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 Posted: Thu Jun 14, 2007 6:32 pm
Hand now rooted to the side of the wheelbarrow, Grete's gaze now flicked upwards to meet Jo's.
"Now, if you accidentally dump everything on me, I might be a little upset. If you do it because you think it was funny, I'd have to get you back," Grete teased now walking alongside, making sure to keep a grip on the wheelbarrow. Even though they joked about it, Grete probably would be upset if all of the contents crushed her.
Due to this, she concentrated on keeping everything upright. Something seemed a little off with the wheelbarrow - it was quite noticeable. So, Grete put as much focus as she could into trying to keep it from tipping over.
"Eh, figures you'd be all quiet since I'm around," Grete laughed, a grin now on her face, "But, as long as it's not bothering you, I suppose I'll keep going. Maybe being talkative is one of the traits of Cirque-women. Actually, probably not. Come to think of it, a lot of the girls here are pretty shy."
Shrugging, she continued, "Maybe I'm just one of the odd ones out on that trait. Maybe there's a different trait, then, I hear guys always joking about Cirque women. Maybe we're all just crazy. Or maybe we're all just gorgeous," Grete paused to bat her eyelashes at Jo, but couldn't keep a straight face, and began laughing loudly.
"Kidding, kidding. I'm not that obnoxious. Or full of myself, come to think of it," Glancing down at the wheelbarrow, Grete frowned, a worried look crossing her face. It was just that noise that it was making...
"Do you think there's something wrong with the wheelbarrow? I haven't been around many, but they aren't supposed to sound like that, are they?"
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Posted: Thu Jun 14, 2007 6:52 pm
He grinned a little to himself, happy to let her yammer on. Besides, no better way to get a feel of a place than to let someone else tell you. "Crazy, shy, lookers - sounds like Cirque women are just like most of them." He glanced down at the wheelbarrow itself and then shrugged dismissively. "Just a loose screw." Probably.
Cutting through the midway was hazardous part. Jo slowed the pace of the wheelbarrow, eying the performers and inhabitants of the cirque as they skittered up and down the main drag to wherever it was they needed to be. The side alleys between tents and trailers probably would have been less crowded, but full of rope and bits and bobs to tangle up the wheelbarrow - not to mention would have taken longer. Besides, his leg was starting to give him all kinds of s**t. He'd been on his feet too long.
He waited for an opening and then, "Watch it," he forewarned and then skid forward as quickly as he could manage through the thoroughfare and --
"Well, we didn't kill anyone," Jo remarked cheerfully and then continued the rest of the way to the tent stabling most of the animals.
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Posted: Sun Jun 17, 2007 9:09 pm
Well, damn. It seemed as though there were many, many more people in Cirque than Grete realized. Which, honestly, was probably true, however she didn't really see it as such. To her, the sudden cluster of people along their path made it only seem like there were so many people. Which could've been true also; it didn't much matter to Grete.
"You're right. At least, I don't see any bodies laying around," she joked with Jo, as they made their way to their destination. It wasn't so bad. Grete had expected the trip to be much, much rougher. Feeling the little wheelbarrow quake suddenly, Grete's eyes widened, and she hoped for the best. No damage was made, however, and she tried to reassure herself by repeating Jo's words her head. it was just a loose screw. It was just a loose screw.
"You seem cheery," she commented pleasantly, smiling at him, before she glanced back in the direction of passing performers in order to people-watch, "Not that it's a bad thing. I don't know, when I saw you at first, I expected you to be some sort of stoic tough-guy. Who was never happy, or sad. We've actually got a few of those around here. Especially some of the guys that lift things." Glancing around back towards the crowd, Grete attempted to find and point out one of the aforementioned stoic, tough-guys, but was unsuccessful. Bummer.
"I wonder what they're all crowding around for," she mused, before looking ahead of her and saying, "Oh, look, we're nearly back!"
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Posted: Sun Jun 17, 2007 10:00 pm
The wheelbarrow caught on a stone that was small enough that Jo hadn't seen it but large enough to pop the whole thing up a little, the whole structure rattling as it rolled over the point of the rock and thumped heavily back on the ground. Jo eyed the contents of the barrow sideways, continuing forward warily when he was sure it wasn't going to bounce out on top of Grete, all joking aside.
"Well damn, I'd been aiming for the mysterious quiet type," he said as he turned a soft corner into a smaller 'side street,' if the place could be said to have streets. He rolled to a halt beside the opening to a large tent and began pulling the bay bales out of the wheelbarrow and letting them drop next to the row of tent stakes. "Guess I went and blew that, huh?" He grinned shallowly at her and, straightening, returned to the handles of the wheelbarrow and made a tight loop back around in the direction they'd come from. Second trip.
