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The echoes of Amenemhat's rebirth into the Tempest of Set still rested in his mind. With the assassination of his father, he'd secured his place. It was an intoxicating premise. He'd spent nearly a year building a reputation among his father's people, wedging seeds of doubt between the aging ringmaster and those he trusted most. Incompetence, inability, rampant indulgence in whores and substances. Opium was a fine diversion for those with the sort of self-control as to handle it, but Somgi of Cairo had proved himself entirely incapable of treading that line. It was Nem's prerogative to act as judge and jury. None of the inner circle could come to that conclusion, and consulting them would've proved a mess.
Diplomacy does not serve a purpose. Action and then adaption into the new reality it creates is the only way forward.
Ironically, it was the teachings of Somgi of Cairo that hastened his death, that acted as the stocks that held him in line before the axe that was Kesi fell upon his neck. Barely mourned, never to be missed (save for some who remained loyal to a corpse's memory). All would be addressed in its due time, but for the moment, he had the particular interest in but one. Delia of Thesnia was the reputed den-mother of the Tempest of Set. While Rekhmire was given the control over the minds of the slaves, to twist them with drugs and turn them towards coerced loyalty, most of the circus' performers were not subjected to such mind-destroying machinations.
Some, but not all.
Delia was charged with understanding the hearts of performers, of acclimating them to the new environment, coaxing them into comfort and little by little, he saw it in the new arrivals. They understood their place, and the significance of being one of the whole. Amenemhat, while capable in many regards, was not a merciful or compassionate man. Conniving, manipulative, and in the process of creating a facade of charisma augmented by his physical stature, Nem was a ringmaster in name, but not yet in nature. So, he sought out his den-mother, a woman who he'd had a distant relationship in his youth.
Nem was isolated from many in the circus, not by his own hand, but by the machinations of the ringmaster himself. Was it Somgi's fear, that held him back? Was it the fear of being replaced? Well, the reality of it had transpired regardless, and that fear had come to fruition. Now, he needed to play the game, to build his own reputation and the rise to power that came with it. The inner circle saw him for who he was, their leader, their emissary. The will of the God of Chaos would be done through the heir to the Tempest of Set.
Guide me as I take up my destined mantle. Allow your will to be done through my actions, he offered in short prayer, before he moved on towards the matter at hand. Amenemhat did not send for Delia with a slave. In the middle of the night, the newly inaugurated ringmaster sought her out personally. For a moment, he stood in front of her tent, before he shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Gods willing, she wasn't caught in a compromising situation and they could see one another in the light that benefited them both best.
"Delia," he called out as he shifted the tarp and entered the privacy of her tent.
"I require your insights."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Rise, Ringmaster.
The echoes of Amenemhat's rebirth into the Tempest of Set still rested in his mind. With the assassination of his father, he'd secured his place. It was an intoxicating premise. He'd spent nearly a year building a reputation among his father's people, wedging seeds of doubt between the aging ringmaster and those he trusted most. Incompetence, inability, rampant indulgence in whores and substances. Opium was a fine diversion for those with the sort of self-control as to handle it, but Somgi of Cairo had proved himself entirely incapable of treading that line. It was Nem's prerogative to act as judge and jury. None of the inner circle could come to that conclusion, and consulting them would've proved a mess.
Diplomacy does not serve a purpose. Action and then adaption into the new reality it creates is the only way forward.
Ironically, it was the teachings of Somgi of Cairo that hastened his death, that acted as the stocks that held him in line before the axe that was Kesi fell upon his neck. Barely mourned, never to be missed (save for some who remained loyal to a corpse's memory). All would be addressed in its due time, but for the moment, he had the particular interest in but one. Delia of Thesnia was the reputed den-mother of the Tempest of Set. While Rekhmire was given the control over the minds of the slaves, to twist them with drugs and turn them towards coerced loyalty, most of the circus' performers were not subjected to such mind-destroying machinations.
Some, but not all.
Delia was charged with understanding the hearts of performers, of acclimating them to the new environment, coaxing them into comfort and little by little, he saw it in the new arrivals. They understood their place, and the significance of being one of the whole. Amenemhat, while capable in many regards, was not a merciful or compassionate man. Conniving, manipulative, and in the process of creating a facade of charisma augmented by his physical stature, Nem was a ringmaster in name, but not yet in nature. So, he sought out his den-mother, a woman who he'd had a distant relationship in his youth.
Nem was isolated from many in the circus, not by his own hand, but by the machinations of the ringmaster himself. Was it Somgi's fear, that held him back? Was it the fear of being replaced? Well, the reality of it had transpired regardless, and that fear had come to fruition. Now, he needed to play the game, to build his own reputation and the rise to power that came with it. The inner circle saw him for who he was, their leader, their emissary. The will of the God of Chaos would be done through the heir to the Tempest of Set.
Guide me as I take up my destined mantle. Allow your will to be done through my actions, he offered in short prayer, before he moved on towards the matter at hand. Amenemhat did not send for Delia with a slave. In the middle of the night, the newly inaugurated ringmaster sought her out personally. For a moment, he stood in front of her tent, before he shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Gods willing, she wasn't caught in a compromising situation and they could see one another in the light that benefited them both best.
"Delia," he called out as he shifted the tarp and entered the privacy of her tent.
"I require your insights."
Rise, Ringmaster.
The echoes of Amenemhat's rebirth into the Tempest of Set still rested in his mind. With the assassination of his father, he'd secured his place. It was an intoxicating premise. He'd spent nearly a year building a reputation among his father's people, wedging seeds of doubt between the aging ringmaster and those he trusted most. Incompetence, inability, rampant indulgence in whores and substances. Opium was a fine diversion for those with the sort of self-control as to handle it, but Somgi of Cairo had proved himself entirely incapable of treading that line. It was Nem's prerogative to act as judge and jury. None of the inner circle could come to that conclusion, and consulting them would've proved a mess.
Diplomacy does not serve a purpose. Action and then adaption into the new reality it creates is the only way forward.
Ironically, it was the teachings of Somgi of Cairo that hastened his death, that acted as the stocks that held him in line before the axe that was Kesi fell upon his neck. Barely mourned, never to be missed (save for some who remained loyal to a corpse's memory). All would be addressed in its due time, but for the moment, he had the particular interest in but one. Delia of Thesnia was the reputed den-mother of the Tempest of Set. While Rekhmire was given the control over the minds of the slaves, to twist them with drugs and turn them towards coerced loyalty, most of the circus' performers were not subjected to such mind-destroying machinations.
Some, but not all.
Delia was charged with understanding the hearts of performers, of acclimating them to the new environment, coaxing them into comfort and little by little, he saw it in the new arrivals. They understood their place, and the significance of being one of the whole. Amenemhat, while capable in many regards, was not a merciful or compassionate man. Conniving, manipulative, and in the process of creating a facade of charisma augmented by his physical stature, Nem was a ringmaster in name, but not yet in nature. So, he sought out his den-mother, a woman who he'd had a distant relationship in his youth.
Nem was isolated from many in the circus, not by his own hand, but by the machinations of the ringmaster himself. Was it Somgi's fear, that held him back? Was it the fear of being replaced? Well, the reality of it had transpired regardless, and that fear had come to fruition. Now, he needed to play the game, to build his own reputation and the rise to power that came with it. The inner circle saw him for who he was, their leader, their emissary. The will of the God of Chaos would be done through the heir to the Tempest of Set.
Guide me as I take up my destined mantle. Allow your will to be done through my actions, he offered in short prayer, before he moved on towards the matter at hand. Amenemhat did not send for Delia with a slave. In the middle of the night, the newly inaugurated ringmaster sought her out personally. For a moment, he stood in front of her tent, before he shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Gods willing, she wasn't caught in a compromising situation and they could see one another in the light that benefited them both best.
"Delia," he called out as he shifted the tarp and entered the privacy of her tent.
"I require your insights."
Delia’s tent was lit with candles, ever present were the flames she coveted. She was awake, writing—she kept all of her ideas for performances together, wrote approximate times for some ones where she was blind-folded or working with a partner, every performance was practiced carefully and recorded.
In the same stack of paper, she kept track of any mistakes she made, mistakes another performer made when working alongside her, and ways to correct said mistakes. To keep everything in order and together, she had poked holes into the corners of the pages, and used twine to tie them together—untying them only to add more. Another journal was kept where she wrote notes about performers, slaves, everyone. Everybody had a page in Delia’s book and because of that it was closely coveted.
