Obscura walked under the big top, taking in the sounds and smells of the work still going on there. She had a slight smile on her lips though the feel of the earth that she touched  before still troubled her. While those forebodings did take a place within her mind, she still smiled slightly feeling relieved from the unexpected release this morning. The smells though, oh... she needed to take a shower before the show started. She moved through the rest of the big top, hammers, chisels, saws and the rush of steam power surrounding her, eventually her slow gait took her out the other side of the big top and to her tent.<br/><br/>Thankfully, next to it was the makeshift shower stall. She went inside her tent and disrobed and came out with a somewhat comfy robe after removing all her wrappings including the ones around her eyes. Her steel grey-white gaze passed over many things but never focusing as the rush of the running water flowed and she removed her robe and placed it on the hook of the inside of the now closed door. She dipped her head back and closed her eyes, the cascading droplets of water running down all over her body, forming tiny rivers of liquid on top of her skin. Thankfully the water this morning wasn't too cold, though it was still out in the middle of the morning soon, her skin goose-bumped all over, her recently over stimulated nipples coming to taut points. The soap that was available slide over her skin as the smell of sex shared between the two women sadly departed, the pheromones and chemicals that made up the scent mixing with the running soap suds that slipped down the drain. She would miss that scent and natural rawness of what the body could produce in those moments. Who knew for how long would someone else have the courage to look past her "gifts" to see her as a woman, the woman that she was.<br/><br/>She ran her hands down her body in an attempt to rid her skin of any excess soap, her hand sliding down past her belly. Then her hands come up to pull back her soaked hair as she takes a final few moments to completely rinse off. After she was confident that the soap had mostly run off her body in the little driblets, she reached for her towel where she had left it on the side wall and noticed it had moved. She checked the floor of the shower with her hands... no not there. Off in the distance, out of earshot of most "normal" people, she heard the giggling of some of the boys who hired to help build the Carnival, skittering away from the showers, she assumed with her towel. She thought about the kindness of Gabrielle as she smiled and whispered. "<span style="color: purple">c'est la vie</span>", Gabrielle would appreciate that she remembered that of French at least. Her body wet, Obscura slid into her robe and departed the stall and back into her tent to dry herself off and put her freshest wrappings, skirt and jewelry back on. She would be ready for her show soon and perhaps some barking from Izzy to show that she was far from powerless.<br/><br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/>Back near<b><i> the dance stage</i></b><br/><br/>Patricia was sweaty and panting. Still, she had the fortitude to smoke as she leaned her back on the dance pole, taking a respite from her practice performances. Her mind frittered with a few fragmented thoughts. She needed to ask a few girls to help her with an idea for a new performance. One she was sure that the girls would probably love to assist her with. The "sukebe" back home actually would love it. She doubted anyone here in the US had seen it so far. She puffed away on her cigarette. She loved the feeling of total exhaustion and release that came after a good practice run. The feeling of exertion and the steady calming emptiness inside once that energy was expended. Nothing like it in the world. Performing on stage for others to watch. One day she would have to find a way to mix sex with performance for a double release that she thought would leave her a mindless puddle of goo in the end. Yes, that would be a perfect, exquisite moment.<br/><br/>Patricia looked over in the far distance out by the breakfast wagon and could see at least, just barely, David and The Goliath carrying Izzy on his shoulder and Izzy barking at the crowd as various performers came to get promoted. She smirked to herself, taking another puff, her eyes half-lidded as she blew the smoke in front of her face. She thought about the Troupe...<span style="color: red"> ii hito ne</span>? The never once made her feel like the dirty monkeys that certain people in the US made her feel like with their propaganda, fear of the Oriental. Maybe she was... a monkey... to them, the white people of the west. They seemed certainly much more advanced and sophisticated that her home country. But that is why she liked the Troupe so much. They were like her. Not sophisticated... just different. A different brand of monkeys. They were strange and different like her. So this was the best place for her. And they were good people to her, they didn't judge (much) and they didn't treat her as lower at least. She smirked to herself one last time as she considered that they might if they knew how much of a... what did they call them here? a Quiff... hell, she could never figure out how to say that properly. But she was one she supposed. She knew that they knew she "got around" as it were but would they really accept her if they knew why.<br/><br/>She took a final hit of her cigarette. "<span style="color: red">ii wa</span>"... She always had her dance.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>