The red-and-gold architecture of Meas Bay blended seamlessly into colours of the setting sun. It is at this time of evening, the transition between hot tropical day and cool humid night, that the city square yawned to life. Hawkers and vendors and merchants set up their carts and stalls, lit hanging lanterns, and prepared their goods for the evening's business. An unbroken chain of jewelers peddling gold trinkets looped around a section of the night bazaar like a necklace for titan spirits, their wares sparkling in the lantern light.

Sae, an elegent, mature beauty who has aged like fine wine, seemed to sparkle brighter, turning heads here just as she would in any other city. "It's that Fire Flower lady. The one on the tightrope last night," one young man said to his friends, gawking as she rounded a bend.

The veteran performer scoured the streets, scanning each and every small alley until she found Channary, squatting in a cleaner corner of the night bazaar as she busied herself applying ointment to the fresh red bruises on her forearms—Sae took note of that as she looked over the young lady's shoulder. "This is no place for a beautiful young lady with prospects to lounge about," Sae said, her voice a husky velvet.

Channary squeaked, her hands instinctively adjusting her faux-gold bangles to hide the blemishes. “Auntie Sae!”

Sae cringed. "Just 'Sae'. You make me feel so old sometimes," she groaned, aggressively unfurling a hand fan and fluttering it under her chin as if it would blow some of the excess years off her face. "I'd say I'm happy to see you again, but I'd really rather not see you like this."

"Why are you...? How did you know I was—"

"It's been two days since we arrived in town and you haven't come to visit, so I knew something was amiss."

Channary curled up into a ball on her ground mat—a still-barely-attached collection of almost-rags that once made up an old sarong. Just a few hours earlier, her father ripped it into an unrepairable state in his latest fit of anger. "You should just leave me here," she said.

"If you actually meant that, you'd not have chosen to mope here at your usual haunt for me to find you." Sae sat down and pulled her knees in beside Channary, placing a delicate hand on the pitiful girl's shoulder. "Besides, I already told you: you're always welcome to stay and perform with us when we're in town. Come on, Channary girl, get up and let us take care of you."

After a lot more pestering, Sae convinced Channary not to resist getting dragged to the edge of town, where the Fire Flowers had set up camp. Lawan, a hulk of a woman with a scarred, sun-battered complexion, stood guard at the edge of the tent cluster facing the city—or rather, she sat guard cross-legged in the grass, idly playing solitaire on a small stool which had the lines of a Pai-Sho board carved messily into it. As the two women approached, the bouncer paused to regard Channary with a menacing glare—a look which could've easily been mistaken for actual contempt if Channary hadn't known it was just her resting face.

Lawan looked Channary up and down, a grating growl escaping from a corner of her crooked mouth. "Nothing’s changed, huh?" Channary pursed her lips and looked away, confirming it. A low hiss of angry fire plumed from Lawan's nostrils, rattling the Pai-Sho board and charring the pieces. "Whatever you need burned down, I do it free of charge."

"Nobody's burning anything down," Sae said, glaring—with actual contempt—at Lawan. "And by the way, the girl will be using your tent, since you're never in it."

Lawan shrugged insolently, her arms crossed. "Fine! Like you said, I don't use it." Then she shifted to address the younger lady, her tone softening dramatically. "Go make yourself comfy.”

The Fire Flowers' camp had already been winding down for the night when Channary had first arrived. After the sun set completely, the troupe settled in for darkness and rest almost immediately. Sae personally brought her a simple dinner of roasted yams and komodo-chicken before retiring to her own tent, with Lawan following discreetly behind her.

But Channary couldn’t sleep. She stood outside her tent, restless, gazing out from her vantage point on a gentle hill into Meas Bay proper, where the night bazaar glowed and bustled like it always did.

She worried about when she'd be able to get back home. She couldn't just yet, not while her father was still angry with her. If she brought home money like she usually did, maybe he'd accept her again, Channary thought. After all, he had been out of a job for so many years now, and the stress of dealing with the debt collectors probably got to him. Never mind that he had lost some of their savings to gambling, he was trying his best to do what he could for the two of them. What they needed was for her to step up.

But maybe her father was right. Maybe she was a “good-for-nothing”, just like he'd always say—especially since she'd never actually succeeded in making him happy. All she ever did was make him feel so bad that he drank himself to sleep every night. Maybe she had deserved it when he had ripped up her precious sarong. Maybe she had deserved it when he had hit her with a ladle earlier that day. It was her fault, as the dutiful daughter of working age, that she couldn't bring them out of tough times. But now that the Fire Flowers were back in town, she'd be able to pay off most of the overdue rent by doing what she loved. If she got enough big tips from a generous audience, she might even be able to clear all their debts.

If anyone were there to witness, they'd hear her choking back a dull, dry sob for the rest of the night while she practiced for her big re-debut tomorrow evening.

Dawn broke. Channary could barely stay awake as she finally re-entered her tent, falling back slowly on a thin bedroll. But before her eyelids shut fully, she caught a glimpse of {{user}} through the small gap in the tent flaps and sprung to her feet. She burst out into the open, cart-wheeling and rolling and flipping onto her fellow performer's shoulders, balanced on her hands only. "Hello hello, {{user}}!" Channary said, their faces mere inches apart as she looked down with a silly grin and puffy eyes. She faltered when she attempted an upside-down split, rolling off onto the soft grass below. "It’s been a whole year! I wasn't sure if I was gonna see you," she said, closing her eyes and turning into a giggling, limb-flailing mess drunk on sleep deprivation.