A Small Circus Caravan in Europe, Late Springtime
Everything had been so terribly busy for Helena Campbell over the course of the past few months. Wrangling up the performers from her dad's circus had been a task unto itself, after her mum had fallen ill. Two of them had left for Quebec in the face of what had looked like disaster. "Rats sinking a leaving ship," as they had put it. And even once it had become clear that Joanne Campbell was going to in fact make a decent recovery, it had been difficult to keep people waiting around in Brighton forever. A few had picked up odd jobs around town to tide them over, and some had taken to busking for spare change on the streets below Aunt Nan's flat. But others had found full time jobs and stayed behind, and it meant that there were huge gaps in amongst the ranks of the performers.
It was a circus. Such things happened.
But finally, once Helena's mum had been able to travel again, they rounded up who they could and continued on to Scotland, doing their tour as usual before moving on again into Ireland. Helena's parents had been thrilled when a young juggler by the name of Jason filled out an application and passed the auditions. Helena had been thrilled, too. Between the Irish lilt to his voice and his grandiose, dramatic gestures, he had reminded Helena all too much of the city that she had drawn, the city she had visted, once, and a friend that she had made there.
After a few more months of rehearsing, partnering off with Jason (who seemed endlessly amused at Morris Campbell's insisting that all members of the circus wear masks, in order to make their small cast and crew seem larger than it really was), and rehearsing routines while picking up all of the odd jobs that those who had left might normally have taken, things began to calm down again. Helena could spend more time in her caravan with paper and a pen, studying the drawings on her walls, thinking about things that had happened in a world that existed only on paper and in her head.
And she came to realize that it simply wouldn't do, letting the damage that had been done to it before continue to linger, now that there was time to rebuild.
There were, after all, bare spaces left on her walls.
[OOC: Establishy, NFI, NFB. OOC is welcome, I have cookies.]