Nymfics

-1-
The strong waft of cider filled the air as Doll strolled his way over to a nearby pub; The Merry Lizard. A grin stretched over his face, paw fiddling with his right arm’s straps. As much as he promised himself he’d stay away from the pub, he couldn’t help himself, especially after a day like today. Twisting, turning and hopping around before an imaginary audience exhausted him. He desperately needed the energy boost.
Doll stopped short of the door, peering inside. It was near empty except for a few window tables hosting friends, families and lovers. A couple of them he recognised as the muggers of his lair, known for no other reason than whatever they used to do. They’d given up thieving years ago—or so he guessed by their names—and now they sat with other, more faithful friends, laughing and playing poker.
There was one couple that caught his eye, halting him from entering. One of them was a Pearlcatcher in red and black. He wore a scarlet witch’s hat and glittering breeches, scars littering his body and grey staining one of his eyes. The other wore a tailored, tailed waistcoat of deep blue and downed a glass of water with ease. Doll hadn’t seen them before. He didn’t like the look of them.
Hesitantly, he strolled inside and waved at the bartender, Munich. As a Mirror like himself with muscles three times the size of his, she was terrifying to any newcomer. However, just like any angry Mirror female, she was soft on the inside once you washed away the hard exterior with plenty of cider and drunken game nights.
“Ya usual, Doll?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow at him. In her paw, she grasped onto a clean mug, ready to hold it under one of the brass taps labelled White Wolf. His favourite amongst the beers and ciders, he could never resist just one sip.
“Aye, if ya please,” he told her, mocking her accent. It earned him a deep, rumbling growl, surprising him. She never usually ruffled her feathers so easily. “Som’at wrong?”
Munich nodded towards the couple he’d spotted earlier. “Those two other there are lookin’ suspicious. I don’t like ‘em.”
Doll graced them with another look. They didn’t look out of the ordinary except for being two newcomers that aren’t scared just by looking at Munich, however the Pearlcatcher now had his hat lowered over his eyes, his paw twitching. Some light flashed at the end of his digits.
He quickly looked away, irritation roiling in his blood. “That Pearly’s got some magic,” he growled.
“That’s why I don’t like ‘em, never done good with magic.” Munich let loose a long, quiet hiss, as if she was opening a bottle of compressed air. “Not in my tavern.”
Doll grinned. “Want me to get rid of ‘em?”
She glowered at him. “Ya ain’t gonna get close to them with magic, ya bonehead.”
“Oughta try.”
“Ya not going anywhere near ‘em, Doll. I ain’t wanting more blood on my floorboards.”
He grinned maliciously but seated himself on a stool beside the bar, his silks whispering beneath him. Taking the time to adjust his prosthetic as Munich whisked up his beer, he noticed a sheen on the bartop that hadn’t been there the day before. It made the top look almost whispy and unreal.
“Ya done som’at with your top?” he asked absentmindedly, taking off his prosthetic and thumping it on the table.
“New oil,” she grumbled. “Works better than the last.”
“What’s it called?”
“Dunno, som’at like Rune Wonder. Sounded pretty sketchy but works like a charm.”
“Fair.”
He thanked her for his beer and fiddled with his arm. One of the straps keeping it in place needed fixing, and with only one arm himself, he couldn’t manage that on his own. He still tried, however. Maybe one day his arm will miraculously grow back and he won’t even need it.
His manicured claws got to work with tightening the fiddly strap, using his bandana to wipe down the gold linings and the sharpened lengthy claws. He even used an earring to sharpen a couple of dull ones before slipping it back into place and getting his arm back into place.
“I don’t know,” someone said, stopping him in his tracks. “She’s a Mirror.”
“Word is she’s amazing.”
Doll turned slightly and saw the conversation was drifting up from the sketchy couple. It took all of his effort not to growl.
“Vlad, I’m serious.”
“No, you’re being racist.”
The one opposite this Vlad shifted in his seat. “It’s not my fault they make me uncomfortable, and besides, would the audience want a Mirror acrobat?”
Vlad’s mouth pulled into a frown. “Mirrors need representation as well. Besides, look at her. She’s pretty.”
“It’s almost like you’re attracted to her, my dear.”
“Yeah, because that’s how being gay works.”
Doll shoved himself away from the bar, his arm hanging uselessly without the mechanics attached to help him work it, and growled at the pair of them, catching their attention. “Who’re ya callin’ pretty?”
The two males stared at him, the Opposite Male dragging his gaze from his feet to his face before his eyes widened. “You’re a male.”
“Aye, I am, so ya better watch ya mouth.” He slammed his fist on the wooden table and glared at the Ridgeback. “We don’t take racists lightly in this ‘ere tavern.”
Despite the slight cowering back into his seat, a glazed coolness settled in his eyes. “I apologise greatly.”
“Good.”
“Gentlemen,” Vlad cooed, his digit circling the rim of his glass, “there’s no need to fight.”
He shot the Pearlcatcher a glower. “Ya need to keep your boyfriend ‘ere in check, otherwise som’at might ‘appen.”