Briefly, hearing Amenemhat call her name and enter, she found herself glad she’d sent Hamidi away earlier in the night. They’d just been talking; it was not uncommon for people to wind up in Delia’s tent to talk; she was always there to listen. However, she knew the rumors—the things that people whispered and she would not support those rumors.
She placed her writing and moved to stand, stretching as she did. “Insights on…?” People came to Delia for everything, it seemed. Romance troubles were just one of the many. Though she would not assume Nem was visiting her for advice on love, she almost rolled her eyes at that thought, but she didn’t.
She moved to settle in one of a few chairs, she’d been on the ground on a cushion, writing away. Amenemhat often came to her for advice about the circus, the performers, their people—she was never afraid to tell him what she thought; where she thought he had gone wrong. There was nothing he could do to her, that she’d not already endured elsewhere.
One such hand that had harmed was Keelan. Keelan should have broken her, but his memory was one of sour hatred that fueled the light in her eyes, the ambition in her gut. She’d take a terrible thing and find the good—like when Somgi had died. No tears had been cried for the man, he’d not been the best ringmaster, and she had immediately hoped that things would change for the circus.
And in her opinion, Amenemhat was… a bit too much like Somgi for her to fully leave him alone. If he did something and she thought it was an unnecessary reaction, she’d call him out. “Sit. Tea?” She inquired, already reaching for the pot and cups. Nothing fancy, nothing near as fancy as the life she’d grown up with, but… she was home, and that’s what mattered to her the most.
The ever-present fear that the circus would leave her, had lessened slightly when Nem had taken over, because things got better. The day that the circus left her behind would be the day that Delia died, of this she was certain. There was nothing and no one in the world that could convince Delia to leave the Tempest of Set of her own free will. They were family when she had none, and that had not changed.
Every day that something changed in the circus, under Nem’s careful guidance, was another day that her fear of being alone lessened.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Delia’s tent was lit with candles, ever present were the flames she coveted. She was awake, writing—she kept all of her ideas for performances together, wrote approximate times for some ones where she was blind-folded or working with a partner, every performance was practiced carefully and recorded.
In the same stack of paper, she kept track of any mistakes she made, mistakes another performer made when working alongside her, and ways to correct said mistakes. To keep everything in order and together, she had poked holes into the corners of the pages, and used twine to tie them together—untying them only to add more. Another journal was kept where she wrote notes about performers, slaves, everyone. Everybody had a page in Delia’s book and because of that it was closely coveted.
Briefly, hearing Amenemhat call her name and enter, she found herself glad she’d sent Hamidi away earlier in the night. They’d just been talking; it was not uncommon for people to wind up in Delia’s tent to talk; she was always there to listen. However, she knew the rumors—the things that people whispered and she would not support those rumors.
She placed her writing and moved to stand, stretching as she did. “Insights on…?” People came to Delia for everything, it seemed. Romance troubles were just one of the many. Though she would not assume Nem was visiting her for advice on love, she almost rolled her eyes at that thought, but she didn’t.
She moved to settle in one of a few chairs, she’d been on the ground on a cushion, writing away. Amenemhat often came to her for advice about the circus, the performers, their people—she was never afraid to tell him what she thought; where she thought he had gone wrong. There was nothing he could do to her, that she’d not already endured elsewhere.
One such hand that had harmed was Keelan. Keelan should have broken her, but his memory was one of sour hatred that fueled the light in her eyes, the ambition in her gut. She’d take a terrible thing and find the good—like when Somgi had died. No tears had been cried for the man, he’d not been the best ringmaster, and she had immediately hoped that things would change for the circus.
And in her opinion, Amenemhat was… a bit too much like Somgi for her to fully leave him alone. If he did something and she thought it was an unnecessary reaction, she’d call him out. “Sit. Tea?” She inquired, already reaching for the pot and cups. Nothing fancy, nothing near as fancy as the life she’d grown up with, but… she was home, and that’s what mattered to her the most.
The ever-present fear that the circus would leave her, had lessened slightly when Nem had taken over, because things got better. The day that the circus left her behind would be the day that Delia died, of this she was certain. There was nothing and no one in the world that could convince Delia to leave the Tempest of Set of her own free will. They were family when she had none, and that had not changed.
Every day that something changed in the circus, under Nem’s careful guidance, was another day that her fear of being alone lessened.
Delia’s tent was lit with candles, ever present were the flames she coveted. She was awake, writing—she kept all of her ideas for performances together, wrote approximate times for some ones where she was blind-folded or working with a partner, every performance was practiced carefully and recorded.
In the same stack of paper, she kept track of any mistakes she made, mistakes another performer made when working alongside her, and ways to correct said mistakes. To keep everything in order and together, she had poked holes into the corners of the pages, and used twine to tie them together—untying them only to add more. Another journal was kept where she wrote notes about performers, slaves, everyone. Everybody had a page in Delia’s book and because of that it was closely coveted.
Briefly, hearing Amenemhat call her name and enter, she found herself glad she’d sent Hamidi away earlier in the night. They’d just been talking; it was not uncommon for people to wind up in Delia’s tent to talk; she was always there to listen. However, she knew the rumors—the things that people whispered and she would not support those rumors.
She placed her writing and moved to stand, stretching as she did. “Insights on…?” People came to Delia for everything, it seemed. Romance troubles were just one of the many. Though she would not assume Nem was visiting her for advice on love, she almost rolled her eyes at that thought, but she didn’t.
She moved to settle in one of a few chairs, she’d been on the ground on a cushion, writing away. Amenemhat often came to her for advice about the circus, the performers, their people—she was never afraid to tell him what she thought; where she thought he had gone wrong. There was nothing he could do to her, that she’d not already endured elsewhere.
One such hand that had harmed was Keelan. Keelan should have broken her, but his memory was one of sour hatred that fueled the light in her eyes, the ambition in her gut. She’d take a terrible thing and find the good—like when Somgi had died. No tears had been cried for the man, he’d not been the best ringmaster, and she had immediately hoped that things would change for the circus.
And in her opinion, Amenemhat was… a bit too much like Somgi for her to fully leave him alone. If he did something and she thought it was an unnecessary reaction, she’d call him out. “Sit. Tea?” She inquired, already reaching for the pot and cups. Nothing fancy, nothing near as fancy as the life she’d grown up with, but… she was home, and that’s what mattered to her the most.
The ever-present fear that the circus would leave her, had lessened slightly when Nem had taken over, because things got better. The day that the circus left her behind would be the day that Delia died, of this she was certain. There was nothing and no one in the world that could convince Delia to leave the Tempest of Set of her own free will. They were family when she had none, and that had not changed.
Every day that something changed in the circus, under Nem’s careful guidance, was another day that her fear of being alone lessened.
"Insights on...?"
Amenemhat wondered if the question was genuine. There was a looming figure over the circus, and it was no longer Somgi of Cairo. So new to his role as ringmaster, did logic not dictate that he meet again with Delia so as to properly pass the reigns? While the inner circle of the Tempest of Set was, in varying degrees, loyal to him... that did not translate to the rest. It seemed obvious that Nem would find the den-mother sooner or later, but perhaps she was merely trying to set him at ease and dictate further confidence in her through the question.
"Sit. Tea?"
It wasn't a request, but was followed by one. Unused to being ordered around by anyone but his father, Amenemhat arched his eyebrows for a moment before deciding to let the matter slide. He nodded at her inquiry, but she'd already moved along, setting up a teapot. While she moved around and readied that, he decided to contribute. Quickly enough, he assembled sticks that the slaves allotted each circus tent, forming them against a circle of stones to act as a camp fire. The tents were not often let open, but with a quick shifting of the tarp, there was a path for smoke to vacate the tent in an effective manner.
Then, he ignited the timber, a smoldering flame building within the circle of stone, and Nem stoked it further by prodding along and giving the flame room to breathe and flourish into a small fire. He pushed away stray articles and ensured that the tarp was split off from the circle, gathering his thoughts with the physical work that was entailed. Once the both of them were comfortable and the tea began to steep, the ringmaster studied his den-mother's features and wondered just what lingered behind that mask of hers.
Delia's life is thoroughly entrenched in the Tempest of Set. She doesn't show it, but surely, she feared for its longevity while Somgi of Cairo fell from grace and his very existence became a struggle to subsidize.
