<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">Practice went poorly, and anytime that happened there was bound to be discord between the human and elven acrobatic duo. All had been smooth up until that point. They'd set up in a new city, and were ready for their first night of performances. Most would know something was bound to go wrong, but error wasn't good enough for Vasyli. He'd grown up in the upper-class elven city of Anaux, at least before it had been completely ruined. He was a poised sort, tall and well sculpted, of a more formal background than most. He had pale, creamy skin, and platinum hair to his mid-back, with a regal sharpness to his face, and high set cheekbones. Shoulders drawn back and head high, and used his full height, far different from his shorter, though perhaps tall for a human, partner. On a good day, Vasyli might agree that Osran was talented if a bit sloppy and willing to take chances. The man was broad and thickly muscled, with unremarkable wavy brown hair.<br/>
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Vasyli had earned a bruise on the outside of his thigh when mid-practice, Osran decided to change the routine on a whim. It left the elf furious, as it always did anytime something occurred that resulted in a missed hold, and Vasyli was not shy about voicing his discontent. They were outside of the main tent, where the show was in full swing, screaming at one another. Or rather, the elf at Osran.<br/>
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“So help me, I will remove the foreskin from your pitiful cock if you pull any of that nonsense again!” Vasyli shouted his ire, not dropping it despite their cue coming up. He had a slight lilt to his voice, one he often tried to mask that spoke of his ties to his home city. It was more pronounced when he was in one of his moods. Osran only smiled, disregarding the threat.<br/>
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“Keep talking dirty to me. You know how I like it,” Osran teased, calm, and ready to be in their places when they needed to be. It only served to fuel Vasyli, as it usually did, but Osran couldn't help it. The proper elf was just too easy, and others were scrambling to get Vasyli into costume, but he only swatted their hands away. He was in simple, form-fitting practice attire, skin showing in all the places that would be vital for grip.<br/>
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“You do not care!” Vasyli accused, fingers pointing, his pale skin turning pink.<br/>
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“You really should be surprised that I don't drop you more,” Osran told him, flashing him one of his charismatic smiles. “Next time follow my signals.”<br/>
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It had been the wrong thing to say, and Vasyli snatched the flashy thing Osran would change into mid-routine off its rack, setting his foot on it. Only then did the human look alarmed.<br/>
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“Vasyli, no!” he groaned, listening to the tearing sound of a perfectly good costume; one of his favorites. They would not be on time to their places, and while Vasyli remembered his full solo routine, Osran had never learned one, to begin with. Vasyli threw the damaged fabric into his face, beyond caring. If Mathis wanted them to work together, he was going to have to deal with their hatred of one another. Vasyli was secure enough in his position, being one of the senior performers, that no one could touch him. Or so he thought, anyway, at least not for something such as this. That left someone else to deal with the sudden shift, going out in search of an act that could fill the space until Vasyli could calm down enough to go on later. He'd delayed his act before, but he'd never failed to go on entirely.<br/>
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“Someone get him into his costume! Osran, go apologize,” a loud voice was directing. “Where the hell is Kevice?”</span></span>