Vlad snickered. “Whoever might want to hurt Walter will second guess that just because he’ll whine about not getting a proper funeral.”
Rolling his eyes, he turned back towards the bar to see the place empty and dim. His heart seized up and he let loose an animalistic snarl towards the magic one. “What did ya do?”
“I did nothing.”
“Nah, ya did som’at. Reverse it.”
When he didn’t answer, his anger boiled in his stomach like a concoction in a cauldron. “I wanna know where Munich went. Where is she?”
“She’s been in bed the entire time.” Just as he swivelled and went to grab at his scarf, a spell kept him locked in place. He looked ridiculous in his state of gentle irritation, his digits carving and holding the spell in the air. “I wouldn’t advise attacking me.”
“Le’e go,” Doll snarled through clenched teeth, unable to move even his lips.
“I will do once you agree to sit down and chat.”
A sudden urge to swipe at him and make his other eye grey overcame him, but Munich—or whoever that had been—was right. He wouldn’t be able to go up against a magic wielder. “Hine.”
It took a second until Vlad let him go. Doll’s legs gave way at first and he slammed into the table, though he quickly recovered. He’d suffered worse.
“You okay?” Walter inquired, leaning on the very table he’d just fallen into.
“Fine.”
“Would you like a beer?”
He grinned. “Gemme a double strength White Wolf, then we’ll chat.”
Vlad’s associate nodded and left his seat, wandering over to the bar. Doll took the opportunity to steal his seat and relish in its warmth as the male opposite him eyed him closely, though not with a guard. He truly did rely on his magic to protect him, just like any other magic wielder.
Walter handed him the beer and dragged a chair over from another table. By the time he’d finished his swig, the couple was staring him down.
“So,” Vlad began, twiddling his digits, “what’s with the name?”
“Personal reasons, matie.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“What about yeself? What’s with the scars?”
“Wish I could tell you.”
Doll’s face fell into an unamused expression, but Vlad refused to give in. “I do wish I could, Doll, but I can’t remember how they got there for the life of me.”
Now, I’m interested. “Fighter guy, huh?”
“Not necessarily. Just a circus performer.”
“Circus?”
“Why, Shatterskull Circus, of course!” Walter cried, nearly tipping his chair backwards as he shot to his feet. “The best circus around!”
“And what d’ya do?”
He grinned, eyes glimmering as he bowed. “I’m its ringmaster, Walter Harose.”
“Soon to be Azama,” Vlad butted in, his voice as calm and smooth as a steady lake.
Walter’s cheeks burned a bright red as he crossed his arms and huffed. It seemed like he didn’t enjoy being embarrassed in new company. Or at all, perhaps.
“Back to you; would you mind giving us a little preview of your performance?”
“Only do that in private, lovely. Ya ain’t gettin’ me to go flippin’ about now.”
He hummed, and Walter took over. “Could we at least make you an offer so that we can come by tomorrow to see it?”
Doll choked out a laugh. “Ya don’t exactly look like the greatest deal maker, matie.”
Vlad agreed. “He’s learning.”
“Shut it!”
“Wuv you, Waltie-poo.”
“Can you not?”
He chuckled, and Doll followed. “What’s this deal that ya’ve got for me?”
“Well,” Walter said, sitting back down at least, “Munich told us earlier on that you’ve been struggling recently with being homeless. Is that true?”
His blood turned to ice. “Why would she tell you that?”
“She’s worried for you.”
“Well, she shouldn’t ‘ave.”
“It’s not her fault,” Vlad admitted. For once, he looked nervous. “We may have prodded a little bit.”
Doll growled, but Walter ploughed on. “We’re willing—more than, if your skills match your reputation—to give you a place in the Circus. You’ll have consistent food, pay and your own caravan to stay in.”
“And if I refuse?”
“We’re hoping you don’t.” He sighed and tapped his claws on the table. “Trust me, I know how it feels to be homeless. I’d rather prevent it where I can.”
“So this is a sympathy thing.”
“Yes and no—”
“I don’t like sympathy from some strange fellas.”
Vlad snorted. “Strange isn’t the worst thing we’ve heard.”
“Besides,” Walter continued. “We’ve been asking around for a while, and repeatedly your name came up. An acrobat would add more diversity to the circus, after all.”
“And what makes ya think I wanna work with a racist, huh?”
“I can assure you that I’m not—”
“I ‘eard ya earlier!”
He tensed at his yelling, the glass previously in Doll’s grasp slamming against the table. “I…”
“My fiancé has his own reasons for disliking Mirrors,” Vlad piped up, patting his lover’s arm. “I can assure you that he’s working on those views.”
“Sure, and I’m actually workin’ at this very tavern.”
The Pearlcatcher leant on the table, his face just a few inches away from Doll’s. “I wouldn’t lie. He’s slowly getting better. If you’d have met him a few months ago, I wouldn’t have blamed you for refusing.”
When he settled back down, Doll took another drag of his drink. “‘E better be workin’ on it if ‘e wants my ‘elp.”
“I sincerely apologise for what I said earlier,” Walter muttered.
