It was odd to see a small crowd moving in unison, no different than water striders in a still pond. Flowing constantly, yet the ground beneath remained frozen. And yet, Ren found himself standing in the back of a moving carriage as a small crowd of oddly uniformed young men and women flocked about, with Silas, smug as he always was, behind the gathering crowd alongside golden-haired Evelyn, whose eyes were alight with that same amusement that had unsettled Ren only moments ago.
Ren wanted to close the canvas flap, to step back and pretend he wasn't there. Certainly, the mask hid his eyes enough to hide his complete and utter dissatisfaction at being the center of a roadside pony show. That, at least, was his only advantage as Silas called out.
"This is our new stagehand. Forgive his mask! He's got a terrible deformity on his face and would rather keep it covered. Why don't you introduce yourself?"
Ren glanced at Silas, lips curling down at the corners. 'Really?'
"Ren."
"Sorry," Silas shouted again, "Did you say Ven?"
Gritting his teeth, Ren was about to speak again when Silas grinned and spoke over him, "Right, it's Venture, isn't it?"
Drawing in the slowest breath he could, Ren nodded. "Yes… Venture."
He could feel the amusement radiating from Silas, and Ren gave them what was probably the most pathetic attempt at looking eager to meet someone new he'd ever given. After a moment's more hesitation, a dozen eyes on him, Ren finally hopped back onto the ground, stumbling once again. This time, however, his excuse was that he wasn't used to jumping from moving carriages. At least, the excuse he gave himself. In his head… Because he wasn't going to voice that to these caravaneers who were clearly out for his blood.
That was when the questions began, instantaneously, overwhelming, and far too invasive.
"So, you're from the Grand City?"
"Silas and Leon went back for you. You must be pretty important…"
"Did you really burn off your eyebrows and lashes so badly that you wear the mask to keep it covered?"
"Do you sing, or dance? Oh! Do you play an instrument? Are you an artisan, maybe?"
"Silas said you'd be one of us. Did you help in the city watch?"
Blinking, Ren tried to crane over them, hoping to get a glance of Evelyn, but she seemed to be whispering something to her brother, laughing behind her hand. Internally Ren cursed, then turned to the crowd. A myriad of dark hair and rainbow eyes assaulted him, and even as he walked backward to keep pace with the carts and the crowd, he grew increasingly frustrated to how it was no different from reporters and nosy types back in the grand city… Erin had always done well with them, eager to share her accomplishments and brag about something that had happened for her, occasionally divulging Ren's strict training regime. Now, though, he had no 'public face'. It was just him.
Just Ren.
No.
Not even Ren.
Venture.
He turned back to the crowd, the dizzying mass of them an unpleasant chorus of birds fighting over the last worm. After a moment, he tilted his head. 'How does Silas do it?' He raised a hand, too stiff to be nonchalant, trying to grin in that carefree, sarcastic way but only succeeding in looking like an awkward student at the academy. "Important?" He said, his voice somewhere desperately between humorous and trying not to fall apart, "I was attendant to…" He paused, glancing back in the direction of Silas and Evelyn. Silas, no doubt listening, had his eyebrow raised, as if challenging Ren to finish. Something twisted inside Ren, and his voice grew more confident. "Yeah, I was attendant to Elren Winter once, you know. Oh, and the Supreme Arbiter was my best friend."
Silas' eyes narrowed, and Ren's smile turned more genuine in response, almost predatory. 'Gotta explain my skills somehow, reaper.'
"Yeah," Ren continued, "And I once fought alongside the wall guard during an attack. And I blew up a building." Those were all true, of course, of Elren Winter, but from the person they were expecting? These were tall tales. And he knew caravaneers would eat them up. "The Senate? Oh, they're annoying." He made a show of it, surprising even himself, "Long days spent talking. Drivel, I tell you."
"Are you really deformed behind your mask? I thought you weren't wearing it when you first got out of the cart?"
Blinking, Ren turned to the question, a young man with orange eyes stared directly at him, as if trying to cut through Ren's mask with his sight alone. For a split second, Ren gaped, caught off-guard. At some instinctive level, Ren understood; if someone saw his eyes and face, there was no hiding who he was from anyone. The thought itself was a bullet through Ren's mind, loud, piercing, and irreversible.
Instead of quieting down, though, Ren knew that he had to keep going, to be this… This character. "Yes," He muttered, "Because I'd forgotten how ugly I look without it. Silas made sure to remind me."
Somehow, that actually managed to get a short round of laughter.
Laughter.
Ren grinned. He wasn't used to making strangers laugh. It felt… Good. He glanced over to Silas and Evelyn, and outstretched his hand, "In fact, he made sure to make me the stagehand because I was too unsightly to be on stage!"
That elicited much less of a reaction than Ren had hoped for, and he had to bite back a grimace. 'I'm… Not very good at this, am I?' He attempted to mimic the lackadaisical bow Silas had given in the cell only the night before. A slow, smooth motion with the intention of sarcastic humor.
Of course, there was no reaction at all this time. 'I'm really bad at this.' At the bottom of his bow, he let out a slow breath, then stood upright once again.
"Did you ever attend the Academy?"
Ren turned, blinking, momentarily stunned from his disappointment, "Of course."
"At the same time as Evie and Silas?"
"Forgive me?"
Orange eyes rolled his eyes, unimpressed, "At the same time as Evie and Silas?"
"No…?" Ren muttered, confused, completely uncertain. They had attended Gateway's Academy? The one used as a flex of status for higher classes and was almost mandatory for noble heirs? Since when had some caravaneers made it into such a prestigious school? And for how long?
The orange-eyed caravaneer grinned, "Guys, he's definitely lying. I doubt he's done any of this."
"But I'm–" Ren tried to stammer out, but cut himself short. He didn't know what defending himself would do, here, and had no idea what would happen for him if he did.
Another uniformed person, a girl with dark hair and blue eyes, seemed to grow uninterested, turning to Silas and Evelyn, "Didn't you guys say we were picking up some noble girl?"
Evelyn shrugged. "Change of plans. You all understand, I presume?"
Grumbles disseminated through the crowd. The frown that was growing too accustomed to his face was twitching at Ren's lips again. He stepped forward, pushing through the crowd. "What noble girl?"
Evelyn blinked, surprised. "Erin Winter, of course."
The chattering crowd went silent, and Ren stopped, a small crowd of people and other wagons walking and rolling ahead of him.