On the thirtieth trial of Ashan during the 718th arc...
Sunshine had won back the sky from the clouds, and Doran had taken the opportunity of people enjoying the fair weather to venture out in search of eyes and - hopefully - coins. As he walked, he swung hims arms back and forth, readying his body and working out the slight tightness of his shoulders. Those around him afforded him a slightly wider berth, but none seemed all too upset with him, busy as they were with their own troubles. He chose a street corner, one relatively void of anything of interest, aside from an knotted old woman selling meatless meat pies.
Never one for dramatic theatrics, Doran quietly hopped up onto his hands, suspending his feet up into the air as he began to lazily walk about in an ever widening circle, claiming the cobbles for himself as the passersby adjusted their respective trajectories. Some, already, had begun to slow, curious gazes lingering but pressing business carrying them onward. Other stopped all together, some grinning at the display while others appeared more expectant, quietly murmuring to their companions if they were so fortunate as to have them.
Slowly, Doran began to lower his legs towards the ground, arching his back so that when they finally found purchase, his head and hands faced one direction while his knees and feet faced another. The small crowed offered an amused response, some quietly clapping while others made grinning remarks about the decidedly odd manner in which Doran moved, feet and hands scrabbling as though he were some sort of twisted beast. In the next trill, he pushed himself up off of the ground, coming to stand straight, grin wide and eyes gleaming with a mirthful enjoyment.
With at least ten or so people gathered, Doran yawned, an exaggerated motion that was poorly done, garnering a playful "boo" from several of the audience. He stretched his arms wide, his body bending backward to settle back onto his hands and continue walking around as before. There was a ripple of laughter at that, and he scrambled around for several more trills before he stopped in front of a small boy. His eyes were green and wide, staring down at Doran's upside down face with mix of amazement and fear.
Winking at the boy, he raised one of his hands, beckoning him a bit closer. His father, who stood beside him, pushed him forward with a laugh, eliciting a small squeak of apprehension that only served to further amuse the growing group of onlookers. Shuffling up to Doran, the boy looked on the verge of tears, but his mouth was set in a brave line. "What's your name, young man?" Doran's voice was surprisingly clear in spite of the position he maintained, and the boy was clearly shocked that Doran spoke at all.
"A-Arther. ...ser."
"Oh? I assure you, Arther, I am no Ser." Both Doran and several of the audience chuckled at that. "Would you stand quite still for me, please?" Arther nodded, hands clenched into fists as Doran adjusted his feet for a trill before pushing up and off of the ground. He'd chosen the boy specifically because he was short enough he wouldn't be much trouble arch over, and as his feet landed behind where Arther stood, Doran used the momentum of his bending body to carry himself in to a flip, spinning through the air in a rapid circle, knees quickly snapping up towards his shoulders before he straightened his legs and hit the landing firm and steady with a wide grin.
There was a round of clapping, the loudest of which was offered by Arther's father. The boy, however, turned, confused. "Did I... did I miss it?" He appeared genuinely distraught.
Taking a step behind him, Doran kept his back towards the boy but spoke loud enough that he might hear him. "Not at all, Arther. Stay right there, if you will." Glancing once over his shoulder to make certain the boy had done as he was bid, Doran's legs bent for a trill before he launched himself up into the air, the reverse of the flip he'd just landed, and sailed over the boy's head, their hair brushing as Doran passed.
With a breathless shriek of fear, Arther shut his eyes, but when he felt Doran warm had upon his shoulder, his face burst into a happy grin. "Wow."
"Wow indeed. Thank you for you assistance, Arthur. A bow for your fans?" Those gathered applauded as Arther took his bow, and Doran grinned as the green eyed child rejoined his father, who offered Doran a reflection of his own expression. "Now that I have your attention, I would very much like to show you something I've been working on. If I happen to break to my neck, please don't worry about leaving me any nels." There was a general wave of amusement at that, though Doran's genuine tone of voice gave some of the crowd pause, uncertain if what he had said was, in fact, jest or not.
Those gathered had formed a bit of a semi-circle around him, but there was enough empty street that Doran felt confident he would have no trouble with a single tumbling pass. Taking several steps back, leaving most of the space available between himself and his onlookers, Doran took a deep, calming breath. As he exhaled, he ran forward, catapulting his hands toward the ground as his feet shot up into the air. Twisting his body so his feet landed with toes facing where his hands had been placed, Doran used the momentum of his roundoff to start right into his back handspring, his body bending, curving, and bouncing as if his bones were merely suggestions of form.
When his feet once again hit the ground, Doraw whipped his head backward, feet zipping up into the air ahead of him as his arms shot out on either side of him, his hair brushed the cobbles of the street as his body straightened, a brief moment in which he was near perfectly perpendicular with the street below before his feet came down hard and head was whipped up - a back layout, though more snappish with very little air gained. Several of those gathered gasped during the layout, certain Doran's head would hit the ground, but let out relieved sighs and laughter when he stood unharmed, bowing to his audience with a jolly grin.
