[eldrich] another show over [liliya]

Another show over, another list of jobs to do. For Julietta Ouellet, this was life now. The circus landed, they set up, the prepared for a show, they performed, they tidied up for a show, the prepared, performed, tidied, prepared, performed, tidied, then they packed up and were on their way again. The schedule, though repetitive, was comforting to Julie, and she liked it. She certainly preferred it to life back home in Paris with her mother – no, Eldrich was home now. The clockmakers shop in Paris, with its constant ticking and mothers voice in her ear, was a thing of the past. Her little blue caravan was home now.  Scraping her short hair back into a ponytail, the girl checked the list of jobs that needed doing which she’d scribbled on the back of her hand in basic Russian. Old habits died hard she supposed, and whenever she was around people speaking Russian she slipped back into speaking the language herself. It was a fairly warm day in the fields around Moscow which they had settled in for the month. In the Parisians opinion, the show had gone well for the first show of the month, and a good show meant there wouldn’t be as many extra rehearsals the next day, which in turn meant there was less packing up for Julietta the next day. But there would still be the scheduled rehearsals so the big top needed to be prepared for them.

As the last of the audience trickled out of the red-and-white striped tent, laughing and talking and smiling, Jules grabbed the broom which had been leant against the back entrance which the troupe used. Pushing the door flap out of the way, she began to sweep up the rubbish and dirty sawdust into a pile in the centre of the round circus ring. She picked up abandoned cups, brushed down seats and polished the wooden arms of the seats, until the place was spick and span. She brushed her hands together and gave a sigh, sitting down on one of the seats at the front. During the first show she had ever seen at Eldrich, when she was tired and lonely and scared and jobless, she’d managed to get a seat at the front. The performers had awed and amazed her, and quite frankly they made her want to join the circus. It had been at the moment that she stepped out of the tent that it struck her: she could. In the cold January mist, she’d realised that she no longer had her parents to worry about, nothing tying her down. She was free. It had taken a while for her to persuade herself, but eventually she built up the courage to seek out the ringmaster, and had asked about jobs. Soon enough, she was officially a member of the troupe.

Snapping out of her little flash back, the nineteen year old pushed a few stray hairs out of her face and stood up, taking a last glance around the tent and then exiting, pulling the flap closed behind her. No-one else should be in the ring for the rest of the night, but someone would come round later to lock everything up.

It was half seven in Moscow, and the sun was setting and darkness drawing in. Many of the booths open to attract younger visitors were now closing, and the darker acts were taking centre stage. Julietta found it strange to think that this was where her mother came from. Somewhere in the nearby city, her mother’s parents would be sitting down to dinner. Maybe even siblings, cousins, aunties and uncles. Kira never spoke about her family, or her life in Russia, and Julietta never dared ask, not with her mother’s temper. All the Parisian knew that her mother ran away to Germany, and it was there that he met her dad. It was actually this knowledge that gave the idea to Juliet to apparate to London – if her mother was French, she’d probably have slept at a friends for the night then returned home the next morning, tail between her legs. She supposed she had her mother to thank for her new found freedom – although if she wasn’t so restricting in the first place, none of this would’ve happened.

As she contemplated this, Julietta strayed from the path she was making through the group of tents to where the caravans were parked. Suddenly jumping as she heard footsteps behind her, the Parisian blinked, disorientated. She whipped round and realised it was only a member of the audience behind her, and smiled while looking for any clue to indicate where she was. It suddenly dawned upon her that she was by the hypnosis’s tent, and she sighed, relieved. Turning back to the woman, she spoke in Russian.

“Hello, can I help you?”

It seemed like only a month ago that Liliya had last been in Moscow. Oh wait. It was. The Moscow Metalmen had once again beaten her and her Ironbellies teammates in the final match of the East Slavic Cup. It was a bitter blow, but not altogether surprising since the Metalmen had always been a strong team, and Liliya held no hard feelings against the city itself. Which was why, now that the team had a month off before reserve tryouts and practices resumed, she had decided to treat herself by seeing the Eldrich circus while it was in the region.

