Warning may be PG 13 now, but it will rise to an R, you'll known when it will.
---------
Seraph Vega yawned as he tossed a mask back into the costume trunk. He twirled the hat once in his gloved hands before flattening it. With careful attention to detail as much as a slight hint of the flamboyant, piece-by-piece of his outfit dropped to the rug-covered floor.
"That was rather fun, I'll admit." 'Set' chuckled as he unfastened the pouch, allowing the object to be illuminated by the gas-powered camp light.
A fox stared unblinking at the observant amber eyes, its 'coat' gleamed with the palest of ice-green hue, and so intricate was the carving that it's five tails almost seemed to move in the yellowish light. A rare display of beautiful white-jade that was nearly a foot high, and weighing close to five pounds -- so expensive on it's own, and priceless in its rarity.
"Aren't you a beauty? I think I may keep you instead of selling." The blue-black haired teen smiled warmly as he lifted with utmost care, to examine it further. "And to think I was going to take a musty old Katana, Now where can I put you where you won't break…" eyes scanned the small tent, peering over a dusty vanity, towards a mush-up cot, over the faded old posters, and down to the trunk. "Not exactly a fine way to store you, but it'll have to do until the run's over." Shifting through the contents, he yanked out a colorful scarf bedecked with tassels and fringes in a gaudy Mardi-Gras coloration. With the same skilled hands that stolen the Vixen, he twined, and wrapped it around the figure, leaving all but it's disturbingly cunning eyes covered.
"Set! Get changed, you're act's coming up!" A sharp, yet darkly melodious voice rang out as the teen hastily shut the trunk.
"Yes Mistress! Just a wink!" The Portuguese-descended male called back as he reopened the trunk, and unburied a glittering blue leotard with faint feathery outlines. Seraph, Nephil, Domi, Kerub, Angelo, and Virtue -- the Wings of the Magi! He memorized the names as he dropped his shorts, exchanging it for a thong, as that it would not ruin the contour of his athletic frame once the suit was placed on. Hopping on his feet as he pulled the skin-tight costume over himself, he peered out the flap of his tent, as he yanked a sleeve over his arm.
Smoothing out any remaining wrinkles, Seraph shoved his feet into the black slippers, and his hair into a tight braid. He passed by the petite, elfin woman with impossibly luxurious, waist-length copper hair. Her firm silver-gray eyes watched over 'Set' as he hurried up to join with other similarly dressed teenagers.
Isolde shook her head as she glided off to the lane, to assist with last-minute touches of make up to the Uncle and Auntie Bones that would populate the rings this night.
The gas-light, left on by the one known as Trick Master dimmed into nothingness, but yet, the tent was still a lit with a green-white after glow, before it too blinked out.