As each of you is leaving the tent after your audition, you are stopped by an androgynous young man with long, red hair who sits outside smoking. He looks back toward the stand, as if waiting for something, then hands you a wooden token with a stylized S carved into it. Congratulations, he says, disinterestedly, you made it to the next round. Come to the ring at the north end at midday. As he says this, he gestures over his shoulder, where a large roped-off area sits between the tents and the treeline. As he pulls a drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, you can just make out small horns on his head in the glow from its tip.
When you arrive the next day, you find the ring empty aside from any other player characters who arrive before you, gathered in the center. The ring is roughly circular, enclosed by ropes tied to stakes in the ground. At irregular intervals, strips of cloth that were once brightly-colored are tied to the rope, though most have faded in the sun. Stands have been built roughly at the north, east, south and west edges of the ring from planks laid between stacked bales of hay.
Ever precise, Aphrashai arrives at exactly noon, before most other aspirants. He spends the night at an upscale inn, getting a cup of coffee and a croissant on the way over. He takes a seat on one of the stands, awaiting the rest of the auditioners.
Ashak spends the night in an alley, setting up his bedroll behind a stack of crates. He rises early the next day and has a leisurely if simple breakfast. Around the appointed time his pulls up his hood and heads to the ring.
Seeing that only one other applicant has arrived as of yet Ashak quietly enters the ring and sits himself down on the stand across from the stranger.
Ashak is small and covered head to toe in loose cloths and sashes. He pulls out a beautifully crafted long curved knife and begins to clean under his finger nails.
Excited that she made it to the next round, Zarine arrives early, but since she doesn't see anyone or anything, wanders around the carnival. When she checks back and sees that there is someone else there, she walks over and says Um, are you guys here for call-backs?
Zarine is wearing normal casual explorer's clothing, but she has her performance outfit and her armor with her, just in case. She wasn't sure what to expect, so she just brought everything.
Clyde wakes up in his barren room with only a simple mattress and rickety table and chair as his furnishings. Taking a small mirror out of his sack, Clyde applies some white paint to his face and a red smile and nose that makes him look like he dipped his face into a cherry pie.
Throwing his things together, Clyde rolls out of his room and strides to the tent, noticing a few others, he nods and chuckles. Oh yes, I suppose we've made the cut, I wonder if we'll do some kind of combat for the second round. Clyde settles down and gnaws on some jerky.
Aphrashai stands and walks over to the group. He smiles and says in a dulcet tone, "Indeed I am. I am Aphrashai the Mystic, caller of the spirits beyond. Who may I have the pleasure of addressing?"
Pogug decides to sleep outside of town, before making his way back to the carnival. While he doesn't quite understand what the "next round" is, he doesn't want to miss out on it. What if they give prizes on how great he is?
When Pogug enters, he is disappointed to see very few people. He was expecting a crowd like yesterday. I knows! They must be coming later.
In the meantime, there needed to be something to do. Seeing a large man eating food, he realized that he wanted some himself.
Marching up to the man, Pogug spoke in what he thought was an intimidating voice. "Gimmie munchies!"
Ashak looks up at the newcomers. "Yes miss, though info on what these callbacks might entail was sparse. Any ideas?" He speaks in a rough voice but his speech itself is quite clear.
The small figure tucks his knife up a sleeve and eyes the other applicants as they arrive.
Epsilon glides down to earth, landing just outside the carnival, and Erin slides smoothly off the bat's back to the ground below. Epsilon rapidly shrinks to his smaller size and flutters up to perch on Erin's backpack, his feet latching on to a thick leather strap. Erin wears similar grey clothing as the night before, and still holds the strange lance at her side. She glances around the carnival for a moment to gain her bearings, before making her way to the designated ring.
She approaches the group just as Aphrashai makes his introduction, and clambers up onto the seat next to him. "Hey," she responds by way of greeting. "I'm Erin." She pauses for a moment, studying him curiously. "You can talk to dead people?"
Nathaniel woke up in the seedy tavern he had been staying in at mid-morning, having stayed up far too late after being given the call-back token. The young man proceeded downstairs, eating the greasy fare that this particular establishment called lunch. Nathaniel then went back upstairs, using some of the grimy water from the provided washbasin and a dingy towel to freshen himself up as well as could be expected, under the conditions. He combed his hair, parting it precisely, then smiled at himself in the room's small mirror, the large crack snaking through it making it hard to judge anything.
