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The circus was almost always busy, even when it didn’t look it. There was always something going on behind-the-scenes, but that did not mean that Delia never left the circus, there were plenty of capable people in the circus, watching after everything; she could take time away to shop for herself. Though she always felt guilty, because she should train, or helping others with their training, or helping with their acts.
She was… too involved. A bit of a stickler, determined, ambitious and focused. The circus was home, the people within the circus were family, and she wanted them to have the best; for each act to be perfect. But after watching someone almost stick their arm into one of the cat’s cages, she’d decided she definitely deserved a break. A break without the rest of the family. No mother wanted their children trailing after her all the time.
Delia was browsing more than she was shopping. She had some items in her tent to trade away, if she chose too; old Greek clothing, things that she kept purely for memories than usability. Though some of her clothes from her homeland were more comfortable for her (though her Grecian clothing meant she stood out). She tried to fit in—really; she did. There was just a level of comfort that the familiar clothing offered her.
Though, even with the wonderful memories, the Grecian styles brought back terrible memories too. Possibly more good than bad, but… Fourteen years was a long time to hold tightly to the past. She realized that, and so, she was going to make a list of items she appreciated—what did she like, what might she wear. It was a lot easier to consider after finally dancing in just body paint, like most of the surrounding performers.
Still weird, but… not as bad.
Though her ego would never recover from the fact Nem was right. She was sure he’d hold it over her head until the day she died, too. Fourteen years of winning that battle up in smoke. Literally. She had entered the market, and was absently skimming items, fabrics. Fingers reached out to brush along pillows and tug at this or that.
She wasn’t really paying attention, though, not until she had found a stall of jewelry, fingers trailing across the precious object, until the man selling the wares caught her attention. She asked some questions about the jewelry, before a familiar body captured her gaze.
“Zein!” She called, departing from the vendor with little thought.
The circus was almost always busy, even when it didn’t look it. There was always something going on behind-the-scenes, but that did not mean that Delia never left the circus, there were plenty of capable people in the circus, watching after everything; she could take time away to shop for herself. Though she always felt guilty, because she should train, or helping others with their training, or helping with their acts.
She was… too involved. A bit of a stickler, determined, ambitious and focused. The circus was home, the people within the circus were family, and she wanted them to have the best; for each act to be perfect. But after watching someone almost stick their arm into one of the cat’s cages, she’d decided she definitely deserved a break. A break without the rest of the family. No mother wanted their children trailing after her all the time.
Delia was browsing more than she was shopping. She had some items in her tent to trade away, if she chose too; old Greek clothing, things that she kept purely for memories than usability. Though some of her clothes from her homeland were more comfortable for her (though her Grecian clothing meant she stood out). She tried to fit in—really; she did. There was just a level of comfort that the familiar clothing offered her.
Though, even with the wonderful memories, the Grecian styles brought back terrible memories too. Possibly more good than bad, but… Fourteen years was a long time to hold tightly to the past. She realized that, and so, she was going to make a list of items she appreciated—what did she like, what might she wear. It was a lot easier to consider after finally dancing in just body paint, like most of the surrounding performers.
Still weird, but… not as bad.
Though her ego would never recover from the fact Nem was right. She was sure he’d hold it over her head until the day she died, too. Fourteen years of winning that battle up in smoke. Literally. She had entered the market, and was absently skimming items, fabrics. Fingers reached out to brush along pillows and tug at this or that.
She wasn’t really paying attention, though, not until she had found a stall of jewelry, fingers trailing across the precious object, until the man selling the wares caught her attention. She asked some questions about the jewelry, before a familiar body captured her gaze.
“Zein!” She called, departing from the vendor with little thought.
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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The circus was almost always busy, even when it didn’t look it. There was always something going on behind-the-scenes, but that did not mean that Delia never left the circus, there were plenty of capable people in the circus, watching after everything; she could take time away to shop for herself. Though she always felt guilty, because she should train, or helping others with their training, or helping with their acts.
She was… too involved. A bit of a stickler, determined, ambitious and focused. The circus was home, the people within the circus were family, and she wanted them to have the best; for each act to be perfect. But after watching someone almost stick their arm into one of the cat’s cages, she’d decided she definitely deserved a break. A break without the rest of the family. No mother wanted their children trailing after her all the time.
Delia was browsing more than she was shopping. She had some items in her tent to trade away, if she chose too; old Greek clothing, things that she kept purely for memories than usability. Though some of her clothes from her homeland were more comfortable for her (though her Grecian clothing meant she stood out). She tried to fit in—really; she did. There was just a level of comfort that the familiar clothing offered her.
