There wasn't a sensation in the world that Katia loved and cherished more than the rush and excitement of the last dress rehearsal before a performance. It was almost like focusing on an ant colony. There were so many people making up the inner workings of everything and if too many members were slacking off or were missing, the entire grand scheme could fall apart in a matter of time. Being able to see how it all fit together was a skill Katia was taught from a young age, for if you can see the little cogs clicking together in a performance, you can see with ease how a trick comes together. Every time her grandfather took her to a show or did a trick for her, he expected a detailed explanation of everything involved in the trick and what techniques were used to pull it off. It didn't take long for her to get into the habit of doing it with everything.
The purple-haired illusionist made her perch the balcony closest to the stage as she daydreamed and almost dozed off. She was pulled from her trance by a stage assistant tapping her on the shoulder.
"Miss Anderson, there are two young men outside of the theatre who are causing a scene."
"I'm not sure I see why this is any of my concern?" She raised an eyebrow. "This seems like the problems of someone in authority."
"One of the men is your dear cousin."
Ah. No wonder her great uncle dumped him on her. Sammy caused enough trouble for her to start getting gray hairs and wrinkles at the ripe old age of nineteen. Katia smoothed down her skirt, sighing heavily.
"Yes, I'll be sure to take care of it."
She hurried outside, the heels of her shoes clicking as she dashed across the lobby. Sure enough, her cousin was just moments away from throwing his guitar at another man who was carrying two birds on his arm who were flapping their wings and tweeting wildly. Instead of helping, the bystanders seemed more interested in watching. Before Sammy could make another move, she grabbed him by the ear and pulled him down.
"Yowch, cuz! What was that for?" He whined, making her wince. "I was about to teach this punk a lesson!"
"I resent that! That screeching you call music isn't only scaring my audience away but it's scaring my birds!" The other man snapped. He was far taller than her and dressed rather neatly for a street performer. Perhaps he was a fellow magician? Something about him made him harder to read.
"Screeching? I'll have you eating those words! You just don't know anything about rock 'n' roll!"
Katia kept a stern gaze on her cousin, touching her fingers to her forehead. This whole affair was already starting to give her a headache and the lights and music hadn't even started yet. However, the feeling was all too familiar.
"Sammy, please go inside, I've had quite enough of your nonsense for one day and its only the early afternoon." She didn't even bother looking at him, annoyed.
He drooped a little, picking up his microphone and retreating back into the lobby. The crowd quickly disappeared as soon as the action cleared out, leaving her and the other man alone. In unison, they both released a tired sigh.
"I'm sorry about him." Katia offered a weak smile. "My great uncle thought having him around would make him less like… him."
"Then it obviously didn't work, but your chastising makes up for it a little. Thank you, my er… hero." The man smiled, his birds perching on her shoulder.
She giggled as the little white doves inspected her violet hair with curiosity. The young man watched as they warmed up to her, nuzzling her cheek.
"Their names are Spring and Cogg. And my name is Clive." He introduced.
"They're very cute." Katia beamed, letting them scurry on to her forearm. "Oh! To make it up to you, you should come to the show tonight."
Clive shrunk back, his face paling. She frowned. Was something wrong? He seemed uncomfortable at the idea of it. She was sure that it wasn't that big of a deal.
"No, I can't. Good bye. And I'd take that paper scrap that man stuck to your back while you weren't looking." His tone was curt as he whistled for his birds to return to him and his bag.
Before she knew it, he had went back to doing tricks for the passerby. Confused, she plucked off the paper he was talking about. It appeared to be half of a tarot card, but the image was so faded she couldn't make out what the card originally was. Messy handwriting was scrawled on the back of it, bearing the name Descole in overly fancy script.