La Nuit

She had been wandering aimlessly for some time now, having little to do with herself. The illusionist, though wonderful, had ceased to be truly captivating, and instead she had begun attempting to discern the woman's techniques, an endeavor she decided none of her business and therefore stopped her visists to the enchanting tent. So instead she now found herself surrounded by bottles and boxes, a place she'd only discovered once before now. Though she hardly showed it, she was delighted by the chance to spend her night attempting to find out what stories were stored here, perhaps to revisit ones she'd enjoyed before. Nothing seemed familiar, however, except the air. She recognized none of the canisters or polished boxes, none of the scents she found. Eventually she found one particular bottle that caught her attention.

It was a small, delicate looking glass bottle with a hard black stopper that reminded her somewhat of a top-hat. There was a spade etched onto the front of it, with bubbles floating throughout the colourless liquid it contained. Or perhaps there was no liquid at all, she didn't know. But the bubbles certainly were in the bottle. It sat atop a length of black ribbon that looped around once to sit crossed in front of the bottle, and seemed never to have been disturbed since its placement. she lifted the bottled, turning it in her hands. The glass was smooth and cool, and though she had never seen it before, the bottle was the most familiar feeling object she'd ever come across in her life. More familiar than the various cities she'd been to, more familiar than even the circus. This bottle felt impossibly like home, a place she'd never known in her life.

Cautiously, she lifted the stopper with surprising ease, and found that there was a small amount of liquid in the bottle, it was only a quarter full. The bubbles were perhaps floating up from it. The scent caught her off guard, at first it simply smelled of fragrant and light perfume, but she lingered still, bottled lifted halfway to her face. Perhaps shutting her eyes would let her immerse herself. Slowly, she began to hear a violin, a tune extremely familiar. Her mother's lullaby? That was impossible. Lillies and honey, a flash of auburn hair, and the distinct feeling of riding in a carriage. A misty, bright night. She'd thought it impossible, but there was no mistaking this to be her very own story as she felt something wind around her arm. "Styx," she murmured, the name of her pet snake.

Something brushed against her legs, more solid than even the convincing feelings of bottled stories, and she almost dropped the bottle as he eyes snapped open, looking around for the source before she saw it. An orange kitten, the brightest thing she'd ever seen in the circus. And it must belong to someone in the circus, she was sure. Never had she seen anyone bring and animal in, she was sure it wouldn't be allowed. Seeing that it had been caught, however, the kitten ran off, disappearing underneath the canvas of the tent walls.

The stopper replaced, she set the bottle back on its ribbon, removing the red one from her hair so that it hung free and leaving it as a message to the circus itself. Ot the person that crafted all of these bottles. She'd found it and enjoyed it, even if she didn't understand. Ob her way out of the tent she passed a boy that reminded her very must of the one that staged the kitten's show with the girl she assumed to be his sister.

Widget smiled over at the unnoticed Poppet, walking up to the red ribbon. "She found it, 'Pet. Do you think she liked it?"