Promise you won't burn it || Amber + Sera
Sera inhales deeply, her whole torso expanding then contracting as she holds the pose prompted by the musician on a street corner not too far away. Most days she would ask to make a deal with him, split their profits so she could dance to his music, but she had arrived late, and the man had been in the middle of a lazy tune that a snail couldn’t find a good rhythm to, without trying to ballroom dance. He had picked a merrier tune later down the line, and this time she had worked with it, though she had quickly fallen short of breath. Thank god this had been a quick one.
Nodding to the folks that spared her a few coins, she resisted the urge to curl her lip at the sensation of sweat dripping down her back, as her fire licked up it instead. Her fire loves oils and would often pop merrily, glad for some extra fuel, since it couldn’t burn so hot on its own. Most people would likely find that gross if she told them, but in reality, it was necessary to keep the sweat from smearing the paint she used to decorate her body. Those colors, especially at night, had even the colorful fire burning differently, brilliantly that had spectators staying for several long minutes. She called herself the fire dancer for good reason, though dancing alone had never been an interest of hers, and could often go for hours.
However, now appeared to be the prime time to take a break, seeing as most of the people looked to be wandering away for dinner. They would hopefully be back for after supper shenanigans, or to head to bars, where she could potentially stand outside, in the hope that the drunks would give her too much, but while they would eat, she would, too.
Straightening her back with a thankful crack, she stretched this way and that, nodding a thank you to the last two people who had been watching, before she took up her bag and hat, the latter jangling with the coins in it.
Smiling proudly, she stared down the street, looking for a cheap eatery that she hadn’t seen cockroaches in, though it seemed like that would take a bit of a walk, since she tended to eat around the marketplace, and those places usually disappointed her.
Starting off at a brisk pace, she let her fire go out, the chalks and paints sitting stiffly on her skin, face streaked with soft pinks and purples, as she contemplated washing off first, then wrote it off, continuing down the street toward a new eatery she could hopefully trust.
When she found one, she had been walking for about twenty minutes, and went in with a resigned groan, sitting at the bar so to more easily flag down the serving wench. Sera held tightly onto her bag, not trusting the other bar-goers, but otherwise, she paid them no mind. She doubted anyone that interesting was in a place like this, anyway.
