Who Aria and Kennet What Their weekly appointment. When Monday, Oct 16, just as the cirque is closing. Where Kennet's trailer. Warnings TBD
It had been months since she'd made the promise him to disturb him. Months were such insignificant things to one as old as she, barely moments in the grand scheme of it all, but she had kept her word to the Djinn and her visits had become something of a ritual for her. As the sun would begin to crest the horizon and the guests would begin to exit the parks, Aria would make her way to his trailer and would be welcomed inside, sometimes with more or less reluctance and exasperation evident in his cool gaze. She paid no mind to it, though. She would restlessly pace his trailer and talk to him as though he were a willing participant in her visits and not merely tolerant of them. She would ask him questions in attempts to rouse him from his silence, and when that proved fruitless she would fill the silence in different ways depending on her mood.
Sometimes she would monologue, babbling on anything that came to mind: about the new song she had created at the symphony or the small child that had caught onto her cloak in the midst of her dancing. About Thorsten and how they had met and had he known she'd been married? Sometimes, when his stoicism was especially oppressive, she would serenade him with her soft singing as she moseyed about the small space, and on especially rare occasion she would simply sit with him and allow him his quiet, occupying herself with studying his face or with moving the curtains with small gusts of wind that she called forth with subtle flicks of her fingers.
The visits never lasted very long. He saw to that, but she stayed as long as she could before he kicked her out again. She had noted, with some sadness, that she didn't seem to be helping very much. The soft, almost tender glimpse of his old self that she had seen in the symphony her first night almost seemed like a fluke; instead of getting easier to talk to, he seemed more and more insistent on shutting her out entirely, which of course only made her more and more persistent in her efforts to draw him out.
Today she appeared at his trailer door with the early-dawn mist swirling around her ankles, her small frame still swathed in her symphony cloak, the edges of which were still damp with frost. She lowered the hood to smile up at him as brightly as ever when he responded to her brisk knocking, tilting her head at him coyly. "I brought you something," she said, playful mischief squinting her aqua eyes. "But you have to guess what it is, and you only get three guesses."