Bea

clown/stage name currently: puddles sea bubbles (just "puddles" for short)
some faves she might go through / i could maybe use in the future: Rain on Your Parade, Hurricane Bea, Ugly Duckling (or just Duckling), Slippy Slide, Whirlin' Water, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Pants, No Problem!, Wet Socks, Natural Disaster (maybe could be performance / trick / act names specifically if i still want to put these to use?)

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After the silent performance ends, the last round of laughs and rapturous applause quiets down, the crimson curtains fall and the audience slowly disperces, - is usually when Vereld goes to a local tavern to relax, have a drink, and let himself be as loud as he wants.

Things, however, haven't been quite the same ever since the ridgeback became a mentor to a disastrous clownpants recently; who was probably, he thinks, a bit too young to go to pubs or be anywhere near any kind of booze now or any time soon.

Not that tonight is a good time to go out, anyway. It has gotten darker than usual as the storm clouds gathered in the sky, and as soon as Vereld and his student burst into the room, they could hear the thunder crash and a heavy rain start pouring. "I think I can find a drink amongst all my luggage, so that's fine", he thinks after they find themselves safe from the thunderstorm just in time.


Thump!

"Aowughhh," Bea makes an incoherent sound after falling flat on her face in the middle of another attempt at performing a trick while balancing. It's an act more complicated than the ones she's been doing up until now, much less beginner-friendly and much more... painful to practice. Her face scrunches up as Vereld, who's sitting a bit further away leaning on the table with his elbow, a wooden mug in his claw, bursts out laughing loudly.

"Quite-fff. Quite a natural disaster you are, Puddles" he says, catching his breath after his laughing fit calms, "Try that one again. Focus on just balancing for now, don't rush into performing the entire thing right off the bat."

"Ouch," Bea thinks as she slowly gets up with a grumble, legs a bit wobbly and body aching. Her fur feels so dusty. "That comparison stings a little more than falling on the floor."

She can't blame her mentor for it, though - it's not with malicious intent, and also, she is quite lousy, especially for a clownpants. For someone who found entertainers delightful and really wanted to become like them, and was practically born to be one as well, Bea felt like a poor excuse of a clown. Which may sound a bit ironic, if you are not the kind to take that line of craft seriously, but she was doing poorly, and she knew it.

"Well, here we go again." With a huff, Bea walks around and back to the accursed ball she keeps falling off. Flopping on her behind, and holding the ball with her front claws, Bea fixes it with a resentful stare, as if it's her greatest bitter enemy. "Evil ball," she thinks, "Evil."


As his apprentice tries to burn a hole in the ball with that intense gaze of hers, Vereld can't help but find it endearingly entertaining. She may not be very good at it, but he can tell the kid's got zeal and curiosity. Watching as Bea - Puddles - shakily climbs the ball, wobbly on her feet, he takes a sip of his drink and wonders: is this for her, though?

Vereld jokingly calls her a natural disaster, but not without a reason - she's quite all over the place, both literally and figuratively. Puddle's got the spirit and enthusiasm, but everything she tries ends up a mess, something just always seems to go wrong - be it making a mistake during a ventriloquy act, delivering a joke without a punchline, have a flimsy handmade prop break in her claws mid a trick - the list goes on.

He's probably not the most perfect fit for her as a teacher, either - Vereld may be in the same field the tundra's striving for, but he's a mime - that's what he excels at and was passionate about since childhood. And all of the ridgeback's experience was thanks to his lucky upbringing - he was born to a family of artists, his mother a painter, and his father a performer. Vereld grew up surrounded with art and theatrics!

However, when he first met Puddles - trying to perform in the middle of the street and failing to garner any audience, but clearly trying her best - Vereld couldn't help but approach, only to learn later that she left her home and family in Spiral Keep with the intent to find a mentor. Her parents were very loving and supportive - but not in the field, and thus unable to give her the guidance their daughter needed. Once she realized she's talking to a well-known entertainer, Bea practically begged to become his apprentice - apparently, no one else would give her the time of day, no matter how much she travelled and tried. Vereld felt bad for the kid, and seeing as he constantly travels for his performances, thought, why not, and took her under his wing.

As he watches Puddles fall on the wooden floor with an "oof!" for the nth time tonight, Vereld wonders if he's missing something that could help the young tundra - but he's not entirely sure. She is fun to watch, but definitely an amateur, more fit to perform for a group of friends just for the fun of it, rather than make it more of a profession. Making it a job could even take away the joy she actually seems to get from this - and Vereld knows very well not every artist can turn their craft into a moneymaker and still be able to enjoy it or feel authentic.

He shakes his head a bit, deciding not to think about it too deeply this soon, and gives his drink a good swig. Not good to lose faith in someone so young so early.

"Come on, up and one more time!" encourages Vereld loudly, and when he hears an exaggerated pained groan in response, can't help but laugh.

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