Even among witches and wizards, Eldrich had a reputation for having the most fantastic feats of magic. They recruited from all over; the fortune-teller was from France, and the young firebreather was school-age and from Liliya's old house, Drakonya Krov! As if she were a little girl all over again, Liliya found herself laughing and clapping her hands at the show of wonderful talents and tricks. She wore charcoal slacks and a crème-coloured camisole underneath her casual carmine-red robe, and her Zhytomyr Ironbellies Captain's pin over the left breast of the robe, almost worried that it would fly off from all the spinning and looking around that she was doing. Before she knew it, it was 19:30 and the sun was already nearly touching the horizon. The earlier feelings of delight and wonder were replaced with mystique and dark glamour. The young patrons of the circus were either long gone or being finally ushered out, while Liliya hesitantly made her way to the big top tent.

The ringmaster and a few other hypnotists and illusionists were beginning a more "adult" show, but Liliya found that she wasn't really interested in watching. Instead, she turned around and started looking around for any rides or other calmer attractions that might still be open. Before long Liliya was hopelessly lost - Eldrich was larger than she had thought, and in the dimming light it became a labyrinth of tents, fences, and canvases. She believed she had found her way back to the big top, but realised in short order that she was actually at the back of the setup, near the troupe members' caravans. Frowning, she started goose-stepping around the corner of one of the tents and startled another lost visitor who whipped around, startling Liliya in the process.

As she put a hand on her chest and tried to calm her beating heart down, she registered that the woman was not a customer, but one of the circus workers. The woman gave a relieved sigh (which Liliya completely understood), smiled at Liliya, and said "Алло, я могу вам помочь?" Liliya smiled and responded in Russian, the same language the other woman had used. "I hope so. I've gotten lost somehow. I'm just trying to see if there's anything else still open besides the evening attraction. Could you point me in the right direction?"

The woman wanted to know where she could find the evening attractions. Phew, that was a relief, it meant she wasn't following Julietta or any shady reason. The Beauxbatons graduate had met a fair share of shady people after dark at the circus, so she'd learnt to become wary of anyone she met. 

"Well," She began to reply in French before realising and stopping. The other woman had spoken in Russian so Julietta assumed she must be Russian, otherwise why would she be at a circus, seemingly on her own, in Russia? The 19 year old found herself studying the woman carefully, looking for anything similar to her mothers appearance. She looked to be in her late twenties, and had slightly curly dark drown hair and tanned skin. She was quite pretty too. But she didn't look enough like Kira to be one of Julietta's relatives, not with the obvious difference to Kira's straight black hair and pale skin. Jules had found herself examining everyone in Moscow to look for some aspects of her mothers appearance, despite the fact that she knew how unlikely it was for her to find a member of her mothers Russian family. She didn't even know that her mother came from Moscow - she could originate from anywhere in Russia. And even if she did manage to find Kira's family, what was she going to do? Walk up to them and introduce herself? "Hi, my name's Julietta and I'm your runaway daughters child. I ran away from home like her and joined the circus, nice to meet you." Yeah right, fat chance. And it wasn't likely that she was going to return home and tell her mum who she'd found either, so there was honestly no point in looking. But she did anyway.   

"Well, there's always the night time performance. I think there are some... interesting animals performing? Or the hypnotist's tent is usually open around this time, but I think he's probably in the ring right now." She answered, in Russian this time. The Parisian was careful not to give too much away about the acts, for two reasons. One, because she didn't want to ruin the show for the woman. If Julie told her that the 'interesting animals' were thestrals then the amazement when the horses (or 'non-existant horses', depending on who you were and what you had seen) entered the ring would be gone. And the second reason was the contract she'd signed when joining Eldrich - she'd pledged to not reveal any of the circus' secrets to any outsiders. Not that she was hiding much information, just that the animals were thestrals and that the hypnotist was also the ringmaster. It was hardly anything significant. But Julietta took her pledge seriously and was careful not to mention anything that could be counted against her - she didn't want to be kicked out of the circus. Not only was it a home and a job, but it also gave her the opportunity to travel the world, visit new places. She loved it.

Liliya was almost disconcerted when, after saying that sounded like "Эбен" (which didn't mean anything that Liliya knew in Russian), the circus worker started sizing her up. Perhaps she thought Liliya was an assassin? The thought almost made the Ukrainian laugh but she kept her face a controlled mask of pleasantry and polite inquiry. Instinctively, however, she began thinking along other lines. Was this woman really a circus worker, or had Liliya caught her in the middle of perpetrating some act of banditry, murder, or other crime? Almost immediately she dismissed the idea. The "woman" was barely more than a teenager, by Liliya's estimation. Short-cut, medium-coloured hair (it was too dark to be sure but she thought perhaps brown) and dark eyes, and little in the way of feminine development.

