The performer's appearance was no less disconcerting than his strained voice. The flickering light accentuated his sunken, blood-shot eyes, and from wrist to elbow was bound up tightly in bandages. Although it may have been the poor visibility in which he presented himself, his skin seemed sickly, almost grey. He took a quick swig of a pungent substance from a hip flask, and stood for a second, eyes closed and body swaying slightly before continuing his act. "I give you darkness." As soon as his mouth opened, a black cloud of smoke uncoiled itself, pouring out and spilling down languidly. "I give you dust." He tossed the contents of a small pouch into the air, a fine powder, and spat forth flames once more, lighting the powder into a blinding fireball as it hung in the air."And I am the ashes." Before he had finished the sentence, he was striding forward, and stepping straight into the inferno that encompassed him. As he did, it engulfed him, lunging up along his much-stained outfit until he was nothing more than a part of the conflagration. Another step took him through, still alight. The final step was into a slow bow.
The thrill, standing in front of the audience. For all the wrong reasons, though. Not because of the applause, not because of brightening somebody's day. Not even because of the money. Because for a little while, the fire could keep the cold and creeping entropy at bay. He was a fire eater.
The words. Every show he did started with them, the syllables painfully dragged out in a rasp almost as agonizing to listen to. A twist on an otherwise all-too-familiar introduction to set the mood, remind everybody that a circus wasn't just clowns and juggling acts. There were the people like him, the "side show." Like anybody would remember the show for anything else.
The act. It all began with a simple, sudden trick. From then, it descended into the implausible and delved into the impossible. He breathed out smoke with every breath and swallowed fire only to spit it back out in sudden gouts or as nimble little sparks heralding each word he spoke. The posters all said he ate fire, but sometimes it was difficult to tell if it wasn't the other way around.
Name: Voror (Latin: I am consumed)
Sisyris is also a puzzle, but in another sense. I have yet to meet a worse liar- the fact that she's hiding something is obvious. What it is, I don't know. What I do know is that she shows definite potential for being an assistant. The thought was formerly laughable, but I had not formerly met anybody fireproof. She's a bit... withdrawn, but it's nice to meet somebody with a compulsion to raze buildings.
I'm consumed from within
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