the gods to tell her, but what would be the point? Small talk was an offense to the intrigue and power of language. Silence could never unnerve her, but she was intrigued by Zein’s presence and felt determined to keep him in front of her long enough to discover the reason. So, against her better judgement, she broke the silence once more.
“I could tell you how many sughs you will make this week, if you like,” she said dryly, a small smirk appearing on her face. “Or the eye color of your next lover.” These were the things that appealed to men, she had learned.
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Amenemhat did not like for those in his employ to be idle. He would likely not take kindly to the sight of Miri standing outside of her tent, twisting herbs and strands of wildflowers between her fingers, doing, well, nothing. At least, that was how it would appear to the naked eye. But Miri of Lea was never truly doing nothing. The gods were always whispering tidbits of this or that in her ears, and there was always something to observe.
For instance, she knew that the passing slave boy was going to meet a violent end at the hands of one of Hamidi’s beasts, though the gods did not care to tell her when. She spent an entire hour discreetly one of the acrobats as Thoth lamented her upbringing in great detail. Miri took pride in knowing as much as possible, and listened raptly to every word spoken, both inside her head and out. No prophecy was too small. Each word helped her weave together the grand tapestry of life, which she provided snippets of to clients each night. Something as small as the color of a stray cat’s eyes could mean the difference between Miri understanding some of Anubis’s cryptic words or failing completely. If she had anything to do with it, Miri would never fail.
She knew she appeared odd to her large family, and that they loved her merely for her connection to them. Had she not been a member of the Tempest of Set, they would see her only as an odd, pretty girl, likely in need of a good whipping to set her straight. She saw, too, the way some of them looked at her in awe, as though debating whether she could really hear the words of their gods, the true gods. Those that decided she was simply crazy never dared to speak the words aloud, but Miri noticed the slight shift in the colors of their eyes. Some of them pitied her, and some of them honored her, and ultimately very few of them mattered at all.
It was with slightly misted hazel eyes that Miri of Lea turned to Zein as he approached, staring at him unblinkingly. Watching him perform was one of the special delights of her week; she sometimes snuck into the main tent to watch acrobats soaring through the air, or Zein throwing swords with ease. It was reassuring to know that it was the man before her—a man with the same mother tongue as Miri and all of her siblings—who was in charge of her little brother’s education. When they had first arrived at the circus, Miri had vaguely worried that there would be no place for Arih among the tumblers and jugglers. And, in fact, she saw little of her brother these days, though from what she knew he was progressing favorably.
“I would not charge you,” Miri said firmly, arching a brow at the man, not adding that she was meant to charge more for true readings. He was not here to have his fortune read, anyway, though she could not yet discern his true purpose. Zein was a crowd favorite, and beloved by many within the circus, too. The why of it was not difficult to read; even an obtuse child would be able to make that prediction.
Continuing to twist the wildflower between her idle fingers, she waited to learn his purpose. She had been told her lack of words could be disarming, but to Miri, words were one of the most precious commodities of all. She could guess, or wait for the gods to tell her, but what would be the point? Small talk was an offense to the intrigue and power of language. Silence could never unnerve her, but she was intrigued by Zein’s presence and felt determined to keep him in front of her long enough to discover the reason. So, against her better judgement, she broke the silence once more.
“I could tell you how many sughs you will make this week, if you like,” she said dryly, a small smirk appearing on her face. “Or the eye color of your next lover.” These were the things that appealed to men, she had learned.
Amenemhat did not like for those in his employ to be idle. He would likely not take kindly to the sight of Miri standing outside of her tent, twisting herbs and strands of wildflowers between her fingers, doing, well, nothing. At least, that was how it would appear to the naked eye. But Miri of Lea was never truly doing nothing. The gods were always whispering tidbits of this or that in her ears, and there was always something to observe.
