Alight [Odessa/public]

Vesna's little book of blessings and curses had been filled. She desperately needed another before life's burdens and the reality of her and others' situations became too much for her to handle. But first, she had to get rid of the old one. No, not in the trash, where it would sit there like lead just as then memory of it would on her heart-- she had to set each one free. Each days worth of stress and joy (because joy can be taxing, too) she would have to dispose of, somehow, differently with each book, so that she would never find them again, and she would only remember letting them go.

So she walked herself to the dust-- the most desolate place around. It was like an open mind, waiting to listen and unload her burdens.

She sat down and tore each piece out gingerly, folding them into an intricate flying bird shape. She had worthless thoughts, usually, but she never understood that not many people could create things as beautiful. Too many were smarter than her, they would excel if they tried. But... she hoped not. Her art was all she had to her name, really.

She picked up the first bird, peering inside for a moment to read her thoughts so long ago.

Many men never pay. I never stop them, I don't know how. I'm afraid to know how, in case it turns me into someone else.

She savored the emotion for a moment as she drew the paper back, then let it sail into the gusts of dust, making it disappear. She couldn't tear them-- that meant there could be pieces stuck to her clothes, in her hair, and the feeling would never go away.

She read the next one before it disappeared into the air.

My sister is dead. I'm ashamed to not have mourned.

Or, that was what she thought. She didn't want to mourn, deep down. What if, possibly, a blind woman could still make it on her own here? It would be a miracle, to say the least. But she hadn't seen any yet, and was doubtful.

Gradually, she let each paper bird fly off into oblivion, and felt the weight lift off of her shoulders. That wasn't to say the same thoughts wouldn't reappear in her next notes, but the past was gone, the slate was wiped clean. Just like the emptiness of The Dust.

Bernard was lost in this place. He was here for his sister, not the town, not the people. He was a man who was used to such a high quality of life, at home, everywhere he went was beautiful. The mountains, the trees, the animals, the food, the people, the town, they were all so perfect. The towns were so friendly, the people were so welcoming. But here, he didn't know how to take it when people, like that dark man or that grey haired man got mad at him for helping out. Even when his sister got fed up with him, he didn't know what to do. The people here were so mean to the naive man. All he wanted to do was help.

He realized he was not any help, though, so he left for somewhere or another. He needed to walk, maybe he could find some beauty somewhere. There was beauty everywhere, he knew, be it a matter of aesthetics, or be it something personal.

It was difficult finding something. It was so destitute, so lonely. He couldn't even find any people. Maybe the loneliness could have been it's beauty, it gave one time to think. But how could one think when dust was being whisked into their eyes all too often?

He was almost at a loss, until a small paper bird flew to his side. It flied closer and closer to him, and he had no choice but to pick it up from the ground. A smile formed across his face. That little piece of perservernce, that was beautiful, wasn't it? There was writing inside the folds of the bird. He didn't want to read it, though, the words were not meant for him.

He walked forward a bit more, and there was a girl. To the Tirolean, she seemed so lonely. Maybe the bird belonged to her? Maybe she was looking for it? He came up behind her, hoping not to startle her as he did so.

"Miss...Is this yours...?" His deep and heavily accented voice asked so softly.

One could argue that her standard of living was a little less than his, or at least a different experience. But she felt the same way about being stuck here.

Jumping slightly (she wasn't small enough to think she could be harmed) she looked behind her to see him... With one of the papers. She frowned. "It's not supposed to be..." but she supposed it was hers again-- it had come back. She stood (not even noticing there was dust all over her from sitting) and took the paper back, knowing from the shape that it was her worry about her sister. If he had wanted to read it, he couldn't-- she didn't know how to write in English.

"Thank you..." She supposed she should say something else from her sudden depression. "....Do you live here? I haven't seen you before."

((still thinking about the Franze/august response huurrggg ): ))

((That's okay, though I'm leaving soon fffuuuuu--))

He smiled at her, not really sure what to say, but he hoped a smile could make do as he thought of something. She seemed sad, but the Austrian's smile radiated warmth, even if he was also a little sad. Maybe that could do something to cheer her up. A good few seconds took place, where he didn't really say anything.

"I think it is a very good idea to fill this place with birds. They are very cheerful." So maybe he shouldn't have given it back if that was her intention...? Did he make her sad like this...? He hoped not.

"I...I help out at the carnival...the Ragtag one...but only recently, I am from Austria..."

And there was another long silence.

"Do you...have a home here...?" If not, was he even allowed to offer her a home or food? He would do it anyways.

She couldn't help but smile along with him-- at what, she had no idea.

"I wasn't..." She began frustratedly. "You... Weren't supposed to pick it up, they were supposed to disappear-- but, I suppose that you did find it and that means it's not over but... Maybe you aren't part of the whole thing that would make me keep it and so maybe it doesn't count..." She had thouroughly confused herself.

"My name is Vesna-- from the ussr. I work with mystique-- I'm a prostitute." If he disclosed his work, she would too. Wait... Did he say ragtags? Hadn't someone told her some of them took her sister? "You wouldn't happen to know... You haven't seen a blind girl around, have you?" What an extremely vague question. She wasn't sure if she would like the answer.

He was glad to see that she was smiling now... But again, he didn't really know what she was talking about. She had confused herself, it seemed... But more than that she confused him. Maybe this had something to do with the writing? He didn't know. But he wasn't going to question her about it...

Her confession of her occupation caught Bernard by surprise. He had never met a prostitute before, he had only heard bad things about them... As a Catholic, more religious than most of his siblings, he knew prostitutes were supposed to be bad... But it didn't seem like she was bad. Maybe that could be why she seemed so sad...?

