Circus Of Seven Sins

Chapter 2: Names For The Twins.

Under the shade of an Oak tree or beside their wagon, in a small clearing, not far from the road, is where you could have found the cast that summer's morning. On days such as this, with the sun shining just right and the breeze wafting delicate scents in the air, they had deemed it ridiculous to spend it practicing their performances. So, instead, on days like this, they would spend it either idly chatting over a warm breeze, sleeping or just lazily passing the time.

Oliver laid on his stomach by the base of the Oak tree, his foot going in and out of an upturned root and his shoes discarded in the wagon, trouser legs pulled up to mid-thigh. He hummed an unknown tune as he had each of his glass balls laid out in a line, a jar of oil next to him. After polishing each one thoroughly with a gaudily coloured silk cloth, he lathered it in the oil and left it to dry in the sun. The oil, when dry, still allowed the colours to shine through, but it became extremely flammable.

Each glass ball had been made differently by Alexander, meaning the fire stayed on the glass, and the refracted light coloured the flame. As long as you didn't hold on too long, they were completely safe to use.

Oliver smiled as his final one was added to the small row of others,and he rolled onto his back, foot still in the loop of the wide tree root. He ripped a blade of grass from the roots and rubbed it in between his fingers above him, twisting and twirling it in the sun, staining his skin green. His baby blue eyes rolled in the direction of pale feet and shone with new found light, as his mouth curled in mischief.

Beside him, leaning against the cool bark, stood Jack. He had been rubbing newly bought black powder in between his finger tips and on the palms of his hands, sweat glistening on his arms and plastering his hair to his forehead. His olive skin from the day before was a considerably paler tone, (as his chest was covered with a thin shirt), some places showing blue veins and dark bags visible from under his deep brown eyes. Jack clicked his fingers, and a spark erupted from the tips, but he frantically waved his hand after, extinguishing the flame; he didn't want to set fire to anything. Yet.

He, like Oliver, had a tub of oil by his side, only it was on a thick, nearby branch. Unlike Oliver, however, his oil had to be made by hand, explaining the bags under his eyes from tirelessly working the night before. Luckily, it lasted long, as it stayed on his arms and torso for days at a time and didn't need to re-apply it for a while. It would dry on his skin, like the oil on the glass balls, and would look to be his actual skin tone, whilst also allowing the fire to travel smoothly throughout his body. This oil would be lathered evenly on his arms and chest although it did burn away his hair, so he never could grow any. It was annoying.

As his hand reached for his oil, and felt only wood, he let out a low growl from the back of his throat. Closing his eyes and counting to ten, he opened them again, and heard the familiar laughter of a fool from up above. Jack wanted nothing more than to punch the tree, but he knew that would be a waste of time. And energy. He could save it to punch something else.

He looked up and saw Oliver's bare feet and legs swinging back and forth on a high branch, his hat swaying in time to the breeze, full to the brim with oiled balls, and bells playing softly. Oliver poked his tongue out and held out the jar loosely in one hand, almost letting it drop forwards, and laughing at the face Jack would make. 'Too much fun!' He thought, and he slinked from one branch to the other, lowering himself to the ground.

When he did reach the grass, he held the jar behind his back and giggled as Jack held his arm outstretched, waiting for his property to be returned. Oliver stepped back, giggling with abandon. He continued to step back, twice for each one step taken by Jack. At this point Jack had reached his limit, and lunged at Oliver, missing him by a hairs width.

And the chase was on.

Whist the two of them ran circles around the Oak tree, the other cast members laid in the sunshine, using their curses and laughter as background noises. Rosal-Cards laid inside the wagon, one leg dangling out for her toes to brush the grass, whilst the rest of her body was propped up against the wall. She raised the thin card to her face, and laid it flat in front of her. She daintily picked out more cards from her deck and laid them out onto the splintered wood, placing the afore-mentioned deck to the side. Five laid out altogether.