It'd only been a month, but already, morale had begun to improve. Amenemhat did not languish with whores and pilfer from the coffers to feed terrible appetites. He'd taken the mistakes of his father into consideration and acted as an active presence rather than a parasite, suckling at the power teat while letting the reigns fly fast and loose. There were changes, regimens that were no longer to be ignored. Everyone, including the woman in front of him, was bound to a rigorous schedule of training that Nem himself participated in. The finely sculpted body that he'd worked at for the past eight years was not going to rot merely because he was no longer at the beck and call of the ringmaster.
"You keep your fingers on the pulse of the circus, just as I do, den-mother." It was the first time he'd called her that in quite a while. He took note of his tone, leaving the effort to manipulate at the door. There was no reason for it in the midst of the moment. Delia was an asset with whom he sought to share genuine concerns with, not a mere pawn to be assessed and put to work.
"But, you've had the measure of the circus for far longer. I do not want my regime to be one of complacency. Already, things are changing, and perhaps, in the effort to get the wheels turning again, I've overlooked something. I am not my father, Delia. I need your help so that the morale of our people remains. I will take us into a prosperous future, but I need your hand. Tell me, den-mother, what you've seen and what you think can be done to maintain the momentum of our circus' improvement."
Asking for help, contrary to the opinions of his predecessor, was not beyond the realm of Nem's repertoire.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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"Insights on...?"
Amenemhat wondered if the question was genuine. There was a looming figure over the circus, and it was no longer Somgi of Cairo. So new to his role as ringmaster, did logic not dictate that he meet again with Delia so as to properly pass the reigns? While the inner circle of the Tempest of Set was, in varying degrees, loyal to him... that did not translate to the rest. It seemed obvious that Nem would find the den-mother sooner or later, but perhaps she was merely trying to set him at ease and dictate further confidence in her through the question.
"Sit. Tea?"
It wasn't a request, but was followed by one. Unused to being ordered around by anyone but his father, Amenemhat arched his eyebrows for a moment before deciding to let the matter slide. He nodded at her inquiry, but she'd already moved along, setting up a teapot. While she moved around and readied that, he decided to contribute. Quickly enough, he assembled sticks that the slaves allotted each circus tent, forming them against a circle of stones to act as a camp fire. The tents were not often let open, but with a quick shifting of the tarp, there was a path for smoke to vacate the tent in an effective manner.
Then, he ignited the timber, a smoldering flame building within the circle of stone, and Nem stoked it further by prodding along and giving the flame room to breathe and flourish into a small fire. He pushed away stray articles and ensured that the tarp was split off from the circle, gathering his thoughts with the physical work that was entailed. Once the both of them were comfortable and the tea began to steep, the ringmaster studied his den-mother's features and wondered just what lingered behind that mask of hers.
Delia's life is thoroughly entrenched in the Tempest of Set. She doesn't show it, but surely, she feared for its longevity while Somgi of Cairo fell from grace and his very existence became a struggle to subsidize.
It'd only been a month, but already, morale had begun to improve. Amenemhat did not languish with whores and pilfer from the coffers to feed terrible appetites. He'd taken the mistakes of his father into consideration and acted as an active presence rather than a parasite, suckling at the power teat while letting the reigns fly fast and loose. There were changes, regimens that were no longer to be ignored. Everyone, including the woman in front of him, was bound to a rigorous schedule of training that Nem himself participated in. The finely sculpted body that he'd worked at for the past eight years was not going to rot merely because he was no longer at the beck and call of the ringmaster.
"You keep your fingers on the pulse of the circus, just as I do, den-mother." It was the first time he'd called her that in quite a while. He took note of his tone, leaving the effort to manipulate at the door. There was no reason for it in the midst of the moment. Delia was an asset with whom he sought to share genuine concerns with, not a mere pawn to be assessed and put to work.
"But, you've had the measure of the circus for far longer. I do not want my regime to be one of complacency. Already, things are changing, and perhaps, in the effort to get the wheels turning again, I've overlooked something. I am not my father, Delia. I need your help so that the morale of our people remains. I will take us into a prosperous future, but I need your hand. Tell me, den-mother, what you've seen and what you think can be done to maintain the momentum of our circus' improvement."
Asking for help, contrary to the opinions of his predecessor, was not beyond the realm of Nem's repertoire.
"Insights on...?"
Amenemhat wondered if the question was genuine. There was a looming figure over the circus, and it was no longer Somgi of Cairo. So new to his role as ringmaster, did logic not dictate that he meet again with Delia so as to properly pass the reigns? While the inner circle of the Tempest of Set was, in varying degrees, loyal to him... that did not translate to the rest. It seemed obvious that Nem would find the den-mother sooner or later, but perhaps she was merely trying to set him at ease and dictate further confidence in her through the question.
"Sit. Tea?"
It wasn't a request, but was followed by one. Unused to being ordered around by anyone but his father, Amenemhat arched his eyebrows for a moment before deciding to let the matter slide. He nodded at her inquiry, but she'd already moved along, setting up a teapot. While she moved around and readied that, he decided to contribute. Quickly enough, he assembled sticks that the slaves allotted each circus tent, forming them against a circle of stones to act as a camp fire. The tents were not often let open, but with a quick shifting of the tarp, there was a path for smoke to vacate the tent in an effective manner.
Then, he ignited the timber, a smoldering flame building within the circle of stone, and Nem stoked it further by prodding along and giving the flame room to breathe and flourish into a small fire. He pushed away stray articles and ensured that the tarp was split off from the circle, gathering his thoughts with the physical work that was entailed. Once the both of them were comfortable and the tea began to steep, the ringmaster studied his den-mother's features and wondered just what lingered behind that mask of hers.
Delia's life is thoroughly entrenched in the Tempest of Set. She doesn't show it, but surely, she feared for its longevity while Somgi of Cairo fell from grace and his very existence became a struggle to subsidize.
It'd only been a month, but already, morale had begun to improve. Amenemhat did not languish with whores and pilfer from the coffers to feed terrible appetites. He'd taken the mistakes of his father into consideration and acted as an active presence rather than a parasite, suckling at the power teat while letting the reigns fly fast and loose. There were changes, regimens that were no longer to be ignored. Everyone, including the woman in front of him, was bound to a rigorous schedule of training that Nem himself participated in. The finely sculpted body that he'd worked at for the past eight years was not going to rot merely because he was no longer at the beck and call of the ringmaster.
"You keep your fingers on the pulse of the circus, just as I do, den-mother." It was the first time he'd called her that in quite a while. He took note of his tone, leaving the effort to manipulate at the door. There was no reason for it in the midst of the moment. Delia was an asset with whom he sought to share genuine concerns with, not a mere pawn to be assessed and put to work.
"But, you've had the measure of the circus for far longer. I do not want my regime to be one of complacency. Already, things are changing, and perhaps, in the effort to get the wheels turning again, I've overlooked something. I am not my father, Delia. I need your help so that the morale of our people remains. I will take us into a prosperous future, but I need your hand. Tell me, den-mother, what you've seen and what you think can be done to maintain the momentum of our circus' improvement."
Asking for help, contrary to the opinions of his predecessor, was not beyond the realm of Nem's repertoire.
The new ringmaster made himself useful. The fire was soon coaxed to life, and the teapot placed to warm. His use of the affectionate title she’d earned herself, ‘den-mother’, made her smile, though his statement had caused her to straighten and lean toward him. Paying attention. There was no touch of manipulation in his tone, though he had very little reason to manipulate Delia. She’d been loyal to Somgi for one reason; Somgi had given her a home and a trade. She’d spent years showering kindness upon those Somgi had mistreated, offsetting what she could.
When he got right to it, her lips curved slightly. “Well, you’re on the right track.” She admitted, almost proudly. Only a month, and there were things that had been changed, altered, done away with. “You don’t sleep with whores, or drown yourself in an opium escape.” She spoke as if she was certain of her statements; she could be wrong, but she believed the best of the man before her.
Her fingers tapped the sides of the teacup that would soon be filled with tea, as she studied Amenemhat. “But to truly better the circus you need to ensure you are separated from the harsher aspects, such as the slaves—they should fear you, because their handlers will beat them, but you should not raise a hand to them. Perhaps even be kind to them.” Her words were sullen, but thought out. “Slaves who fear their master because he holds power to better their lives, will stay in line. Slaves who fear their master because he personally takes part in beating them will… eventually, revolt.” She treated every slave she dealt with like a person.
