|Ringmaster (hardshelled) wrote in cirque_rp,|
@ 2017-08-08 18:48:00
| The sky melted away from an undying blue, washed with deep purples, magentas and oranges. Sea salt permeated the air in place of the soft scents of a forest the last two stops had given. Perched upon a performance tent a large black shadow of a bird peered down upon the quiet circus. The sounds of employees going on about their business never could match that of the scream and laughter saturated wind while the Cirque was in play.|
The last flames of the pyre reduced to glowing embers, Kennet echoed the ambience of the calm side of the fire. Death no longer affected the Djinn. He had seen millennia upon millennia pass, watching those he knew, crumble under the careful eye of time. Many immortals fell to the unseeing hands of death, vanished into dust as quickly as that of the mortals they sneered at. He understood that for the employees, the simple creatures who felt the deaths with such greatness, those killed in the act of war would be contemplated upon. Several might break their contracts to never be allowed to return again. Such creatures felt more than the dull sizzle of an embered flame, long passed and long forgotten.
Their next stop would be a peaceful break, a holy place of supernaturals. Kennet need not worry about losing too many.Stretching, each inkwell wing spanned three feet of darkness.