New as she was, Nyah had no trouble finding the Cauldron for the gathering of the coven at the beginning of the Hunt. She could have found it blindfolded, feeling her way through the labyrinthine arrangement of tents and attractions that covered the grounds. One only need follow the pulse of magic, growing stronger with each practitioner who gathered. Like a beating heart, all blood, and all power, flowed through it.
A nebulous shadow followed her to the perimeter, corrupting the air at her side with an inky haze that mirrored the gauzy muslin of her dress. The dark young woman hand waved her company as if to dismiss. It lingered, its energy piqued by the darlings that lurked in the space. "Another time, mon gros," she hissed under her breath. There was a strange affection in it. The darkness dispersed, rushing off to snuff out another's light. Nyah moved to join the group.
"The soundtrack isn't what I'd have chosen, but yes. Quite a night," she commented after the russet haired witch in the gown of confections. Death by diabetes was too slow for a Hunt, she thought, but kept her lips sealed. "Good evening," she offered more broadly to faces familiar from the employee comm, and new. This was unfamiliar turf for her, so she settled, waiting to join whatever the Cirque's coven had in store when appropriate.