"So," he began after a moment, grasping at new subject matter - cause this whole talking about him thing kind of made the spot between his shoulder blades itch a little uncomfortably, made him over aware of the ache in his knee. Christ, he was going to have to sit down after this. "What's a medium do anyway?"
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Posted: Sun Jun 17, 2007 10:22 pm
"If you really wanted me to," Grete said slowly, mischievous grin on her face, "That could be our little secret. I wouldn't want to ruin your chances of having a mysterious image. I understand."
Stopping as they had reached their destination, Grete took a few steps back, so she wouldn't be in the way, and watched as things were emptied out of the wheelbarrow, and placed on the ground. Tilting her head to the side, just slightly, she thought about asking if she could lend a hand, but she knew the answer, and the obvious truth. They even looked heavy, and she felt guilty at making Jo do all the work, but, honestly, he was the man. He was probably used to that sort of work. Grete just wasn't the moving-things type.
Obediently following when Jo began to steer the wheelbarrow back, Grete quickly returned to his side and placed her hand on the edge of the wheelbarrow once more. A half-embarrassed smile was on her face once asked the ever-so-persistent question, and she tried to think of how to tell Jo. He seemed like the no nonsense, doesn't-take-s**t type of guy, and how to present him with the facts made Grete's job a little harder. As though it wasn't hard already. A thought crossed her mind to just lie about it, seeing as how he had no idea what a medium was. That would be a lie too hard to pull off, so Grete decided against it, and just went with her answer.
"You're going to think this is dreadfully silly," Grete presumed, "But it's all got to do with ghosts. Well, I use the word 'spirits' in my act, because, for the dramatic effect. Right, well, people come, and ask me to talk to their, oh, I don't know. Dead Aunt Sally, or someone, and I, er, do that. Talk to them, I mean. Only, instead of saying 'talk', I say 'commune'. Dramatic effect." Pausing, it dawned on her just how much of a ramble that was.
"You see, talking to ghosts is a really, really common trait where I come from. So, it's not so outlandish. It isn't for me. Might be for you. From what I hear, it's usually a skill performed by fakes where others come from." Grete applauded herself for that last line. It was very convincing. Hopefully, Jo wouldn't find her out.
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Posted: Sun Jun 17, 2007 10:59 pm
"Deal," he said. "I'd shake on it, but well..." He shook the wheelbarrow lightly for emphasis as they skimmed back across the midway the way they'd come, the way back a dramatically quicker walk when they being weighed down by bales of hay and bags of grain. As they came around the corner, Specks whinnied pointedly from where he was still tied, ears pricked. Jo shot him a glance, but largely ignored him in favor of lugging the last few bags of grain into the wheelbarrow and, more specifically, Grete's explanation of her...
"Huh. So--" Huh. "So like what, you sit and wait for Dead Aunt Sally to tell cousin Joe that she's forgotten to feed the cat or something? I mean, what kind stuff do they have to say? It kind of seems..." Superfluous? How much could a ghost actually a tell a person through...a medium? Not that Jo didn't take stock in ghosts, but he had to wonder what exactly some dead guy or gal was going to be telling their mourning relatives.
Edging the wheelbarrow back around, he pushed it back off in the direction of the animal tent.
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Posted: Sun Jun 17, 2007 11:12 pm
"Dead Aunt Sally wouldn't actually tell Cousin Joe. Dead Aunt Sally would tell me, and I would tell Cousin Joe," Grete corrected, nodding her head, "And, yeah, it is mostly the obvious. Like, 'move on', or... Well, basically just what Cousin Joe needs to hear." Grete's gaze lowered to the ground for just a moment, confident that she had kept her sly demeanor.
"Though, some times it gets interesting. Depends on the person. Depends on how Aunt Sally died. You know, my mother could actually do this thing," Since she had one hand on the wheelbarrow, she tried to use her other hand to gesture with, but it didn't work very well, "She could actually let the ghost talk through her. Quite scary, too. After she'd do it, I'd swear she was dead. That's why my father and sister were so surprised when she actually was. Dead, I mean." Her words came out effortlessly, as though she were just talking about the weather, or something else as trivial.
"My brother was living elsewhere, and so was I. I didn't get invited to the funeral, though," The look on her face wasn't solemn, or regretful. Rather, Grete sported a plain look, as though she wasn't surprised in the least that she wasn't invited. Either that, or it looked as though she didn't care.
"Anyway, you get the idea of my act. It's pretty simple. Draws a nice crowd, though. When I, er, see a ghost, I'll just describe them, waiting for someone in the audience to recognize them. Lots of 'oohs' and 'ahhs'. Some tears, too, but, hey. Comes with the territory, I suppose." Casting a sideways glance at Specks, Grete smiled.