For instance, she knew that the passing slave boy was going to meet a violent end at the hands of one of Hamidi’s beasts, though the gods did not care to tell her when. She spent an entire hour discreetly one of the acrobats as Thoth lamented her upbringing in great detail. Miri took pride in knowing as much as possible, and listened raptly to every word spoken, both inside her head and out. No prophecy was too small. Each word helped her weave together the grand tapestry of life, which she provided snippets of to clients each night. Something as small as the color of a stray cat’s eyes could mean the difference between Miri understanding some of Anubis’s cryptic words or failing completely. If she had anything to do with it, Miri would never fail.
She knew she appeared odd to her large family, and that they loved her merely for her connection to them. Had she not been a member of the Tempest of Set, they would see her only as an odd, pretty girl, likely in need of a good whipping to set her straight. She saw, too, the way some of them looked at her in awe, as though debating whether she could really hear the words of their gods, the true gods. Those that decided she was simply crazy never dared to speak the words aloud, but Miri noticed the slight shift in the colors of their eyes. Some of them pitied her, and some of them honored her, and ultimately very few of them mattered at all.
It was with slightly misted hazel eyes that Miri of Lea turned to Zein as he approached, staring at him unblinkingly. Watching him perform was one of the special delights of her week; she sometimes snuck into the main tent to watch acrobats soaring through the air, or Zein throwing swords with ease. It was reassuring to know that it was the man before her—a man with the same mother tongue as Miri and all of her siblings—who was in charge of her little brother’s education. When they had first arrived at the circus, Miri had vaguely worried that there would be no place for Arih among the tumblers and jugglers. And, in fact, she saw little of her brother these days, though from what she knew he was progressing favorably.
“I would not charge you,” Miri said firmly, arching a brow at the man, not adding that she was meant to charge more for true readings. He was not here to have his fortune read, anyway, though she could not yet discern his true purpose. Zein was a crowd favorite, and beloved by many within the circus, too. The why of it was not difficult to read; even an obtuse child would be able to make that prediction.
Continuing to twist the wildflower between her idle fingers, she waited to learn his purpose. She had been told her lack of words could be disarming, but to Miri, words were one of the most precious commodities of all. She could guess, or wait for the gods to tell her, but what would be the point? Small talk was an offense to the intrigue and power of language. Silence could never unnerve her, but she was intrigued by Zein’s presence and felt determined to keep him in front of her long enough to discover the reason. So, against her better judgement, she broke the silence once more.
“I could tell you how many sughs you will make this week, if you like,” she said dryly, a small smirk appearing on her face. “Or the eye color of your next lover.” These were the things that appealed to men, she had learned.
Zein was very sure that he did not believe in fortune telling. He was not a believer in the gods, as most were, but that wasn’t what made him skeptical of someone predicting his future. It was more the idea that the future was so certain. He believed that a single act could change the projected outcome. His life was a prime example of that fact. Had his mother lived, he would not have ever made his way to the streets. Or, had Yosef not taken him in, he likely would have died on the streets. If not died, then he would not have become a performer. It had ben Yosef that had convinced him to start doing tricks for money. Then it had become a calling. All of that could have been very different had a single thing not happened. So no, Zein did not believe in fortune telling.
However, he recognized that a great many people did and that it was very profitable for the person telling the fortune. And it was profitable for whoever was employing the fortune teller. Zein saw the logic in Miri’s position, but it also seemed like something more. She—and others—seemed to believe that gods were really speaking to her. Zein hadn’t been able to figure out how much of that was a performance and how much they actually believed to be true. He had been puzzled by it for some time now, but it wasn’t just something he thought anyone would discuss. Arih had said a few things here and there, but hadn’t given Zein any particular insight he hadn’t gained before.
Miri’s gaze was a mystery to him as well—was it an excellent act or something else? She was almost starry-eyed, gazing at him with a particular inattention that made him feel like she was looking into him. Of course, that was certainly exactly what customers would expect from a true seer, so she had the act down well. But she took the act rather seriously, even knowing him not to be some stranger in search of a fortune.
The juggler smiled as she indicated she would not charge him, though he wasn’t truly asking. It seemed they were destined to sit in awkward silence for a moment, Zein wondering if she would be more comfortable in her native tongue. He wasn’t too fond of speaking it—but couldn’t forget it entirely, no matter how he wished. Luckily, she continued in Coptic, making the decision for him. Though her next words made him chuckle. He couldn’t hold it back, though it was a soft laugh. Not making fun of her, but rather laughing at what she thought might be interesting to him.
