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A miracle happened the other day, even though he knew full well 'miracles' didn't exist... Let's rephrase, then, ' a great happening by the hands of fate was bestowed upon the boy'.
Much better.
A great thing happened to the boy just moments ago. After a dily routine in the square of Chitten Town, a mysterious cloaked man offered him a piece of paper. This was not much use to him, since he couldn't read it and his lusus was illiterate, but by the end of the week he had found out what it read.

"Dear Jester Boy

Please come to the theatre in New Hemisect City. I may have a jig for you."

A jig! he thought out loud, as loud as thoughts could be, which wasn't very loud at all since they are unable to be heard. The boy spun in circles with the paper in his hand and rubbed it in his lusus's face, smiling a wicked toothy grin. It was his dream to go to the city and perform in front of an audience that actually payed money to see him work. Was it work? He didn't know, it felt more like play to him.

Unfortunately, neither of them knew heads or tails about how to get to the city. They had never left the canyon, even though the orange blood had planned on it since he was only two sweeps old. It took quite a while to get a map to the city, verbal directions to help understand the map, and pack up everything he needed to perform and stay the night in a temporary-hivestem.

After a full night of packing and a day of rest, Belife saddled his lusus, attached the bags on the side of the saddle and left at the second the sun set. He was too excited to wait until it was fully dark and missed most of the trip out of the canyon into the desert by having to keep his eyes closed. He was blind enough as it was, he didn't need to be completely blind. A world of darkness did not sound enjoyable, especially for a hand-on person like he was.

The trip from the desert to the city took three nights of traveling, much to his discontent. That was not fast enough. He had not even thought about when the man had set up the jig for him, he just wanted to get to the city at this point.

Belife was asleep when PapaCow arrived at the city gates. When they were clear to pass, both of them became dumbfounded. Large black blobs surrounded them and reached into the sky and the pale-peachy cobble stone roads were an ocean of black and gray. There were many coloured lights on the tall black towers and it confused Belife. He couldn't see. There was too much colour, too much movement. He couldn't concentrate on anything, and the depth between them was decievingly small he found out as he ran into nearly everyone on the busy streets.

By the end of the night he decided to ride his Lusus again instead of walk along side him, holding onto his horn. It helped Belife see, at least over the sea of trolls, but it was still too busy for him. Belife's heart fluttered in his chest disappointingly. He did not know it would be this busy, or this scary. Left and right trolls yelled at him for running into them and tried to attack him. He managed to avoid getting hurt, but they never did find the temporary-hivestem he was supposed to stay at.

The orangeblood has closed his eyes for a sensory-overload rest of colours and sounds. He kept upon his perch on his lusus, who was standing asleep. He had a tendency to do that, but he wasn't impossible to wake up. Just a small kick of the heels and he, groggily, wake up.

Belife's heart was not in the right place at the moment. He was sure he had missed the show from the travel to NHC and the day wasted looking for the temporary-hivestem and theatre. That was almost 90 hours. He might have wanted the boy to come within 24. There wasn't a date marked, so he tried to get there as fast as possible. Unfortunately, his heart kept telling him he was late and this was a wasted trip.

Or was it? His dream was to perform, but maybe he didn't have to be on a stage? He could do a street routine, like in Chittentown except with more people. Think of the people!

Belife was ready to kick his heels and wake his lusus when he was pulled hard to the side. It shocked him and he almost fell off the loosely tied saddle. He frantically tried to climb back up, a little sheepish from shifting his weight too hard when he heard someone shout. He looked around for the voice from the crowds of people waking by the alley they decided to veer into for a rest. At the moment, he could see where the voice came from, but he heard the snorts of a happy camper. He looked down to see another lusus trying to get in his bags. "Hey! Get out of there yeh 'dern thing!" he shouted at it, waving his foot in front of the large white blob. He was not so much afraid of it stealing something, but more afraid it might scratch or bloody his good knives. He stuck his shoe down on it's head in an attempt to subdue it, missing once from his vision and cutting his knee on an invisible-to-him tusk.

Belife jumped when another blob, a fast one, tackled the lusus to the ground. Vanille woke up then, hearing the commotion and feeling Belife get antsy on the saddle. He slowly turned himself around to watch the girl and snorted a sleepy yawn.

"Please keep yer lusus out of meh stuff. Ah don't want it gettin' cut or ruinin' mah knives." he said to her, trying to push the lusus away with his good leg, since Vanille turned around. Belife squinted at the troll in front of him, his vision made her symbol become drown in the sea of green. It was visibly green, but there was orange in her hair. Did she dye it? Is she masquerading? He didn't know, but didn't bother to ask yet. He wanted this lusus contained and he wanted to know about his note, first.

Belife held onto the saddle heavily as Vanille steadied himself. He watched the white, more than like tusked, blob-lusus dig at the ground as he replied to the similar orange blood.

"Traveller? Nay, ahm a perforrrrrmer!" he said exciting, crossing his arms over his chest as he rolled his r's. "Well, ah suppose ah travl'd 'ere. But ah ain't sightseein'... mostly. Ah was tasked 'ere to perrrrforrrrm at a the'tah. Dunno where it is, hope ah ain't late." He smiled a tooth grin at her and then froened, realizing he had no idea where it was.

"Don't suppose ye know where it is do ye?" He handed her a piece of paper from a tiny side-pouch on the saddle. It was just a white piece of scrap paper with a fancy signature. Vanille couldn't read the signature, but it was awfully fancy. He hoped she'd recognised it; on a poster or something? He hoped it wasn't a ruse, either. It was quite the walk!