A man stepped forward from the crowd, a cocky smirk on his features, "Fancy a little contest, acrobat?" There was a collective "Ohh!" from the audience as Doran regarded the newcomer with a raised brow, eyes light with amusement. "Bet I can stay on my hands longer than you can." He was a fit looking character, at least a head taller than Doran and certainly more muscular.
"Do you now?" Several of those gathered chuckled, one of them a familiar, fair face who knew Doran's act well. "What say you?" He turned to the people, his grin wide and gaze searching. His reply was a loud, collective cheer, which he received with a shallow bow. "Very well, I accept."
The two of them squared up with one another before taking several steps back and one to either side as the audience began a countdown. On "one", they cast up, feet rising into the air and their weight shifted to their hands that pressed into the uneven cobbles. The blonde man was steady, sturdy, unmoving in his handstand, whereas Doran immediately began to teeter about the makeshift area, garnering several goodnatured jeers from those around him. He winked at them working his way in a rough circle until he found himself face to face with his competitor, their noses about an inch or so away.
Someone in the crowd, a decidedly feminine one, offered a cheery, "Kiss him!" to which Doran immediately placed a peck on the man's chin. Taken completely by surprise, the man's form broke, and he stumbled backward on his hands as the audience roared with laughter at the little stunt. He managed an astonished, "T-that's foul play!" Before he lost all balance and was forced to return to his feet. With an frustrated grunt, he made for Doran who let out a merry bought of laughter as he hurried away, still on his hands, much to the amusement of those watching. Eventually, the man managed to knock Doran over, his feet finding his balance without too much trouble, as the audience applauded both of them, unsure whether it had been part of the act or not, but clearly enjoying it in either case.
He continued for about a break more before taking some time to rest, letting the bulk of the crowd disperse and chatting with those who remained. Some merely wanted to thank him for his performance, but others had more technical questions about his craft, which he was glad to answer as best he could. Arther and his father had remained for the whole of his performance, and after he had spoken with several who had been waiting on him, the green eyed boy held out a hand, two copper nels held tightly in his fist. "Why, Arther, are these for me?" The boy nodded vigorously. "This is quite generous. Are you certain you wish to part with two? One will do just fine, you know."
Arther shook his head, his smile wide. "You did two flips. One each."
"Ah, a natural mathematician. The university will be glad to have you come the time, young man." He received his payment with a laugh, offering the boy's father a grateful nod of his head as the man left a much more sizable donation in the bag Doran had set out once the show had ended. "I am very thankful to have been able to work with you this trail, Arther. Be well." He waved them off with a smile and soft sigh as he began to stretch for the next round. Children like Arther were, by far, the most enjoyable part of his already quite gratifying job.
Sunshine had won back the sky from the clouds, and Doran had taken the opportunity of people enjoying the fair weather to venture out in search of eyes and - hopefully - coins. As he walked, he swung hims arms back and forth, readying his body and working out the slight tightness of his shoulders. Those around him afforded him a slightly wider berth, but none seemed all too upset with him, busy as they were with their own troubles. He chose a street corner, one relatively void of anything of interest, aside from an knotted old woman selling meatless meat pies.
Never one for dramatic theatrics, Doran quietly hopped up onto his hands, suspending his feet up into the air as he began to lazily walk about in an ever widening circle, claiming the cobbles for himself as the passersby adjusted their respective trajectories. Some, already, had begun to slow, curious gazes lingering but pressing business carrying them onward. Other stopped all together, some grinning at the display while others appeared more expectant, quietly murmuring to their companions if they were so fortunate as to have them.
Slowly, Doran began to lower his legs towards the ground, arching his back so that when they finally found purchase, his head and hands faced one direction while his knees and feet faced another. The small crowed offered an amused response, some quietly clapping while others made grinning remarks about the decidedly odd manner in which Doran moved, feet and hands scrabbling as though he were some sort of twisted beast. In the next trill, he pushed himself up off of the ground, coming to stand straight, grin wide and eyes gleaming with a mirthful enjoyment.
With at least ten or so people gathered, Doran yawned, an exaggerated motion that was poorly done, garnering a playful "boo" from several of the audience. He stretched his arms wide, his body bending backward to settle back onto his hands and continue walking around as before. There was a ripple of laughter at that, and he scrambled around for several more trills before he stopped in front of a small boy. His eyes were green and wide, staring down at Doran's upside down face with mix of amazement and fear.
Winking at the boy, he raised one of his hands, beckoning him a bit closer. His father, who stood beside him, pushed him forward with a laugh, eliciting a small squeak of apprehension that only served to further amuse the growing group of onlookers. Shuffling up to Doran, the boy looked on the verge of tears, but his mouth was set in a brave line. "What's your name, young man?" Doran's voice was surprisingly clear in spite of the position he maintained, and the boy was clearly shocked that Doran spoke at all.
"A-Arther. ...ser."
"Oh? I assure you, Arther, I am no Ser." Both Doran and several of the audience chuckled at that. "Would you stand quite still for me, please?" Arther nodded, hands clenched into fists as Doran adjusted his feet for a trill before pushing up and off of the ground. He'd chosen the boy specifically because he was short enough he wouldn't be much trouble arch over, and as his feet landed behind where Arther stood, Doran used the momentum of his bending body to carry himself in to a flip, spinning through the air in a rapid circle, knees quickly snapping up towards his shoulders before he straightened his legs and hit the landing firm and steady with a wide grin.