The Juggler shrugged his shoulders, sighing as he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling out one of the knives at his belt. His bright green eyes fixed on the point of the blade, lost in memory. Doubt crept in, was this really what he should be doing? He had already killed one person with these cursed things...and here he was, trying to start the same path over. For some time he sat in reflection, until simple logic won out...he really didn't know what else to do. He fastened the clasps of his namesake white cloak onto his shoulders and left the room.
As he exited the inn, the young man saw how high the sun was in the sky, cursing before he took off at a jog for the indicated meeting place. When he arrived he saw that several of the entertainers from the prior evening were there, but no one else, so it appeared his late arrival might be ok. He settled into an easy smile as he looked over the other men and women, remembering many of their acts. Stiff competition, it seemed, he'd have to push aside his second thoughts and let instincts take over.
He heard a few of the others question or threaten each other, and decided to see how that turned out before making any introductions.
Evalee strides into the circle, looking around at the assorted people, unable to suppress a grin. Beginnings, she mused, are important- they set the mood for the rest of the story. And you do never get a second chance to make a first impression. Probably it would be best to take a moment to compose myself, decide what my first words- "Lookit Sephy! It's Pogug!"
Semsephile cast a wary glance around the circle, mentally assigning each performer a label. Are they threats, or are they not? A dash of paranoia never hurts, when meeting new people.
After all, the first time you do something is the most dangerous.
"What, Ms. Ribbinz, is a Pogug?" The devil did not immediately place the name, and with his hood pulled low over his face and his head pointed at his feet he did not immediately follow his charge's pointing finger. He looked up.
"It's rude to point, Ms. Ribbinz." He remembered Pogug now. "Ah, yes. Pogug, the iron-limbed goblinoid. I suggest you keep your distance, Ms. Ribbinz, it looks diseased."
But he spoke too late- she was already running to introduce herself. "I've always wanted to learn how to play the Vween-maker, though where I'm from it's usually called a violin. Could you teach me?"
She approaches the group just as Aphrashai makes his introduction, and clambers up onto the seat next to him. "Hey," she responds by way of greeting. "I'm Erin." She pauses for a moment, studying him curiously. "You can talk to dead people?"
"Then I am pleased to meet you Erin. I can absolutely talk to the dead. Well, at least as far as the rubes in the public are concerned. Lies and deception are my true specialty. The 'communication with the dead' show is a ruse, and an incredibly effective one at that. For instance," he snaps his fingers and a ghostly wail begins before saying, "The wailing of spirits," he snaps his fingers once again and a ball of light appears to accompany it, "a will-o-wisp. Once one can convince the audience that they are truly seeing the spirits of the departed, they may as well be."
Erin's face slips into a slight frown of disappointment when Aphrashai reveals the ruse, but as he continues to speak she looks back up at him and smiles. "You know," she replies, "I think that's actually more impressive than if you really could summon them. I mean, anyone can learn to read a spell from a book, but it's not every day you run into someone who can tell a good story."
Erin then turns to glance at Ashak in response to his question about the nature of their callbacks. "Who knows?" She shrugs. "But I am starting to wonder if I should be concerned by how many of us brought weapons."
Clyde's beady eyes slide down to the noisy one at his feet and he tosses the rest of the jerky into his mouth. Alas, green one, I have no more munchies, perhaps if you had arrived earlier than there would have been more to share.
"Indeed I am. I am Aphrashai the Mystic, caller of the spirits beyond. Who may I have the pleasure of addressing?"
Hi Aphrashai. I'm Zarine. Good to meet you.
"Yes miss, though info on what these callbacks might entail was sparse. Any ideas?"
I'm afraid I have no idea. I tried to come prepared for anything.
After seeing some of the others starting up conversations, she drifted over to the man who had come in and who wasn't talking, and sat down next to him.
Hi. I'm Zarine. You're the knife-thrower, right? That was pretty amazing.
Seeing a small crowd starting to form around the goblin and the strongman, the young man turned his attention to the mystic, only to overhear him talk to Erin of his skills at deception and give a demonstration. Nathaniel smiled...such things were common in the entertainment industry and certainly nothing to be ashamed of. The people who came to these things paid their money to be wowed and amazed, and it didn't matter how you accomplished those things.
