There was something of an inexplicable camaraderie floating around amongst the dwellers of East Clock Town: A feeling of esprit-de-corps, as circus-men and hired carpenters alike worked synergistically to construct stages and rostrums of all shapes and sizes, to accommodate performers from far and wide who’d ventured there for the Carnival of Time. 
And whilst some of those bright-eyed entertainers had seemingly been overshadowed by the pure immensity of the gesture- such as the musicians, who’d been drowned out by the chatter of crowds and left lost amongst their writhing forms- most seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. 
It was a time for merriment, after all! There was a static in the air that seemed to predict the coming of something earth-shattering, and excited spectators throughout the Eastern quarter seemed to be picking up on it. 

And somewhere amongst all this joyous chaos, on a small plot of the land that had been sealed off- at least for the moment- by a troop of his fellow performers, strode Anemos Seuhans. 
All around him, mighty wooden beams were being erected, rising from the floor and piercing the skies as the troupe’s “strongmen” battled their weights with long rope, which they attached to iron spikes.
Right now, all they formed was an oaken skeleton: But once it’d been garbed properly, and furnished, this little plot of dirt would be transformed into [i]The Spectacle Rock Circus[/i], Anemos’ pride and joy. 
It was to be adorned with a silken tent, coloured all autumn shades of red and gold… 
But that was a long way off, yet. Beams still needed to hoisted, and stands constructed: A circus took time to construct, it took money. 
And nobody knew that better than its conductor, owner and manager, Grout Mutah. 

Anemos had been motioning to leave the building site when first his boss approached him, his heavy silver mono-brow worn low over his eyes, indicating a disgruntled and worrisome expression… 
One that Anemos honestly couldn’t make out, due to his better’s short disposition, which certainly wasn’t made better by his habit of slouching forwards. 
His callused hand had seized the young man’s just before he’d crossed the threshold, and stopped him dead in his tracks. 
There was a few moments silence, after that. 

“Going somewhere, Anemos?” he asked, his heavy brow complimented by the shaking of his equally faded moustache. There was concern in his tone. 
Anemos nodded, and turned to look down at him, “Yeah, I thought I’d go for a stroll, maybe explore a little! Why?”
“You’ve been… disappearing an awful lot, lately,” he observed, relinquishing his grip on the performer’s wrist, “Missing practices.” 
There was a moment’s pause between the two, before the acrobat replied, “But I always come through when it counts, right?”
“Luck’s a precious thing,” the older man warned, “Don’t squander it, son.”

With a playful grin, he patted Grout on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna run off and join another troupe, alright? I thought I’d just go and say hello to the neighbours!”
With an alleviated sigh, the older man’s shoulders dropped into a more relaxed position, and although it wasn’t visible, Anemos became certain his face had softened, too. 
“Right,” he nodded, thick brows rising slightly, “So, you’re going to scope out the competition?”
“[i]Competition?[/i],” Anemos arched a brow, “What competition? We’re just here to give these people a good time! The show of a life time!” 
“No, [i]you’re[/i] here to give them a good time,” Grout explained, pressing a stubby finger to Anemos’ chest, “[i]I’m[/i] here to make them pay for it.”
“Boy, Grout,” Anemos began, taking a few steps back, “You make me sound like an escort!”
“You’re not [i]that[/i] pretty,” the older man observed, in a playful tone. 
“But I [i]am[/i] pretty, right?”, Anemos replied, convivially. 

There was another short pause.
“… just go and explore, Anemos.” 
With a chuckle, the young human began pacing- backwards- towards the threshold of the circus’ territory, “I’ll be back before practice!” 
“You better be!”
Anemos gave him a sportive salute, before turning on his heel, and bounding off into the crowds, disappearing amongst the waves of heads and bodies.