firestorms

The blonde musician was ill-equipped to be sprung with a request lurking the outskirts of the woods, late-night restless stroll that might incite a pinch of anxiety for his spouse should he neglect to check his phone. He was in dire need of gulping down fresh oxygen, clearing his head of the swirling torrent of stack after stack of stack of unexpected twists and turns, a rollercoaster that never stopped. A part of him clawed to accept the significant lack of family against the juxtaposition of relief that there were less to fret, the ones that provoked the highest degree of concern. Lithe fingers clicked together, flashy silver pieces adorning his tattooed digits brushing up on one another as he treaded closer to the fire. He hovered a fair distance away, considering making a jest about finding an ex-flame next to a whole pile of flames. Smoking was a shit habit for the vocalist, but he was concerned if he might breathe too much of the ravening fire, it might trigger a bout of asthma, agitate the lingering cough that attached from enduring two fires ( a bad case of wrong place, wrong time ). “Ah, shit,” the hapless greeting was brushed off in favor of pondering what she had suggested, leaning back on his heels and tipping his head back, heterochromatic hues rolling toward the treeline and grunting. Storytelling was not his strongest suit, especially when he acknowledged he tended to chalk the folklore of his heritage as a load of bullshit, which could very well land him in the fifth circle of Hell for puerile disrespect ( blame it on cynicism, the same that would also snatch his desire to buy into religion and oscillate frequently. “Uh… kinda dark, but in Brazil, we call werewolves lobisbomem. Not much of a tale, but avo used to scare us lil’ kids tellin’ us that they lurk the fields under the full moon. Said they were souls of slave owners, damned for the shit they did. Eat lil’ kids if they disrespect their parents. Not as scary as Pisadeira, but keeps the kids from goin’ where they’re not fuckin’ supposed to. If they sneak out, they’ll run back screamin’. Kinda involved from Africans that got brought over than our indigenous tribes… but we sure ran with it and kept it alive.”

~*~*~*

“Lobi– lobis-bo-mem,” Leo echoed, sounding it out carefully. “Gotta say, I like the karma of it all. Good thing it’s a Brazilian legend though, because my dad would’ve loved to feed me to a werewolf,” she quipped,  grinning at Cy. She set her book aside and scooched down on the log. 

“Been a long time,” she noted. They’d been friends when she first moved to town, and something more than that after she was eighteen. It was harmless, it was fun, it was over almost as soon as it started. But that was okay. Leo didn’t want to be tied down, and she didn’t mind quick sparks. She lifted a thin log and poked at the embers at the base of the fire, sending flame and spark and smoke shooting into the air for a second. “Heard you went and got yourself married,” she said, arching a brow. “What’s that like? I can’t even imagine.”

She knew that she had to get out, she knew that maybe being among nature would help her. When she was younger,she loved nothing more than going to one of the parks around where she lived, even the one behind her school when she wanted to be alone. She made sure that she had everything with her, even something to eat incase she got hungry,her comfort food. However once she got deeper into the forest,the darker it started to get,causing her to swear under her breath. She tried to find her way out but with no luck, but luck seemed to be on her side when she noticed a glow in the distance and walked towards it. She didn’t realise somebody else was there until she heard the voice. “Uh would it be strange if I said that I did have marshmallows with me”She asked taking the treats from her bag.

~*~*~*

“No stranger than two strangers meeting in the woods,” Leo countered, her eyes lighting up. “Seriously, like, I don’t even care if you turn out to be a vampire or a ghost or a forest-demon or whatever,” she laughed. “I will so gladly die for a roasted marshmallow like, any day or the week.” She set her book aside and shoved down on the log to make room. “I’m Leo. Leo the marshmallow lover,” she said, giggling lightly. “What about you?”

NADIA WAS ADMITTEDLY A BIT EXHAUSTED after the full day of performing, but it was an content type of exhaustion, one that came with a feeling of completion. she was glad the blonde didn’t object to helping, as it would have been much more risky for nadia to try to put everything away alone. “thank you so much. i don’t try to ask people who are enjoying themselves for help, but,” she shrugged, motioning to the lack of help to be seen. “i’m glad, everyone deserves to keep a little magic.” no matter the age, and maybe that was why nadia had a bit of naive energy left to her, as she really did believe magic existed at any age, just in different ways. “i’m nadia, it’s nice to meet you.” she dropped the baton into the case, giving a nod that the lid could be dropped, before giving a grateful smile. “thank you! most of the compliments i get are from kids, so it’s nice to hear from someone close to my age.” realizing how the statement sounded, she quickly corrected, “not that i don’t adore their compliments, i do. but i also appreciate yours.” rubbing some of the soot off her hands and onto her costume, nadia figured she’d ask, “hey, you want to possibly get on any rides around here? my job gives me some free tickets, and i never really use them. i kinda wanted to ride that one big roller coaster and i could use someone to sit in the seat next to me…” nadia was the type to make new friends whenever possible, and it was true that she had a bunch of employee garnered tickets. 