Finally the girl responded with some answers, albeit uncertain ones. On the other hand she probably didn't want to spoil the surprise of the "interesting animals." The hypnotist actually sounded more interesting - Liliya thought she was pretty strong-minded, and wondered what he could accomplish with her, making her do something embarassing (which would really just entertain her after the fact) or recalling some covered-up memory of the past.

"Well if the big top is the only one left open, then I'll certainly take advantage of it," she said kindly. "Could I then ask another favour? I have gotten lost navigating the circus, and I don't know that I can find my way back. Would you take me there, if you have time? I don't want to take you away from your job. Or even point me in roughly the right direction; I'd find my way eventually." She smiled at the young woman thoughtfully. What must her life be like here in the circus?

The woman looked slightly uncertain at Julietta's reply to her questions. She supposed she hadn't been very helpful, but she'd at least given her some answers? Maybe the Russian had already been to the show and the hypnotist's tent? Julietta didn't know, but she wasn't about to ask either. She'd never been the most sociable person, and unless she knew the person she was speaking to then she tended not to encourage lengthy conversations. She had other things she could be doing which were far more important than making awkward small talk to a random stranger. The woman replied and Jules gave her a smile.

"Of course I can take you - it won't interrupt anything at all. I was just on my way back to my caravan, nothing important. It's this way." She replied politely, remembering to speak in Russian this time, and she turned around and began to slowly walk in the opposite direction that the woman had come from, her speed picked purposely as she didn't know whether the woman would follow. Going in the opposite direction to the one she was walking in was probably a slightly shorter route, but the French woman didn't want to make the circus visitor feel stupid by leading her back the way she came from. She knew that she didn't like being made feel like a fool by random strangers. Or by anyone, in fact. Anyway, Julie preferred to walk this way. The route she would lead the woman along took them by less closed tents. The 19 year old found the vacant tents rather spooky at night, despite her age and having gotten over her fear of the dark years ago.

Turning left at the end of the 'passageway' of sorts made up by the tents, Juliet picked up her pace a little, now confident that the woman was following her. As the darkness fell the temperature dropped, and already the night air was crisp. The Parisian wasn't wearing a particularly warm outfit and the other woman didn't seem dressed for the cold weather either.

"After the show, there are a few other tents open." The Beauxbâtons graduate nodded to a tent a few metres way which was still open. A spooky green glow spilled out the door from somewhere within the attraction that Julietta couldn't see. The girl had no idea who, or what, was inside the tent. She didn't make it her job to talk to everything at the circus, and the size of the troupe would make it hard even if she was to. Slightly unnerved by the green light, she hurried on past the average sized tent, turning left again at the next corner.   

"Thank you," Liliya said in response to the young lady's willingness to direct her. She began following obediently, glancing around at the various and sometimes quite unusual-looking tents - unusual even for wizards - as they made their way through the circus labyrinth. As they reached a more open avenue between the attractions, the cooling night air whipped up in a little breeze. Liliya shivered just a little bit; she was more comfortable with warm weather, but this wasn't yet too cold - it was still late summer and the nights were beginning to preview the coming autumn.

The worker pointed out a few open tents, particularly one lit within by an ominous verdigris. Liliya eyed the tent in question hesitantly, and then seeing that the worker was scurrying past, decided to do likewise. "There must be such a variety of different entertainments here. I can't imagine how you keep track of them all," she commented. "How long have you been with the troupe?" She actually had many other questions, but Liliya was not a clueless little schoolgirl and neither was the young woman leading her; the Ukrainian didn't want to sound like an exuberant fan when she was a cultured woman herself.

"Oh, and if you don't mind me saying so, your Russian is quite excellent," Liliya smiled at Julietta. "I only say so because you don't act quite like a native. I imagine there are people from all over the world and all walks of life that work here in the circus."

They were nearing the big top, and Julietta sure was glad for that, as the temperature was getting cooler by the minute. She pulled her jumper tightly around her, crossing her arms over her chest to keep out the cold. The woman had ever been a fan of the cold, even as a child, preferring to stay inside in the warm reading books rather play outside in the cold. The same went for snow – sure, it was pretty, but it was darn freezing! The French girl could never quite wrap her head around why her peers always wanted to go and play in the freezing white substance, and cover themselves in it and lay in it and build out of it and throw it at each other. She’d been especially confused about the latter: she’d been at the receiving end of a snowball once before and it hurt. However, when the Hogwarts students had been at Beauxbatons for a year one of them had called her a ‘Scrooge’. She didn’t know what a ‘Scrooge’ was, but from the way the other British kids had laughed she’d decided she didn’t want to be one, and had begun to hide her hatred of the snow, and cold.

