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On the opposite side of down, a small crowd gathered in the town square. The square was mostly empty, with few people walking through, and most were admiring the fountain in the middle. It was a natural spring, but it was off limits to obtain water from, so people stood by and hoped a breeze accidentally sprayed water in their mouth. However, the crowd was not gathered to watch the water, they were watching a spectacle of the opposite element in the corner. A young troll with shaggy hair, juggling knives.

On fire.

Despite his visionary problems, which most trolls didn't know about due to his hair, his skill was almost awe inspiring. He juggled his knives like a professional and was accident free for over 360 hours! It was his hobby, and his dream. his life goal, his job, his everything. Having free shows in the middle of the square was not his dream, but he wanted to keep juggling - on stage. In New Hemisect City.

But you have to start somewhere.

The boy's lusus laid beside his wooden-box stage they had built in the corner. Surprisingly, no one had the mind nor cared to dismantle it or ruin it or light it on fire while he wasn't performing. It was nice, but it sure was weird. Vanille, his lusus's real name, was fast asleep. He had a tendency to do that no matter where he was or what he was doing. Belife didn't mind, he had seen all his tricks plenty times before. Sleeping through one lousy short performance was nothing to be hurt about.

The boy finished his performance with a bow and a few of the crowd mongers clapped and one whistled. He safely put his knives away in a carrying case and put it gently in a pouch on Vanille's saddle, which woke him up. His tail swished on the dusty cobble stone and picked up a cloud of dust. The boy hopped onto the saddle from the stage, and the pair were off, clopping home.

"I think I should do somethin' new in my act." he told his lusus, "I think people are gettin' bored of the same thin'. It's almost like practicin' than it is performin' for me now. What do you think?"

"It would be best not to try a new act on the spur of the moment, but I think a change in plan would be nice. Maybe it would bring in more people, too."

"Hmm." he tapped a finger on his chin. Vanille was nearing the shopping district, on purpose. They didn't venture here often, as Vanille took up so much space in the street, and they never had enough beetles for much to begin with. He trod though the crowded street in hopes to spot something interesting for his troll to use. Belife stayed quiet upon his back, unable to see what the merchant were selling, and kept pondering a new act to his show.

Lusus didn't often accompany their trolls during strolls, and due to his size a lot of other trolls, particularly yellow bloods and the occasional green, made a snarly face towards Vanille. He snorted and kept walking, quickly examining all of the wares. He tried not to run into any trolls, but his size and the squishy alley way was hard to navigate through nicely.

Vanille stopped in the middle of the street and laid down so that the troll on his back could get closer to the troll. The boy leaned over the saddle and looked at them, squinting his eyes behind his bangs. He didn't say anything to her... her? He couldn't tell with his vision. She had an afro and a white blob on her shoulder - probably her lusus - but her symbol was drowned out by the darkness of her shirt.
"I am sorry for nearly bowlin' yeh over, but maybe it's you who should have payed attention? I'm sure we are easuly seen from a good while away."

Belife smiled at the girl and turns in his seat to let his legs drop over the side of the saddle and crossed them. "Space is nothin' to me. You gotta go on about yer life the only way yeh can, and bringing him with me is the only way ah can. Usually ah don't bring him, actually, but ah stepped on uh' knife the other day and it hurts t'walk. I wasn't plannin' on doin' any shoppin', I don't see anythin' ah want," his lusus snorted, almost like a chuckle. "I gotta bring him with me when ah do shop, though. Ah' always get too much stuff an' it's hard t'carry." he leaned down closer to her and whispered, "Most of these second hand merchants don't sell yeh the knives in the box! Can yeh believe that?!"

It was true. When Belife went shopping, his lusus was in tow, either being ridden, or walking nearby. Some of the frequent market merchants and market goers got used to avoiding the giant lusus, while still irritated he brought it with him at all. He needed him to actually look at the items, while he used his hands to test them. He didn't care much about what he bought looked like, as long as they were sturdy and had that brand named he loved; Berenjena. The seven he kept on him in his lusus's pouch were of this name, and have not broken yet and haven't yet dulled. Counterfeits were still stuck in the walls at home, mostly thrown out of anger he read over the engraving too fast, or that he never bothered to take them out yet.

He pat his lusus's neck. "Well, ol' boy, d'yeh see anything I might want?" he asked him, not making eye contact with the merchants and looking plainly foreward.

"Not that I can tell. Mostly fake stuff or broken things."

Belife chuckled at their interaction. He and his lusus never argued and held each other with deep respect. Some thought Vanille took care of Belife more than a lusus should, but they would never, could never, understand why, beyond being the best lusus ever.

The boy crossed his legs over the other, switching sides, and put his weight on his arm. "Ah need them t'juggle. Ah'm always buyin' new knives, Yeh can never have too many when yer jugglin'. You lose em an' they break. The knives ah' use now haven't done any of that, but I don't like usin' 'em fer jugglin', should I lose em. Always lookin' fer good, disposable knives t' juggle with so ah don't feel bad about losin' em. Maybe yeh've seen me juggle in the square?" He loved talking about juggling, and he loved talking about himself juggling. He was the best at it, and he wanted everyone to know.

Belife kicked his legs and stretched out his arms in front of him. "Ah juggle every 84 hours in the square, so there should be plenty ah' time t'catch me." he said, gleefully, hoping people nearby heard him and will come to his show.

Vanille started to stand up and nearly caused Belife to fall off of his perch. He quickly swung around and offered his hand to the afro-boy-girl-troll. "If yeh want, Vanille'll be happy t'take yeh somewhere. Is there anyplace yeh be lookin' t'go to?"

Belife checked the bags on the side of the saddle to make sure anything wasn't stolen as they chatted. He dove his hand into the bag and brought out a hand covered in orange blood. He didn't wince or cringe or flinch and cutting his hand, shoving it into a bag of knives, and wiped the blood on his lusus's fur. When the others were ready, he patted him on the head, and Vanille set off, trying not to run anyone down again. Luckily, most got out of the way.

"Me? My name is Belife. Ah want to be a great stage performer someday in New Hemisect. S'all ah want t'do." Belife stretches his arms and tried to lean back, and then rolled foreward, already forgetting that he had a passenger. "So how d'yeh get yer hair like dat? It's awfully poofy, even bigger then my own!" he said, seeing his passenger with a large afro. "I thought my hair was poofy, then I saw yers."

He swung his legs around to the side, carefully, holding onto the front of the saddle and then turned all the way around to face Minist. "Are you sure there's no place you wanna go? Ah've been in the square all mornin', so there's no point goin' there, and I ate before we went into the market alley, so ah'm not hungry." I I I, me me me.

Belife put up a blank face at Minist and then wrung his hands, wet from the blood, and wiped them on his pants. 'You have an afro, don't yeh?" he asked her, putting his hand on the mass of blackness on her head. He ruffled her hair for a while.

Vanille's homing mechanism was set on going home, and it was apparently they were on their way when his body movements became slow and sticky. His hoofs kept sinking into the sand and with the added weight of Minist, even so lithe, his hooves sunk further. He did not miss any steps, and walked on as he normally would, it just took a little longer.

"I guess we're going t'my hive. It's jest on the outskirts of town. Long n'mostly flat.' He put his hands up to mock measure his hive. It reminded him of the five beetle foot long sandwiches at the market and his stomach growled, even if he had just eaten.