“You should remind the slaves, every-so-often, that they can rise above their station. That the ringmaster knows kindness. Perhaps even give them days off on a rotating schedule, so we’re never without—but nobody is ever overworked.” Her lips pursed as she reached for the teapot, pouring his tea first, and then her own. A sip, a moment to think.
“You should ensure that everyone receives enough food, and some vendors were overcharging us, or attempting too—” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “—Somgi didn’t pay attention, not really.” That man had cared about his own whims before the circus, and that… was practically treason in Delia’s eyes.
“Everyone works best together when they feel like they mean something to you, whether that means giving a performer or a slave time enough to recover from illness or injury,” she waved a hand absently. “or allowing a new performer to offer their thoughts and ideas for a performance. If you watch the people, you’ll see what they need to feel like they’re part of the circus—like they belong. Some performers need a chance to fail in the spotlight, while others just want to have their voices heard.”
She clicked her tongue, thoughtfully. “And… you shouldn’t let anyone abuse the slaves or the performers.” As if to prove her point, she raised her right arm to display the burns that littered her skin. “When someone is just starting out with an act, they should learn the tools before they put them into practice. Like, I would never hand a new performer a lit rod, and tell them to take their chances. So many people used to get hurt when I first started learning, myself, slaves, anyone who was near enough to the flames. That is only one manner of abuse the performers and slaves were enduring.” She doesn’t provide more on the topic and sipped her tea quietly.
Collecting her thoughts. What had she touched on and what had she not?
“Oh,” she added, “He was a shit showman. He wanted easy to put in no work. Obviously, you’re putting the work in—we’ve all received training schedules and you’re right there with us. That builds morale too. You should host an open forum, encourage everyone to collaborate on the shows. What can or cannot work can be decided as they go—but just listening to ideas, that’s a huge step from where we were.”
She flashed Nem a smile, “Our circus will flourish under your reign, you know.” An honest statement, “There’s still so much to change, but you shouldn’t let stress get to you, either.”
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The new ringmaster made himself useful. The fire was soon coaxed to life, and the teapot placed to warm. His use of the affectionate title she’d earned herself, ‘den-mother’, made her smile, though his statement had caused her to straighten and lean toward him. Paying attention. There was no touch of manipulation in his tone, though he had very little reason to manipulate Delia. She’d been loyal to Somgi for one reason; Somgi had given her a home and a trade. She’d spent years showering kindness upon those Somgi had mistreated, offsetting what she could.
When he got right to it, her lips curved slightly. “Well, you’re on the right track.” She admitted, almost proudly. Only a month, and there were things that had been changed, altered, done away with. “You don’t sleep with whores, or drown yourself in an opium escape.” She spoke as if she was certain of her statements; she could be wrong, but she believed the best of the man before her.
Her fingers tapped the sides of the teacup that would soon be filled with tea, as she studied Amenemhat. “But to truly better the circus you need to ensure you are separated from the harsher aspects, such as the slaves—they should fear you, because their handlers will beat them, but you should not raise a hand to them. Perhaps even be kind to them.” Her words were sullen, but thought out. “Slaves who fear their master because he holds power to better their lives, will stay in line. Slaves who fear their master because he personally takes part in beating them will… eventually, revolt.” She treated every slave she dealt with like a person.
“You should remind the slaves, every-so-often, that they can rise above their station. That the ringmaster knows kindness. Perhaps even give them days off on a rotating schedule, so we’re never without—but nobody is ever overworked.” Her lips pursed as she reached for the teapot, pouring his tea first, and then her own. A sip, a moment to think.
“You should ensure that everyone receives enough food, and some vendors were overcharging us, or attempting too—” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “—Somgi didn’t pay attention, not really.” That man had cared about his own whims before the circus, and that… was practically treason in Delia’s eyes.
“Everyone works best together when they feel like they mean something to you, whether that means giving a performer or a slave time enough to recover from illness or injury,” she waved a hand absently. “or allowing a new performer to offer their thoughts and ideas for a performance. If you watch the people, you’ll see what they need to feel like they’re part of the circus—like they belong. Some performers need a chance to fail in the spotlight, while others just want to have their voices heard.”
She clicked her tongue, thoughtfully. “And… you shouldn’t let anyone abuse the slaves or the performers.” As if to prove her point, she raised her right arm to display the burns that littered her skin. “When someone is just starting out with an act, they should learn the tools before they put them into practice. Like, I would never hand a new performer a lit rod, and tell them to take their chances. So many people used to get hurt when I first started learning, myself, slaves, anyone who was near enough to the flames. That is only one manner of abuse the performers and slaves were enduring.” She doesn’t provide more on the topic and sipped her tea quietly.
Collecting her thoughts. What had she touched on and what had she not?
“Oh,” she added, “He was a shit showman. He wanted easy to put in no work. Obviously, you’re putting the work in—we’ve all received training schedules and you’re right there with us. That builds morale too. You should host an open forum, encourage everyone to collaborate on the shows. What can or cannot work can be decided as they go—but just listening to ideas, that’s a huge step from where we were.”
She flashed Nem a smile, “Our circus will flourish under your reign, you know.” An honest statement, “There’s still so much to change, but you shouldn’t let stress get to you, either.”
The new ringmaster made himself useful. The fire was soon coaxed to life, and the teapot placed to warm. His use of the affectionate title she’d earned herself, ‘den-mother’, made her smile, though his statement had caused her to straighten and lean toward him. Paying attention. There was no touch of manipulation in his tone, though he had very little reason to manipulate Delia. She’d been loyal to Somgi for one reason; Somgi had given her a home and a trade. She’d spent years showering kindness upon those Somgi had mistreated, offsetting what she could.
When he got right to it, her lips curved slightly. “Well, you’re on the right track.” She admitted, almost proudly. Only a month, and there were things that had been changed, altered, done away with. “You don’t sleep with whores, or drown yourself in an opium escape.” She spoke as if she was certain of her statements; she could be wrong, but she believed the best of the man before her.
Her fingers tapped the sides of the teacup that would soon be filled with tea, as she studied Amenemhat. “But to truly better the circus you need to ensure you are separated from the harsher aspects, such as the slaves—they should fear you, because their handlers will beat them, but you should not raise a hand to them. Perhaps even be kind to them.” Her words were sullen, but thought out. “Slaves who fear their master because he holds power to better their lives, will stay in line. Slaves who fear their master because he personally takes part in beating them will… eventually, revolt.” She treated every slave she dealt with like a person.
“You should remind the slaves, every-so-often, that they can rise above their station. That the ringmaster knows kindness. Perhaps even give them days off on a rotating schedule, so we’re never without—but nobody is ever overworked.” Her lips pursed as she reached for the teapot, pouring his tea first, and then her own. A sip, a moment to think.
“You should ensure that everyone receives enough food, and some vendors were overcharging us, or attempting too—” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “—Somgi didn’t pay attention, not really.” That man had cared about his own whims before the circus, and that… was practically treason in Delia’s eyes.
“Everyone works best together when they feel like they mean something to you, whether that means giving a performer or a slave time enough to recover from illness or injury,” she waved a hand absently. “or allowing a new performer to offer their thoughts and ideas for a performance. If you watch the people, you’ll see what they need to feel like they’re part of the circus—like they belong. Some performers need a chance to fail in the spotlight, while others just want to have their voices heard.”
She clicked her tongue, thoughtfully. “And… you shouldn’t let anyone abuse the slaves or the performers.” As if to prove her point, she raised her right arm to display the burns that littered her skin. “When someone is just starting out with an act, they should learn the tools before they put them into practice. Like, I would never hand a new performer a lit rod, and tell them to take their chances. So many people used to get hurt when I first started learning, myself, slaves, anyone who was near enough to the flames. That is only one manner of abuse the performers and slaves were enduring.” She doesn’t provide more on the topic and sipped her tea quietly.
Collecting her thoughts. What had she touched on and what had she not?
“Oh,” she added, “He was a shit showman. He wanted easy to put in no work. Obviously, you’re putting the work in—we’ve all received training schedules and you’re right there with us. That builds morale too. You should host an open forum, encourage everyone to collaborate on the shows. What can or cannot work can be decided as they go—but just listening to ideas, that’s a huge step from where we were.”
She flashed Nem a smile, “Our circus will flourish under your reign, you know.” An honest statement, “There’s still so much to change, but you shouldn’t let stress get to you, either.”