"Good to know he's still there."
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Posted: Sun Jun 17, 2007 11:44 pm
"Sorry," he said absently, habitual - something people were trained to say about death from the get go. "About your mother." And the funeral. Jo had to wonder if, since Grete could talk to dead people, she ever talked to her mother, but thought that would probably be a little rude to actually ask about that kind of thing...
He glanced briefly over his shoulder back to Specks before they turned a corner and the pony left his line of sight. "He doesn't go much of anywhere," Jo admitted with a slight shrug. "More like a big dog than anything I guess."
The wheelbarrow clattered and bounced along the way back to the animal tent and if they were going a little faster than Jo (or the wheelbarrow, if the sound it was making was anything to judge by) would have preferred, it was only because he was probably leaning a little bit more weight on the wheelbarrow itself than was a strictly good idea. Nonetheless, they made it across the crowded area without bumping or jostling anyone.
"Can you talk to any ghost? Or do they have to have been..." he hesitated, trying to figure exactly how to word his question. "Here? Where Cirque is."
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 12:02 am
Er. Well. Grete had to think about that one for a moment. How would she answer that question? It seemed as though she wouldn't have to fake as much anymore; it turns out that some audience members she had been seeing lately weren't so much audience members. But at the same time, she's no where as good as she made herself out to be. She could feel her cheeks burn for just a moment. Cursing herself for the very slight pink flush she was getting at the moment, she looked up at Jo, and then to the ground. Maybe he wouldn't notice.
If he did, and he asked, she decided, she would blame the blushing on something else. She just had to figure out what that something would be.
"Honestly," she said softly, "I'm not exactly sure how it works. I suppose it can be ghosts from anywhere." Or, at least, that was what she had hypothesized. Especially since catching a reflection in her mirror a few days prior that sent an all-too-familiar chill down her spine. Just thinking about it made her tense up, but she had only seen a flicker. It was probably nothing. Grete could see ghosts now, only sometimes, but she didn't think she was that good.
"I do know that not everyone comes back as a ghost," she uttered, once she relaxed and sighed, "I'm not sure why that is, but it just happens. Some people, try as you might, you just can't talk to after they die. It's sad, really."
Arching an eyebrow at him, she asked, "Why? There someone that you're thinking of? Wait, it's really not my position to ask. Sorry. Don't answer that."
The wheelbarrow clanged loudly, which made Grete jump. That was not, in any way, shape, or form, a good noise. As long as they could make it back to the tent. That was all that mattered.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 12:32 am
He took a better grip on the wheelbarrow's handles, like that would help hold the whole thing together. Maybe more than a screw loose, Jo reasoned. Luckily, they were almost to the tent and after that he could probably safely suggest they leave it nearby so he could find a screwdriver and tighten up those loose bolts or whatever exactly was ailing the rusty old bucket.
"Just curious," he said blankly, staring straight ahead and rather pointedly not thinking of anything much less muddy trenches and the raw smell of gunpowder and burning skin.
He apparently hadn't noticed the blushing.
Jo pulled the wheelbarrow up next to the open tent flap and dumped the bags of grain rather unceremoniously near the hay bales. He'd drag them inside the tent after snagging Specks from where he'd left the pony tied, but for the moment -- "Sorry. Knee's acting up," he mumbled as he eased himself gingerly down to sit on the corner of one of those bales, leg stretched out straight and stiff as a board.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:10 pm
Her face softening to give Jo a concerned, worried look, Grete walked towards Jo, and seated herself on the edge of the bale of hay as well. There wasn't very much room, however, but Grete was small, and the bale was... Well, she would've considered it a good size for a bale of hay, but not knowing exactly what particularly large or particularly small bales would've looked like, she couldn't properly classify it. So, she sat half-on and half-off the bale of hay, her eyes flicking between Jo's face and his leg.
She had noticed a limp earlier, but thought nothing of it. Now she wondered if perhaps, he had injured it or something. Frowning, Grete knew that she wasn't exactly the motherly type of girl. She had no idea how to make things better, or what to do for a sore (or worse) knee. Disheartened at this, Grete gave a sigh, and then glanced up at Jo.
"Will you be alright? There anything I can do for your knee?" Glancing off in the distance, an idea struck her.
"Want me to get Specks? Just tell me what to do so he won't kick me, or anything, and I can bring him back here for you. If you want."
Not sure whether or not this was actually a good idea, Grete thought that she should bring it up anyway. Besides, Jo would tell her if he didn't want her to. And if he did, then he would tell her exactly what to do so that Specks wouldn't wind up killing her. Or so she hoped.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:33 pm
"It's fine - just been running around on it for too long is all," he assured her quickly, hand falling to the joint in question, his thumb rolling his kneecap around in a self-conscious, albeit practiced motion. Jo didn't actually have any idea if that helped at all, but it was an old habit - one he didn't really intend to or particularly care to break. It made him look a little fidgety maybe, but...
