Creatures of the Night - Levi & Hester
Warm drizzle found itself a home in the narrow shoulders of Levi's coat as he stepped out into the rain. It was a mild night in central Berlin. Muggy and close, with no toying breeze to finger playfully at the tails of his clothes or nudge at his hat; just an air of soft melancholy and a steady grey downpour that reminded him – not altogether too fondly – of London. Only the sounds and the smells were different, beyond the monotone of twisting pathways and tents and flash of crimson amongst the crowd, that is. Another may have been tempted to close their eyes and block out their ears in order to imagine they were back home in England. Levi did not. Just tugged at the brim of his hat and buttoned the collar of his long, heavy military coat a little closer. He was not a man inclined to nostalgia.
Taking his time to light up a cigarette - a manoeuvre that saw him gently the cupping the flame from the rain – he hunched his shoulders and prepared himself for a full immersion into the crowds. It was break time. He had precisely all of an hour before he was required back at his tent in preparation of his next act. And while the exiled Black had never quite reveled in the company of the peasants below him, his stomach currently protested otherwise. The food being prepared at nearby stalls smelled delicious.
The Reveurs were, as always, out en-masse. And as Levi slipped into the trails of Circus-goers treading forever foreign paths, their black and white costumes embellished with a single element of red almost called forth a scoff. The Reveurs. Dreamers. Romancers. Silly peasants who adored him so. How he loathed and loved them both at once.
In fear of his such royal status leading to him being mugged by an army of crazed fans, Levi – whose face still wore the powered mask of his act, all snow white landscape with deep black holes that the damp weather now smudged around his eyes – shouldered his way a little briskly through the surge. Head down and shoulders high, he aimed for the circus gates. Not quite caring for the snacks being served round about, despite whatever his stomach had to say on the matter – he hoped the midnight streets of Berlin might offer a little more for a man of such high status as himself.
A cosy late-night wine bar, tucked away somewhere down a deserted, cobble side-street perhaps.
He was just entertaining this most exquisite of daydreams, when something half his size, and weighing just as less, came cannonballing square into him. Sending him staggering off to one side (out of surprise, he would later say, not at all because he had lost his balance) the impact knocked the wind from his chest and in a moment of snap reaction Levi snatched out, grasping a hold of the first thing that brushed his fingertips. Hoping for stability, but finding the opposite instead, Levi was met with pure entanglement as both he and the offending pint-sized projectile fought a losing battle and together they toppled down.