Though, even with the wonderful memories, the Grecian styles brought back terrible memories too. Possibly more good than bad, but… Fourteen years was a long time to hold tightly to the past. She realized that, and so, she was going to make a list of items she appreciated—what did she like, what might she wear. It was a lot easier to consider after finally dancing in just body paint, like most of the surrounding performers.
Still weird, but… not as bad.
Though her ego would never recover from the fact Nem was right. She was sure he’d hold it over her head until the day she died, too. Fourteen years of winning that battle up in smoke. Literally. She had entered the market, and was absently skimming items, fabrics. Fingers reached out to brush along pillows and tug at this or that.
She wasn’t really paying attention, though, not until she had found a stall of jewelry, fingers trailing across the precious object, until the man selling the wares caught her attention. She asked some questions about the jewelry, before a familiar body captured her gaze.
“Zein!” She called, departing from the vendor with little thought.
The circus was almost always busy, even when it didn’t look it. There was always something going on behind-the-scenes, but that did not mean that Delia never left the circus, there were plenty of capable people in the circus, watching after everything; she could take time away to shop for herself. Though she always felt guilty, because she should train, or helping others with their training, or helping with their acts.
She was… too involved. A bit of a stickler, determined, ambitious and focused. The circus was home, the people within the circus were family, and she wanted them to have the best; for each act to be perfect. But after watching someone almost stick their arm into one of the cat’s cages, she’d decided she definitely deserved a break. A break without the rest of the family. No mother wanted their children trailing after her all the time.
Delia was browsing more than she was shopping. She had some items in her tent to trade away, if she chose too; old Greek clothing, things that she kept purely for memories than usability. Though some of her clothes from her homeland were more comfortable for her (though her Grecian clothing meant she stood out). She tried to fit in—really; she did. There was just a level of comfort that the familiar clothing offered her.
Though, even with the wonderful memories, the Grecian styles brought back terrible memories too. Possibly more good than bad, but… Fourteen years was a long time to hold tightly to the past. She realized that, and so, she was going to make a list of items she appreciated—what did she like, what might she wear. It was a lot easier to consider after finally dancing in just body paint, like most of the surrounding performers.
Still weird, but… not as bad.
Though her ego would never recover from the fact Nem was right. She was sure he’d hold it over her head until the day she died, too. Fourteen years of winning that battle up in smoke. Literally. She had entered the market, and was absently skimming items, fabrics. Fingers reached out to brush along pillows and tug at this or that.
She wasn’t really paying attention, though, not until she had found a stall of jewelry, fingers trailing across the precious object, until the man selling the wares caught her attention. She asked some questions about the jewelry, before a familiar body captured her gaze.
“Zein!” She called, departing from the vendor with little thought.
The circus was almost always busy, even when it didn’t look it. There was always something going on behind-the-scenes, but that did not mean that Delia never left the circus, there were plenty of capable people in the circus, watching after everything; she could take time away to shop for herself. Though she always felt guilty, because she should train, or helping others with their training, or helping with their acts.
She was… too involved. A bit of a stickler, determined, ambitious and focused. The circus was home, the people within the circus were family, and she wanted them to have the best; for each act to be perfect. But after watching someone almost stick their arm into one of the cat’s cages, she’d decided she definitely deserved a break. A break without the rest of the family. No mother wanted their children trailing after her all the time.
Delia was browsing more than she was shopping. She had some items in her tent to trade away, if she chose too; old Greek clothing, things that she kept purely for memories than usability. Though some of her clothes from her homeland were more comfortable for her (though her Grecian clothing meant she stood out). She tried to fit in—really; she did. There was just a level of comfort that the familiar clothing offered her.
Though, even with the wonderful memories, the Grecian styles brought back terrible memories too. Possibly more good than bad, but… Fourteen years was a long time to hold tightly to the past. She realized that, and so, she was going to make a list of items she appreciated—what did she like, what might she wear. It was a lot easier to consider after finally dancing in just body paint, like most of the surrounding performers.
Still weird, but… not as bad.
Though her ego would never recover from the fact Nem was right. She was sure he’d hold it over her head until the day she died, too. Fourteen years of winning that battle up in smoke. Literally. She had entered the market, and was absently skimming items, fabrics. Fingers reached out to brush along pillows and tug at this or that.
She wasn’t really paying attention, though, not until she had found a stall of jewelry, fingers trailing across the precious object, until the man selling the wares caught her attention. She asked some questions about the jewelry, before a familiar body captured her gaze.