He glanced sideways at her before quickly squinting back the way they'd come and the direction where Specks was waiting by the supply trailers to be rescued from his tether. "If you could," he said at length, not really liking having to delegate to Grete - he'd just met her and, nice as she was, he wasn't sure if he was entirely comfortable asking her to do things for him beyond steadying a wheelbarrow. "He won't kick or bite or anything like that. He's a good pony, he'll follow you."
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:58 pm
Nodding, Grete clapped her hands together softly, and stood up from sitting on the bale of hay. Not as though she had really been sitting there long, however, so it wasn't a problem for her. She patted Jo on the shoulder, in some sort of reassuring gesture, and turned on her heel in order to retrieve the pony. Pausing, she turned around and informed him that, "I won't take long," before she pointed at his knee and added, "Maybe you should get some ice for that."
After walking quite a ways, and then nearing the pony, a sudden (and unnecessary) feeling of dread spread over her. What if Jo's knee was really due to something that Specks had done? Naw, that couldn't be right. He seemed like too sweet of a pony to do that sort of thing. Waving at the pony (another thing that Grete did that she didn't quite see the reason for), she quickly scratched his ears, and then the top of his head.
"Okay, now you see," she murmured softly, "I need to get you back to Jo. Please be good." Why was she talking to Specks? It wasn't as though he could understand her. Oh, well. Maybe it would make him comfortable, or something. Grete had heard that once. Scartching his ears once more before untying him, she tugged on the rope he was attached to just slightly. Hopefully, he would follow her just like Jo said he would.
So, she began to walk back along the path to the tent. Grete also hoped that Jo might be feeling a little better. Injuries are never good when one is a performer, but especially when one is a new performer. Maybe it was just a one-time deal. That would be a lot better, Grete figured, because there's not even the risk of Jo feeling bad before a show. Taking a quick glance backwards at Specks, Grete continued to make her way back to Jo. Once she was close enough so she could see him, she smiled brightly, and pointed back at Specks. Now if the pony could cooperate for the rest of the walk there.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 10:09 pm
Jo waited, watching the space between her shoulder blades as Grete moved away. The moment she'd turned a corner and gone out of sight, he hiked up his pant leg and loosed the straps and stiff metal braces holding the wooden leg flush against what little remained of his lower leg. He leaned the wood against the hay bale and bowed his head over his knee, scratching fiercely at the ragged scarring over his knee before taking a moment to examine the skin, slightly swollen and angry, unused to Jo running all over god's green earth to do any number of mismatch jobs that needed to be done around Cirque.
"Son of a b***h," he muttered absently, breathing out under his teeth as he carefully strapped and cinched the prosthetic wooden leg back into place and awkwardly peeled the leg of his trousers back down over the wood worn shiny from age.
Meanwhile, Specks trailed after Grete perfectly cheerfully if perhaps a little overzealous. He jigged along, hindquarters swinging this way and that as he half trotted a step or so behind her, ears swiveling every which way as she escorted him back to the tent housing most of the production's animal life. He made a low, rasping whickering noise low in his throat as they turned a corner and he caught sight of Jo.
"He behave?" Jo asked, lurching to his feet and moving to take Specks from Grete.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 10:33 pm
"A natural gentleman," Grete responded, handing back Specks to his rightful owner. Not before patting him on the head again before she did this. Watching the pony trot towards its owner, Grete smiled, but then turned and looked Jo up-and-down.
"I see no ice," she teased, "Really, though, if you're not feeling great, you shouldn't worry about doing any of these chores. Honestly, I think the crew members' jobs are quite limited due to all the work being done by the new people here." Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. Close enough, though. Really, what were the crew members doing at this time? All the new recruit jobs were what they were there for. That's always struck Grete as odd, however, that wasn't exactly the matter at hand.
"You weren't really planning on doing more work, were you?" Grete asked flatly, eyebrows raised, and hands on her hips. For being so petite, she could become quite scary at times. It was almost as though she were attempting to tell Jo that he wasn't going to do more work, rather than asking. Smiling, she added, "I don't think you should. Either get to the work tomorrow, or get someone else to do it." Perhaps that's why she was sent out on this job in the first place, if that was her work ethic.
"I would just hate for you to have an accident or something," she continued, trying to prove her point, "Once, there was someone working here who had been working with grooming some of the animals all day. He could've stopped, but he decided that he would go ahead and get as much done as he could, and kept working. While he was grooming the tigers, he ended up as food," Shaking her head, Grete added, "That wasn't completely related to this situation, but I tried."
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