“Well, it’s not too hard to figure out what my pay is around here,” he said, a smile on my face. “And you have a fair shot at guessing the eye color. There’s a fairly common type around here.” He held his hands up slightly to show that he did not mean any offense. “But you did correctly determine that I am not here to have my fortune read. I have a respect for your art, though I must admit it is not for me.”
He then arrived at his true purpose. “I am here to talk about your brother, Arih. I am sorry I have not come to you sooner, that is my mistake entirely. I have greatly enjoyed getting to know him. He is very talented.
“Also, I must apologize for not getting to know you better sooner. I am sure you wish to know some of the person who is teaching your brother. Would you care to join me for a walk?” Walking felt more comfortable that just standing here, watching Miri twist a flower in her hands. At least walking was somewhat of an occupation.
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Zein was very sure that he did not believe in fortune telling. He was not a believer in the gods, as most were, but that wasn’t what made him skeptical of someone predicting his future. It was more the idea that the future was so certain. He believed that a single act could change the projected outcome. His life was a prime example of that fact. Had his mother lived, he would not have ever made his way to the streets. Or, had Yosef not taken him in, he likely would have died on the streets. If not died, then he would not have become a performer. It had ben Yosef that had convinced him to start doing tricks for money. Then it had become a calling. All of that could have been very different had a single thing not happened. So no, Zein did not believe in fortune telling.
However, he recognized that a great many people did and that it was very profitable for the person telling the fortune. And it was profitable for whoever was employing the fortune teller. Zein saw the logic in Miri’s position, but it also seemed like something more. She—and others—seemed to believe that gods were really speaking to her. Zein hadn’t been able to figure out how much of that was a performance and how much they actually believed to be true. He had been puzzled by it for some time now, but it wasn’t just something he thought anyone would discuss. Arih had said a few things here and there, but hadn’t given Zein any particular insight he hadn’t gained before.
Miri’s gaze was a mystery to him as well—was it an excellent act or something else? She was almost starry-eyed, gazing at him with a particular inattention that made him feel like she was looking into him. Of course, that was certainly exactly what customers would expect from a true seer, so she had the act down well. But she took the act rather seriously, even knowing him not to be some stranger in search of a fortune.
The juggler smiled as she indicated she would not charge him, though he wasn’t truly asking. It seemed they were destined to sit in awkward silence for a moment, Zein wondering if she would be more comfortable in her native tongue. He wasn’t too fond of speaking it—but couldn’t forget it entirely, no matter how he wished. Luckily, she continued in Coptic, making the decision for him. Though her next words made him chuckle. He couldn’t hold it back, though it was a soft laugh. Not making fun of her, but rather laughing at what she thought might be interesting to him.
“Well, it’s not too hard to figure out what my pay is around here,” he said, a smile on my face. “And you have a fair shot at guessing the eye color. There’s a fairly common type around here.” He held his hands up slightly to show that he did not mean any offense. “But you did correctly determine that I am not here to have my fortune read. I have a respect for your art, though I must admit it is not for me.”
He then arrived at his true purpose. “I am here to talk about your brother, Arih. I am sorry I have not come to you sooner, that is my mistake entirely. I have greatly enjoyed getting to know him. He is very talented.
“Also, I must apologize for not getting to know you better sooner. I am sure you wish to know some of the person who is teaching your brother. Would you care to join me for a walk?” Walking felt more comfortable that just standing here, watching Miri twist a flower in her hands. At least walking was somewhat of an occupation.
Zein was very sure that he did not believe in fortune telling. He was not a believer in the gods, as most were, but that wasn’t what made him skeptical of someone predicting his future. It was more the idea that the future was so certain. He believed that a single act could change the projected outcome. His life was a prime example of that fact. Had his mother lived, he would not have ever made his way to the streets. Or, had Yosef not taken him in, he likely would have died on the streets. If not died, then he would not have become a performer. It had ben Yosef that had convinced him to start doing tricks for money. Then it had become a calling. All of that could have been very different had a single thing not happened. So no, Zein did not believe in fortune telling.
