The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Delia tested the weight of the sword she’d been handed and attempted to adjust her stance to compensate for the difference in balance. And then, with no hesitation, she tossed the sword to Aelius, adjusting her weight from foot-to-foot.
Swords were an exciting venture in her act, dangerous and painful when done wrong. But… Delia didn’t mind the pain; she wouldn’t play with fire if she minded pain. The woman studied the swordsman in front of her, humming quietly to herself.
“So the idea for the performance is…” she moved to claim an unlit hoop from the ground, “Zein and I will toss the hoops and swords back and forth together, before he’ll eventually toss a hoop for me to jump through, and again, but with a sword to catch. All while dancing,” she stated, crossing her arms. She and Zein never practiced together, ever.
She trusted Zein enough not to practice with him—their performances were more interesting when they were spontaneous; it made them more challenging too. But that did not mean she would not practice ensuring that she could do the act from her end. Zein, he could juggle anything.
“And eventually, everything will be lit on fire.” She stated, with a wild, excited grin that met her dark eyes. “But we need not practice that. I just want to make sure I’m used to the swords.” She had little trouble admitting that she needed to practice outside of the act; she was often helping others, often bettering herself, and she did not view that as anything shameful.
“Does that make sense?” She tossed the hoop back to the ground, she’d practiced catching those with a slave, before sending for Aelius. If she was playing with blades, she wanted someone that understood blades, and in her opinion, Aelius was the best.
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
Delia tested the weight of the sword she’d been handed and attempted to adjust her stance to compensate for the difference in balance. And then, with no hesitation, she tossed the sword to Aelius, adjusting her weight from foot-to-foot.
Swords were an exciting venture in her act, dangerous and painful when done wrong. But… Delia didn’t mind the pain; she wouldn’t play with fire if she minded pain. The woman studied the swordsman in front of her, humming quietly to herself.
“So the idea for the performance is…” she moved to claim an unlit hoop from the ground, “Zein and I will toss the hoops and swords back and forth together, before he’ll eventually toss a hoop for me to jump through, and again, but with a sword to catch. All while dancing,” she stated, crossing her arms. She and Zein never practiced together, ever.
She trusted Zein enough not to practice with him—their performances were more interesting when they were spontaneous; it made them more challenging too. But that did not mean she would not practice ensuring that she could do the act from her end. Zein, he could juggle anything.
“And eventually, everything will be lit on fire.” She stated, with a wild, excited grin that met her dark eyes. “But we need not practice that. I just want to make sure I’m used to the swords.” She had little trouble admitting that she needed to practice outside of the act; she was often helping others, often bettering herself, and she did not view that as anything shameful.
“Does that make sense?” She tossed the hoop back to the ground, she’d practiced catching those with a slave, before sending for Aelius. If she was playing with blades, she wanted someone that understood blades, and in her opinion, Aelius was the best.
Delia tested the weight of the sword she’d been handed and attempted to adjust her stance to compensate for the difference in balance. And then, with no hesitation, she tossed the sword to Aelius, adjusting her weight from foot-to-foot.
Swords were an exciting venture in her act, dangerous and painful when done wrong. But… Delia didn’t mind the pain; she wouldn’t play with fire if she minded pain. The woman studied the swordsman in front of her, humming quietly to herself.
“So the idea for the performance is…” she moved to claim an unlit hoop from the ground, “Zein and I will toss the hoops and swords back and forth together, before he’ll eventually toss a hoop for me to jump through, and again, but with a sword to catch. All while dancing,” she stated, crossing her arms. She and Zein never practiced together, ever.
She trusted Zein enough not to practice with him—their performances were more interesting when they were spontaneous; it made them more challenging too. But that did not mean she would not practice ensuring that she could do the act from her end. Zein, he could juggle anything.
“And eventually, everything will be lit on fire.” She stated, with a wild, excited grin that met her dark eyes. “But we need not practice that. I just want to make sure I’m used to the swords.” She had little trouble admitting that she needed to practice outside of the act; she was often helping others, often bettering herself, and she did not view that as anything shameful.
“Does that make sense?” She tossed the hoop back to the ground, she’d practiced catching those with a slave, before sending for Aelius. If she was playing with blades, she wanted someone that understood blades, and in her opinion, Aelius was the best.
A glimmer of something sparkled in Aelius' dark eyes as Delia spoke of her act. He had watched her performances as aptly as he watched any of the others, but her embrace of danger and death, and dismemberment called to something in the dancer. Everyone in the circus was out for a thrill, but for a select chosen few the hunger went even deeper. Delia was one of those precious few, and for what she was, Aelius was strangely grateful.
A snake was still a snake, a lesson he had learned recently from Kesi of all people. But the beauty of them was that they made no falsities about their nature. They were deadly, and dangerous, and would bite when it wanted to. Delia was no different. No one in Nem's circle was. They were all vipers in their own way, but at least Delia could be trusted to be true to herself. Aelius could admire that much at least.
