As she had said, Margaery had given the Wild Hunt a shot. She had wanted to see, wanted to know what she was really getting herself into. The Cirque had been a complete surprise when she had turned up, chasing phantom calls from her older sister. And since then, everyone had been recently behaved. Well, there were those murders, but... Well, the Ringmaster had insisted that those weren't the norm and not the fault of the employees involved. After all, that No Killing Other Employees rule seemed to be pretty serious.
And while she hadn't seen any employees killed, Margo had seen quite enough of the violence that the Cirque's more bloodthirsty employees could manage. She had seen blood poured into bowls from sliced throats, patrons torn into pieces, entire families slaughtered like cattle.
After the first hour or so, Margo had locked herself in her shop, using the different baubles there to space out, to distract herself from the horrors outside. Only when it was nearing midnight could she force herself to move. She had to get back; she could be locked safely in as long as she was back before midnight.
Margo scampered the distance between her shop and the Village, her head down and her eyes set straight ahead. Not much further, she told herself, and then nearly came out of her own skin at the sound of Byron's voice at her ear. If her heart hadn't been hammering before, it certainly was then. The young woman spun, red-gold curls in her face, to face the vampire.
"I was... I don't think this is for me," she admitted, quashing the urge to look for blood on the performer's hands or clothes. She didn't want to know. "I'm going back to my trailer."