~*~*~*

“Happy to,” Leo assured her. She bit her lip, tried not to stare at the baton. It didn’t matter how many campfires she lit, how fresh in her memory that best-worst day was, the sight of a flame was always... exhilarating. “You folks put on quite a show here. There was nothing like this back where I grew up as a kid.” She gripped the edge of the lid so tightly her knuckles were turning white. It felt the performer was moving in slow motion for a moment, as she lowered the baton in. Leo missed what was said, her entire focus tunneling down to the flames. But she finally managed to let go of the lid, to let it drop and smother the flames. It made her feel wistful. 

She shook her head, refocused on Nadia in front of her. Nadia. Right, that’s what she said her name was. Leo smiled and waved a hand in the air. “I get what you mean. Most people our age don’t let themselves be impressed by this kind of thing, huh?” She glanced around the park and sighed lightly. “When did having fun become like, a taboo? Or have to include booze?” she joked. She glanced back at Nadia, eyes tracing the soot marks along her costume. “Wait, really?” she asked, her eyes flicking up to meet the other woman’s. “Dude, I would love to do that. I have like, ten bucks in my bank account right now, I couldn’t afford to snag any tickets. I would be so in your debt.”

The tease in her tone was received with a deadpanned expression, carefully assessing that she was not, in fact, making fun of the notion — it could have been the way he had enunciated it, the coarse accent difficult to intercept. His head cocked to the side, wandering gaze returning to the Guns’n’Roses album that she had clasped in her palps as she set it back on the shelf delicately. He troubled himself to understand what drew everyone to the high-pitched vocable that Axl Rose had set forth a thriving career on, and he didn’t precisely peg it to be ballroom dancing material for the particular set he was looking to compose. Thus, her selection might have been unpalatable as a solution to his issue, but he refrained from speaking on it further, browsing the racks himself. Emerald gaze drifted away, reluctant as ever to maintain contact directly with anyone’s eyes, and rocked himself on his heels. Christmas was around the corner for those who skipped the November holiday, as he did — he was not born in the States, and thus saw no reason to, and the Vantas family was not one for gaudy celebration and festivities over the more mundane holidays that called for feasting. Christmas, on the other hand, was a favored holiday of Cyrek’s ( in spite of Dag’s pointed remark that he was Jewish ), and Micah’s family was always welcoming of his company around the dinner table. Which, unfortunately, brought to his attention that he would soon be needing to purchase a treasure trove of gifts for every single person in his address book that would be expectant to receive something from the taciturn tattooist. “Hm. You could buy him a record player? Perfect middle ground.” They ran decently cheap these days, coming back into style, or she could easily pick one up for discount price at the Broom Closet. He was familiar with the blonde’s presence, though faces were not a strong suit of his ( they could be so terribly warped, shifting them around like a game of Mystery Date ), and he had struck the odd conversation with her when she was willing to indulge his bemused ramblings. “Classical has my attentions. Unfortunately, I’m looking for something modern. Dance competition,” he explained flatly, shaking his head, “I would like to find something… tolerable.” In other words, no ear-grating Axl Rose for two minutes straight. Scoffing to himself, he brushed a bedraggled curl from his face, humming. “My apologies. I suppose I am an old soul, I don’t particularly understand the appeal of half of the hit songs on the radio.” Micah adored it, at times, but he would like to keep a small element of surprise in their relationship, if he could help it.

~*~*~*

Sometimes certain words just got stuck in her head. And she had to repeat them back, echo them, feel the shape of them in her own mouth, taste them on her tongue. She was thinking about allures, the rhythm of it, the way it flowed, so different when they both said it. But still the same word. There was something beautiful about that, and she thought about saying so, but stopped herself. Her boss would be mad if she weirded out one of their local authors. 