The handsome knife-juggler took a seat near the mystic and the...he wasn't even sure how to classify her, throwing his cloak out so as not to sit on it. His signature weapons sparkled on his belt, polished to a sheen as always. At the woman's remark to Ashak about weapons, the young man shrugged. His knives were part of his act...and he hadn't thought about why the others might be armed. His father had always admonished him for his lack of sense and observation.
As the raven-tressed woman took a seat next to him, Nathaniel smiled at her, admiring her athletic physique before responding. "Nathaniel. A pleasure, Zarine." He extended a calloused hand to shake before continuing with a shrug. "I'm no slouch...been doing this a while. But several of these routines, including yours, were simply amazing. I'm surprised to be here in such company." She had a dancer's body, and memories flooded him. But he never had been one to heed common sense, so he grinned at the woman, starting to envision a show with daggers, flames, and feats of daring.
Well, it had to be impressive for a try-out, but honestly it was just a hack job of different acts all kind of half-tied together. I was trying to show them that I am the carnival type, and can do some of everything. We'll see if it works.
I was also going to offer... if they want you to do some fancier knife-work, I'd be glad to play your assistant for the try-out. I used to do it for a guy in a different carnival who wasn't that good, so I'm pretty good at healing up any nicks and cleaning off the blood before the final bow, so any mistakes look like an intentional illusion. You just have to not act shocked if you miss, but instead laugh at me like you meant to do it. And make sure to not tie my hands, so I can still cast spells. We could even get into a mock battle, but then of course bow hand-in-hand at the end so the audience knows we are both fine, and friends. I mean, obviously they might not ask, but if they do, maybe I could help. Always better to have someone on your side. What do you think?
Pogug stamps his foot, akin to a child not getting his way. "Mean human! I sees you eat last parts! Pogug deserves all your munchies!"
Upon hearing Evalee talk to him, his mood lightens up immediately. "Pogug can teach you Vween-maker, not violin, but don't expect to be as good as Pogug. Pogug is best at everything, but especially this. Pogug teach you like his master taught him."
With that, he begins to demonstrate with some instruction how to hold the instrument and the bow, as well as a few notes. His teaching style is much too fast paced - he moves on to the next lesson without even a moment of rest.
Nathaniel smirked at the dark-haired woman's humble assessment of her performance. She had looked amazing. Certainly she had some kind of magic helping her, but that didn't lessen the effect. A very nice blend of attractiveness, performance, and balance (not to mention plenty of fire) that was sure to catch the eye of all but the most stone-hearted of people.
As Zarine offered to act as his assistant and possibly incorporate at least some of their performance together, the young man broke into a cold sweat, not even thinking of a witty comeback when she mentioned binding her hands. As she mentioned the capacity to heal herself some of his anxiety went away. Why not? If she could perform those other feats, perhaps she could cure herself, as well.
He sat for a moment, staring at her glassy-eyed as he thought it over. The desire to work with the lovely woman warred with his trepidation of possibly harming her as he had done before with others. He licked his lips nervously, his eyes focused once again as he nodded. "Sure, that sounds good, on one condition. I want to see this healing ability of yours. If you don't mind, of course. We could always just do something else together and leave the 'me throwing knives at you' out of it. Something performance-wise, that is. I didn't mean to imply. Well, you know what I mean, I'm sure. How'd you do that trick with the fire, anyhow?" After stammering that out, he just flashed his handsome smile. It usually worked to move things along whenever he was acting the fool.
Well, I could cast a healing spell now, but without something to heal you wouldn't see much. Plus, I can't do it that often, so I'd rather save it for an actual performance... but if you just want to see some magic, that's easy. She reaches her hands up to brush her hair back from her face and her hair turns dark blue. ... Easy, right? And sure... if you have another idea, I'm game. ... I mean, not *that* kind of idea... you know. A performance... er, an idea about ... um, an act... a... um, I mean, if you want to juggle instead or something.
She blushes, and changes subjects quickly.
Anyway.... the fire? I just threw down torches that were soaked in oil so they would catch fire quickly, threw a spark spell at them, and my performance outfit is made of asbestos cloth, so only my feet sometimes get blistered, and I healed that when I turned around. It can hurt, but it is all about the illusion, right? Then a big water spell on top to put it all out, and done. Mostly just magic.
