Three slow notes cross the air, and the flowers lift gently. They wobble in the air. The magic holding them lazy, but solid, and will not stray from their path.
"Nearly every show is different. It would not suit me to hold on to the same story every day--there is no excitement in that. I could never know what it is to be a circus slave, holding the same routine every day."
He lifts a hand; the flowers all unfold. He speaks as if this is everyday talk, that there is nothing wrong with an heirarchy including slaves and beasts--though it seems to be in his favor.
no subject
"No."
Three slow notes cross the air, and the flowers lift gently. They wobble in the air. The magic holding them lazy, but solid, and will not stray from their path.
"Nearly every show is different. It would not suit me to hold on to the same story every day--there is no excitement in that. I could never know what it is to be a circus slave, holding the same routine every day."
He lifts a hand; the flowers all unfold. He speaks as if this is everyday talk, that there is nothing wrong with an heirarchy including slaves and beasts--though it seems to be in his favor.