“Oh, I’ve been here around 8 months now.” Juliet said offhandedly, the answer coming naturally for her. The Parisians organised mind made her keep track of things like that – how long she’d been at the circus, how long it had been since she’d graduated, how long she’d been learning English for, how long until she was 20, etc.

“It’s hard to keep track of them all, but I have quite a good memory, so that helps. And everyone forgets one or two every so often – the trick is to just not tell anyone, so no-one gets offended.” She cracked a rare, genuine smile, glancing at the older woman out of the corner of her eye as they walked. The woman was a sports player, for sure, Jules could tell by the way she walked. People-watching was a favourite hobby of Julie’s, and she’d grown quite good at it over the years. Watching the way people held themselves, walked, talked and treated others helped her to make assumptions about them, but she was open minded to other things, not always relying on her own opinion and listening to what they had to say about themselves.

“Thanks.” She gave a chuckle as the woman complemented her Russian. “I’ve been learning for a long time, since I was 13, so six years now. It was always my mother’s idea to get me fluent in it but-“ She stopped, not really wanting to tell this stranger that she’d run away before she’d had a chance to become fluent.

“I stopped lessons with her when I joined the circus…” She finished slowly, hoping that it would just come across to the other woman as though she’d had to hesitate and take a moment to think of the right word. Jules had never been confident talking about her family and home life to people she knew, and she’d only known this woman for a few minutes. Well, she wouldn’t say she knew her – she knew of her.

“So, how do you know I don’t act like a native? Are you a native yourself?” She asked curiously, wanting to know the answer so she could figure out whether or not there was any chance she was related to the woman. She highly doubted it and knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up, but maybe the woman knew Kira, even if they weren’t related. Since running away from home she’d become almost obsessed with finding out more about her mother’s family, but it wasn’t like she had much of a lead. She continued to watch the woman out of the corner of her eye as she waited for an answer.

Since she was thirteen, and that was six years ago - making the young circus worker nineteen. So Liliya's initial guess had been right, barely more than a teenager. But she'd been with the circus for eight months, and that was when she stopped taking Russian lessons with her mother. "Well then your mother is an excellent teacher," Liliya said kindly, filling in the quiet space from the girl's hesitation. She didn't want to say anything about 'Maybe you will get to continue them when you see her again,' because she didn't know what the circumstances surrounding the girl's family were. Her mother might be ill, or dead, or simply working here at the circus along with the girl but too busy to give lessons.

Julie's curious question made Liliya grin. "Heaven forbid!" she said, mock-crossing herself with the sign of the evil eye. "No I'm not Russian, but I am Ukrainian. The cultures are so close that we have similar reactions to things; and the languages are so similar that we can generally make ourselves understood, but in my case I specifically learned the Russian tongue to make my own job easier. I'm the captain of the Zhytomyr Ironbellies, one of the Ukrainian Quidditch teams. Oh, my name is Liliya Wolanski," she added as an afterthought.

"We play in the East Slavic League with some of the Russian regional teams in the CFD, including the Moscow Metalmen. In fact the Moscow team is the only one that beat us in the league this year," she said with a combination of pride and faux irritation.

At this point Liliya's attention was caught by a black velvet tent which seemed to be filled with a large number of glass objects of many different shapes and sizes. "My goodness, what on earth is that attraction?" she asked, by this point at a comfortable enough place with her walking companion that she could talk without feeling self-conscious. "It can't be a fortune-teller, can it? Most of those don't look like crystal balls." She peered in from a safe distance, tilting her head and squinting her eyes a little bit as she tried to decipher what she was seeing.

"Mmm." Julietta murmured in answer to the woman's comment about her mother teaching skills. It depended how you looked at it, really. Sure, she'd learnt Russian and English but... she'd also run away from home because of it. Not that she was going to tell this woman that, it was her personal life and she wasn't about to go around spreading it. Soon enough, this woman would be gone and Jules would never talk to her again. Speaking of this, there was the big top, it's white and red striped roof rising above the rows of other tents. A few more turns and they'd be at the entrance, then the Parisian would be able to go back to her caravan, make a hot chocolate, sit with Sophie on her lap, and read a book. Ah, that sounded nice.   

