@MorningStar
It was strange to be arriving at the fairgrounds with everything already in place. Since joining the Cirque du Fantasma seven years ago, Mira had been a part of every set up and takedown, each and every time they moved locations.
Of course, she hadn't been imprisoned during any of those moves either. Well, not for longer than a few hours--and that was
one time. Some towns just got
tetchy about necromancy, even when all she offered as a service was mediumship.
Still, if it hadn't been for those kids... Well.
Truly and thoroughly exhausted, Mira shook off the feeling of being a stranger in her own home as she approached her tent--Vis had made sure it got set up where it always was among the vendors' tents, bless him--and stumbled inside. It was well passed midnight, and even her fellow carnival workers were mostly turned in; only the Ringmaster himself had been awake enough to greet her when she returned, and he'd acknowledged her fatigue by simply pointing toward her tent and urging her to get some sleep before she had to explain anything.
She was pretty sure the man was some sort of demon prince, but he was also a bloody angel.
Her tent looked the same as it always did: low lighting from the bobbing magelights floating near the ceiling, her seance table set up in the center of the space, a few necromantic charms strung up around the borders of the main "room", and a thick, red curtain dividing her work space from her living space.
She she trudged toward that curtain, she didn't think to check her usual protective charms and barrier spells--they were always part of the set-up of her tent, Vis knew the routine, and she made sure to refresh the magic fueling them once a month at the full moon.
In her current state, it didn't occur to her that she had
missed this passed full moon, what with being locked in a dungeon and all. And though Viserion knew how to place her charms, he couldn't
actually recharge them. He probably hadn't even noticed they
needed to be recharged.
With a low groan, Ifamira Blighte shuffled toward her sleeping cot--blessedly piled high with silken pillows and thick blankets--and collapsed onto it fully clothed. She only
barely bothered to kick off her boots, hearing them thump somewhere on the other side of the small space as she burrowed into her soft, warm, nest.
"I'm not getting up for a damned
week," she informed her pillows with a contented sigh.