France,
Early 1990s
Amora stood tall on her little wooden board, her eyes focused on the swinging bars that were waiting for her. She gave not a glance to the ground, at least twenty feet down, nor a glance at the crowd, who were all watching the ring master with something like disbelief. They did not believe in angels.
It was Mora's job to convince them otherwise.
Her long black cloak covered her entire form, the hood pulled low leaving the rest of her face in shadow. She looked across for her cue, and the tall masculine black male nodded to her.
Counting mentally, Mora prepared herself, carefully untying the cloak from the inside, but not letting anything on the inside show.
The spotlight engulfed her, and one word was yelled from the ringmaster.
"ANGEL!"
Mora threw back her arms, revealing her sparking golden unitard and makeup. The crowd oohed and ahhed as they always did, and she smiled dazzlingly.
Without any prompting, she leapt forward, keeping her pace safely human.
She was suspended in the air a moment, the feathers attached to her costume making it look as if she was flying.
Her fingers wrapped around the bar and she swung, the crowd's booming applause in her ears.
It was almost love.
"Great show, Kirke."
"Thanks, Ringmaster." She grinned at the man, bouncing on the balls of her feet. There was nothing quite like the high after a show.
"Right, uh... Mora... about your payment..." The man backtracked as she visably deflated, the euphoria of a perfect act disappearing as dread made an appearance.
"It's only... we have animals to feed and..."
"I understand."
"You'll have it first thing next month." He said, once again.
"Alright."
She walked back toward her trailer, pulling open the door and glancing inside at the small, shabby contents.
It was empty.
Closing the door behind her, she went toward the stables, knowing that's where he freshblood would be.
Early 1990s
Amora stood tall on her little wooden board, her eyes focused on the swinging bars that were waiting for her. She gave not a glance to the ground, at least twenty feet down, nor a glance at the crowd, who were all watching the ring master with something like disbelief. They did not believe in angels.
It was Mora's job to convince them otherwise.
Her long black cloak covered her entire form, the hood pulled low leaving the rest of her face in shadow. She looked across for her cue, and the tall masculine black male nodded to her.
Counting mentally, Mora prepared herself, carefully untying the cloak from the inside, but not letting anything on the inside show.
The spotlight engulfed her, and one word was yelled from the ringmaster.
"ANGEL!"
Mora threw back her arms, revealing her sparking golden unitard and makeup. The crowd oohed and ahhed as they always did, and she smiled dazzlingly.
Without any prompting, she leapt forward, keeping her pace safely human.
She was suspended in the air a moment, the feathers attached to her costume making it look as if she was flying.
Her fingers wrapped around the bar and she swung, the crowd's booming applause in her ears.
It was almost love.
Later that night
"Great show, Kirke."
"Thanks, Ringmaster." She grinned at the man, bouncing on the balls of her feet. There was nothing quite like the high after a show.
"Right, uh... Mora... about your payment..." The man backtracked as she visably deflated, the euphoria of a perfect act disappearing as dread made an appearance.
"It's only... we have animals to feed and..."
"I understand."
"You'll have it first thing next month." He said, once again.
"Alright."
She walked back toward her trailer, pulling open the door and glancing inside at the small, shabby contents.
It was empty.
Closing the door behind her, she went toward the stables, knowing that's where he freshblood would be.
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