The Bellefeuille alumna laughed politely at the woman making the evil eye sign. Despite her easy appearance, gears were whirring behind her emotion betraying eyes, and the 19 year old let out a small sigh of relief. So she was Ukranian, that meant Julie wasn't related to her. Now she could stop intently studying her for similarities, and resume a normal conversation. Or a normal departure, as there were only a couple of corners to go.

Aha! The Parisian was right, she was a sports player... and none other than the Zhytomyr Ironbellies chaser and captain, Liliya Wolanski! Julietta had heard of her, from when the Ironbellies had played the Quiberon Quafflepunches, back in 1997. Because of the rare occourance of an East-Slavic league team playing France, Julietta had been listening intently to the Wizarding Wireless while the match was played, and despite the hard game and the fact they were neck-and-neck the whole way through, it had been a close win to the Ironbellies.

“I know you!” She exclaimed, unable to stop herself. “You played the Quiberon Quafflepunches three years ago!” The girl was a major quidditch fan, despite not being that good at the sport herself, and loved to listen to every match she could on the wireless.

And that explained while she was in Moscow: she’d been playing the Metalmen. The former Beauxbatons student had never liked the Metalmen, not in all her years of being a quidditch fan, although she couldn’t deny that they were good. Maybe part of it stemmed from her love/hate relationship with her mother, who originally came from Moscow, but Juliet had never wanted the Metalmen to win any match. Ever. It was a shame the Ironbellies had lost to them, if they’d won she would have been able to congratulate Liliya on beating one of the best teams in Russia. Although, no-one could top the Volgograd Vampires. They’d played the Novokuznetsk Nogtails earlier that month, and Jules had been lucky enough to be able to listen to the commentary on the Wireless. The Vampires had absolutely thrashed the Nogtails, and they’d won the game 685 to 20. It was a game destined to go down in history.

The 19 year old was just about to comment on the match when the Quidditch player pointed to a midnight-black tent filled with bizarre bottles of all shapes and sizes. The girl gave an easy laugh at her question, feeling superior to the older woman because she knew who the tent belonged to.

"Oh, I've never really understood what old Paulo does. I've asked him before, but he mumbles quite a lot and it's hard to tell why he's saying. Something to do with reflecting light or something like that I think....?" She laughed again, thinking back to the time when she'd attempted to ask the wizened old man at dinner. All she'd got was a lump of mumbled words, out of which she could make 'light', 'mirrors', 'smoke' and 'secret'. It hadn't been the most interesting conversation, to say the least.

"Oh my, a Quafflepuncher fan in Moscow!" Liliya chuckled. "My goodness, I remember that game so well. It was my first year as captain and we'd wanted to encourage some international cooperation, so we invited the other Eurasian Leagues to participate. The French League was the first to respond, since the British & Irish League were dealing with all that terrible suffering under Lord Voldemórt and his Death Eating government."

She shook her head at the awful memory before getting back to her preferred topic - Quidditch. "Most of Russia is in the Greater Russian League, but here in the Central Federal District they belong to the East Slavic League, same as my Ironbellies; and the Northwest Federal District plays with the Scandanavian teams."

Liliya's curiousity about the strange tent full of glass was only made more insatiable by the worker's uncertainty and vague answer. "Reflecting light... Imenem Lada!" she exclaimed quietly. "Is he a photomancer? I've heard tales of them. They say they can even bottle up light.. I'd be quite interested in that. I may have to come back another time when it isn't quite so late." She looked thoughtfully at the tent for a moment longer before scurrying to keep up with Julietta.

"Is the Eldrich circus performing at the international Quidditch Ball next month?" Liliya asked thoughtfully. "A fan such as yourself would have a marvelous time I'm sure. And it's in France this year so I'm sure the Quafflepunchers will feature prominently."

"Indeed," Julietta laughed, a real life, not a fake, polite one. "You wouldn't believe that I'm a Parisian, would you?" She asked, before realising what she had just said. Telling a random stranger where she lived? Not a good idea, not at all. Who knew who this woman was - actually, Julie knew, she was Liliya Wolanski, but that was besides the point. After all, she might not be Liliya Wolanski, she could just be pretending to be the Quidditch player. The Parisian had never actually seen the captain of the Zhytomyr Ironbellies, just heard of her play on the wireless. Her head facing forwards, she glanced at her companion out of the side of her eye, trying to suss her out. There was nothing to suggest that she wasn't Liliya Wolanski, and the Bellefeuille alumna prided herself on her people watching skills. Even before she'd known she was a Quidditch player she'd discovered she was a sports player, and the other woman was right by saying that Ukrainians and Russians had similar cultures, and the 19 year old knew what the Russian culture was like. She held herself like a team captain too, with an air of confidence and self-assuredness.

