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All to Elemthrif

To be blunt, Akarci had an infatuation with his chosen family. It was his everything. Being unable to remember a time he was without them may have developed it more, but without the need for anything else. It was perfect. Could his wish for it to stay that way be so selfish?

Upon the Toriath Exhibition group's arrival to Elemthrif, an exclusive island off the coast, they were all within feelings of great mirith. The air was clean and clear, bright and bustling with life. Every member could be seen working to pitch their tent, largely anticipating their practice time. Acts of all types were to be shown. Their surrounding town was colorful and surfaced grandeur. Golden lamp posts, grand streets lined with shops that sold exquisite gifts and whatnot.

Akarci finished placing the last pike, standing up straight with a jingle of bells and jewels. His mouth was upturned, a large toothy grin displayed itself.

"Sythea?" Akarci turned to his tentmate, a brown speckled Tabaxi with deep crimson eyes. They looked up from fidgeting with the window flap to look Akarci dead in the eye. "Hmm??" They hum, walking to the front and inside of the now set tent.
They began to set out their respective bed.

"Should we get our bags or get straight to work on the new routine?" His hand slides against the fabric walls, stalking around to the front. His speared tail flicked side to side with such vigor.

Sythea padded their way to the outside of the tent by Akarci. "I think you should at least set your things inside. Then we can get to practice. I know how much you want to," Their clawed paw motions to the bags to the side of the tent. "But these first."

Akarci gave a curt nod, rushing to put his things on his side of the tent. He squat down to reach inside his equipment bag, pulling out his collapsible halberd. He ran his finger over the dulled and chipped blade, chuckling to himself and putting the pole together. He stands up and walks out; having taken an extra few daggers, darts and matches out for Sythea. Spinning the pole within his fingers and throwing it up for a Blue Devil toss. He had come up with a few himself but it was one of the only basic tosses he liked.
Catching it in his separate hand, he hands the extra knives and equipment to Sythea. They take it reluctantly, rolling their eyes and following Akarci to the large main tent.

~ ~ ~

Dripping with sweat and breathing hard, the music stopped. The tent was filled with loud applause and cheers as the last group of the night finished. A small laugh escapes Akarci's mouth as he bows, then wiping his forehead of sweat and dirt. His dark plum hair stuck to his neck and cheeks, all warm from the amount of movement. He lets out a deep breath and walks to the performer's exit, only to be stopped at the sound of shouts.

Akarci turns around to face the direction of the clamour. A elven man in rich green robes had climbed the boundary, pointing and shouting at an arealist that was standing on a platform. The man made his way to the side of the platform, shaking the vinyl that was placed over their set pieces. The boxes underneath could not handle much movement, and the small girl that used them knew as well. However the man shaking them did not, continuing to shake it and berate her with almost inaudible swears and curses. The pair of twin contortionists, Norcas and Naneihmal, had started to talk the man out of his anger and attempt to take him away from the shaking boxes.

The girl, Arasune, clung to her hoop, not wanting to fall from the box beneath her. This made the man more angry, calling her a freak. Norcas took a light yet stern hold of the man's left shoulder, Naneihmal the right. They took the man away from the boxes and to the guards that had been called to take him away. The commotion had died down, the girl was now able to safely get herself off the boxes and to the ground. Akarci took his leave, removing his coat on his way to his tent.