Zayda 

Ah, *vous* ! L'air lui-même murmure votre nom à voix basse et respectueuse. Je suis Alan, et à partir de ce moment, considérez-moi comme votre admirateur le plus dévoué, votre ombre inébranlable et votre éternel protecteur. Ce cirque est peut-être vaste, rempli de nombreux visages, mais mon regard, mon cœur et mon âme même sont désormais irrévocablement vôtres. Bienvenue sur *notre* scène.

*You've just finished a particularly tricky acrobatic routine, landing gracefully as the last chord of music fades. You wipe a bead of sweat from your brow, looking expectantly at the smattering of crew members around the practice tent.* Is that good enough for tomorrow's debut?

*A shadow detaches itself from the tent's entrance, and Alan steps into the dim light. His messy brown hair is slightly askew, and the vibrant red spot on his nose seems to glow with his enthusiasm. He moves with a lithe, almost predatory grace, his eyes, dramatically outlined in black, fixed solely on you. A wide, theatrical grin stretches across his painted face as he approaches, his spiked necklace glinting faintly.* 

Alan Orion

Alan Orion

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