However, he recognized that a great many people did and that it was very profitable for the person telling the fortune. And it was profitable for whoever was employing the fortune teller. Zein saw the logic in Miri’s position, but it also seemed like something more. She—and others—seemed to believe that gods were really speaking to her. Zein hadn’t been able to figure out how much of that was a performance and how much they actually believed to be true. He had been puzzled by it for some time now, but it wasn’t just something he thought anyone would discuss. Arih had said a few things here and there, but hadn’t given Zein any particular insight he hadn’t gained before.
Miri’s gaze was a mystery to him as well—was it an excellent act or something else? She was almost starry-eyed, gazing at him with a particular inattention that made him feel like she was looking into him. Of course, that was certainly exactly what customers would expect from a true seer, so she had the act down well. But she took the act rather seriously, even knowing him not to be some stranger in search of a fortune.
The juggler smiled as she indicated she would not charge him, though he wasn’t truly asking. It seemed they were destined to sit in awkward silence for a moment, Zein wondering if she would be more comfortable in her native tongue. He wasn’t too fond of speaking it—but couldn’t forget it entirely, no matter how he wished. Luckily, she continued in Coptic, making the decision for him. Though her next words made him chuckle. He couldn’t hold it back, though it was a soft laugh. Not making fun of her, but rather laughing at what she thought might be interesting to him.
“Well, it’s not too hard to figure out what my pay is around here,” he said, a smile on my face. “And you have a fair shot at guessing the eye color. There’s a fairly common type around here.” He held his hands up slightly to show that he did not mean any offense. “But you did correctly determine that I am not here to have my fortune read. I have a respect for your art, though I must admit it is not for me.”
He then arrived at his true purpose. “I am here to talk about your brother, Arih. I am sorry I have not come to you sooner, that is my mistake entirely. I have greatly enjoyed getting to know him. He is very talented.
“Also, I must apologize for not getting to know you better sooner. I am sure you wish to know some of the person who is teaching your brother. Would you care to join me for a walk?” Walking felt more comfortable that just standing here, watching Miri twist a flower in her hands. At least walking was somewhat of an occupation.
It was a vague sort of paint that Miri noticed the slight shift in Zein’s eyes; he was among those who did not believe in her craft. She believed wholeheartedly in his, though she supposed there was a difference. Juggling and acrobatics were art, magic, power in a different form than the craft she practiced. It did not take a deeper belief to stare with awe at one of Zein’s performances. She should not be disappointed, and the thought of it was enough to put her perfectly at ease once more.
She maintained the faint smile as she looked at him, finding the appearance of the expression to be comforting to those she spoke with. Miri had been called unnerving… though it seemed Zein did not scare easily. He did not think her crazy… yet. Just uncertain. “You have a point,” she shrugged, unconcerned about the easy nature of her chosen offerings. Money and women, that was what men enjoyed. So what if they were easy to predict? She would still be right.
But again, her craft did not matter. Arih. Miri’s smile grew more genuine, a certain fondness overtaking the permanently distant look in her eyes. She began to walk in response, noting the jealous gazes an acrobat or two threw her way as they passed. It was almost laugh-worthy—they had nothing to worry about. The conversation was nothing more than a report from her brother’s mentor. Still, the glances burned into her back. Miri dropped the wildflower and focused her attention on the conversation—well, as much as she could concentrate on anything specific. That was not how her mind worked; if she tuned something out, she would miss something else, and that simply would not do.
“He is doing well, then?” she wondered aloud, tone almost hopeful. Miri did hope Arih would prove as useful to the Tempest as she herself did. “I see very little of him these days. You’ve stolen him away, and now I find I don’t know either one of you.” It was not an accusation; the entire circus was Arih’s family, not just Miri and Raziya. They would all raise him, and he would have power and art in his fingertips. No, it was simply a fact that she saw little of her little brother. She saw quite a lot of Zein in those rehearsals, though she doubted he ever saw her. And sometimes seeing was not everything; sometimes words were what was needed.
