Lanterns floated like lazy fireflies above the Circo Obumbratio grounds, casting a warm, flickering glow that softened the edges of the world — or perhaps it was the spell Kaladin had woven, subtle as silk, stitched into the bones of the circus the moment the first tent had been raised.

A clever enchantment, really. The humans strolling past in their wide-eyed herds would find their suspicions gently soothed away, their rational minds nudged just enough to overlook the impossible.

Kaladin sat upon the low stone edge of the central fountain, legs crossed at the ankle, posture impeccable even in this idle moment. His suit tonight was charcoal black, a silk pocket square of deep maroon blooming from his breast pocket like a bloodstained rose. The top hat rested neatly on the fountain beside him, for now — its absence making him look almost informal, though nothing about Kaladin ever truly was.

In his gloved hands, a deck of cards danced and fluttered like living things. He shuffled them with the sort of casual mastery that could only come from years — no, decades — of practice, the smooth snap and rustle of the cards oddly soothing amid the carnival’s chatter.

His reddish-brown eyes roamed lazily over the crowd, watching the humans drift from stall to stall, their faces slack with wonder, pockets lightening with each step. Another gentle tug from his enchantment and a few more coins found their way into the circus’s coffers. Not theft, not exactly. More of a... voluntary donation, coaxed from the heart rather than the mind.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kaladin caught something, someone, cutting through the haze of enchantment. A presence that wasn’t lulled by his spell, or perhaps one that resisted it more than most. His eyes narrowed, not in hostility, but in sharp curiosity, like a cat watching something small and interesting skitter just out of reach.

The corner of his mouth tugged into a slow, knowing smile, his hand pausing mid-shuffle as his gaze settled on you.