Everything that Amenemhat sought after was within his reach. At the inception of his career, of his rise to power, it was all that he desired to have it begin with the correct approach. Already, there were new bodies that joined the circus' repertoire. He'd saved that man, Hamidi, incurring a life-debt from the man and it brought Amenemhat an efficient set of hands to serve him. He hadn't thought twice about bringing him in, and while his presence was still a new one, there was a reputation tied to his stature and demeanor that was useful.
Already, there were new principles put into play, and he worked to bring all that lived beneath his rule to follow them. Amenemhat did not rule a kingdom, he could not afford for anything to be let slip through his fingers. Being taken advantage of by vendors, slacking in receiving investments from his patrons... Somgi of Cairo left a mess in his wake, and now that Amenemhat was properly in charge of everything, there were fires to put out that might've engulfed the circus as a whole if he had not taken the reigns by force. The threats of revolt among the performers had begun to simmer down... Mistreatment of slaves was being addressed.
Amenemhat listened to Delia, never interrupting her when she moved at first to the comparisons between his and Somgi's character. Drugs were fun diversions, but never did he see a reason to indulge until his mind rotted from the exposure. Sex was a necessity, to satiate his desires and properly order his thoughts, but there was always some performer that was willing to throw herself at him. It was a benefit of the meticulous work he'd put in, keeping himself in the peak physical shape to keep up with the performers in the event that he needed to take the place of one. Seldom did that happen, but the emergency scenario was one he saw no reason not to prepare for.
She moved on, and he arched his eyebrows at the thoughts she expressed. It was logical, to separate oneself from the necessary discipline of the slaves. Somgi, more than once, took a whip to his slaves and while Nem wasn't against the practice, Delia made a good case for absolving himself of involvement. He had his enforcers to do that sort of work for him. Amenemhat wondered just how deeply she'd thought on this, and why she hadn't brought these ideas up to Somgi. Such comments, well spoken and without hesitation, were not simply dreamt up on the fly.
She'd probably have confronted me sooner or later if I didn't stage this meeting, he hypothesized.
She parroted the problems of Somgi's day, too. The slaves weren't to be malnourished. He thought it stupid, to deprive the lower echelons of the circus' hierarchy of their basic necessities. Was the circus not only as strong as its weakest part? It was an oversight, one drawn from the purest of greed without the capacity to make the profit needed to subsidize that greed. Then she shifted her focus again. It was true, that slaves rose above their station throughout the course of their time in the circus. It was, partly, why they had their stars. The Liu sisters reigned as the most talented members of the Tempest Clique, and while they had not yet gained the notoriety or experience to lead it...
Under my leadership, they'll have it. Talent should outweigh any sort of favouritism.
Somgi of Cairo had failed the circus so immensely that Amenemhat feared it might take years to eradicate the cancer that seeped deep within.
"Fitting advice. I was right to come to you, Delia. I'll stay my hand and allow for others to crack the whip in my stead. But, I can't keep my eyes too far. Some of these overzealous fucks might be too crazed. Power held by those that do not deserve or know how to wield it is a corrupting thing. Look at my predecessor, and you'll have your best example of that."
There was a rebuttal there, but he wasn't finished. He took his cup of tea, letting a sip wet his lips and tongue before he added,
"I'll let you take charge of what the performers are exposed to right away. Your career is well on its way, and you've the experience to deal with mitigating damage to our assets. But, you've already done that, haven't you? Just continue on, with my blessing on the matter."
On the matter of an open forum, he was more hesitant. There were ideas that were suggested simply because they could be. Wasting time in meetings wasn't what Nem cared to do. Assembling the whole circus meant entertaining the notions of newer members and having them weighed against older voices, the conflict between experience and youthful excitement... It seemed a disaster in the making, putting everyone together. In smaller groups, he could weigh his options and determine what was the best course of action.
"I don't agree with the idea of every voice being heard. We've compiled what works and what doesn't. Somgi was just too stoned and too lazy to give a shit about it, anymore. That's not to say my mind is not open. People who know what they're talking about and rise to the top will have their say."
Amenemhat narrowed his gaze for a moment before he shrugged his shoulder at the signs of concern in her voice. This stress, this weight on his shoulders, it was his destiny to bear that burden until it was overcome and the money started rolling back in. It was only a matter of time before his ambitions came to fruition and the circus could party themselves into oblivion at the first turn of a real profit. The idea was a motivation in it of itself, but with the added benefit of his ability to be disciplined to follow through on it.
"You've been there with me, every step of the way since I joined, Delia. I think the differences between Somgi and myself are obvious enough."
He never called the man father, a telling fact in it of itself.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Everything that Amenemhat sought after was within his reach. At the inception of his career, of his rise to power, it was all that he desired to have it begin with the correct approach. Already, there were new bodies that joined the circus' repertoire. He'd saved that man, Hamidi, incurring a life-debt from the man and it brought Amenemhat an efficient set of hands to serve him. He hadn't thought twice about bringing him in, and while his presence was still a new one, there was a reputation tied to his stature and demeanor that was useful.
Already, there were new principles put into play, and he worked to bring all that lived beneath his rule to follow them. Amenemhat did not rule a kingdom, he could not afford for anything to be let slip through his fingers. Being taken advantage of by vendors, slacking in receiving investments from his patrons... Somgi of Cairo left a mess in his wake, and now that Amenemhat was properly in charge of everything, there were fires to put out that might've engulfed the circus as a whole if he had not taken the reigns by force. The threats of revolt among the performers had begun to simmer down... Mistreatment of slaves was being addressed.
Amenemhat listened to Delia, never interrupting her when she moved at first to the comparisons between his and Somgi's character. Drugs were fun diversions, but never did he see a reason to indulge until his mind rotted from the exposure. Sex was a necessity, to satiate his desires and properly order his thoughts, but there was always some performer that was willing to throw herself at him. It was a benefit of the meticulous work he'd put in, keeping himself in the peak physical shape to keep up with the performers in the event that he needed to take the place of one. Seldom did that happen, but the emergency scenario was one he saw no reason not to prepare for.
She moved on, and he arched his eyebrows at the thoughts she expressed. It was logical, to separate oneself from the necessary discipline of the slaves. Somgi, more than once, took a whip to his slaves and while Nem wasn't against the practice, Delia made a good case for absolving himself of involvement. He had his enforcers to do that sort of work for him. Amenemhat wondered just how deeply she'd thought on this, and why she hadn't brought these ideas up to Somgi. Such comments, well spoken and without hesitation, were not simply dreamt up on the fly.
She'd probably have confronted me sooner or later if I didn't stage this meeting, he hypothesized.
She parroted the problems of Somgi's day, too. The slaves weren't to be malnourished. He thought it stupid, to deprive the lower echelons of the circus' hierarchy of their basic necessities. Was the circus not only as strong as its weakest part? It was an oversight, one drawn from the purest of greed without the capacity to make the profit needed to subsidize that greed. Then she shifted her focus again. It was true, that slaves rose above their station throughout the course of their time in the circus. It was, partly, why they had their stars. The Liu sisters reigned as the most talented members of the Tempest Clique, and while they had not yet gained the notoriety or experience to lead it...
Under my leadership, they'll have it. Talent should outweigh any sort of favouritism.
Somgi of Cairo had failed the circus so immensely that Amenemhat feared it might take years to eradicate the cancer that seeped deep within.
"Fitting advice. I was right to come to you, Delia. I'll stay my hand and allow for others to crack the whip in my stead. But, I can't keep my eyes too far. Some of these overzealous fucks might be too crazed. Power held by those that do not deserve or know how to wield it is a corrupting thing. Look at my predecessor, and you'll have your best example of that."
There was a rebuttal there, but he wasn't finished. He took his cup of tea, letting a sip wet his lips and tongue before he added,
"I'll let you take charge of what the performers are exposed to right away. Your career is well on its way, and you've the experience to deal with mitigating damage to our assets. But, you've already done that, haven't you? Just continue on, with my blessing on the matter."
On the matter of an open forum, he was more hesitant. There were ideas that were suggested simply because they could be. Wasting time in meetings wasn't what Nem cared to do. Assembling the whole circus meant entertaining the notions of newer members and having them weighed against older voices, the conflict between experience and youthful excitement... It seemed a disaster in the making, putting everyone together. In smaller groups, he could weigh his options and determine what was the best course of action.
"I don't agree with the idea of every voice being heard. We've compiled what works and what doesn't. Somgi was just too stoned and too lazy to give a shit about it, anymore. That's not to say my mind is not open. People who know what they're talking about and rise to the top will have their say."