"Bernard Oeggl!" he grinned, shaking her hand. He was just as rude as some of the other people here in forgetting to say his name.

And the blind girl? Yes! He knew a blind girl! Her eyes were so weird, it was very difficult not to stare. (And sometimes that grey haired man would get mad at him for staring.)

"Yes! There is one that works with us. She is very nice, and small with blonde hair." he smiled, as if that description was enough.

She didn't see anything wrong with her profession-- she wasnt hurting anyone by it. And certainly she fared better than most others in the game. She wasn't particularly religious, but she drew the line between good and bad reasonably. Nevertheless, she saw from his face that it must have disconcerted him. "I like art, too..." she added quickly.

She had been studying his expression when he surprised her out of the blue with a handshake. Well, she could say for sure that if he hadn't come around, she'd still be fairly sad. "Bernard." She wasn't going to try the surname. "I can remember that."

Another surprise. "She's not dead!" She exclaimed, taking back his hand in enthusiasm. The vague description was specific enough. How many blind small blonde women were aimlessly roaming? "That's my sister, Sofia." She was always the smartest, it was only right that she sound proud being related. But... Another question remained. "Is she happy?"

"I like art." He grinned. The Tyrolean was no artist himself, nor did he really know how to go into museums and point out certain things about art, like he knew his sister could. But still, it was nice to look at pretty things.

He didn't expect her to get so excited about the little blind girl, but his grin grew impossibly large when he was aware of her joy. Was that what she was sad about? And then Bernard helped her feel better! This was great!

"I don't know her well, but she seems to be very happy. There is a tall man, with grey hair, he is a little scary to other people, but he is very nice with the small little girl. I think they are very happy together, because they hold each other a lot, and he helps her, and I think she helps him somehow." He shrugged, also embracing the hand grip. "She is a very sweet girl, and she cries sometimes, but I think the cries are not very sad cries, because sometimes she smiles after." He didn't really know how to judge her personality, or how to describe it, but the girl, he knew, did not seem so totally in despair.

"She is also very nice to my sister....And, that makes me very happy..." Bernard knew that a few people did not like his sister. But, some of the people were so welcoming, it made everything better. "I...My sister used to work at Mistique... She is small also, with brown hair, and very pretty, have you ever known her...?"

Finally something good had come about getting rid of the pages. With someone who liked art, too. Her smile couldn't be wider-- well his was larger than hers, but that was to be expected by now.

Now she knew her sister was alive and happy. Which was alot more than she ever did for her. A gray haired man? Hadn't she seen him before? Perhaps that was why the thought didn't cross her mind that perhaps his hair was gray because he was older. "I'm so glad." She got teary-eyed herself-- that should answer his confusion about the crying. "Maybe I can see her sometime." But not today. She didn't have much more time to be alone.

His sister? There was someone at mystique that spoke like he did but she didnt know who she was (went to show how dim she was). "Ah, yes--" she remembered, then spoke as if she was a detective going over facts. "Your sister is smaller than my sister. I remember her, but she didn't talk to me, much. She had nice clothes." She remembered when Crina dragged her to the Austrian's car to steal (why, she had no idea)-- though she didn't participate much. "I liked her." From what she knew, anyways, which was less than she should have considering.

He was so surprised when she started crying. But she was smiling and crying, she was happy. That must have been why the little blind girl cried. It must have been something weird in their blood, or something, but he didn't blame them. He could have cried too, just to join the mood, but crying wasn't so easy for him.

And she even liked his sister! This occasion was so happy! He now saw the beauty in this place! This place was so sad... but yet, people could cheer each other up. He brought beauty to the carnival, he knew, when he came to comfort Franze. The beauty happened when happiness was found.

"You, you should visit your sister, and you can visit my sister too, and me! It would be so good to see you again, I would be very happy, and I think you could be too, and your sister... and even my sister!" His big grin didn't waver. "My sister will talk to you there. I bet if you like her, then she would like you! She says that she doesn't like people sometimes... But I think she really does, she just... she is very good at hiding her feelings." If people like this Vesna girl were in the old carnival, then Bernard could only wonder why Franze would ever leave. Vesna was so nice. He now knew that prostitutes weren't as bad as he thought. No, they were very nice people... They just must have been sad. Maybe she would stop being a prostitute now that she was so happy.

"You're welcome anytime, even now."

She nodded and smile, not exactly keeping up with the speed of his words. But she was happy because he was happy-- and she had found her sister after all, and she was happy. Although she did wonder what he meant about the grey-haired man.

"I dont think I can visit... Now..." She had business to do, and she didn't get paid if the room was empty when someone got there. "But later. Here--" She folded out the paper and flipped it to it's unwritten side, taking the pen from her empty notebook and wrote her best in English, Vesna Giravivna. Room 12. and placed it in his hands. "Just in case I don't visit you first."

The Tyrolean nodded and smiled, quite like she did, as she placed the paper in his hand. He would obviously be inclined to visit her sometime. Though she said she was a prostitute... Well, Bernard had no idea where prostitutes worked, or what it was like. But if prostitutes were all as nice as her, they must work at a fairly nice place.

He would be eager to meet all the nice ladies. Maybe Franze was friends with them? Maybe they would be one of the few that remember her kindess!

"I will visit! But... Please you must come soon. I will keep it a surprise for your sister and mine!" he grinned, extending his large hand out to shake her hand.

"I'm so happy to meet you."