She had heard a couple of months back that Cirque de la Lune had settled in the outskirts of Muggle London. It had been a few years since Dervla had laid eyes on Jean-Luc St. Lawrence, the ringmaster of the circus. When she'd left Britain after getting fired and spent a couple of years travelling, she had found herself on the road with his circus. She'd had a little sideshow, showing off her collection of strange medical anomalies. Two headed pig fetuses in jars, baby mermaids, the skeleton of a centaur- things of that nature. Sure, the muggles assumed the magical creatures were fakes, but it was a great way to show off and expand her collection. It had also been a great way to travel and earn a little money along the way.

Dervla never really connected with people. But Jean-Luc had taken an interest in her work, and had encouraged her to continue her experiments and studies. He had taught her a lot about herself, giving her confidence in her capabilities and the desire to keep experimenting- no matter the consequences. She had kept in touch with him, owling him strange trinkets and updating him on major breakthroughs in her work. She liked him. Dervla didn't genuinely like many people. She had a hard time getting along with others. Empathy wasn't her strong suit.

It didn't take long to find the circus. She smiled brightly at the familiar tents, and could already feel her mood brighten considerably. She'd barely had any sleep, and after the disturbance at her funeral home the previous night- by the name of Aviad Cohen- she was glad to be somewhere where all of that wouldn't matter. Dervla closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of the circus was familiar- it barely changed, no matter the country they were settled in for the time being.

When she opened them again, there was a familiar figure striding toward the gate which had been set up around the circus. Dervla waved, and called out to him. "Jean-Luc! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" When he opened the gate, she moved quickly to embrace him, placing a loud kiss on his cheek. "Handsome a devil as ever, I see. For shame, you coming to London and not calling on me or letting me know!"

There had always been a time to which Jean-Luc felt as though he truly belonged. In years that passed so few things could excite him, days would pass where boredom did plague; a wonderment of what had truly come to pass, and what was only pretend. So many nights the lines were blurred between the two, so few days were any different, but as of late it all came crashing into one endless rise and fall of the sun. What in the world was he even doing anymore? Where was his life going? When did it end? The lines that sank in around his eyes had once been cause of laughter, spirited musical kind that came with children, love, and happiness; but now he could not say the same.

Attractions came and went, rose and fell like a tide, but never had he ever been so touched by the Bagnold's wonderment. A little freckled child that blossomed in the spring, flowered into the woman he knew now, and loved dearly. Throughout the years he had come to look forward to her letters, advise for the coming seasons, and of the little trinkets that she always prepared him. He kept them all in the trunk at the foot of his bed, the furs and silks set out for him like a King, and despite his rather poor Kingdom he was as respected much the same.

He felt her long before her voice did call, long before her footfalls ever smoothed over the stone outside the fairgrounds, and beyond that moment to which he remembered her smile. She always came upon the tents like a storm, blowing in and lighting up the night sky, and leaving it all with a feeling of sins washed away.

"My Dear Sweet Girl," He started with words hardly able to command of anything more than what she offered, and wrapped her up into his embrace. The years had been kind to him, despite the weight of it all, and left his youth in tact. Yet, little bits of grey did braid it's way into his hair, his bad leg bothered him more and more, but there was an ever present youth to the man that would simply never fade.

"Handsome a devil as ever, I see. For shame, you coming to London and not calling on me or letting me know!"


"Ah, Ma petit, you flatter me so," He said with a smile, announcing her presence without ever saying a word, and soon she would be welcomed by them all. She was deeply missed. "Forgive me, we have not been here very long. And last I heard, My dove, you were not in London yourself. But come, let us not talk of places that we both care so little for. You are home now, and that is all that matters, no?'

'Come, tell me of what has occupied you for so long. And let us see your family no?" They waited for her, even Camille with her dark eyes, lifted her lips in a devilish smirk to see the familiar face she had known to love. Askel waited on his wire, but it was Elsa who made the most fuss. In her old years there was still life in her yet, and in truth it was the elephant's keen senses that had first alerted the troop of the return of Derlva. They could not have been happier.

Dervla relaxed against him as he hugged her back, gently nuzzling against his shoulder and inhaling. Godric, he smelled delicious. "Then I suppose I can't blame you. I've been living in London for quite a while now, though I still travel as often as work permits." Which was more or less however often she felt, since she was the business owner she could take as much time off as she wanted, when she wanted. "If you have the time, you must visit my home. I have a spectacular laboratory set up in the basement, and you would be envious of my freedom to experiment there." Especially envious of all the fresh supplies which came through the doors of her funeral home. How she hadn't figured out sooner that being a mortician was the way to go was beyond her.

She fell into step beside him as he properly welcomed her home. She was glad to see so many familiar faces. People came and went with the circus, but it was nice to see the core group had not changed. Dervla wrapped her arms around Elsa's trunk as the elephant greeted her. Never had Dervla though she could love a creature as much as she had grown to love the old elephant. She kissed the leathery skin and spoke softly in her large ears, expressing her delight at seeing the old girl was still alive and kicking. "Everyone looks well," she commented to Jean-Luc, giving Elsa a final pat on the side as they moved past her.

"As for what has kept me occupied for so long, mostly it is business. I have settled down, it seems. I opened a funeral home in Diagon Alley. It provides me with a good income, and so long as I am careful often have fresh supplies to pursue my work. Oh, it's lovely, really! I've come so far in the last few years. And if it wasn't for your encouragement I never would have continued m study, I would have given it all up to fit into proper society. I miss the excitement of travel, but there is something to be said for routine. Or maybe it's old age getting at me?" Dervla joked. She'd been in her early twenties when she'd found Cirque de la Lune, and now she was over thirty. Just past the cut off for what most people would consider "youthful".

"But really, that is all so very boring in comparison to the grand adventures I'm sure you've been having. I'm glad you've come to London for a while, I hope you don't grow too bored too quickly. It will be nice having you around in visiting distance for once. Letters just aren't quite the same as being in your... physical company." Dervla smirked a little and snaked an arm around his, remembering the nights she spent in his lavish tent when she'd been travelling with Cirque de la Lune. "How has the circus been since I left? Anything exciting to report? You know how I love to hear you tell stories."

"If you have the time, you must visit my home. I have a spectacular laboratory set up in the basement, and you would be envious of my freedom to experiment there."

Music to his ears, as ever before. He loved to hear it when one of the souls the collected had a successful flight on their own. That she was well enough to think to share with him her success. Truly it made him smile, despite how heavy the weight of the week had brought him down.

"I am always envious of your freedom," He said that with as much emotion as he could mask, but sometimes it was the only truth that he knew. Older now, Jean-Luc was such a fool to think that he could live like this forever, and though his passionate flames did rise and fall like a sea of fire he felt more consumed than ever.

Derlva went on about how her life had taken off, and though they walked together now he felt as though he were the only one on the path. She was out of his reach, despite how much he wanted to pull her back, but truly he would not have it any other way. He would listen to her for hours if only to live in the normalcy of her situation, but as he looked out across kingdom of rust and faded paint he let those thoughts disappear.

"Things have been much the same here, my darling, in that our lives are always changing. We have new faces as well a few old, but most of all we still remain just as we were. I fear that our funding will probably see us stay in England much longer than we would wish, but it will give us time to catch up no?" It was cold despite how they were beneath all of the lights and he kept her close, even as she visited with the old elephant herself.

"Come, let's build a fire. I shall see you dance no?" Something very few knew, of how at night--late, with the trees like claws above them the few Romany danced to drums that didn't belong anywhere near the city, nor of the nation to which they were collected. "You do remember how don't you?"