Amenemhat narrowed his gaze for a moment before he shrugged his shoulder at the signs of concern in her voice. This stress, this weight on his shoulders, it was his destiny to bear that burden until it was overcome and the money started rolling back in. It was only a matter of time before his ambitions came to fruition and the circus could party themselves into oblivion at the first turn of a real profit. The idea was a motivation in it of itself, but with the added benefit of his ability to be disciplined to follow through on it.
"You've been there with me, every step of the way since I joined, Delia. I think the differences between Somgi and myself are obvious enough."
He never called the man father, a telling fact in it of itself.
Everything that Amenemhat sought after was within his reach. At the inception of his career, of his rise to power, it was all that he desired to have it begin with the correct approach. Already, there were new bodies that joined the circus' repertoire. He'd saved that man, Hamidi, incurring a life-debt from the man and it brought Amenemhat an efficient set of hands to serve him. He hadn't thought twice about bringing him in, and while his presence was still a new one, there was a reputation tied to his stature and demeanor that was useful.
Already, there were new principles put into play, and he worked to bring all that lived beneath his rule to follow them. Amenemhat did not rule a kingdom, he could not afford for anything to be let slip through his fingers. Being taken advantage of by vendors, slacking in receiving investments from his patrons... Somgi of Cairo left a mess in his wake, and now that Amenemhat was properly in charge of everything, there were fires to put out that might've engulfed the circus as a whole if he had not taken the reigns by force. The threats of revolt among the performers had begun to simmer down... Mistreatment of slaves was being addressed.
Amenemhat listened to Delia, never interrupting her when she moved at first to the comparisons between his and Somgi's character. Drugs were fun diversions, but never did he see a reason to indulge until his mind rotted from the exposure. Sex was a necessity, to satiate his desires and properly order his thoughts, but there was always some performer that was willing to throw herself at him. It was a benefit of the meticulous work he'd put in, keeping himself in the peak physical shape to keep up with the performers in the event that he needed to take the place of one. Seldom did that happen, but the emergency scenario was one he saw no reason not to prepare for.
She moved on, and he arched his eyebrows at the thoughts she expressed. It was logical, to separate oneself from the necessary discipline of the slaves. Somgi, more than once, took a whip to his slaves and while Nem wasn't against the practice, Delia made a good case for absolving himself of involvement. He had his enforcers to do that sort of work for him. Amenemhat wondered just how deeply she'd thought on this, and why she hadn't brought these ideas up to Somgi. Such comments, well spoken and without hesitation, were not simply dreamt up on the fly.
She'd probably have confronted me sooner or later if I didn't stage this meeting, he hypothesized.
She parroted the problems of Somgi's day, too. The slaves weren't to be malnourished. He thought it stupid, to deprive the lower echelons of the circus' hierarchy of their basic necessities. Was the circus not only as strong as its weakest part? It was an oversight, one drawn from the purest of greed without the capacity to make the profit needed to subsidize that greed. Then she shifted her focus again. It was true, that slaves rose above their station throughout the course of their time in the circus. It was, partly, why they had their stars. The Liu sisters reigned as the most talented members of the Tempest Clique, and while they had not yet gained the notoriety or experience to lead it...
Under my leadership, they'll have it. Talent should outweigh any sort of favouritism.
Somgi of Cairo had failed the circus so immensely that Amenemhat feared it might take years to eradicate the cancer that seeped deep within.
"Fitting advice. I was right to come to you, Delia. I'll stay my hand and allow for others to crack the whip in my stead. But, I can't keep my eyes too far. Some of these overzealous fucks might be too crazed. Power held by those that do not deserve or know how to wield it is a corrupting thing. Look at my predecessor, and you'll have your best example of that."
There was a rebuttal there, but he wasn't finished. He took his cup of tea, letting a sip wet his lips and tongue before he added,
"I'll let you take charge of what the performers are exposed to right away. Your career is well on its way, and you've the experience to deal with mitigating damage to our assets. But, you've already done that, haven't you? Just continue on, with my blessing on the matter."
On the matter of an open forum, he was more hesitant. There were ideas that were suggested simply because they could be. Wasting time in meetings wasn't what Nem cared to do. Assembling the whole circus meant entertaining the notions of newer members and having them weighed against older voices, the conflict between experience and youthful excitement... It seemed a disaster in the making, putting everyone together. In smaller groups, he could weigh his options and determine what was the best course of action.
"I don't agree with the idea of every voice being heard. We've compiled what works and what doesn't. Somgi was just too stoned and too lazy to give a shit about it, anymore. That's not to say my mind is not open. People who know what they're talking about and rise to the top will have their say."
Amenemhat narrowed his gaze for a moment before he shrugged his shoulder at the signs of concern in her voice. This stress, this weight on his shoulders, it was his destiny to bear that burden until it was overcome and the money started rolling back in. It was only a matter of time before his ambitions came to fruition and the circus could party themselves into oblivion at the first turn of a real profit. The idea was a motivation in it of itself, but with the added benefit of his ability to be disciplined to follow through on it.
"You've been there with me, every step of the way since I joined, Delia. I think the differences between Somgi and myself are obvious enough."
He never called the man father, a telling fact in it of itself.
Delia’s lips curved as the man praised her, took her advice. Somgi never had—she’d been nothing but a pretty face with skill. “Oh, why don’t you hire that new guy…” She paused like she had to think about what his name was, though Amenemhat would know that Delia rarely forgot a name, and might be aware that she’d sent Hamidi from her tent only a half-hour prior to his arrival. “…Hamidi? He owes the circus—he owes you. Let me instruct him on how to treat the slaves?” She leaned to refill her cup, humming quietly.
She had been getting to know Hamidi in the few weeks since his arrival, as was her duty. He was not harmless, but he was loyal—and the ringmaster, more or less, saved him and gave him a home. It was not something she thought their newest member would forget. “If he gets too used to the power… well,” she smirked, flicking the side of her cup, “you have means to deal with that.” It was a humbling thought, knowing that anyone who stepped out of line and refused to be reined in could be dealt with; by various members of their little society.
The circus was a castle built of carefully placed cards, built of carefully forged chains. One wrong move, one wrong decision, and it’d all come toppling down. There were ways to brainwash people into following their rules; their societal structure; to worship Amenemhat. There were also ways to kill them, pour their blood upon the sand, and grow the circus from their death.
Though Delia’s reasons for loyalty were different; a sense of power, of belonging. She held all the secrets, all of the trust, watchful eyes caught almost everything, a kind touch got what she didn’t catch with her sight.
When he brought up her damage control, the corners of her lips twitched. “The performers aren’t the happiest, yet. But they will be.” She swirled the tea in her cup, quietly watching the liquid. “We need new equipment, some of them need to be re-trained, a lot have grown lazy.” Her words are quiet, “One or two of them need to be shoved into the spotlight and fall from grace—” Her gaze left her cup, as she smoothly replied, “—they believe themselves better than they are. And there are the Liu sisters… talented young women, but they need a talented group of performers to show up on-stage. We need to really mix and match who’s training with whom—everyone should be trained with everyone else.”
Delia shifted in her seat. When he hesitated to address the open forum idea, she assumed it was a no—and was not surprised when it was such. It was phrased carefully, considerately. It made her feel… needed; like she was almost an equal. “Mmm… you make good points, we know what works and what does not. And we have a competent ringmaster, now.” She praised, quietly.
He seemed briefly upset, the slight narrow to his gaze, at her concern for him and she shrugged. “And I’ll be here until the day that I die, Nem. Somgi gave me a home, but…” she shrugged, “…it was a rotting home, falling to pieces before it ever saw the sunrise. You’re everything the circus needs,” she moved to stand, draining the last of her tea. “and everything the circus deserves. A new dawn.”
She was quiet, standing in place as she surveyed the man in front of her. “How is Kesi?”
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Check out their information page here.
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Delia’s lips curved as the man praised her, took her advice. Somgi never had—she’d been nothing but a pretty face with skill. “Oh, why don’t you hire that new guy…” She paused like she had to think about what his name was, though Amenemhat would know that Delia rarely forgot a name, and might be aware that she’d sent Hamidi from her tent only a half-hour prior to his arrival. “…Hamidi? He owes the circus—he owes you. Let me instruct him on how to treat the slaves?” She leaned to refill her cup, humming quietly.