“I don’t like him that much,” she said, because apparently she could only stop herself so much. She waved a hand in the air, and set the record down, turning on her heel to face him. “Kidding. Classical huh? Yeah, that tracks,” she said, nodding at him. “I mean, not that I really know you or anything, but I’ve seen you around and you’ve definitely got that vibe. Real... sophisticated.” She tossed her hair over her shoulders and leaned against the shelving, scouring the music store with her eyes. “Something modern, but tolerable huh?” she mused. She thought for a second, then snapped her fingers. “What about like Adele? Modern, but with real classical chops man. She’s totally legit, and I bet you could do some cool routines to some of her songs.”

nate had been reading in a more populated area of the park, where benches lined paths that had been ground down by the shoes of people pacing, running, and walking to either get away from problems or chase the simplicity of the outdoors for a moment or two. now that it was much colder outside, the time had jumped backwards and the sun was setting before he even left work. he was thankful that he only sometimes went into the office on weekends, but it always meant he got to leave whenever his work was done instead of when business hours were up. it gave him time to do things he loved - or try to find things that he ‘loved,’ things that simply passed time until his next drink or drive to the office all over again.

it was dark, the smell of something off in the distance caught his attention - fire? the male was always one to go hunting for trouble. whatever it was, person or paranormal, nate was searching for anything to make him feel alive again, or whatever all those young adult novels try to convince kids to do. “interesting,” he mumbled, shoving his small book into the pocket of his peacoat before following the scent - thank god he was wearing boots. honestly, nate was never not wearing boots. good thing they made fashionable, work appropriate ones now. in exchange for the book, he pulled out a small pocket light he always carried around.

the smell got stronger when he saw an orange flow through the dense trees. now that he thought about it, some weird guy, dressed in business casual, wandering the woods, seemed very horror-movie-esque. like either he was the secret serial killer or was the dumb ass you yelled at on the screen to not do the stupid thing and get out of the woods because the killer is there.

“i wouldn’t say i’m a story-teller,” he admitted, raking his fingers through his curly, blond hair that had escaped from the bun he sported for work all day - not bothering to put it back up at this point. “so i certainly hope that you have a story somewhere in that pretty little head of yours, given the setting and all.” to be honest, nate thought that was a little funny. there they were, in a ‘haunted’ town, but he never had any ghost stories to retell.

~*~*~*

“I asked you for a story first,” Leo shot back, but her lips were curling into a smirk as she looked him up and down. “Don’t think you can get out of it just because you called me pretty,” she teased. Her father would’ve told her she should be frightened, that any strange boy walking in the woods at night was dangerous — and any girl who did the same was asking for trouble. But Leo had always liked trouble. And she was never afraid. 

She laughed and motioned for him to come closer. “I could be really lame and just read you this,” she said, holding up the book in her hand. Red Dragon, by Thomas Harris. “You know Hannibal Lecter? This is the first one.” She set the book aside though. “But it’s more psychological than scary. Pretty good, but kinda weird at the same time.” She was talking too much, wasn’t she? She always talked too much, she was just too much. 

ALEX ALWAYS HAD A PENCHANT FOR NEW HOBBIES. the heiress had a habit of picking up a new one not long after the shininess of the last one wore off. this week’s new activity was birdwatching. it was more of a game for alex, as she used the small book in her hand to identify each one she spotted. it was a simple activity, enough to take her mind off her father’s words and her own actions. he wouldn’t be happy if he knew of her current location, probably pointing out how unsafe it would be for her to wander the forest herself. and alex was confident in her abilities….mostly. the crackling of the fire caught her attention, noises like that always very evident, and she followed it to find a young woman with a camp fire. “oh, uh, didn’t mean to intrude.” she said a bit awkwardly, taking a step back. “i wish i had some marshmallows; i don’t think i’ve ever had a smore made on a campfire.” the best the chefs at warhol manor could offer was one made with a hand torch. she was never allowed to go camping as a kid. “oh, i used to think half my home was haunted as a kid!” 

