Orianna: Fieram

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Orianna walked through the fairground, empty and still in the evening gloom. Sir Feisterly's Fantastical Fair opened its gates to delighted crowds of Zaunites but twice a year, and Orianna did not want to miss her chance to see its wonders. She had waited until everyone had left for the day, and the rowdy laughter and accordion tunes had fallen silent. Only the low hum of nearby pipelines pumping steam through the chem district disturbed the quiet. Detritus lay strewn along the ground; colorful streamers and bright balloons mingling with crumpled wax paper that once held sweet jam pastries.

Orianna's clockwork ball hovered beside her as she passed a stall overflowing with roses, which according to a sign, smelled like each day of the week. She walked by a wind-up monkey holding a pair of cymbals, and a cart laden with sugared apples. None of these Zaun-born delights piqued her interest; Orianna had eyes only for the glass cabinet tucked into a secluded corner at the far edge of the grounds.

A glimmering wink of metal flashed in the moonlight. It came from the mechanical boy sitting behind the glass. Orianna had seen nothing like him, and drew closer, intrigued. He was clad in a midnight-blue suit and a silk hat. His skin was a shell of pure porcelain that masked the delicate clockwork gears below, and his eyes shone with glints of silver thread. As Orianna approached him, his lips rearranged into a smile.

"Can you keep a secret?" the boy said. His voice reminded Orianna of softly chiming bells.

"Hello," she said. "Of course."

"What say we make a trade. My secret, for your name."

"That seems fair. I am called Orianna."

"Or-ee-AHN-uh," he repeated. "Such soft sounds."

Orianna could have sworn his porcelain cheeks blushed.

"I suppose it's my turn. My name is Fieram. My secret is that I fear the outside world, though I long to see distant shores and far-off mountains."

"Is that why you live in a cabinet?" she asked. "Because you are afraid?"

"From here, the world visits me," said Fieram. "Behind the glass, I am safe. I'm very fragile, you see." He pointed to a hairline fracture on his forearm. "There it is. I'm getting old." Fieram's mouth opened into a lopsided grin.

Orianna giggled and shrugged her shoulders, a gesture she had recently acquired, though she wasn't quite sure if she had used it correctly.

"Oho! You haven't seen my tricks yet," said Fieram. He reached into his sleeve and produced a bouquet of daisies with a flourish.

"Ta-Da!" he exclaimed. "And..."

Fieram removed his hat and dipped his head in a nod. A half-dozen mechanical pigeons fluttered from beneath the brim. He brought his hands together in a clap and the entire cabinet filled with opaque red smoke. By the time it dissipated a few seconds later, the pigeons were gone.

Orianna applauded in delight. The ball whirred, impressed.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Like magic."

"And that wasn't even my best execution. Fumbled my sleeve a bit," he admitted, folding his hands. "But small miracles are my specialty. Like you finding your way to me, in this great city! You, above all others."

"You winked at me." said Orianna. "Why?"

"We are kindred spirits, you and I. But you already knew that," said Fieram. "It's why you're here, isn't it?" He shuffled his feet. Orianna marveled at the subtlety of his movement.

"It is just that I have never seen another like you," she said.

"I'm one of a kind, aren't I? Same as you," said Fieram. He gestured toward her mechanical frame, and winked again.

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