Preparation

"I see a bunch of idiots messing around." In all honesty Lunaira wasn't shocked by her answer. If anything, she laughed despite the hostility that licked underneath the sixteen-year-old's words. Still, as quick as the laugh came, it left. Unable and unwilling to simply shake off what she just felt, her snow-haired companion countered. Her tone quieted when she did so.

"What I see, young Marrow, is a group of boys comfortable around each other. Able to find comradery while working. Graves is able to intermingle with ease among his group in spite of his shy, timid nature. I remember two weeks ago the boy squeaked instead of spoke. Yet there he is, obviously nervous—but smiling while lifting crates. Even better, he's keeping Kail from getting into trouble, much to my personal relief."

For once, Lunaira received no rebuttal from her circus member. In fact, Marrow was speechless as she stared at her family with that new perspective. Of course, the purple-eyed maiden said nothing, giving time for Marrow to soak in those observations. But all that furiousness she felt from her didn't vanish completely.

The weight that burdened such delicate shoulders on this earth didn't ease at all. If anything, it was bottled up, replaced temporarily with deep sorrow that stung all the more the longer Marrow stared at her kin. Immediately, Lunaira could tell where those tidbits of emotional thoughts of hers were going.

Despair and envy threatened to choke her as she looked on from the sides. She couldn’t fathom why her younger cousin was more comfortable in the company of strangers than with her. She was wondering why she was still so miserable, while he wasn't.

Why were his red eyes so full of mirth, the polar opposite of her own dark vermillion orbs? That wasn't what Lunaira intended. She didn't want her struggling recruit to feel unwanted or like she was unimportant. It was ok to be cautious, natural even.

Lunaira had only brought up Graves to help relieve the girl of that overwhelming paranoia. So, she had to halt those pained thoughts before it got any worse. She gently settled her palm on the shorter girl's head. Despite opening her mouth in protest from the action, Marrow remained silent.

It was as if Lunaira had casted a spell on her. Said spellcaster didn't of course, however it was clear that her companion was rattled by the unexpected act. Incredibly touch-starved to the point that the slightest kindness left her vulnerable. Giving Lunaira the opportunity to talk without interruption, again in soft, hushed tones.

"Change is difficult, it's unpredictable, and it does not always lead to reliable results. But…you're not alone Marrow. This is your first show since joining us. It's ok to be nervous or make mistakes. We've all been there. Everyone here has been in your shoes in some way, shape, or form."

Though Marrow could not form any sounds, she immediately denied Lunaira's statements by shaking her head. The girl wanted to deny it all. Goosebumps prickled over her flesh, chills clung to bones, yet Lunaira wasn't done.

With her free arm, she hugged tense shoulders, encasing the both of them in a pale white glow. Together they saw within their minds whatever Lunaira envisioned. Her voice now an echo only the two of them could hear.

"You, and Graves were forced to fend for yourselves after soldiers raided your home. Living on the streets day by day, searching for whatever scraps of food you could find, you had to grow up so fast." Marrow choked from what she saw. Lunaira was now in front of her, sadness and empathy within keen purple.

She felt bad bringing up such tragic memories, festering those still fresh wounds, but kept going anyway. As cruel as it was, Lunaira had a reason for bringing up her past. Her attention turned to her fellow members. Her family, who…unfortunately did not have lives that were any better before joining Ori and her on their travels.

"Dusty ran away from his mother after she tried killing him while drunk. Kail was experimented on by his father, a healer seeking immortality. Now he is always at constant risk of falling ill. Then there's Coco and Momo who were sold as slaves after being kidnapped."

She pointed to each specified individual with her black painted nails. The visions still came with each sentence. Horrific sightings of younger versions of the people they journeyed with struggling through their problems. The visual scenes kept coming, each more detailed than the last.

"What about Dante? He had been accused of a crime he didn't commit yet was imprisoned for two years without a trial. Illese was accused of being a Supernatural—leading to her lover nearly succeeding in drowning her. It took her a year to recover emotionally from her trauma. Then there's poor Bastian. He lost his fiancé from an actual rampaging Supernatural that slaughtered his home leading to him being one of the few survivors to live and tell the tale."

All throughout Lunaira's rant, she took note of how Marrow sat there. Unlike before she was willingly unable to move or say anything. Though this time, frustration and anger didn't course through her, but realization. As well as guilt.

They twisted in agonizing wisps while the girls took in the group that stood a bit away, the real ones. The silence was daunting to Lunaira. She didn’t like the quiet, never did really. No matter her feelings she refused to rush the girl. When Marrow did have something to say, it came out in a marveled whisper.

"How…can they be like this? If their past was truly so unfortunate then how can they be so happy? Their smiles are so carefree." Lunaira saw just as well as she did that the group were even laughing without a care in the world. Ignorant of the internal torment they were somewhat indirectly causing.

The confusion returned in full force, though it wasn't as negative as it was before, something that made the white-haired magician smile slightly. It was a pair of questions she asked herself every day. And would continue to do so.

"We all know how you feel, Marrow." That did not answer the previous questions presented to her. In all honesty, Lunaira had no intention of answering it. It was not something she really could. And she could tell that annoyed the younger.

Still, she released the braided captive, the light that wrapped around them left their figures. Lunaira waited patiently, seconds ticked on with tense silence. Another small, insecure pair of questions came, though a bit braver than before.

"Why…are you telling me this Lunaira? Why reveal such personal secrets?" Marrow met her face once more. Of course, once more, Lunaira allowed her to analyze her being from top to bottom. She still looked lost, hopelessly desperate when she did not find what she had been looking for. These questions—unlike the previous could be answered with confidence.

"These aren't secrets, but stories of survival. Of new beginnings. You could've gone up to any one of them, and they would've told you with no concern. You're sixteen, Marrow, Graves thirteen. Such ages should not hold so many burdens. Mama Ori saw your pain and sorrow, taking you in in the desire to relieve that. When she brought you to us, we accepted you with no questions asked. Blood or not, the moment you are brought into this troupe, you are family."