Now that the others are all conversing Ashak quietly slips down form his eat, fully intending to slip off and lay low until someone from the carnival arrives. He catches a flash of light off of Nathaniel's knives out of the corner of his eye. Quickly he slips across the ring and leaps up onto the stand next to man in the white cloak.
To Nathaniel
"that's a beautiful set of knives there, you clearly take care of your tools. Would you let me examine one?"
"Oh, that makes sense..." The young man blushed as the woman stated the rather obvious about the healing. He suspected that an offer to cut her would be met with disdain, so (for him) wisely refrained. His eyes widened as she changed the color of her hair...then his eyes narrowed as he wondered what her natural color actually was. He supposed it didn't matter.
"Well, we can try 'that' later, if you're amenable. Just throwing that out there." Nathaniel chuckled, shrugging at his forwardness. Carnies weren't known for being subtle or discrete. He then thought for a few moments. "If I soaked my weapon tips in oil, could you do that spark spell on them while I was juggling them? I could act all fearful and everything as I weaved them around, trying to keep from burning myself. Maybe I can 'offend' you somehow beforehand, and you do that to teach me a lesson."
Feeling as though he's getting the better end of the deal, he offered, "Is there any part of your performance where I could help? I'm agile enough, so I could probably do many of the things you can do. Although not as well as you, of course." Nathaniel felt pretty magnanimous about that last comment.
As Ashak leaped up onto the bench next to him Nathaniel let out a yelp of surprise, pulling a dagger and brandishing at the Acrobat before he calmed himself. "Damn, man! You scared me half to death!" As the man remarked on his knives, Nathaniel nodded. "One must take care of one's tools, whatever they might be." The young man tossed the dagger into the air, catching it by the tip before offering it to Ashak.
Something's been bothering Evalee.
"I'm interested in the name of your instrument, Pogug. 'Vween-maker.' The second part of the name is clearly common, unless it's some sort of cognate. That leads me to suspect that the name you gave me is a translation, or at least a partial one. Why, then, are you so adamantly against using the commonly used common word for it, violin?"
A few moments into Pogug's violin lessons, Ev gives up on them. "If you're teaching me like your master taught you, you must be a natural, or at least a very quick study. It's far too much for me to digest at once, I'll see if I can find a book on the subject later."
Pogug sticks his tongue out. "Books? Bleh! Those have stupid word things! If they can help you, you must have no words to steal from your head." While it certainly sounds like an insult, Pogug seems to say it more matter-of-factly.
In response to the question, Pogug answers. "My master called it violin too, but he say music I play is different from his. And different music means different instrument. So, he play violin, but I play Vween-maker. And, is Pogug's, and Pogug does not have to use silly human words if he doesn't want to."
He looks to Semsephiel. "Do you wish to learn Vween-maker too?"
He looks to Semsephiel. "Do you wish to learn Vween-maker too?"
There is a lull in the conversation while Semsephiel tries to decide whether or not small goblin is serious. Eventually, he decides that it is.
The two meter unnaturally gaunt creature slowly, deliberately takes a knee, now more or less eye level with Pogug. He leans in close. His breath smells like . . . sulfur. Strongly. His eyes seem, at first, like bottomless pits- they absorb all light. But as Pogug watches he sees a glimmer of light deep within, a far off point of fire. The fire grows, until unnaturally colored flames fill Semsephiel's eyes entirely, even spilling over and flickering in the air.
"I'd rather not."
"I think that's actually more impressive than if you really could summon them. I mean, anyone can learn to read a spell from a book, but it's not every day you run into someone who can tell a good story."
"I certainly like to think so," he is interrupted by Ashak scaring Nathaniel, Aphrashai chuckles, "Ah, a performance truly worthy of a carnival. Bravo, my good men!" He turns to Erin, "My apologies madam, I have been told I have a propensity to prattle on. In any case, what are your talents? What brings one such as yourself to the Sirensong Carnival?"
Ashak takes the knife offered to him, spinning it around deftly between his fingers. "This is a beautiful blade, you must me a man of considerable skill to carry around such finely crafted steel."
Ashak returns the knife to its owner. His face is obscured save beady black eyes peering out. His outstretched hand is gray-green and marred by a bad burn scar.
Pogug shivers. "Uh, yes! Pogug understands." He seems to shy away from Semsephiel, clearly scared.
Shaken, he turns his attention back to Clyde and Evalee. "What do yous two do?"