She had been getting to know Hamidi in the few weeks since his arrival, as was her duty. He was not harmless, but he was loyal—and the ringmaster, more or less, saved him and gave him a home. It was not something she thought their newest member would forget. “If he gets too used to the power… well,” she smirked, flicking the side of her cup, “you have means to deal with that.” It was a humbling thought, knowing that anyone who stepped out of line and refused to be reined in could be dealt with; by various members of their little society.
The circus was a castle built of carefully placed cards, built of carefully forged chains. One wrong move, one wrong decision, and it’d all come toppling down. There were ways to brainwash people into following their rules; their societal structure; to worship Amenemhat. There were also ways to kill them, pour their blood upon the sand, and grow the circus from their death.
Though Delia’s reasons for loyalty were different; a sense of power, of belonging. She held all the secrets, all of the trust, watchful eyes caught almost everything, a kind touch got what she didn’t catch with her sight.
When he brought up her damage control, the corners of her lips twitched. “The performers aren’t the happiest, yet. But they will be.” She swirled the tea in her cup, quietly watching the liquid. “We need new equipment, some of them need to be re-trained, a lot have grown lazy.” Her words are quiet, “One or two of them need to be shoved into the spotlight and fall from grace—” Her gaze left her cup, as she smoothly replied, “—they believe themselves better than they are. And there are the Liu sisters… talented young women, but they need a talented group of performers to show up on-stage. We need to really mix and match who’s training with whom—everyone should be trained with everyone else.”
Delia shifted in her seat. When he hesitated to address the open forum idea, she assumed it was a no—and was not surprised when it was such. It was phrased carefully, considerately. It made her feel… needed; like she was almost an equal. “Mmm… you make good points, we know what works and what does not. And we have a competent ringmaster, now.” She praised, quietly.
He seemed briefly upset, the slight narrow to his gaze, at her concern for him and she shrugged. “And I’ll be here until the day that I die, Nem. Somgi gave me a home, but…” she shrugged, “…it was a rotting home, falling to pieces before it ever saw the sunrise. You’re everything the circus needs,” she moved to stand, draining the last of her tea. “and everything the circus deserves. A new dawn.”
She was quiet, standing in place as she surveyed the man in front of her. “How is Kesi?”
Delia’s lips curved as the man praised her, took her advice. Somgi never had—she’d been nothing but a pretty face with skill. “Oh, why don’t you hire that new guy…” She paused like she had to think about what his name was, though Amenemhat would know that Delia rarely forgot a name, and might be aware that she’d sent Hamidi from her tent only a half-hour prior to his arrival. “…Hamidi? He owes the circus—he owes you. Let me instruct him on how to treat the slaves?” She leaned to refill her cup, humming quietly.
She had been getting to know Hamidi in the few weeks since his arrival, as was her duty. He was not harmless, but he was loyal—and the ringmaster, more or less, saved him and gave him a home. It was not something she thought their newest member would forget. “If he gets too used to the power… well,” she smirked, flicking the side of her cup, “you have means to deal with that.” It was a humbling thought, knowing that anyone who stepped out of line and refused to be reined in could be dealt with; by various members of their little society.
The circus was a castle built of carefully placed cards, built of carefully forged chains. One wrong move, one wrong decision, and it’d all come toppling down. There were ways to brainwash people into following their rules; their societal structure; to worship Amenemhat. There were also ways to kill them, pour their blood upon the sand, and grow the circus from their death.
Though Delia’s reasons for loyalty were different; a sense of power, of belonging. She held all the secrets, all of the trust, watchful eyes caught almost everything, a kind touch got what she didn’t catch with her sight.
When he brought up her damage control, the corners of her lips twitched. “The performers aren’t the happiest, yet. But they will be.” She swirled the tea in her cup, quietly watching the liquid. “We need new equipment, some of them need to be re-trained, a lot have grown lazy.” Her words are quiet, “One or two of them need to be shoved into the spotlight and fall from grace—” Her gaze left her cup, as she smoothly replied, “—they believe themselves better than they are. And there are the Liu sisters… talented young women, but they need a talented group of performers to show up on-stage. We need to really mix and match who’s training with whom—everyone should be trained with everyone else.”
Delia shifted in her seat. When he hesitated to address the open forum idea, she assumed it was a no—and was not surprised when it was such. It was phrased carefully, considerately. It made her feel… needed; like she was almost an equal. “Mmm… you make good points, we know what works and what does not. And we have a competent ringmaster, now.” She praised, quietly.
He seemed briefly upset, the slight narrow to his gaze, at her concern for him and she shrugged. “And I’ll be here until the day that I die, Nem. Somgi gave me a home, but…” she shrugged, “…it was a rotting home, falling to pieces before it ever saw the sunrise. You’re everything the circus needs,” she moved to stand, draining the last of her tea. “and everything the circus deserves. A new dawn.”
She was quiet, standing in place as she surveyed the man in front of her. “How is Kesi?”
Hamidi?
The Bedoan was a new find, someone who hadn't quite found his footing in the circus. But, he was acquainting himself with the large cats from a previous interest he'd had. It was a fitting role for him. His current beast master was getting old, and more importantly, had a couple accidents under his belt because of it. It was better for someone to train under him and handle the rigors that came with being in charge of those creatures.
But... placing him in charge of slaves, too? Of course, it wouldn't just be him. Delia's instruction would be instrumental in all of that, and it was... easy enough to trust her in that task. She was steady enough to be kind to those who needed it, and assertive enough to knock Hamidi down if he got out of line. There wasn't much in the way of proof or camaraderie there. Hamidi owed Nem a debt, and he was pleased to have the man around. If only as an investment that would pay its cost in dividends in the near future. This was a good idea.
"I'll let you have him, sure. Keep him in one piece for me, please," he added, a chuckle on his lips as they moved on to the more relevant bits. Hamidi was a novel idea, a single man in a greater operation. Now, Delia went on to look at the entire picture. Of course they weren't happy. Amenemhat was bringing in ideas that should've been implemented years ago. Somgi of Cairo, with his stranglehold on the circus, never had the gall to make changes.
Times change and progress cannot be impeded. Amenhotep's age is over, and making a poor mimicry of it is the visage of death hanging over us.
He hated the idea that his fantasy, the ambition of his life, could be soeasily ruined in a hypothetical. They were at their most vulnerable, but also at a crossing of destiny. Everything that happened now would shape their success or failure. Laziness and obsolescence were the trials they had to overcome now, and that much was... not easy, but it was do-able. And he'd ensure that it was done.
"I have a good enough sense of the performers and their capacities, but... they don't know mine yet. I've been relegated to the role of an observer, to an act when the act is unable to perform. The circus still sees me as a boy. Soon, they'll see otherwise. I need more than just you to see the competence," he added.
His thoughts were unfiltered, giving Delia a sense of what he saw the lay of the land to be. Their thoughts were mostly aligned, and her assurances that she'd be here until she died... it was enough to reassure him that his decision was correct. Placing Delia in a position of power that she basically already had... it was foolish for Somgi to make people do the things he didn't want to do without giving them the due authority to do so.
Delia's authority would be her recommendation along with the signs that Nem supported her decision making.
"Let's shake the rot away and make it what it used to be," he said, closing the matter so that he could address her question.
"Kesi seems liberated, in a lot of ways. Somgi treated her like dirt, and it might take time for her to adjust... Or not. Who really knows with her?" he added, with a chuckle.
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Hamidi?
The Bedoan was a new find, someone who hadn't quite found his footing in the circus. But, he was acquainting himself with the large cats from a previous interest he'd had. It was a fitting role for him. His current beast master was getting old, and more importantly, had a couple accidents under his belt because of it. It was better for someone to train under him and handle the rigors that came with being in charge of those creatures.
But... placing him in charge of slaves, too? Of course, it wouldn't just be him. Delia's instruction would be instrumental in all of that, and it was... easy enough to trust her in that task. She was steady enough to be kind to those who needed it, and assertive enough to knock Hamidi down if he got out of line. There wasn't much in the way of proof or camaraderie there. Hamidi owed Nem a debt, and he was pleased to have the man around. If only as an investment that would pay its cost in dividends in the near future. This was a good idea.
"I'll let you have him, sure. Keep him in one piece for me, please," he added, a chuckle on his lips as they moved on to the more relevant bits. Hamidi was a novel idea, a single man in a greater operation. Now, Delia went on to look at the entire picture. Of course they weren't happy. Amenemhat was bringing in ideas that should've been implemented years ago. Somgi of Cairo, with his stranglehold on the circus, never had the gall to make changes.
