Rags bounced from foot to foot as Glee and the other performers exited the stage, chattering about the show.
“Glee!” he shouted when he saw them, waving them over.
“Oh, hey, Rags.”
“Glee, you know this kid?” asked a girl. Rags almost didn’t recognize her until he remembered her acrobatic act, and then wondered how someone so young -- she must’ve been a year or two younger than him -- could legally join the circus. She had elf-like ears like him and mushrooms grew from her head, back, and arms. She was skinny but appeared muscular, and Rags knew she had the strength and flexibility to shoot a bow with deadly accuracy while hanging upside-down from a rope, holding on with only her legs.
“Yep. Rags, Asza. Asza, Rags.”
Asza shot a glance at Rags and turned back to Glee. “You can’t invite just anyone to the circus! Don’t you know who this is?”
“Mhm. Legendary dude from the arena or sumthin.”
“But he’s--”
“Hey. Asza,” Glee interrupted. “Have you considered that this is a fourteen-year-old? He’s left everyone alone! He has not hurt anyone! I’m fucking tired of explaining that.”
“He’s still from the Arena! I bet that ‘innocent fourteen-year-old’ has gone feral during the fight! He’s probably one of the ones that has to be tranquilized so that he doesn’t eat his dead opponent’s heart.”
“Asza, you’re making shit up at this point. You have no proof what-so-ever—” Glee’s voice became annoyingly sing-song-y as they reached the word whatsoever. “That Rags has hurt anyone on purpose. Dude was probably forced into the Arena.”
“Glee, you cannot just invite a criminal into the circus!”
Smoke curled off of the back of Glee’s neck. “Don’t call him a criminal.”
“You just can’t admit you’re wrong, Glee! You—”
Before Asza could continue, Glee interrupted. “Asza. Don’t call him a criminal. Rags, did you choose to join the Arena?”
Rags shook his head.
“Exactly,” Glee told her. “Now, who can’t admit they’re wrong?”
Fuming, Asza lunged at Glee, her delicate dark-painted nails turning into black claws. Rags flinched away from the fight as Glee jumped over Asza, avoiding her strike.
Asza shouted up at Glee to come down and that Glee’s phoenix would become a barbecue chicken.
Glee was responding with a barrage of curses, sometimes throwing something down at Asza.
Rags sighed, discovering that Glee wasn’t the only circus performer fond of cursing.
“Stop! I’ve met children in there who are more mature than you!” Rags shouted, pointing behind him in what he knew was the direction of the arena.
Rags’ shout went unheard. He was used to being ignored, but this was important. He slipped a knife from his belt and watched the fight, predicting where Asza would next step. He crouched and waited until she was right in front of him before he stood up and grabbed her in a chokehold, holding the knife to her throat.
Asza had the good sense to hold still. “Rags, I swear to the Deity, if you don’t get that thing away from me right now I swear on my life that I’ll rip off your arms and shove one down your throat and the other up your ass so you can give yourself a fucking handshake.”
“I’ll let you go if you stop fighting.” Rags’ voice had taken on a much less childlike tone; he was almost unrecognizable from the child who couldn’t stop moving at the very mention of being lucky enough to see the show in the circus.
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“Fine!” she snarled, her anger hiding how unnerved she was: Rags hadn’t hesitated with his blade at all, his movements swift and concise. Perhaps she should be scared of Rags, a fourteen-year-old who didn’t appear to hesitate at the thought of slitting someone’s throat.
Rags released Asza, stepping back from her. He still held the blade, keeping his eyes on her.
Glee brushed themself off, a little bit of ash spraying from their shirt. “Not again,” they muttered before asking in an audible tone if Rags was alright, ignoring Asza.
“Mhm!” Rags responded, slipping the knife back into their belt. “Are you? Okay, I mean?”
“Oh, yeah, kid, I’m fine.” Their eyes drifted to the knife in Rags’ belt. “Mind if I see that? Seems like a real nice knife.”
“Oh. Sure. Just, uh, don’t scratch the blades.” Rags, however, handed over two knives instead of just the one.