“Zein!” She called, departing from the vendor with little thought.
The circus was almost always busy, even when it didn’t look it. There was always something going on behind-the-scenes, but that did not mean that Delia never left the circus, there were plenty of capable people in the circus, watching after everything; she could take time away to shop for herself. Though she always felt guilty, because she should train, or helping others with their training, or helping with their acts.
She was… too involved. A bit of a stickler, determined, ambitious and focused. The circus was home, the people within the circus were family, and she wanted them to have the best; for each act to be perfect. But after watching someone almost stick their arm into one of the cat’s cages, she’d decided she definitely deserved a break. A break without the rest of the family. No mother wanted their children trailing after her all the time.
Delia was browsing more than she was shopping. She had some items in her tent to trade away, if she chose too; old Greek clothing, things that she kept purely for memories than usability. Though some of her clothes from her homeland were more comfortable for her (though her Grecian clothing meant she stood out). She tried to fit in—really; she did. There was just a level of comfort that the familiar clothing offered her.
Though, even with the wonderful memories, the Grecian styles brought back terrible memories too. Possibly more good than bad, but… Fourteen years was a long time to hold tightly to the past. She realized that, and so, she was going to make a list of items she appreciated—what did she like, what might she wear. It was a lot easier to consider after finally dancing in just body paint, like most of the surrounding performers.
Still weird, but… not as bad.
Though her ego would never recover from the fact Nem was right. She was sure he’d hold it over her head until the day she died, too. Fourteen years of winning that battle up in smoke. Literally. She had entered the market, and was absently skimming items, fabrics. Fingers reached out to brush along pillows and tug at this or that.
She wasn’t really paying attention, though, not until she had found a stall of jewelry, fingers trailing across the precious object, until the man selling the wares caught her attention. She asked some questions about the jewelry, before a familiar body captured her gaze.
“Zein!” She called, departing from the vendor with little thought.
Free time often found Zein leaving wherever the circus had camped. It turned out that a life of traveling alone meant that staying put with a group was an unfamiliar feeling. Zein was not sure that he would ever completely get used to circus life, even if he was enjoying it. His soul was one that was meant to wander, to be free of others. He had never truly had a family and even though he was gaining one amongst some of the members, it still did not feel like home. If he even knew what home was. Zein was sure that he was always meant to wander.
However, for now, he was doing his best staying put. He was enjoying his time performing with the circus. For one, he reached much larger crowds than he ever had on the streets. The payoff was huge. It also meant that he could try more things than he ever had before. The stunts he tried were both daring and completely thrilling. He ever had found a partner to perform with—one that made him miss Somra, but filled him with a thrill so deep that even he couldn’t complain when she rebuffed his advances. Zein had long since stopped truly trying, but his flirting had become more of a joke, something for the performances. Besides, Zein knew who really had eyes for Delia in a way that was more than passing and he wasn’t going to come between that. In fact, he rather wanted to encourage it, but refrained from giving that type of advice to the fire dancer. He was hardly a reliable subject on the matter for one and he preferred not to lose his hard won trust over the feelings of the heart. Poor Hamidi would have to find someone else to be his champion—or better yet, be his own champion.
Zein was hardly one to be afraid of rejection—in fact, it was almost encouraging to him. Rejection made people more interesting to him. A woman that easily accepted his advances was boring. One that gave him a reason to try was someone worth paying attention to. That was what led him to the market today. He’d been chasing after a particular woman for a few days now and was looking for something to impress her with. Not that he could claim to know what goods women tended to like. Zein was hoping that he would find something that would catch his eye and that it would also be appealing to her. Or that she simply would be impressed by his effort.
He was wandering the stalls, half looking at the objects for sale, half daydreaming when he heard a familiar voice. Delia was greeted with a broad grin and a slight shake of the head as Zein noted how she left a vendor without a thought. It really was a shame that she wasn’t interested in him…
“Delia!” he replied, closing the space between them in a few steps. The two of them might appear a couple—they had a natural chemistry that seemed to come alive on stage. Although they weren’t together, they certainly were inspiring together.
“Just the person I need right now,” he remarked. She would know what sort of trinkets women would like. “I’m looking for a gift, but I’m afraid I don’t know what to get. What sorts of things do women like?”