"Mmm." The 19 year old responded to the other woman's comment about the Death Eaters. She'd been in her seventh year at school when there had been a sudden influx of Hogwarts muggleborn students, and students with lots of muggles in their linage. Having learnt a lot of English by then, and been almost fluent, it had been pretty easy to communicate with the new students, especially with the help of translation charms. Not that she wanted to communicate much, she'd always been a very introverted and quiet child. But the Parisian had managed to piece together fragments of what was happening in the United Kingdom, and had eventually come up with the conclusion that she didn't like this Voldemort guy. Simple as.

Nodding as though she understood all of this talk of different leagues and federal districts and whatever (despite being a Quidditch fan, geography had never been her strong point, and this sounded an awful lot like geography), Julietta gazed ahead as they rounded a corner. The big top stood a few hundred of metres down the walkway from them, and the girl began to slow her  pace, finding herself surprisingly interesting in this conversation. It was rare that she was actually interested in talking to another person, and she didn't want it to end.

"I.... think so? Possibly?" Juliet chuckled, opening up a bit and relaxing around the circus visitor. "Although I'd imagine it'd work best in the dark, what with it being about light and all that, but I wouldn't know for certain. If you wanted, I could ask old Paulo for you and owl you the answer? Or, if you plan on returning, I could tell you then.” What. Was. She. Doing? Julietta Ouellet was usually so careful about opening up to people, but here she was, telling a stranger where she lived and offering to send an owl to her, or even meet up with her again. The world seemed to be going mad.

The Ukranians next words caught the Parisian off guard, and she glanced at Liliya. Quidditch ball? What was that? Julie hadn’t heard anything about a quidditch ball… had she? Listening closely as her companion spoke, she concluded that she hadn’t heard anything because the event was being held in France, and she hadn’t been to France since… well, since she left home. It sounded like a pretty good event though, and if the Quafflepunchers were performing, she definitely wanted to go. Would Alioth allow her time off to attend?

“Not that I know of…” She answered slowly. “But then again, I don’t know where we’re going next month. Which town is it being held at?” She asked, eager to know the answer.

The pair had reached the big top, and it suddenly dawned upon the former Bellefeuille that she should probably ask for an autograph, or something. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got to meet the captain of the Zhytomyr Ironbellies! She dithered for a moment, trying to recall whether or not she had a quill and parchment on her person. She didn’t think she did, but she dug her hands into her pockets to search for one just in case as Liliya spoke.

"A Parisian - well that would explain it," Liliya said cheerfully. "Many of the Quiberon fans came from there for the game. Ah, gay Paree... a truly beautiful city, no cliché can truly do it justice. I always thought I'd find the man I was supposed to marry in Paris. Of course, I still could." She rolled her eyes, not entirely sure whether she believed it would ever happen; she felt that she was already getting old, despite being barely over thirty years of age, and her chances for romance didn't seem to be doing anything except dwindling. "Maybe I just need to visit more often."

The girl was very polite as Liliya went on about the Leagues, listening while still leading Liliya through the circus - in fact, the Ukrainian had almost forgotten that was where she was at. Such a delightful conversation it had turned into, even though it had started out so awkwardly! But that was how life was sometimes, she reflected; random encounters could lead to such interesting acquaintanceships and even strong friendships. In truth Liliya was intrigued more and more by this mysterious young woman, seemingly so timid and unobtrusive but hiding her own wealth of experience and unique background. To find that she was a Quidditch fan had just been the icing on the cake.

In light of this, the girl's offer to ask about Paolo's line of work and send her an owl letter seemed like a sign from above. Perhaps this was a friendship she could cultivate. "That would be lovely!" Liliya smiled broadly. "I live in Horodyshche but your owl would find me if you sent it to the pitch outside of Zhytomyr." In a moment of mild shock she realised that she did not know her counterpart's name. "Who would be the sender?" she asked.