"A fascinating idea to be sure," Aelius chimed, deftly catching the blade that Delia had tossed him. He gave it several swings, and got his bearings around the weapon. "Fire sounds like the easy part of the arrangement, no? But I suppose we all have our comforts." The blade dancer moved gracefully, sweeping the blade through the air, his body moving in tandem with it.
"Everyone will always tell you that the blade should be an extension of your arm," he said as he moved, his thoughts only on his dance. "But that's only really good if you're going to kill someone," he continued, finishing his paces and stretching himself out as long as his lean, lanky frame would allow.
"The secret isn't to dance with the sword, it is to get the sword to dance with you." He leveled his heavy gaze at Delia, and nodded. "Back to your point though, yes, I think I can understand what you are trying to go for with the routine. It makes sense," he confirmed, not wanting to deviate further into his thoughts on his craft unless prompted--otherwise the two of them might very well be there far longer than necessary.
"Getting used to the swords you'll be using should not be a problem, but getting lucky might. That's the thrill of it all though, never know when a blade may turn wrong in the air and come slicing down the wrong way," he said in a dark matter-of-fact tone, as though talking about a coming storm.
"But all we can do is prepare our bodies, and leave the rest in the hands of the gods. So, let us prepare our bodies," he purred, his hand gripping the hilt of the sword tightly as familiar excitement flooded over him. "Ready to sweat?"
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
A glimmer of something sparkled in Aelius' dark eyes as Delia spoke of her act. He had watched her performances as aptly as he watched any of the others, but her embrace of danger and death, and dismemberment called to something in the dancer. Everyone in the circus was out for a thrill, but for a select chosen few the hunger went even deeper. Delia was one of those precious few, and for what she was, Aelius was strangely grateful.
A snake was still a snake, a lesson he had learned recently from Kesi of all people. But the beauty of them was that they made no falsities about their nature. They were deadly, and dangerous, and would bite when it wanted to. Delia was no different. No one in Nem's circle was. They were all vipers in their own way, but at least Delia could be trusted to be true to herself. Aelius could admire that much at least.
"A fascinating idea to be sure," Aelius chimed, deftly catching the blade that Delia had tossed him. He gave it several swings, and got his bearings around the weapon. "Fire sounds like the easy part of the arrangement, no? But I suppose we all have our comforts." The blade dancer moved gracefully, sweeping the blade through the air, his body moving in tandem with it.
"Everyone will always tell you that the blade should be an extension of your arm," he said as he moved, his thoughts only on his dance. "But that's only really good if you're going to kill someone," he continued, finishing his paces and stretching himself out as long as his lean, lanky frame would allow.
"The secret isn't to dance with the sword, it is to get the sword to dance with you." He leveled his heavy gaze at Delia, and nodded. "Back to your point though, yes, I think I can understand what you are trying to go for with the routine. It makes sense," he confirmed, not wanting to deviate further into his thoughts on his craft unless prompted--otherwise the two of them might very well be there far longer than necessary.
"Getting used to the swords you'll be using should not be a problem, but getting lucky might. That's the thrill of it all though, never know when a blade may turn wrong in the air and come slicing down the wrong way," he said in a dark matter-of-fact tone, as though talking about a coming storm.
"But all we can do is prepare our bodies, and leave the rest in the hands of the gods. So, let us prepare our bodies," he purred, his hand gripping the hilt of the sword tightly as familiar excitement flooded over him. "Ready to sweat?"
A glimmer of something sparkled in Aelius' dark eyes as Delia spoke of her act. He had watched her performances as aptly as he watched any of the others, but her embrace of danger and death, and dismemberment called to something in the dancer. Everyone in the circus was out for a thrill, but for a select chosen few the hunger went even deeper. Delia was one of those precious few, and for what she was, Aelius was strangely grateful.
A snake was still a snake, a lesson he had learned recently from Kesi of all people. But the beauty of them was that they made no falsities about their nature. They were deadly, and dangerous, and would bite when it wanted to. Delia was no different. No one in Nem's circle was. They were all vipers in their own way, but at least Delia could be trusted to be true to herself. Aelius could admire that much at least.
"A fascinating idea to be sure," Aelius chimed, deftly catching the blade that Delia had tossed him. He gave it several swings, and got his bearings around the weapon. "Fire sounds like the easy part of the arrangement, no? But I suppose we all have our comforts." The blade dancer moved gracefully, sweeping the blade through the air, his body moving in tandem with it.
"Everyone will always tell you that the blade should be an extension of your arm," he said as he moved, his thoughts only on his dance. "But that's only really good if you're going to kill someone," he continued, finishing his paces and stretching himself out as long as his lean, lanky frame would allow.
"The secret isn't to dance with the sword, it is to get the sword to dance with you." He leveled his heavy gaze at Delia, and nodded. "Back to your point though, yes, I think I can understand what you are trying to go for with the routine. It makes sense," he confirmed, not wanting to deviate further into his thoughts on his craft unless prompted--otherwise the two of them might very well be there far longer than necessary.
