George
Evelyn smiled when The Ring Leader held up the flowers. She had no idea he was simply in need of a visor. The flowers were beautiful and she wanted them, she didn't even mind the near flub of her name. She looked at her guard with a smirk then started walking forward to go take the flowers from the man who was kneeling. 

The sun was certainly bright that day, but luckily for the Duchess it was behind her, so she could see them all very clearly. They were all so inviting, smiling, and she noticed the men were already breaking out a large tent. She could only laugh at that for a second and in time reached the man on his knee. 

Evelyn took the flowers from him then held them up to her nose for a better whiff of them. They were some of the best smelling, most vibrantly colored flowers she'd ever been presented with and she could practically see herself pressing each and every one of them into the pages of her diary. She gestured with her chin, raising it slightly to signal the man to stand up as her fingers gingerly touched the soft tips of the flowers. She smiled as she spoke, "What excellent timing you all have. Your audience is already assembled, drunk, and therefore easily amused." She playfully narrowed her eyes for a second before she laughed, "Do come in." She turned with her flowers to the guards then skipped back to allow them time to set up and spread the word that this year's festival was bound to be better than any other they'd seen before.
Karen
Cyrus Pen watched as Royce turned and gave the thumbs up to the rest of the troupe. Upon receiving the signal, they cheered, whipping hats and handkerchiefs into the air. The cages, filled with exotic animals, were quickly unloaded. The tent followed suit, long wooden poles removed from the sides. Cyrus had watched it multiple times. They would have it up within the next three hours. He disembarked from the side of the carriage, Gitten in tow. The ground was soft, saturated from the recent rainfall. She grumbled about the mud fucking up her boots. Syrus, undeterred from her griping continued on through the opening gates. The inside of the city was just as beautiful, finely manicured cobble pathways snaked through tall wooden buildings. 

The city of Erba was dressed similarly to their carts, flags and banners strewn from balcony to balcony. Children ran through the streets, trailing ribbons behind them. Buskers played on corners, hats upturned for any wayward coin. Cyrus fished in his pocket and threw a gold piece to the violinist. 

"Wheres tha bar?" Grumbled Gitten, sneering at a group of children that passed by her side. They hardly seemed to notice. 

"Welllll..." Syrus scanned the storefronts for any inn that would take her. He shrugged and shouted, "WHERE'S THE BEST INN IN ERBA?"
Beatrice
Terresol. The festival that appeared to garner the interest of many parties whether it be far or near, somehow holding all the attention with the fanfare and decor in honor of the Duchess Evelyn Welles herself. Typically, gatherings of this sort of degree weren't in the former twin's job description but this sort of entertainment appeared to be the perfect distraction to temporarily scatter her fast-paced thoughts, most of which were in what would be considered the catastrophically violent department. Luckily for her, putting on any sort of masquerade fell well into her ballpark, and the beauty of the landscape wasn't one to be ignored, with its charmingly ornate furnishings. As of the present, the festival itself was in the earlier stages of preparations but the outcome could be predicted to hold a level of splendor that was difficult to match at the minimum. Trailing along the grooves of the cobblestone path brought the attention of cerulean hues to each shift, indentation present in that particular kind of craftsmanship. It was a smaller detail that most people wouldn't take to but any sort of information never aimed to hurt in her experiences. Making it to the town square took a little less time than the expectancy led her to believe, but spotting characteristics that she could conclude were familiar led her to the pair that seemed to hold the most interest to her in the time being, despite the yelling drawing attention to someone who shied away from the metaphorical spotlight, "I'm sure there are more tactful ways to find a place to stay... Or to find almost anything for that matter."