As they reached the end of the pathway, the tents opened up on either side of the pair of women to reveal the big top in all its glory. Had Liliya been paying attention to her surroundings instead of their conversation, she realised, she probably would have seen it some time ago. It was truly a kindness for Julietta to have walked her all this way. "I appreciate this so much," she said again, clasping her hands in front of her, "walking me all the way here as well as letting me know about your ph-- about Paolo's talent. Is there anything I can do for you in return? An autograph? A pass to one of my team's games if you're ever nearby when we're playing?"

Julietta struggled to restrain herself from wincing at the Quidditch player began to talk about the city of her birth, but she managed a weak smile and a nod when she finished, not looking at the other woman. She could sense her cheerful attitude and didn't want to ruin it, but it was hard when she hadn't been home in so long. Of course, for some people, staying away from home for time periods as long as that was the norm, but it wasn't to her. Actually, that wasn't true, she stayed at school when she still attended Beauxbatons. But that was different to this: she didn't really have a choice to be honest, and she could write letters home as often as she liked.

The Parisian repeated the name of the town - Horodyshche - over in her head a few times, trying to remember it. She had always been quite good at remembering things, and so it wasn't too difficult. Send Julien to Horodyshche or Zhytomyr Quidditch Pitch she thought to herself. It was a long way, but she was sure Julien could manage it, and she could always set the tawny owl off when she was nearer to one of the two cities than she was now. She wondered briefly if the circus would be setting up camp in either of the cities at any time, but she was dragged roughly away from her thoughts at the older woman's next sentence.

She hadn't already told Liliya her name! How rude of her, had the woman asked before and she not answered? Thinking back to what they'd discussed, Jules could only recall stating that she had heard of the Quidditch player, but she'd never responded with her own name. How dreadful. A hand flew to her mouth as she gazed in shock at the Ukrainian, and she mumbled an apology, saying that she was ever so sorry for beig so rude. The former Bellefeuille had been brought up to be extremely polite and well-mannered, and so she always apologised many times when she slipped up.

"My name is Julietta. Julietta Ouellet." She gave her full name, surprising herself as she wasn't the type to gave out her details to strangers, but she supposed that it would be rude to just say 'Julietta', and even more rude to just put her first name on a letter, and so that would not do. Despite the fact that she'd already established the circus visitor was Ukrainian and not related to Kira, the Parisian studied her carefully for any sign of recognition at the name Ouellet. The 19 year old knew that her mother hadn't been in contact with her family since she had left home, but there was always the off chance that her Russian relatives may have found out, somehow.

A genuine smile passed across the clockmakers daughters face as the Quidditch player thanked her, and then it grew as the woman asked if she could do anything to thank her. An autograph, or a pass to a game? Both of them sounded pretty good to her, but she knew that she couldn't be rude and stretch her lucky by asking for both. Not that she would ever dream of doing such a thing - even as a young child she knew that was wrong.

"An autograph would be great." She said, and she could tell that even if someone wasn't able to see her then they could hear from her town of voice that she was smiling. "But, I don't have a quill and parchment on me. Do you have them on you? Otherwise I can magic something up." She spoke in simple Russian, not wanting to slip p because she was trying to be clever. The circus worker had been unsuccessful in her search through her pockets to find writing materials, and so she was left with no options other than to ask or use magic.

The poor girl - Liliya knew she hadn't meant to forget to introduce herself, so she wasn't offended or hurt at all. She smiled at the introduction and at the name as well. Julietta Ouellet. It was a watery, flowing or flowering name, Liliya couldn't decide which word described it better. When Julietta took Liliya up on the offer of an autograph and began patting her pockets, the Quidditch Captain waited very patiently while the young girl searched her own pockets. Then when she offered to magic up the necessities, Liliya shook her head and held out a hand as if to stop her.

"I've always got a bit of parchment and a Collapsible Quill on me," Liliya said with a bit of embarassment, as she extracted both items from one of the pockets of her robe. "I know it makes me seem like a pretentious prat, but I've been asked for autographs before and didn't used to be prepared for it." She put the parchment down on her thigh, flicked the pen nib out so that it expanded into a full purple heron feather quill, and wrote out a quick autograph for her new Parisian friend.

[img style="background:rgba(255,255,255,0.8);"]http://fontmeme.com/freefonts/img.php?f=11011&s=24&t=%C3%A0%20Julietta%20Ouellet%0AMerci%20pour%20l'excursion!%0A-%20Liliya%20Wolanski&c=000000[/img]

"I love your name, by the way. It's very pretty," Liliya smiled broadly as she handed the parchment to Julietta and flicked her quill back into a nib, and then repeated the name in her own native accent. "Zhoo-lye-et-a Wuh-leht. Wuh-leht and Wuh-lan-skee, perhaps our ancestors were related!" she chuckled. Wouldn't that be something?