“You do not need to apologize,” Miri added after a moment, glancing up at the man. “I would not have it any other way. He needs to learn, and from no less than the best.” It brought a warm feeling to her chest to think of her brother possessing as much talent as his teacher, for him to be that valuable. When Miri first joined the circus, she had been horribly afraid of being discarded as unworthy. Now her position was integral, and all that remained was to ensure her brother had the same protection. “How did you learn?”
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It was a vague sort of paint that Miri noticed the slight shift in Zein’s eyes; he was among those who did not believe in her craft. She believed wholeheartedly in his, though she supposed there was a difference. Juggling and acrobatics were art, magic, power in a different form than the craft she practiced. It did not take a deeper belief to stare with awe at one of Zein’s performances. She should not be disappointed, and the thought of it was enough to put her perfectly at ease once more.
She maintained the faint smile as she looked at him, finding the appearance of the expression to be comforting to those she spoke with. Miri had been called unnerving… though it seemed Zein did not scare easily. He did not think her crazy… yet. Just uncertain. “You have a point,” she shrugged, unconcerned about the easy nature of her chosen offerings. Money and women, that was what men enjoyed. So what if they were easy to predict? She would still be right.
But again, her craft did not matter. Arih. Miri’s smile grew more genuine, a certain fondness overtaking the permanently distant look in her eyes. She began to walk in response, noting the jealous gazes an acrobat or two threw her way as they passed. It was almost laugh-worthy—they had nothing to worry about. The conversation was nothing more than a report from her brother’s mentor. Still, the glances burned into her back. Miri dropped the wildflower and focused her attention on the conversation—well, as much as she could concentrate on anything specific. That was not how her mind worked; if she tuned something out, she would miss something else, and that simply would not do.
“He is doing well, then?” she wondered aloud, tone almost hopeful. Miri did hope Arih would prove as useful to the Tempest as she herself did. “I see very little of him these days. You’ve stolen him away, and now I find I don’t know either one of you.” It was not an accusation; the entire circus was Arih’s family, not just Miri and Raziya. They would all raise him, and he would have power and art in his fingertips. No, it was simply a fact that she saw little of her little brother. She saw quite a lot of Zein in those rehearsals, though she doubted he ever saw her. And sometimes seeing was not everything; sometimes words were what was needed.
“You do not need to apologize,” Miri added after a moment, glancing up at the man. “I would not have it any other way. He needs to learn, and from no less than the best.” It brought a warm feeling to her chest to think of her brother possessing as much talent as his teacher, for him to be that valuable. When Miri first joined the circus, she had been horribly afraid of being discarded as unworthy. Now her position was integral, and all that remained was to ensure her brother had the same protection. “How did you learn?”
It was a vague sort of paint that Miri noticed the slight shift in Zein’s eyes; he was among those who did not believe in her craft. She believed wholeheartedly in his, though she supposed there was a difference. Juggling and acrobatics were art, magic, power in a different form than the craft she practiced. It did not take a deeper belief to stare with awe at one of Zein’s performances. She should not be disappointed, and the thought of it was enough to put her perfectly at ease once more.
She maintained the faint smile as she looked at him, finding the appearance of the expression to be comforting to those she spoke with. Miri had been called unnerving… though it seemed Zein did not scare easily. He did not think her crazy… yet. Just uncertain. “You have a point,” she shrugged, unconcerned about the easy nature of her chosen offerings. Money and women, that was what men enjoyed. So what if they were easy to predict? She would still be right.
But again, her craft did not matter. Arih. Miri’s smile grew more genuine, a certain fondness overtaking the permanently distant look in her eyes. She began to walk in response, noting the jealous gazes an acrobat or two threw her way as they passed. It was almost laugh-worthy—they had nothing to worry about. The conversation was nothing more than a report from her brother’s mentor. Still, the glances burned into her back. Miri dropped the wildflower and focused her attention on the conversation—well, as much as she could concentrate on anything specific. That was not how her mind worked; if she tuned something out, she would miss something else, and that simply would not do.
