[b]Jing Lao[/b]

Lao was a quiet person both in nature and demeanor, to hear his footfalls would be a strain on even the keenest ears as if he disturbed neither leaf nor twig nor the wind itself as he moved through the open expanses like a ghost in the night. It was not unusual for the seamstress -as he was known through the circus tent, no doubt a certain mans idea at humour but it fazed him not- to walk the grounds at night though it was not for patrol or merry making. Lao often enjoyed the quiet of the night, the soft sounds of whatever wildlife they happened to be camped with and the warm glow of the stars above, the soft feel of the wind on his skin or at times the rain if he was lucky. It was dry today though and the walk was pleasant, as often he did he checked on the performers he'd finished darning clothes and silks for, checking that their outfits held and survived the tension of whatever act they had performed. More often than not there was not a stitch out of place but sometimes, for new designs, there would be a small flaw that would need rectifying. Tonight for example the strong man, donned in his new silken outfit, had torn the crotch of his trousers, nothing the audience had noticed mind for the silk ripped as silently as he who wove it walked and yet it was indeed something that needed rectifying. 

So with needle in one hand and garment delicately draped across the other the spinster was already fixing the little tear in his garment and doubling the stitching inside of the legs while humming a soft, warm tune to himself. The quiet was something they rarely got to enjoy, a lull between the audience leaving and the preparations for the night and it seemed few truly appreciated such silent beauty and as was usual the golden silence was shattered by the sound of raised voices. As if the sound itself was on a wire beneath his feet Lao felt the vibrations before he even heard the voices and yet still he jumped in surprise, slipping with needle and puncturing the pale skin of one index finger. A fresh drop of sanguine welled to the surface angrily and with a small, albeit brief frown Lao looked to it and then sucked the offending digit clean before returning to his sewing. He did though make a rather sharp turn in his otherwise graceful and placcid walk and slipped inside his own pitched tent. 

It was nothing beautiful or grandoise, there was a cot on which several blankets, thick furs -for he got indescribably cold at night no matter what he tried to do- lay bundled across. A small leather bound chest which served as his work station which was suitably cluttered with work tools and necessities while his steel ring lay against the wooden support of the frame. Several dark coloured silks hung from the tents ceiling, trapping the heat in and the cold air out and giving it a friendlier feel while all the same a feeling of a spiders home. The floor was covered in tatami style, bamboo mats and atop these at the far side of the 'room' were the various costumes he was working on and his own little shoulder bag of things, hair brush, change of clothes, a second pair of slippers for performing in and so on. His prize though he lightly tugged from under his bed and set to using immediately, a look of utter peace and tranquility wasted on an empty room. 

With steps as light as a dragonfly he slipped through the glass, steaming teapot balanced on a beautiful wooden board. Several cups, saucers and small round white treats that looked rather oddly squishy resided in his arms. For those who had been invited to his tea service before they would recognize these little balls as mocchi, a sweet, sticky treat filled with a fruit flavoured surprise and dusted lightly in sugar powder. The steam from his pot had, for those of discerning taste, a rather fennel like scent to it, while the earthenware crockery smelled a little more like peppermint, the tea of his last guests choosing. With quiet steps and an unhurried pace the shifter quietly followed the thrumming vibrations in the ground, of course, he hardly needed such for Andracos' voice carried rather well, which he possibly already knew and was the whole point. He did so love his little drama's, though often Lao found himself wondering as to why, he'd never ask though, never even show such a curiousity for such would be rather rude and may indeed add fuel to the fire that was Andracos' self-loathing, or was it self-love?

Either way the petite effeminate man rounded a last corner and spotted the scene unfolding before him and inwardly he grimaced to himself, it seemed every night there was a new drama, a volatile little explosion that was bound to happen when so many people of varying origins and paths converged in such small quarters. Glancing to the individuals one by one he was not surprised by the presence of any but the angel Rosalina, his heart skipped a beat as he set his eyes upon her but with a faint, almost sorrowful smile he removed his attention. Pretty little thing like any caged bird but she had little sway over his heart when he was ready for her, despite this he was rather fond of her gentle ways and her innocent nature and indeed of her and thus he came to the conclusion that such a dear should not see such acts of hostility among family. 

Swords always set him rather on edge if he were honest and perhaps he hesitated a moment longer than he felt he should but one who had eyes on him would see barely a falter in his own graceful steps which lead him first behind, then beside and finally in front of the most volatile member of this unhappy circumstance. Offering Andracos a brief, disarming smile of genuine camaraderie he then glanced to the other two, the angel Ceci and the Merfolk Eikki. "Oh dear me there you all are starting the party without me? I'd feel hurt if I didn't know you all better." There was a softness to his voice that spoke of no hostility, in fact by the tranquility and compassion in his tone one would have to wonder if he was even capable of anger let alone hostility. With the gentle mannerisms stereotypical of his homeland he placed the tray on the top most step of the caravan currently the center of the ruckus. "You don't mind do you? It's quite heavy after a while and it's rather hard to pour tea and balance the tray." 

He seemed to 'only then' notice the swords and did a slow -but elaborate- double take. "Oh no no no, this will never do." Lightly taking up one of the sweet squishy deserts, about the size of an american gumball he easily flipped up onto the railing used to steady oneself up and down the stairs. Crouched there he pressed the sweet dessert not forcefully mind, to Eikki's lips. "Say ahh?" He cooed in a gentle tone void of sarcasm or an abundance of mirth, just enough to show his good intentions rather than to cause mockery or disgrace. "Such a nasty business weapons. Don't you think? Always creating more problems than they solve." He leaned close to drop his voice to a spidery whisper, "Like scaring a darling angel perhaps? Not things for ladies to see." Leaning back again and should the treat be taken he casually rolled backwards onto his feet back on the grass, pirouetting flawlessly to press another little piece of mocchi to Andracos' lips, once again his voice a quiet whisper for just the dramatic ones ears. "Can't imagine Mr. Seil would be too happy about all this either." Before beaming brightly and honestly again, tilting his head slightly to offer a wink to the sweet, half hidden, Rosalina. 

Lao abhorred violence though he wasn't unaccustomed to it since arriving here, it seemed every other day there was another injury or another, to the crew or the audience, it had left him with rather good reflexes ones that, if needs be, might aid in their angel situation. One now just had to hope both Andracos and Eikki were accepting of the China-man's administration of candy and didn't take it as an offence, it would though be a rather ironic twist that the pair might bond over a shared anger at Lao. Offering Rosalina a piece of mocchi he could only wait for the outcome of his little stunt, things didn't often turn out as planned when he stepped between a fight but often more times than not, be it just because Lao was in the way or not, things were diffused before blood was drawn. Never though had he stepped between such large ego's as he had just now though and while nervous on the inside he only reflected his odd calm tranquility and that disarming smile on the outside. "I think we could all do with a cup of tea, don't you? I'm sure our employer will be back any minute to settle this...problem? Hmm?"