Why I lift heavy things in entertaining ways. I can help acrobats spring up higher by hopping off my shoulders and wrestle lions.
Plus for the more adult crowd, I serve as part of the freakshow and so things like lie on beds of nails.
"In any case, what are your talents? What brings one such as yourself to the Sirensong Carnival?"
"My talents?" Erin blinks, as though not quite understanding the word. "I'm... a dancer. Or an acrobat, I guess. Stunt rider, maybe?" She slides the backpack off her shoulders, laying it gently on the seat beside her. "E and I make quite the team," she says with a slight grin, patting the bat that grips the outside of her bag. She gazes down at him for a moment, then looks back up at Aphrashai.
"Oh. Right. You asked why I'm here." Erin shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "I've never done something like this before. A carnival, I mean. I guess I just thought it could be... I don't know. A place? I'm dying for a change of scenery, I can't wait to finally get out of this useless city -" Erin's voice has started to rise, and she cuts herself off abruptly. She takes a slow breath, opens her mouth as though to speak once more, then closes it again.
"Well, we can try 'that' later, if you're amenable. Just throwing that out there."
Zarine blushes again, and then says, Ah, I'm flattered, but no. I have some pretty strict rules for myself because I have a tendency to be... too impetuous, and to jump into things without thinking. So, I never drink, and I never date people unless I know them really well. It saves me a lot of trouble, and embarrassment.
If I soaked my weapon tips in oil, could you do that spark spell on them while I was juggling them? I could act all fearful and everything as I weaved them around, trying to keep from burning myself. Maybe I can 'offend' you somehow beforehand, and you do that to teach me a lesson.
Oh, yeah, I like that. That would be super easy. I mean, oil doesn't soak into metal like it does into wood, and I worry that it would run down onto your hands, but I could definitely cast the spell and make them flare up.
Zarine is thinking about Nathaniel's last question when Ashak comes up, and she waits to see what will come of the conversation with a new participant.
"Well, maybe we'll both get on here and get to know each other better then, yes?" From the young man's grin, it's rather obvious he's hopeful, anyway. And rather unabashed about, since he's talking about it in front of Ashak.
Shifting gears, he thought for a moment, tiny crease popping up in his brow as he actually thought things through instead of acting on impulse. The oil not sticking to the blades would be a huge issue. Unless he could get some of those asbest-a-ma-callit gloves. Then another idea popped up. "How about I get a small piece of cork and attach it to the tip of each blade, then soak THAT in oil? Then maybe you can cast that water spell thingy and drench me and the knives."
Nathaniel accepted the dagger back from Ashak with a shrug. "It took years of practice, and I'll admit I just have a knack for this sort of thing. Seems like you aren't a slouch, either." He offered his hand to the man after setting the knife back in his belt. "Nathaniel, pleasure to meet ya, buddy. What fine talents bring you here this day?" If he's at all bothered by the cast of the man's skin or his burn marks, he doesn't show it. It's kind of an expected thing at the circus, almost.
Yeah, cork would probably work better...
Ashak takes Nathaniel's hand it shakes it briefly. "Ashak, the pleasure is mine. Well I'm a dancer by trade, but I like to spice things up a bit with some action." As he speaks Ashak produces a long curved knife from within his sleeve, spinning it between his hands.
"What do yous two do?"
Evalee remembers a nugget of parental wisdom she heard as a child. Everyone likes to talk about themself, but unless you've actually done something interesting it's unlikely that anyone wants to hear about you. You need to learn when it's appropriate to talk, and when to keep quiet, to listen and learn.
But, she reminds herself, that was almost a decade ago, when I was a short and stupid. He probably didn't mean for me to still be agonizing over it today. Prolly didn't even think I'd remember. 'Sides, if you only ever listen and learn, you've got a somewhat one-sided friendship. Dad also said that life's all about give and take.
"I do a little bit of everything." That's not right. "I do a little bit of many things, but not many things in an objective sense. Many things in a subjective sense, but from my perspective. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think that I have a lot of useful skills, which sounds a tad big-headed when it's put that way." That wasn't any better. Nice job putting your foot in your mouth . . .
While Evalee thinks about what she should have said, she continues rambling, not really paying attention to what she is saying. "I'm pretty well versed in obscure arcana, architecture and mechanics, history and world geography, world religions, and, uh, demonology. Not well versed objectively, it's . . . we're all cast adrift in a sea of ignorance, but my life raft is slightly larger than other people's . . . of my age and demographic. I'm also ok at the performing arts. Some of them. Not objectively ok. I don't know that things can be objectively ok. I know how to make magic items . . ."
