The headaches, the nightmares, the loss of speech, the suspicions bubbling, boiling under the surface. The ravings of a Seer and uninspired neighbors made for a rather oppressive stay in Danvers. Why had they been plagued like this? Why had the Ringmaster or Management done nothing to alleviate their ills? It really must be the witches to blame. It had to be the witches. Yes. Witches. Who did they think they were? Nothing but a problem. Always causing problems. They think of no one but themselves and the powers they can achieve, didn't they? Any charity they did was for show wasn't it? The Ringmaster, far removed didn't care. Why would he care? Nothing touched him. Perfectly pressed. Perfectly in control. Perfectly untouched and neutral. Who needed Circus Dad anyway?
It was all becoming too much and not enough all at once with everyone counting the hours of the last day. Why bothered to go into this miserable town before the move? Who dared to vandalize those overpriced condos? Did you hear? A man had been found dead, strangled in his bed in what looked like a sex act gone wrong. Another found in a ditch so badly burnt they had to sift through the ash to find its molars.
Time to go... When the circus was quiet and the hour was right, the Coven, the Fae, and the Ringmaster made their ways to the Cauldron and start the rites. The magic combined and began to gather, permeating the grounds, growing as it blended. There was the feeling of pressure, of power swelling, rising to a peak...
Then the world collapsing thin like paper, folding like the most secret of notes, and then the release. A snapping back into place and feeling full once more. Every piece, every lantern, every living thing on the grounds followed in that moment. An exhausted sigh of relief. The move was successful.
The air of the new location held a breeze... A roar and a crash. Salt was in the air. Look, the ground sand. Open the gates and find a ribbon of private beach and promising waves. To the right the Cirque sat nestled against an imposing cliff, the land just suddenly dropping to their piece of land. Go, explore and find the mouth of a cave. Dare you walk into it? Something about it draws you in...
Ostia, Rome, Italy
They've traveled so far, yet, why do some of the lingering feelings still harbor in the hearts and thoughts of the Cirque? Some nightmares will lessen. Some afflictions gone, but who can really shake the memories? The images of seeing other members of the troop in their minds? Suspicion is a hard illness to survive. Why had Management chosen this far flung destination?