Times change and progress cannot be impeded. Amenhotep's age is over, and making a poor mimicry of it is the visage of death hanging over us.
He hated the idea that his fantasy, the ambition of his life, could be soeasily ruined in a hypothetical. They were at their most vulnerable, but also at a crossing of destiny. Everything that happened now would shape their success or failure. Laziness and obsolescence were the trials they had to overcome now, and that much was... not easy, but it was do-able. And he'd ensure that it was done.
"I have a good enough sense of the performers and their capacities, but... they don't know mine yet. I've been relegated to the role of an observer, to an act when the act is unable to perform. The circus still sees me as a boy. Soon, they'll see otherwise. I need more than just you to see the competence," he added.
His thoughts were unfiltered, giving Delia a sense of what he saw the lay of the land to be. Their thoughts were mostly aligned, and her assurances that she'd be here until she died... it was enough to reassure him that his decision was correct. Placing Delia in a position of power that she basically already had... it was foolish for Somgi to make people do the things he didn't want to do without giving them the due authority to do so.
Delia's authority would be her recommendation along with the signs that Nem supported her decision making.
"Let's shake the rot away and make it what it used to be," he said, closing the matter so that he could address her question.
"Kesi seems liberated, in a lot of ways. Somgi treated her like dirt, and it might take time for her to adjust... Or not. Who really knows with her?" he added, with a chuckle.
Hamidi?
The Bedoan was a new find, someone who hadn't quite found his footing in the circus. But, he was acquainting himself with the large cats from a previous interest he'd had. It was a fitting role for him. His current beast master was getting old, and more importantly, had a couple accidents under his belt because of it. It was better for someone to train under him and handle the rigors that came with being in charge of those creatures.
But... placing him in charge of slaves, too? Of course, it wouldn't just be him. Delia's instruction would be instrumental in all of that, and it was... easy enough to trust her in that task. She was steady enough to be kind to those who needed it, and assertive enough to knock Hamidi down if he got out of line. There wasn't much in the way of proof or camaraderie there. Hamidi owed Nem a debt, and he was pleased to have the man around. If only as an investment that would pay its cost in dividends in the near future. This was a good idea.
"I'll let you have him, sure. Keep him in one piece for me, please," he added, a chuckle on his lips as they moved on to the more relevant bits. Hamidi was a novel idea, a single man in a greater operation. Now, Delia went on to look at the entire picture. Of course they weren't happy. Amenemhat was bringing in ideas that should've been implemented years ago. Somgi of Cairo, with his stranglehold on the circus, never had the gall to make changes.
Times change and progress cannot be impeded. Amenhotep's age is over, and making a poor mimicry of it is the visage of death hanging over us.
He hated the idea that his fantasy, the ambition of his life, could be soeasily ruined in a hypothetical. They were at their most vulnerable, but also at a crossing of destiny. Everything that happened now would shape their success or failure. Laziness and obsolescence were the trials they had to overcome now, and that much was... not easy, but it was do-able. And he'd ensure that it was done.
"I have a good enough sense of the performers and their capacities, but... they don't know mine yet. I've been relegated to the role of an observer, to an act when the act is unable to perform. The circus still sees me as a boy. Soon, they'll see otherwise. I need more than just you to see the competence," he added.
His thoughts were unfiltered, giving Delia a sense of what he saw the lay of the land to be. Their thoughts were mostly aligned, and her assurances that she'd be here until she died... it was enough to reassure him that his decision was correct. Placing Delia in a position of power that she basically already had... it was foolish for Somgi to make people do the things he didn't want to do without giving them the due authority to do so.
Delia's authority would be her recommendation along with the signs that Nem supported her decision making.
"Let's shake the rot away and make it what it used to be," he said, closing the matter so that he could address her question.
"Kesi seems liberated, in a lot of ways. Somgi treated her like dirt, and it might take time for her to adjust... Or not. Who really knows with her?" he added, with a chuckle.
Delia’s lips tugged into a grin at Nem’s request and choice of words. “Of course, he’ll remain in one piece. He… might get a burn or two, if I find he needs encouragement,” she shrugged like it was nothing, and truthfully, Delia was not often cruel. There was little reason to be cruel when most of the circus-members trusted her in some way. However, she does not address just what kind of burn Hamidi might sustain under her careful hands.
When their discussion moved past Hamidi, she nodded solemnly. “They need to learn to see again, yes. So many of them are blinded by their desires, greed, lack of ambition…” She sneered as she said the words, so many performers had fallen into Somgi’s likeness.
The topic closed, and she smiled.
Young Amenemhat was going to bring the circus back to life. The fantasies of a circus that was something better—something to be proud of being part of was just a reach away. She had watched it crumble, and it was with great honor to her that she’d get to have a hand in rebuilding it.
We are recreating it—the perfect home.
When he addressed her question, she hummed. “Somgi did treat her like dirt. I’m glad she’s starting to adjust.” She paused, thinking back in time for just a moment. “If she needs any help adjusting, or you need any help with her, let me know.” She didn’t mean it in a bad way, but Kesi was a handful at times.
Without Somgi around, who knew how the young woman would adjust to the circus. He might need more help than usual.
“So, I’ll work with Hamidi on handling the slaves. I’ll talk with the performers, ensure training schedules are kept up with…” She hummed softly, there would be pushback from the lazier performers regarding training.
“The circus will be a proper family under your reign, Nem. I look forward to it.”
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Delia’s lips tugged into a grin at Nem’s request and choice of words. “Of course, he’ll remain in one piece. He… might get a burn or two, if I find he needs encouragement,” she shrugged like it was nothing, and truthfully, Delia was not often cruel. There was little reason to be cruel when most of the circus-members trusted her in some way. However, she does not address just what kind of burn Hamidi might sustain under her careful hands.
When their discussion moved past Hamidi, she nodded solemnly. “They need to learn to see again, yes. So many of them are blinded by their desires, greed, lack of ambition…” She sneered as she said the words, so many performers had fallen into Somgi’s likeness.
The topic closed, and she smiled.
Young Amenemhat was going to bring the circus back to life. The fantasies of a circus that was something better—something to be proud of being part of was just a reach away. She had watched it crumble, and it was with great honor to her that she’d get to have a hand in rebuilding it.
We are recreating it—the perfect home.
When he addressed her question, she hummed. “Somgi did treat her like dirt. I’m glad she’s starting to adjust.” She paused, thinking back in time for just a moment. “If she needs any help adjusting, or you need any help with her, let me know.” She didn’t mean it in a bad way, but Kesi was a handful at times.
Without Somgi around, who knew how the young woman would adjust to the circus. He might need more help than usual.
“So, I’ll work with Hamidi on handling the slaves. I’ll talk with the performers, ensure training schedules are kept up with…” She hummed softly, there would be pushback from the lazier performers regarding training.
“The circus will be a proper family under your reign, Nem. I look forward to it.”
Delia’s lips tugged into a grin at Nem’s request and choice of words. “Of course, he’ll remain in one piece. He… might get a burn or two, if I find he needs encouragement,” she shrugged like it was nothing, and truthfully, Delia was not often cruel. There was little reason to be cruel when most of the circus-members trusted her in some way. However, she does not address just what kind of burn Hamidi might sustain under her careful hands.
When their discussion moved past Hamidi, she nodded solemnly. “They need to learn to see again, yes. So many of them are blinded by their desires, greed, lack of ambition…” She sneered as she said the words, so many performers had fallen into Somgi’s likeness.
The topic closed, and she smiled.
Young Amenemhat was going to bring the circus back to life. The fantasies of a circus that was something better—something to be proud of being part of was just a reach away. She had watched it crumble, and it was with great honor to her that she’d get to have a hand in rebuilding it.
We are recreating it—the perfect home.
When he addressed her question, she hummed. “Somgi did treat her like dirt. I’m glad she’s starting to adjust.” She paused, thinking back in time for just a moment. “If she needs any help adjusting, or you need any help with her, let me know.” She didn’t mean it in a bad way, but Kesi was a handful at times.
Without Somgi around, who knew how the young woman would adjust to the circus. He might need more help than usual.
“So, I’ll work with Hamidi on handling the slaves. I’ll talk with the performers, ensure training schedules are kept up with…” She hummed softly, there would be pushback from the lazier performers regarding training.
“The circus will be a proper family under your reign, Nem. I look forward to it.”