~*~*~*

Leo’s mouth fell open. “Never had a smore? Seriously?” she asked. “Okay, well in that case...” She reached behind her into her bag and pulled out three things. A very crumpled and mostly empty bag of marshmallows, a somewhat crushed sleeve of graham crackers, and a single chocolate bar (that was older than she was going to admit.) “I was hoping for a re-supply, but this calls for desperate measures,” she said, searching on the ground near her and finding the stick she’d already sharpened to a point. She motioned for the girl to come over. “Seriously, you have to try one. Come on, I’ll teach you the very best way.” She held out the bag of marshmallows (there were really only one or two sticking to the side of the bag), and the stick, and smiled brightly. “How can half a home be haunted?” she asked. “What about the other half?”

it was a warmer night out in salem so maisy was spending the night on her own instead of on cyrek’s couch. soon it would get really cold and she’d likely spend a lot of time there so she wanted to give them space until that time came. the girl made her way through the forest, it was generally a good place to sleep. it was a pretty nice forest that was well maintained and there weren’t many animals aside from a few foxes who were more scared of her than she was of them. plus if she threw them a few snacks they usually took the food and returned to their hovels. flashlight in hand, the girl made her way through the trees, looking for a nice place to set up camp for the night when she spotted a light in the distance. it was a fire. were people camping? she headed towards the fire, hoping to pass herself off as another camper so she could have some company til she was ready for bed, plus the fire would be nice and warm. the small girl pushed her way through the trees to the fire and saw the other woman sitting there. “i don’t have marshmallows, but I have fruit snacks and i’m sure I could think of something spooky.”, she said with a grin as she got a bit closer, trying to show she posed no threat.

~*~*~*

 “Ooh, fruit snacks, even better,” Leo said, grinning wide. She set her book to the side, and patted the pile of leaves next to her. “Got any orange ones? Those are my favorite. Orange anything is my favorite really. Popsicles, fruit snacks... real fruit.” She laughed at herself and tossed her hair behind her. She tossed a few more twigs onto the fire, and a couple of dry leaves. They crackled and hissed as they burned, shooting brilliant flames into the air for just a moment before curling in on themselves, blackened and ashy. “You ever see that really old show, Are You Afraid Of The Dark? I loved that show,” she said, sighing happily. “I’m Leo, by the way. What about you? I mean, I could call you Fruit Snacks if you really want, but it’s kind of a mouthful.” 

Exploring the forest was a weekly routine for the blonde, a habit she had grown from when she was nothing but a ruffled-haired adolescent, traipsing away from whatever was going to yank her into the attic at night. Collecting dead woods and sneaking away with them, or, parched on a tree branch, muting the bustling of small festivities that the town would at times host. It was kind of an escape, when she could no longer wreck havoc in some random junkyard she would go for the complete opposite — tranquility. She used to keep that side of her tucked beneath a pocket of calamity, but she was more in-tune with who she was now, that little curl of tenderness that she had spent years avoiding. Shakily, she lit a cigarette between her lips, unaware of where her feet had taken her. She knew this forest well enough to trek herself back if she needed to, though, and the last thing she wanted was to worry spatula-belle at home. What she stumbled upon next caused her to perk an eyebrow, close to turning around but the question halted her in her tracks, mulling for a moment. “I wasn’t really intendin’ to stay but, Ba… Jiao Gui,” she mumbled with a shrug, semi-muffled by the stick and partly delayed by her damaged speech pattern. “Or as I’d like to call it, the Banana Ghost. An old ass tale from China — momma used to tell me when I was a kid ‘bout the ghostly spirit that would wail underneath banana trees and kidnap babies, I found it funny because… fucking bananas,” she shrugged. “But some kids apparently are spooked by the image’a a wailing lady that floats round banana trees wringing infants outta their houses, so it works for a cautionary tale if I don’t want mine to wander into the forest. I have more. Free trial’s over, though, I’ll need a decent exchange.” 

~*~*~*

Leo’s eyes followed the lit cigarette, watching the way the end turned scorching red when the woman breathed in. She wished she had seen her light it — not that she said that out loud, she wasn’t that stupid. (Though she was plenty stupid in her own right.) She shook the thoughts out of her head, and stared at the campfire while the stranger told her story, and a small smile spread across her face. “You have kids?” she asked, glancing up at her for a moment. “You don’t look that much older than me, but I mean, maybe you just have a super excellent skin care routine,” she joked. 

