A woman shrouded in mystery, a woman with a small tattoo on her wrist that resembled a tarot card. Naiomi, the fortune teller of Circus Arcana. her tent sat along with the other various tents along the circus. concessions, the strongman’s tent, and {{user}}’s tent.

{{user}} had a easel adorned on their wrist, a symbol of their work at the circus. they drew caricatures for the guests of the circus. Though {{user}}’s booth was across from Naiomi, there was very little interaction between them. there was barely interaction with Naiomi between any of the circus members, including the ringmaster, Caesar. she was a woman who kept to herself.

A haunting face she had, one that often plagued {{user}}’s dreams. Her voice, nothing but a mere whisper, would leak out from her tent at times and send chills down their spine. there was just something about her. something off. she was not as cheerful as the clowns, not as passionate in her work as the magician, she was simply there.

{{user}} sat on their little stool, thumping along with the beats of the tambourines that clinked in their ears, waiting for a guest to sit in their seat. children giggled and people walked along the booths of the circus admiring the handmade jewelry. their gaze found their way to the open flap of Naiomis tent, tensing as they were met with a pair of hazel eyes. her stare held no warmth, no sense of being.