And Yet... (Patreon)

It was another one of those days. Warm. Maybe a little too warm for the outfit Bastian was wearing. Damn clown suit… Aside from the usual hustle and bustle of work outside the tent, it was a quiet day. The constant banging and clanging had long since faded into the background. Now it was only the wind blowing through the trees, and the faint chime of motes floating around his head. Playing with them was really the only other thing he could do.

“What’s happening, bro? You doing alright?” He lightly cupped his hands together, cradling a mote inside. He couldn't remember when he had started talking to them, but it brought him some comfort. He had convinced himself that the occasional rapid bobbing they would do constituted ‘yeses’ and ‘nos.’ This particular time, the mote in his hand answered ‘yes.’

“Cool. Cool. Well, off you go.” He pushed the mote away. It floated off, weaving through the air a slow, but unpredictable path. He sighed as he laid back in his bed. It couldn’t have been much later than noon, but he was often surprised at how easy it was to fall asleep if he just lied down long enough. He began to nod off, at least until the curtain covering the tent’s door was violently thrown to the side. He shot up from his bed, his eyes wide as he watched his captor speed-walk across the tent. She slammed her hands down on her desk as she took a deep breath.

Bastian stared at her dumbfounded. This was a first. She was always so calm. So collected. Annoyingly so. He could insult her to her face, and she wouldn’t even acknowledge it, let alone get angry. He had done so many times already, and not once was there a crack in her armor, until now.

‘Good,’ he thought to himself. It served her right for kidnapping him...He sighed again as he lied back into bed and turned himself toward the wall of the tent. A long silence followed. Bastian closed his eyes. Eventually he could hear her behind his head, fiddling with something on her desk as she always did. It was much louder than usual. Much more violent. Despite the time that had passed, something was still bothering her. Bastian looked up and frowned. He could see her face reflected off of the mirror on her desk. Her brows were furrowed. A scowl was on her face. ‘Good,’ he said to himself as he looked again to the wall. Another long silence filled the tent before he found himself looking up at her again. No change in her expression, but Bastian found himself frowning as well. He stared for quite some time before catching himself and looking away.

‘Come on, man,’ he thought to himself. ‘You don’t have to feel bad for HER…’ He found himself staring more than a few times. What could possibly bother her so much? He couldn’t help but wonder, and tried his best not to care. It wasn’t working. 

He sat up again, his legs now dangling from the side of the bed. He fixed his eyes on her. She had lit up another cigar. It seemed to calm her, at least a little. Bastian opened his mouth, but caught himself before uttering a sound. Surely SHE of all people deserved whatever she was going through…

He stared again. Her shoulders were elevated. Tense. “Are…Are you alright?” He finally asked. She turned sharply, her unnaturally-colored eye staring daggers at him. He shrunk down, just barely resisting the urge to hide beneath the covers. Her scowl had somehow gotten even worse, yet it faded quickly as she laid her eyes on him. She turned back toward her mirror before reluctantly speaking.

“It’s nothing. I’m…fine.”

“Totally. You sure sound fine...You wanna tell me what’s bugging you?”

She turned back toward him, the look on her face more familiar. It was always somewhat intimidating due to the strange, concentric nature of her eyes, but her features were soft. Contemplative. Bastian had been examining them for longer than he realized. When he came to, he realized she was still peering at him.

“I-I mean,’ he stammered. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just-”

“I have a condition,” she said as she closed her eyes and turned back to the mirror. “I’ve had it all my life. It’s not life-threatening. I’m okay, but it can be very disruptive to my work. I have a shipment of medicine on the way. At least I did. It’s been…unfortunately delayed. On top of some other delays recently, this has been a difficult month.” She took another a long drag of her cigar. “Just the perils of business.”

“Oh...Sorry to hear that. Didn’t think running a circus could be so hard. But, I guess it’s not easy when you’re sick all the time.”

“Indeed.”

“...What is it? The condition, I mean.”

The woman snuffed her cigar in the overflowing ashtray on her desk. “Tell you when you’re older.”

“When I’m ol- hey! I’m not a kid, you know!”

She chuckled as she stood up and made her way over to the bed. “Maybe when you hit your 80s I’ll tell you about it.” She placed a hand on head, ruffling his hair despite his obvious displeasure at the situation. “Thank you,” she said in a voice softer than Bastian had ever heard from her. “I appreciate your concern. I really do.”

He huffed. “Yeah, well don’t get used to it.”