
| QUOTE |
| The sun was setting over the Chicago sky, a soft orange glow fading into hazy red, signs the world was slipping into twilight; chill crept along with the darkness, brushing the skin of those braving a winter night for the sake of fiery entertainment. Giana counted it a fair trade: the addition of a ruby cashmere beret atop the golden glory of her hair for the chance to glean information from the gathering, the suffocating weight of a structured wool coat for the opportunity to aid her chosen family. She stood at ease in the lot before the Carnivale campground, hands tucked in pockets; preferring for a time to keep everyone at a distance, her demeanor conversely showed that she was nothing to watch and everything to fear. The lights flickered on as the darkness slipped ever closer, their electronic luminance seeming somehow more exotic in the mysterious atmosphere of the campground. Rose, violet, lime, azure, ivory. . . the Zwicklers had fused old world charm with new world technology in a way that made them at once foreign and familiar, the perfect atmosphere for a Carnivale; Giana would give them that much. And, always, there was a contrast between heartsblood red and pure ebony laced through the fair, a contrast that any vampire could appreciate. Giana studied the layout, or what she could see of it, as the gates slowly opened and the crowd pushed forward en masse, most of them very human and very excited, towards the Carnivale. After purchasing tickets with a small smile for the woman working there, a smile designed to be somewhat forgettable, Giana tucked the thick folds of red paper into her pocket, strolling forward, eyes constantly scanning. There was a stage set close to the gates, heartsblood and ebony again, just behind the ticket counters; Giana began to simply walk past when a man stepped from the shadows, emerging front and center on the aged wooden planks, fire whirling around his head. He was almost completely bare, a sight she could appreciate, from the top of his dark, tousled head to the bottom of his pale, bony feet. Well-muscled and fluid in his movements, he sent the fire spinning once more, easily avoiding the burn of his own rope, until he purposefully danced one end up his breastbone, drawing a gasp from most of the crowd. Giana simply smiled, eyes gliding up the red mark now staining his fair skin; an echoing smile slid along the man's lips, growing infinitesimally wider when his eyes locked with hers. Interest catching, Giana allowed herself to stay trapped in his gaze, pushing him to greater feats with a playful grin, challenge and promise glittering in her eyes. Their contest finally broke as he spun faster and faster, sweat just beginning to bead on his skin as he performed, then casually bowed and exited with the consummate skill of a life-long entertainer. Easily marking him for a Zwickler, Giana let her mind flow back to clan business, trying to decide if he was Daniil or Ivan; from the simple fact that he was spinning flame, she settled on Ivan, eyes sharpening as a thought took form. Stepping carefully in her stiletto boots, Giana casually picked her way across the lightly muddied ground until arrived behind the stage, gaze once again scanning, this time with a specific target in mind. Ivan was standing not far from where she was, lightly toweling himself off before he slipped on casual garments. Giana took a few steps forward, remaining primarily in the shadows, only her head and shoulders visible in the luminescent haze; with a predatory smile, she willed him to look up, to see her. Then the performance would truly begin. |