Glee promised they’d be careful and carefully accepted the weapons, each with a curved blade about a foot, maybe a foot and a half long. One had a metal handle with high-quality leather wrapped around the cool metal. The blade was carved from bone, but it had a marble-like effect, with moving black swirls making their way across the sharpest parts of the blade. Were Glee’s eyes playing tricks on them, or… no, the swirls really were moving.
The other was made from a strong metal Glee had never seen before, the color of a purple martin’s feathers, colors shifting slightly in the light. The handle was made from the same carved bone, the swirls shifting in circular patterns when Glee carefully shifted the leather on the handle.
While Glee had been looking at the knives, Asza had approached Rags. “You. Listen.”
Rags startled and whipped around, hand automatically moving to where the knives normally rested. He relaxed slightly when he saw it was Asza. “What is it?”
“Don’t you try anything,” she snarled, poking him in the chest. “If you hurt Glee, or Zephyr, or Whispi or anyone I’m going to personally unbraid your DNA and knit them into fuzzy wool socks as a souvenir, got it?”
“I-” Rags backed away. “Your turn to listen. Do you think I like being forced to fight? I just stopped a fight between you and Glee purely because I hate those kinds of things.” His tone turned mocking and high-pitched. “Oh, yippity-do-da, I get to be forced to scratch out someone’s eyes because if I don’t they’ll kill Griff and make me watch him get tortured to death!” He dropped the tone, voice breaking slightly at the end of the sentence. “I had to sneak out just to get a little bit of time alone on the beach, okay? It was pure dumb luck that I found this carnival. Believe it or not, when you have to fight people to the death you don’t get a lot of freedom.”
Asza backed away from him and slumped into a chair. “Right.”
Rags knew that was the closest thing to an apology he’d get. He returned to Glee’s side, glaring at the ground.
“They’re twin knives,” Glee said. “I thought all of those were destroyed. What’s this metal? It’s beautiful and it seems strong. And this moving pattern…”
“So I take it you like them?” Rags’ voice was faintly nervous as he took the knives. “Heh.”
“I mean… yeah.”
He put the knives in his belt pouch. “I used the one with the metal blade for Asza. The swirls are poison. Fast-acting, and she’s small. So, yeah. Even though it’s fast-acting, there’s a lot of pain… she doesn’t deserve that.”
“Seconded. She’s hotheaded, but… I dunno how to say this without sounding stalker-y or rude. It’s not in a bad way, I guess.
Before Rags could respond, the phoenix swooped down and landed on a moose prong on Glee’s head. “Aermei!” Glee said delightedly.
Rags, on the other hand, yelped and jumped back. “It’s that eagle that’s on fire! Glee-how-on-the-Deity’s-great-globe-is-your-hair-not-on-fire—” He said all in one breath; he’d seen Aermei’s flames, but seeing a practical ball of flame landing on one’s head was startling.
“Relax, Rags. it’s just Aermei. She’s supposed to be my pet, but, honestly? She’s more like a friend.” Aermei, as if in response, rubbed her head against Glee’s face sweetly, and then bit his cheek. “Aermei I told you not to do that, you—” Glee shot a glance to Rags, pausing for a second in their scolding. “—you absolute… lil piss baby.” Glee sighed. “Damn, this would be easier if I could swear. Wait. Is piss a swear? Oh. I said damn. Godda— oops.”
Rags laughed. “I don’t care if you swear, but that was entertaining. Keep it up. No, actually! I’m being serious!” The last part was addressed towards Glee’s scowl at him. It wasn’t super convincing, though, because they kept suppressing a smile.
“And my hair isn’t on fire, dumba-a-a-a-dummy, because I’m pyrokinetic. You don’t think metal knives catch and stay on fire, do ya?”
“Pfft, no. But you’d think that phoenix flames have different rules than normal fire.”
“Hm.” Glee paused to consider that point. Rags started to think they would say something really profound and deep about fire’s spirit or something, when Glee answered: “Nope-iddy-dope. Fire is fire.”
“Heartfelt,” Rags commented drily.
“I know right? Now hurry up and spend your money on the rest of the carnival. Shoo!” Glee shooed Rags towards the exit. He complied and ran, shouting a goodbye as he shoved the opening flap of the tent away and bolted towards the first game he saw.