She smirked at the challenge, biting on her bottom lip. “I mean, Banana Ghost is good and all — Gwen Stefani would love it, but I think I can match you,” she said, setting her book aside. She wiped her hands on her jeans and tossed back her mane of hair. “You’ve seen those old music boxes right? Like, one of the ones with a little ballerina on top, you twist the thing in the back to make it play? Well, this girl I used to live next to, she swears that one day, she found one of those old music boxes up in her family’s attic. They’d moved there after the house had been empty for years, and there was still a lot of old stuff up there. So her and her little sister decided to go exploring, and they find this music box. They don’t recognize the song it plays, but it’s beautiful. Like, the most beautiful thing they’ve ever heard. The older sister, she gets bored after a while and she goes to close the box to make the song stop — but the little sister wouldn’t let her. And for weeks afterwards, that was all the little sister wanted to do. She didn’t want to play, or eat, or sleep. She just wanted to listen to the music box. The older sister said it was like she was in a trance, completely mesmerized, and after a while, she didn’t even respond when you said her name. So one night, the older sister decides she’s had enough. She sneaks into her little sister’s room and takes the music box off her dresser. And she hears a whisper. Don’t touch that. But her little sister is fast asleep still. So big sister figures it’s just her imagination. She takes the box out to the backyard. She’s gonna bury it, she’s got her mom’s gardening spade. But as she’s digging, she hears it again. Don’t touch... me... And she turns back to look at the box, and she says she saw a white hand reaching out, clawing towards her. She looked up at her sister’s window and saw the little girl standing there, eyes completely white. Mouth open in a silent scream. So big sister took the spade and just started smashing the box, as hard as she could, and then she threw the pieces in the hole and buried them as deep as she could.” Leo paused, the firelight dancing in her irises. “Supposedly a true story, but, they were both total liars. Hard to say really. What’d you think?” 

When Anabelle had approached the flame, she had to admit that she was not expecting the perpetrator to be an actual person. Safe to say, strange things occurred in the night around Salem, and disembodied lights were prosaic — hell, she saw them around her ranchland all the damned time when she was out before dawn tending to the cows or cradling the fussy rooster in his coop. On this particular eve, something had possessed her to slip on her shoes and trek through the woods, reassuring herself that it was not a wildfire ( or worse, a foolish kid looking for trouble and setting one himself ) eating the trees around the area. She was a child of nature, as one would call it, and her respect for nature knew no bounds. Where something fell, she expected that she or her wife were to replace it with something that would grow anew to the land and show their gratitude for what it had given. The redhead was under the belief that karma extended to the earth itself, and what one put in was what one would receive in return, and she was reluctant to sit idly be and witness anything she could prevent to destroy part of its precious lingering tinder. Thus, when she stepped through the part of the trees and into the clearing, she was pleasant surprised to find a carefully constructed campfire and an oddity clinging to the worn spine of a book. “Oh,” she began, a bit startled when the woman spoke, for she had appeared engrossed in the flickering, licking flames of the fire itself, and without thought, she bent to pick up a stick and prod the fire to stoke the flame, saying sheepishly, “I was just checkin’ to make sure some tomfoolery wasn’t goin’ on. Kids tryin’ to start fires in the night ‘round here and burn down the damn forest, it would be kinda disappointin’, ya know?” Nature was beautiful, so why did anyone take pleasure in harming it? She couldn’t answer it for herself. The woman cusped her hands together then and blew into them, realizing how cold she was with the nip in the air. Jack Frost was already out in the morning, kissing the grass with dewy frost. Giggling, she shook her head and answered, “Sorry, no marshmallows here. Didn’t think I’d see a livin’ soul, if we’re honest. You’re kinda close to the edge of the forest… ya know this is private property, right?”

~*~*~*

“Tomfoolery, now that’s a good word,” Leo quipped, smirking at her visitor. She scrunched up her face and thought it over for a moment. A forest fire — not the most exciting thing. Just sort of... sad. It would be pretty enough, but. But. She had to stop the thought there, before it barreled into those dark places in her mind, into the best and worst day of her entire life. “Only you can prevent forest fires,” she said in a mocking voice of Smokey the Bear. “I’m careful,” she added, almost too quickly, too defensively. “I mean, I know how to start a campfire and not burn everything down. I’m pretty good at it,” she said, setting her book aside and running her fingers through the tips of the rippling flames. 

Her cheeks flushed at the next words and she sort of half-shrugged. “I... maybe had an inkling?” she said, gauging the woman’s reaction. “Or is it better if I pretend I totally didn’t know?” She had been sneaking out into the forest to light fires for... well, a while, longer than she would admit to anyone. But this was the first time she’d been caught and she hadn’t realized how close to the edge she’d gotten. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I swear, I’m really careful about it, and you know, sometimes fires can be good for forests? Like, forest fires can totally revitalize a forest, make way for new growth and stuff.” She was talking too much, too fast, so she just brushed her mass of blonde curls behind her and offered a small smile. “I don’t have marshmallows but I do have a chocolate bar I can bribe you with if necessary.” 