“He is doing well, then?” she wondered aloud, tone almost hopeful. Miri did hope Arih would prove as useful to the Tempest as she herself did. “I see very little of him these days. You’ve stolen him away, and now I find I don’t know either one of you.” It was not an accusation; the entire circus was Arih’s family, not just Miri and Raziya. They would all raise him, and he would have power and art in his fingertips. No, it was simply a fact that she saw little of her little brother. She saw quite a lot of Zein in those rehearsals, though she doubted he ever saw her. And sometimes seeing was not everything; sometimes words were what was needed.
“You do not need to apologize,” Miri added after a moment, glancing up at the man. “I would not have it any other way. He needs to learn, and from no less than the best.” It brought a warm feeling to her chest to think of her brother possessing as much talent as his teacher, for him to be that valuable. When Miri first joined the circus, she had been horribly afraid of being discarded as unworthy. Now her position was integral, and all that remained was to ensure her brother had the same protection. “How did you learn?”
Well, it seemed he had not offended her so far by practically dismissing her craft. Zein was glad for that because he wanted to be on good terms with Miri. He was practically taking care of Arih half the time now and he hoped that he could inspire trust. Then again, she hadn’t exactly come to him after all these months either, so perhaps she did trust him on some level. Or trusted in the circus. Zein had no idea what it was like to live with a family like this. His experience with families was extremely limited and for the most part, not positive. The best relationships he’d had were with singular individuals, finding that their dynamics were easy to figure out. Well easier than a whole group of people.
He did not quite understand the circus family or the family groups that lived within it. Arih always spoke fondly of his sisters, but didn’t seem to be all that concerned with staying close to them. He spent many of his days wandering with Zein, learning the subtle art of stealing from others. He was even learning to juggle, though it would have been better if he could have started younger. Still, Zein was determined to teach the boy. It was important someone did. For it if it wasn’t Zein, he wasn’t quite sure who would take Arih under their wings.
Zein could see Miri’s genuine affection for her brother across her face when she spoke of him and was glad the boy had others who cared. Though he felt a little guilty about her accusation. It was true. In many ways he had stolen the boy away, though Zein had certainly not intended that to be the case. He was a solitary creature—not meant to train a boy he recognized as similar to himself at that age. It was a bit too personal, if he was being honest.
“Yes, very well,” Zein nodded, for some reason wanting to prove that he was doing right by the boy. It was an odd sort of pride—one he wasn’t used to. “He’s a quick study and a smart boy. He’s learning quickly.” Zein wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to tell her about the learning to steal bit, so kept his comments more general.
He felt a bit of pride at her compliments, recognizing him as the best. That had been something Zein had hoped for for some time now. Of course, he couldn’t really be sure if she was just saying that or not. Still, he liked it. The juggler wasn’t exactly as keen to share his own story, but supposed he ought to tell some of it to Miri if he was entrusted in her brother’s care.
“Out of necessity,” he said, shrugging. “I was living on the streets of Israel with no way to make money except by stealing it. I had a friend suggest I do something to earn it and the idea for juggling was born. I practiced for a long time before I could perform in front of others. And a long while again before I was truly good enough to make serious money. However, the Judean streets are not so kind to performers. Egypt is far more welcoming. Arih will do well here.”
He glanced down at the young girl. “And what of you? How did you come to the circus?” Zein wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know how she learned her craft, but he did want to hear more of her story.
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Well, it seemed he had not offended her so far by practically dismissing her craft. Zein was glad for that because he wanted to be on good terms with Miri. He was practically taking care of Arih half the time now and he hoped that he could inspire trust. Then again, she hadn’t exactly come to him after all these months either, so perhaps she did trust him on some level. Or trusted in the circus. Zein had no idea what it was like to live with a family like this. His experience with families was extremely limited and for the most part, not positive. The best relationships he’d had were with singular individuals, finding that their dynamics were easy to figure out. Well easier than a whole group of people.
He did not quite understand the circus family or the family groups that lived within it. Arih always spoke fondly of his sisters, but didn’t seem to be all that concerned with staying close to them. He spent many of his days wandering with Zein, learning the subtle art of stealing from others. He was even learning to juggle, though it would have been better if he could have started younger. Still, Zein was determined to teach the boy. It was important someone did. For it if it wasn’t Zein, he wasn’t quite sure who would take Arih under their wings.