"Well Julietta, once again, I thank you very much. You have made being lost into a very pleasurable experience. I look forward to your owl - and not just for my own curiosity but for the friend I made today. Na dobranіch [good night]!" she finished in native Ukrainian instead of Russian, but the wave of her arm would make its meaning evident. As she approached the big top and the raucous noise emanating from inside, Liliya decided right then and there that when Julietta's owl arrived, she was going to send it back with a one-game pass after all. Julietta had been such a sweet, unassuming, helpful girl, that she absolutely deserved it. Pleased at the thought, Liliya showed the stamp on her hand to the ticketmaster and headed in to see the last of the evening entertainment.

Julietta sighed in relief at the fact that Liliya wasn't offended, and breathed out heavily, letting go of a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She didn't know what she would have done if the Quidditch player had been offended, but she would have been so embarrassed. She was still embarrassed now, but less so than she would have been. The young woman gave a small smile at the older womans comment about seeming pretentious, then gratefully took the parchment that she'd written the autograph on, reading it through a couple of times before looking back up and meeting the Ukrainians eye.

"Thank you." She said in Russian, carefully folding the parchment and tucking it away neatly in her pocket where it wouldn't get crumpled, and making a mental note to tuck it in a book somewhere where it wouldn't get damaged once she got back to her caravan.

"And thank you again." She laughed, thanking Liliya for complementing her name. Personally she thought her name was quite boring, but it would be rude not to acknowledge what the other witch had said. When she was younger, in her third year at Beauxbatons, she had become interested in the meaning of her name and done some research into the meaning, during which she had discovered was of Italian origin. Having gone to a muggle library near her Parisian home during the Christmas break, she had found out that it was a variant of the name 'Julia', which meant 'Jove's child'. That had then sparked her 13 year old self to look into some Greek mythology, and discovered that Jove, otherwise known as Jupiter, was the god of the sky and thunder. Great, her name meant 'daughter of the thunder god'. Really pretty. However she had later discovered that Jupiter was also a translation of Zeus, king of the gods, which came from the Latin word Juppiter. That had made her slightly more interested, and she had discovered that Juppiter (or Jupiter) was the original Latin form, Zeus was the Greek name for the god, and Jove was the anglicized version of Jupiter. Ouellet was a variant form of Ouellette, which one of the most ancient French names to have come from Normandy. It was developed from the Old French word oeil, which meant eye, and was a result of the original name Ouilly-le-Basset, which was the surname of a family living in Normandy. There were many other variations of the name, such as Oueilly, Ouilly, Ouele, Ouellade, Willett, Willet, Williot, Willette, Wellett, Wille, Willi, Oullet, Ouelette, and Oullett among others (it had taken the Bellefeuille three hours to memorise the list). Although it was of French origin, Ouellette was a fairly common name in French Canadians.

Having done all this research, the Parisian had then bored all her peers (and her parents) immensely.

"Your name is pretty too." She replied in a voice she hoped sounded genuine, so the Quidditch player wouldn't just think of her as one of those people who simply returned the compliment, even though they didn't believe it was true. "I like the sound of it. Lil-iya" She smiled, repeating the name in her French accent which hadn't faded much since she'd left home. In countries she went to and where she spoke their language (or knew some of it), such as England or Russia, she had expected to pick up their accent, but she hadn't. It had been a surprise to the 19 year old (although she had been 18 when she apparated to England), but it hadn’t really bothered her. In fact, she rather liked the fact that she had a constant reminder of her birthplace.

“I hope I’ve been of some help to you, and I'll send a letter with my own as soon as possible. Au revoir! [goodnight!]” She finished in her native language as her companion had done, giving a final smile to the Ukrainian as she disappeared into the big top to watch the show. Jules spun on her heel and began to walk back the way she’d come from, although when she reached the first corner she ducked into a small gap between two tents and into the shadows, taking a shortcut back to the path that led to where all the caravans were parked - her small, blue one among them. Back to where I started… the Parisian thought with a sigh, realising that she had been at the big top not so long ago. Although she wasn’t upset or annoyed about that, in fact she was quite glad she’d met Liliya Wolanski. She felt like she’d made a friend.

(( out ))