"Getting used to the swords you'll be using should not be a problem, but getting lucky might. That's the thrill of it all though, never know when a blade may turn wrong in the air and come slicing down the wrong way," he said in a dark matter-of-fact tone, as though talking about a coming storm.
"But all we can do is prepare our bodies, and leave the rest in the hands of the gods. So, let us prepare our bodies," he purred, his hand gripping the hilt of the sword tightly as familiar excitement flooded over him. "Ready to sweat?"
Delia listened as he spoke, watched him as he caught the weapon, and began to swing it. Working with swords was new, but the concept was not foreign. She committed his statements to memory, watched how he moved his body.
"Oh? Well, I doubt I'll be killing again." She responded, with the slightest smile, almost phrased as a joke. She didn't talk about her past; Somgi had known her past in full. Nem knew parts of it. What the general circus knew is that Delia was once a prostitute and was taken under the last ringmaster's wing.
She moved closer, watching him, listening, and grinned. "Oh? Well, I'd love to learn more. Swords might be an interesting addition to my solo performances too. But first, we should practice this." She decided, not wanting to dive too deeply into the art of sword dancing just yet.
His tone as he described the thrill, a thrill she knew well, was dark and very matter-of-fact. The way Delia saw the fire was the way he saw his blades. Kindred spirits of two different elements. "But the thrill is why we're here," she mused softly.
The thrill was what made life... exciting. Without excitement, life wasn't worth living. Delia sought the thrill of death, the thrill of injury. Every time she was injured, the searing pain of the flames reminded her that she was alive, why she was alive, and how she had come to be where she was. The bite of a sword would come to do the same.
"Let's." She agreed, her gaze fixated on his hand, that gripped the hilt of the sword. "One... two... go," she called, stepping back into position. She'd counted steps as she went, a failed attempt at being organized. The truth of the matter was, she was learning swords; not her overall performance with Zein. That was always best left in the moment.
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
Delia listened as he spoke, watched him as he caught the weapon, and began to swing it. Working with swords was new, but the concept was not foreign. She committed his statements to memory, watched how he moved his body.
"Oh? Well, I doubt I'll be killing again." She responded, with the slightest smile, almost phrased as a joke. She didn't talk about her past; Somgi had known her past in full. Nem knew parts of it. What the general circus knew is that Delia was once a prostitute and was taken under the last ringmaster's wing.
She moved closer, watching him, listening, and grinned. "Oh? Well, I'd love to learn more. Swords might be an interesting addition to my solo performances too. But first, we should practice this." She decided, not wanting to dive too deeply into the art of sword dancing just yet.
His tone as he described the thrill, a thrill she knew well, was dark and very matter-of-fact. The way Delia saw the fire was the way he saw his blades. Kindred spirits of two different elements. "But the thrill is why we're here," she mused softly.
The thrill was what made life... exciting. Without excitement, life wasn't worth living. Delia sought the thrill of death, the thrill of injury. Every time she was injured, the searing pain of the flames reminded her that she was alive, why she was alive, and how she had come to be where she was. The bite of a sword would come to do the same.
"Let's." She agreed, her gaze fixated on his hand, that gripped the hilt of the sword. "One... two... go," she called, stepping back into position. She'd counted steps as she went, a failed attempt at being organized. The truth of the matter was, she was learning swords; not her overall performance with Zein. That was always best left in the moment.
Delia listened as he spoke, watched him as he caught the weapon, and began to swing it. Working with swords was new, but the concept was not foreign. She committed his statements to memory, watched how he moved his body.
"Oh? Well, I doubt I'll be killing again." She responded, with the slightest smile, almost phrased as a joke. She didn't talk about her past; Somgi had known her past in full. Nem knew parts of it. What the general circus knew is that Delia was once a prostitute and was taken under the last ringmaster's wing.
She moved closer, watching him, listening, and grinned. "Oh? Well, I'd love to learn more. Swords might be an interesting addition to my solo performances too. But first, we should practice this." She decided, not wanting to dive too deeply into the art of sword dancing just yet.
His tone as he described the thrill, a thrill she knew well, was dark and very matter-of-fact. The way Delia saw the fire was the way he saw his blades. Kindred spirits of two different elements. "But the thrill is why we're here," she mused softly.
The thrill was what made life... exciting. Without excitement, life wasn't worth living. Delia sought the thrill of death, the thrill of injury. Every time she was injured, the searing pain of the flames reminded her that she was alive, why she was alive, and how she had come to be where she was. The bite of a sword would come to do the same.
"Let's." She agreed, her gaze fixated on his hand, that gripped the hilt of the sword. "One... two... go," she called, stepping back into position. She'd counted steps as she went, a failed attempt at being organized. The truth of the matter was, she was learning swords; not her overall performance with Zein. That was always best left in the moment.