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.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Free time often found Zein leaving wherever the circus had camped. It turned out that a life of traveling alone meant that staying put with a group was an unfamiliar feeling. Zein was not sure that he would ever completely get used to circus life, even if he was enjoying it. His soul was one that was meant to wander, to be free of others. He had never truly had a family and even though he was gaining one amongst some of the members, it still did not feel like home. If he even knew what home was. Zein was sure that he was always meant to wander.
However, for now, he was doing his best staying put. He was enjoying his time performing with the circus. For one, he reached much larger crowds than he ever had on the streets. The payoff was huge. It also meant that he could try more things than he ever had before. The stunts he tried were both daring and completely thrilling. He ever had found a partner to perform with—one that made him miss Somra, but filled him with a thrill so deep that even he couldn’t complain when she rebuffed his advances. Zein had long since stopped truly trying, but his flirting had become more of a joke, something for the performances. Besides, Zein knew who really had eyes for Delia in a way that was more than passing and he wasn’t going to come between that. In fact, he rather wanted to encourage it, but refrained from giving that type of advice to the fire dancer. He was hardly a reliable subject on the matter for one and he preferred not to lose his hard won trust over the feelings of the heart. Poor Hamidi would have to find someone else to be his champion—or better yet, be his own champion.
Zein was hardly one to be afraid of rejection—in fact, it was almost encouraging to him. Rejection made people more interesting to him. A woman that easily accepted his advances was boring. One that gave him a reason to try was someone worth paying attention to. That was what led him to the market today. He’d been chasing after a particular woman for a few days now and was looking for something to impress her with. Not that he could claim to know what goods women tended to like. Zein was hoping that he would find something that would catch his eye and that it would also be appealing to her. Or that she simply would be impressed by his effort.
He was wandering the stalls, half looking at the objects for sale, half daydreaming when he heard a familiar voice. Delia was greeted with a broad grin and a slight shake of the head as Zein noted how she left a vendor without a thought. It really was a shame that she wasn’t interested in him…
“Delia!” he replied, closing the space between them in a few steps. The two of them might appear a couple—they had a natural chemistry that seemed to come alive on stage. Although they weren’t together, they certainly were inspiring together.
“Just the person I need right now,” he remarked. She would know what sort of trinkets women would like. “I’m looking for a gift, but I’m afraid I don’t know what to get. What sorts of things do women like?”
Free time often found Zein leaving wherever the circus had camped. It turned out that a life of traveling alone meant that staying put with a group was an unfamiliar feeling. Zein was not sure that he would ever completely get used to circus life, even if he was enjoying it. His soul was one that was meant to wander, to be free of others. He had never truly had a family and even though he was gaining one amongst some of the members, it still did not feel like home. If he even knew what home was. Zein was sure that he was always meant to wander.
However, for now, he was doing his best staying put. He was enjoying his time performing with the circus. For one, he reached much larger crowds than he ever had on the streets. The payoff was huge. It also meant that he could try more things than he ever had before. The stunts he tried were both daring and completely thrilling. He ever had found a partner to perform with—one that made him miss Somra, but filled him with a thrill so deep that even he couldn’t complain when she rebuffed his advances. Zein had long since stopped truly trying, but his flirting had become more of a joke, something for the performances. Besides, Zein knew who really had eyes for Delia in a way that was more than passing and he wasn’t going to come between that. In fact, he rather wanted to encourage it, but refrained from giving that type of advice to the fire dancer. He was hardly a reliable subject on the matter for one and he preferred not to lose his hard won trust over the feelings of the heart. Poor Hamidi would have to find someone else to be his champion—or better yet, be his own champion.
Zein was hardly one to be afraid of rejection—in fact, it was almost encouraging to him. Rejection made people more interesting to him. A woman that easily accepted his advances was boring. One that gave him a reason to try was someone worth paying attention to. That was what led him to the market today. He’d been chasing after a particular woman for a few days now and was looking for something to impress her with. Not that he could claim to know what goods women tended to like. Zein was hoping that he would find something that would catch his eye and that it would also be appealing to her. Or that she simply would be impressed by his effort.
He was wandering the stalls, half looking at the objects for sale, half daydreaming when he heard a familiar voice. Delia was greeted with a broad grin and a slight shake of the head as Zein noted how she left a vendor without a thought. It really was a shame that she wasn’t interested in him…
“Delia!” he replied, closing the space between them in a few steps. The two of them might appear a couple—they had a natural chemistry that seemed to come alive on stage. Although they weren’t together, they certainly were inspiring together.
“Just the person I need right now,” he remarked. She would know what sort of trinkets women would like. “I’m looking for a gift, but I’m afraid I don’t know what to get. What sorts of things do women like?”