the reader.

-

Igasho hated circuses.

He hated the heavy air that hung around a circus, the dust and smoke and humidity that stuck to your lungs and clung to your skin. He hated the voices of the performers that sliced through the mugginess with that professional circus-y drawl, the "Step right up" slow-fast-fast syrupy tone that pulled passers-by this way and that with their false grandeur. He hated the bodacious attitude of it all, that everything happening in every direction has to be interesting and mesmerizing and look over here.

He hated all the bright colors and flashy fabrics used to distract from the knowledge that the day before, nothing was here but the empty dirt. A vibrant, bustling portable ghost town.

It was unnatural.

Igasho waded through this particular circus' undulating throngs with his shoulders hunched in discomfort, and attempted to pick out the most distinct feature around him in an effort to at least not be swallowed by the sea of stimulus.

"Step riiiight up, ladies and gentlemen, step right up..."

Ah. Of course.

Reluctantly, Igasho made his way towards the voice that had stood out to him for whatever reason. When he reached the attraction, he groaned to himself.

"... the incomparable Malyn the Magnificent!"

A magician. A damned magician. Of course that's where he found himself.

Circus magicians were arguably what Igasho hated most about the idiotic things. Calling something nothing more than some fancy sleight of hand "magic".

Disgraceful.

"Malyn the Magnificent" stood on a short riser, and had amassed an admittedly impressive audience. Apparently Igasho wasn't the only one inexplicably lured by that voice.

"Alas, dear friends, my glamorous assistant could not join me today. Our poor Freida has fallen ill, do wish her well."

To his surprise, a small chorus of assent bloomed up around Igasho. So the magician had a following, then.

"But I do like to have shows more like this, too, don't you? A bit more informal -"

Igasho laughed softly - what could be more informal than circus magic?

Not a second later, the magician locked eyes with him, hazel irises glinting with the smirk he wore.

"- a bit more intimate."

The words didn't match the almost challenging tone that delivered them.

"I used to do magic on the streets, you know. Just me and my friends -" A deck of cards seemed to materialize in Malyn's hands, and when they were opened, their box seemed to disappear. "- vying for the public's attention. Not even Malyn the Magnificent then. No, I was merely Malyn the Magician."

The cards were shuffled, then tossed in a perfect arc from Malyn's left hand to his right. "You all didn't know me then."

"Back then, ladies and gentlemen, it was all me and the cards. That's magic, isn't it?"

It was a rhetorical question, but it was directed at Igasho. As if, with that wide smile, Malyn were daring him to disagree.

Igasho felt a pulse of energy from his bag, like his tarot were trying to respond to the magician.

"And yes, before I met sweet Freida, I had a great many lovely assistants." The cards fell down one sleeve, and a handkerchief was pulled from the other.

"People like - you."

Malyn snapped the handkerchief between his hands, and it became a wand. A wand that Igasho was on the other end of.

"Would you like to help me with my next trick, my friend?"

Igasho wanted to refuse, but he could feel his deck practically vibrating at the thought.

He forced a smile to Malyn and the other faces that had turned towards him. "I suppose I must."

"That's the spirit!"

Something in the magician's eyes looked absolutely evil.