Zein could see Miri’s genuine affection for her brother across her face when she spoke of him and was glad the boy had others who cared. Though he felt a little guilty about her accusation. It was true. In many ways he had stolen the boy away, though Zein had certainly not intended that to be the case. He was a solitary creature—not meant to train a boy he recognized as similar to himself at that age. It was a bit too personal, if he was being honest.
“Yes, very well,” Zein nodded, for some reason wanting to prove that he was doing right by the boy. It was an odd sort of pride—one he wasn’t used to. “He’s a quick study and a smart boy. He’s learning quickly.” Zein wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to tell her about the learning to steal bit, so kept his comments more general.
He felt a bit of pride at her compliments, recognizing him as the best. That had been something Zein had hoped for for some time now. Of course, he couldn’t really be sure if she was just saying that or not. Still, he liked it. The juggler wasn’t exactly as keen to share his own story, but supposed he ought to tell some of it to Miri if he was entrusted in her brother’s care.
“Out of necessity,” he said, shrugging. “I was living on the streets of Israel with no way to make money except by stealing it. I had a friend suggest I do something to earn it and the idea for juggling was born. I practiced for a long time before I could perform in front of others. And a long while again before I was truly good enough to make serious money. However, the Judean streets are not so kind to performers. Egypt is far more welcoming. Arih will do well here.”
He glanced down at the young girl. “And what of you? How did you come to the circus?” Zein wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know how she learned her craft, but he did want to hear more of her story.
Well, it seemed he had not offended her so far by practically dismissing her craft. Zein was glad for that because he wanted to be on good terms with Miri. He was practically taking care of Arih half the time now and he hoped that he could inspire trust. Then again, she hadn’t exactly come to him after all these months either, so perhaps she did trust him on some level. Or trusted in the circus. Zein had no idea what it was like to live with a family like this. His experience with families was extremely limited and for the most part, not positive. The best relationships he’d had were with singular individuals, finding that their dynamics were easy to figure out. Well easier than a whole group of people.
He did not quite understand the circus family or the family groups that lived within it. Arih always spoke fondly of his sisters, but didn’t seem to be all that concerned with staying close to them. He spent many of his days wandering with Zein, learning the subtle art of stealing from others. He was even learning to juggle, though it would have been better if he could have started younger. Still, Zein was determined to teach the boy. It was important someone did. For it if it wasn’t Zein, he wasn’t quite sure who would take Arih under their wings.
Zein could see Miri’s genuine affection for her brother across her face when she spoke of him and was glad the boy had others who cared. Though he felt a little guilty about her accusation. It was true. In many ways he had stolen the boy away, though Zein had certainly not intended that to be the case. He was a solitary creature—not meant to train a boy he recognized as similar to himself at that age. It was a bit too personal, if he was being honest.
“Yes, very well,” Zein nodded, for some reason wanting to prove that he was doing right by the boy. It was an odd sort of pride—one he wasn’t used to. “He’s a quick study and a smart boy. He’s learning quickly.” Zein wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to tell her about the learning to steal bit, so kept his comments more general.
He felt a bit of pride at her compliments, recognizing him as the best. That had been something Zein had hoped for for some time now. Of course, he couldn’t really be sure if she was just saying that or not. Still, he liked it. The juggler wasn’t exactly as keen to share his own story, but supposed he ought to tell some of it to Miri if he was entrusted in her brother’s care.
“Out of necessity,” he said, shrugging. “I was living on the streets of Israel with no way to make money except by stealing it. I had a friend suggest I do something to earn it and the idea for juggling was born. I practiced for a long time before I could perform in front of others. And a long while again before I was truly good enough to make serious money. However, the Judean streets are not so kind to performers. Egypt is far more welcoming. Arih will do well here.”
He glanced down at the young girl. “And what of you? How did you come to the circus?” Zein wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know how she learned her craft, but he did want to hear more of her story.