She's figured out what she should have said, and has decided that now is the time to say it. It comes as a bit of a non sequitur. "I want to know everything, I want to learn everything and I also want to have learned everything. But that isn't possible There's too much information, too many skills, too many places too many people for me to do everything before I die. So I'm trying to do a lot of things before I die. But I don't really have a goal, and I don't know what my life's work will be. It all seems so pointless, I suppose the only thing to do is to try and enjoy things while they last."
". . ."
"That's why I joined the circus."
As Zarine agreed with him, Nathaniel pointed to his head from the side. "See? A few years with the circus and my brain is still flying true." The young man laughed a bit at his quip, then has a sober moment where he rethinks what he just said. He chuckled and shrugged, turning back to Ashak.
"A dancer, you say? Well, the spicier the better, at least from the crowd's perspective. People have an appetite for danger, especially when they're not on the receiving end of it." Nathaniel's eyes followed the weapon as Ashak expertly tossed and weaved it about. It seemed the young man could learn a thing or two.
Zarine looks admiringly at Ashak's knife work, then, overhearing Evalee's rambling, she applauds. Good philosophy! she calls.
Overhearing Evalee's rambling, she applauds. Good philosophy! she calls.
Cue instant social ineptitude.
Evalee does not know whether or not Zarine Greenblood is mocking her, but assumes that that is the case.Don't blush. Can you will yourself not to blush? Turn away, hide your face. "Uh . . . thanks? I'd see it as more of a neutral philosophy, myself. Kinda nihilistic in nature. Nonetheless, I'm fond of it."
I think that trying to enjoy life is a good philosophy. The other part about it being pointless... I don't so much believe that part, but however you reached the conclusion that you should try to enjoy life, I am glad that you did.
She waves her over.
Have you met the knife men over here? This is Ashak and Nathaniel, and I'm Zarine. Sorry, I don't think I caught your name... just that last part about enjoying life.
Oh, she was serious . . .probably shouldn't of gotten so weirdly defensive. Maybe they didn't notice?
"I'm Evalee, glad to meet you. I remember your performance- you used a spell unique to bards- but not your name."
Sephy, why don't you introduce yourself?
Nathaniel gets a contemplative look at Evalee's outlook on life and Zarine's addendum, then nods nonchalantly in agreement. He hopped to his feet, extending a hand to Evalee. "Nathaniel, knife man number one, at your service. Or rather...eh, nice to meet you?"
The young man thought about adding in his own philosophies on life, but seeing as they changed almost by the minute, it probably would make for a tangled and warped conversation. So he settled for a brief shake and a grin before stepping aside to allow Ashak to also make the young woman's acquaintance.
"Hey wait...I thought bards were like, you know, music makers and singers and such."
"Very well, Ms. Baker." He's reminding Evalee to use her alias as much as trying to convince anyone of it's validity.
My name is Clyde . . . Smith. Damnation, I hesitated. I hope no one noticed.
No one did.
At that moment Semsephiel realizes what an odd nickname 'Sephy' is for someone named Clyde.
"But I have somehow been saddled with the stage name "Semsephiel", after the Godscourge itself. I've taken to asking people to use that name instead, to avoid confusion."
My goodness, two Clydes? We must find a way to tell us apart. Clyde? No, other Clyde.
Something seems a bit off about those two. I suppose everyone has there secrets in a place like this.
Ashak looks over at the young woman and her strange companion. Giving a sort-of-salute with his kukri he stows it before speaking. "I'm Ashak, knife man number two I suppose. My pleasure, Ms. Baker was it?"
Good to meet you, Evalee. She looks sideways at "Clyde," wondering why he would be calling any of them by a last name, and why she seems to be okay with his rudeness. Were they a couple? Too bad.[/b]
She laughs at ClydeMcClod's comment, but doesn't call either of them by their names, hoping they will sort it out themselves so they don't have to say who gets to be Clyde prime.
To Nathaniel she says Bards are often singers... and I can sing, by the way. But we're pretty versatile.
She looks around.
Does anyone know what we are supposed to do for call-backs? I'm sure it is well past the time we were supposed to start.