There was a round of clapping, the loudest of which was offered by Arther's father. The boy, however, turned, confused. "Did I... did I miss it?" He appeared genuinely distraught.
Taking a step behind him, Doran kept his back towards the boy but spoke loud enough that he might hear him. "Not at all, Arther. Stay right there, if you will." Glancing once over his shoulder to make certain the boy had done as he was bid, Doran's legs bent for a trill before he launched himself up into the air, the reverse of the flip he'd just landed, and sailed over the boy's head, their hair brushing as Doran passed.
With a breathless shriek of fear, Arther shut his eyes, but when he felt Doran warm had upon his shoulder, his face burst into a happy grin. "Wow."
"Wow indeed. Thank you for you assistance, Arthur. A bow for your fans?" Those gathered applauded as Arther took his bow, and Doran grinned as the green eyed child rejoined his father, who offered Doran a reflection of his own expression. "Now that I have your attention, I would very much like to show you something I've been working on. If I happen to break to my neck, please don't worry about leaving me any nels." There was a general wave of amusement at that, though Doran's genuine tone of voice gave some of the crowd pause, uncertain if what he had said was, in fact, jest or not.
Those gathered had formed a bit of a semi-circle around him, but there was enough empty street that Doran felt confident he would have no trouble with a single tumbling pass. Taking several steps back, leaving most of the space available between himself and his onlookers, Doran took a deep, calming breath. As he exhaled, he ran forward, catapulting his hands toward the ground as his feet shot up into the air. Twisting his body so his feet landed with toes facing where his hands had been placed, Doran used the momentum of his roundoff to start right into his back handspring, his body bending, curving, and bouncing as if his bones were merely suggestions of form.
When his feet once again hit the ground, Doraw whipped his head backward, feet zipping up into the air ahead of him as his arms shot out on either side of him, his hair brushed the cobbles of the street as his body straightened, a brief moment in which he was near perfectly perpendicular with the street below before his feet came down hard and head was whipped up - a back layout, though more snappish with very little air gained. Several of those gathered gasped during the layout, certain Doran's head would hit the ground, but let out relieved sighs and laughter when he stood unharmed, bowing to his audience with a jolly grin.
A man stepped forward from the crowd, a cocky smirk on his features, "Fancy a little contest, acrobat?" There was a collective "Ohh!" from the audience as Doran regarded the newcomer with a raised brow, eyes light with amusement. "Bet I can stay on my hands longer than you can." He was a fit looking character, at least a head taller than Doran and certainly more muscular.
"Do you now?" Several of those gathered chuckled, one of them a familiar, fair face who knew Doran's act well. "What say you?" He turned to the people, his grin wide and gaze searching. His reply was a loud, collective cheer, which he received with a shallow bow. "Very well, I accept."
The two of them squared up with one another before taking several steps back and one to either side as the audience began a countdown. On "one", they cast up, feet rising into the air and their weight shifted to their hands that pressed into the uneven cobbles. The blonde man was steady, sturdy, unmoving in his handstand, whereas Doran immediately began to teeter about the makeshift area, garnering several goodnatured jeers from those around him. He winked at them working his way in a rough circle until he found himself face to face with his competitor, their noses about an inch or so away.
Someone in the crowd, a decidedly feminine one, offered a cheery, "Kiss him!" to which Doran immediately placed a peck on the man's chin. Taken completely by surprise, the man's form broke, and he stumbled backward on his hands as the audience roared with laughter at the little stunt. He managed an astonished, "T-that's foul play!" Before he lost all balance and was forced to return to his feet. With an frustrated grunt, he made for Doran who let out a merry bought of laughter as he hurried away, still on his hands, much to the amusement of those watching. Eventually, the man managed to knock Doran over, his feet finding his balance without too much trouble, as the audience applauded both of them, unsure whether it had been part of the act or not, but clearly enjoying it in either case.
He continued for about a break more before taking some time to rest, letting the bulk of the crowd disperse and chatting with those who remained. Some merely wanted to thank him for his performance, but others had more technical questions about his craft, which he was glad to answer as best he could. Arther and his father had remained for the whole of his performance, and after he had spoken with several who had been waiting on him, the green eyed boy held out a hand, two copper nels held tightly in his fist. "Why, Arther, are these for me?" The boy nodded vigorously. "This is quite generous. Are you certain you wish to part with two? One will do just fine, you know."
Arther shook his head, his smile wide. "You did two flips. One each."
"Ah, a natural mathematician. The university will be glad to have you come the time, young man." He received his payment with a laugh, offering the boy's father a grateful nod of his head as the man left a much more sizable donation in the bag Doran had set out once the show had ended. "I am very thankful to have been able to work with you this trail, Arther. Be well." He waved them off with a smile and soft sigh as he began to stretch for the next round. Children like Arther were, by far, the most enjoyable part of his already quite gratifying job.