[ moondog records. ]

The savant had meandered into the record store halfway entranced, enticed by the atmosphere it fostered on quiet days where perusing vinyl was a serene pasttime. The new selections were a section that he harbored tendency to skip over, disinterested in the modern idea of good music — overlooking the classical and whimsical trills were the grating sounds of DJ and computer-mollified electronic tunes that he simply found hard to digest. Spending an excessive amount of time learning steps to music over the past month enduring their proclaimed spot on Dancing with the Stars, however, the man had to come up with something a tad more modernized that would be perceptible to the judges for the pair to follow a quick-step to. If they had any hope of clambering out of the hole they’d dug themselves in in the bottom two next week, surviving on the skin of their teeth, it would be by adapting to a fast-paced and jejune tune, perhaps a tango or a samba. As he was ambling through the aisles of the record store, primarily looking over the new and upcoming records released by the present artists in order to gather his bearings, he couldn’t help glancing over the shoulder of another patron who was staring quite intently at one of the records. One would not define him as a nosy individual when he had no means to be, as he would expect another to extend to his own personal privacy — when in need of a creative jumpstart, he could forgive the slip of character ( that he seemed to be experiencing excessively the past six months — pray tell, make no mistake, he was merely coming out of his cage, sanguine deed intensely highlighting depraved jaw — and perhaps, he was the very folklore his people had warned him against ) as he reached to tap them on the shoulder, fleetingly. “Pardon,” Dag excused in his French accent, lifting a hand to obscure the agitated scar on his countenance, gesturing a hand toward the vinyl ( his brother always taught how aggressive it was to point ), “What, exactly, allures you to enjoy that?”

Leo looked up when she felt the tap on her shoulder. “Allures me to enjoy it?” she repeated, a teasing lilt in her tone. “I don’t know if I do, if I’m being honest. It was something my dad used to listen to,” she said, setting the Guns and Roses vinyl back onto the shelf. “I figured Christmas is coming up, ya know? But he doesn’t even have a record player, so it’s probably a dumb idea.” She shrugged, gave him a look up and down. “What are you looking for?” she asked, a small smirk playing across her face. “What allures you?”

Leo sat on the cold, leaf-covered ground and threw a couple more sticks onto the fire. It was a small one, nothing enormous, but it was enough to give her that warm, buzzy feeling in her head. The kind that other kids chased after with booze or weed, and she didn’t mind either one, but this was so much better. A crackling campfire, the only light around for miles among the trees. She had a book open in her hands, but she was barely reading it, her focus on the bright orange flames. It took her a second to realize that someone else had stepped into the firelight. “Kind of a private party,” she joked, glancing over. It took effort to tear her eyes away from the fire. “Unless you brought marshmallows. Or know a good ghost story. Then you can definitely stay.” 

[ location ; story land ]

DONNING STAGE MAKEUP AND A BRIGHTLY COLORED UNITARD, nadia walked around the amusement park before the next show started with easy confidence, gathering interest (and tickets sold) for the circus, as one hand twirled a baton with both edges on fire and the other moved dramatically around it. one of the best parts of her job was seeing the disbelief young kids watched her with, providing some sort of amazement and excitement for them. there was a kind of innocent happiness from putting a smile of a child’s face. making her way back to the circus tent in a theatrical fashion for those she passed, she had already a bit of soot on her face and costume from moving the flame around her, as usual. as she went to open the case for her equipment, she held the baton safely as she attempted to hold open the case, struggling. noticing someone nearby, she managed to call out, “hey, you mind holding this open for me for a sec? i won’t burn you, i promise.” closing the case with the flame inside was the easiest way to extinguish it, not that it helped if she couldn’t hold it open herself. “hope it won’t ruin the magic,” she said with a wink. “usually someone’s out here to help me a bit.” 

The amusement park was cool, actually. Leo only had fifteen dollars in her pocket, which really should’ve been going towards groceries, but she liked the noise and bustle of the crowds. It wasn’t your typical amusement park either, the entertainment was actually pretty impressive. Leo had always loved circuses ever since she was little, and even now that she was far too old, she still did. The flamethrower, especially, had caught her eye. 

Leo hadn’t really been following her, but she had sort of trailed after the brightly colored performer, just to see if the show was completely over or if there was more to come. The last thing she expected was to be addressed — not called out, but actually asked for a favor. “Sure,” she said, smiling brightly. “I don’t mind. Nothing could ruin the magic for me,” she said, reaching over to open up the case. “I’m Leo, by the way. I caught some of your act, you were awesome.”