“Good.” He finished off his White Wolf and let loose a groan as the beer took hold. “‘Ave ya got any upfront payment?”
“We can have that arranged,” Vlad told him, reason in his eyes. “How much would you want?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Walter choked at his side while Vlad’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money.”
“My acts ain’t free.”
“Would you take twelve?”
Doll’s squinted at the pair. “Eighteen.”
“How about we go half-way,” Vlad drawled. “Fifteen?”
He stretched out his paw. “Fifteen and an ‘alf is my lowest offer.”
Within a matter of moments of them muttering amongst themselves, Doll’s irritation growing like a flame, they had a deal. Walter counted out the money from his own purse and handed it over with one promise; they wanted to see his act tomorrow morning, and then they’d talk about his accommodation and pay.
It’d been too long since his own money pouch felt so weighty.
“What time will you be able to begin the performance?” Walter asked, watching Vlad leave the tavern to go back to the circus. Why, he didn’t know.
“About ten. Don’t bother comin’ earlier.”
“If we come by at half-past, would that be okay?”
“What, ya gonna sleep in?”
Walter chuckled. “No, we’ve got a four-year-old and he’s a nightmare in the morning. Half-past ten is probably the earliest we can do, unless it’s a miracle day tomorrow.”
“That’s fine, then.” He got to work with connecting his arm to its mechanics, sighing when he could finally move it. “It’ll gimme more time to prep.”
“Then it’s a win-win!”
“Just one question, before ya go.”
He tilted his head to the side, a confused expression on his face. “What’s up?”
“Where did everyone go, after I confronted ya?”
“Quite literally, magic.”
“So no one was actually ‘ere?”
“Correct.”
“I ‘ate magic.” Doll scratched his metallic claws across the table top before regretting it a moment later. “I’m gonna ‘ave to replace that.”
Walter smiled sadly at him before moving towards the door. “We’ll get a replacement sorted. You can relish in your newfound money for a while.”
With a tinkle of the entrance bell above the door, the ringmaster of Shatterskull left, leaving him and his weighty pouch alone in the tavern. When he looked behind him at the damaged table, debating buying it before they did, he saw his scratches were gone, replaced instead with a note saying:
Rune Wonder; it works wonders! 
-2-
How many hours had he been practicing now? His muscles were screaming two, which was good enough for him to take a break, at least for a few minutes before he went back to it.
Doll almost gasped when the elastics fell from his grip, twanging against the wooden rack opposite him. Everything shook, from his one arm to his prosthetic to his legs from testing his body’s limits once again. Even his wings ached after half an hour of keeping him suspended off the ground.
In a desperate attempt to cool down, he grasped at the silken skirt he wore and tied it around his waist, using his bandana to fan himself, and found his acrobatics partner still going at it, stretching her legs to her limits and increasing the strength in her arms. Of course, he thought almost bitterly, Luna’s tryin’ t’ outdo me again.
The Imperial trapeze artist caught his eye and smiled at him. “You... you okay?”
“I need a break, man,” he wheezed. “We’ve been goin’ at this for hours.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Doll laughed and his voice hoarse. “Ya don’ need my permission, Lun.”
Luna giggled. She finally let go of the wooden rack after two more swings of her legs and stood on shaking limbs. Sweat beaded on her pastel brow and shone on her accent. Luckily enough, neither of them wore anything extravagant while exercising—if anything, Doll looked much readier to perform than Luna—and so their training was never restricted. It was a good thing too. He couldn’t imagine how much more pain they’d be in if they wore their silks and ribbons.
Doll patted her arm. “Wanna go get a drink?”
“How is that a question?”
Snickering, they began to walk towards a singular wooden table at one end of the training tent, away from the equipment. Two jugs of ice-cold water sat there, with multiple cups for everyone training, like Honk, who sprung from one end of the tent to the other, and Lady Jack, who practiced her sword swallowing. Broken Mirror was there too, spinning cards around his digits and making them disappear in a wisp of smoke.
“Ya’d think there’d be more,” Doll mumbled, pouring himself and Luna some water.
“Most of them are training outside, Dolly,” Luna said with a smile, sighing as she sipped at her icy drink. “Not only that but some of them are watching Torny and Solomon.”
He let loose a menacing grin. “I bet’cha my next pouch o’ pay they’re gonna become a couple within the next five months.”
“Oh, you’re on.”
They drank their drinks in silence after that, eyeing everyone who was in the tent. Doll had to admit, the most interesting act in the tent was Lady Jack, risking life and limb constantly for the sake of her audiences. She caught him staring at one point and pounded her chest, grinning. Joy gleamed in her eyes, and adrenaline flushed her cheeks a deep red-orange.
“Ya’ight over there, Jack?” he called, leaning against the table.
“I’m awesome!” she shrieked, rushing over to him with the overflowing excitement of a puppy. “Pour me a drink, will you?”
“Do it yeself.”
Jack rolled her eyes. “You’re such a bore.”
He immediately regretted sticking his tongue out at her. He almost lost it to her swipe.
“How can you work with him, Luna, honey?” Jack cooed, seating herself between them. “Honestly, it must be so boring.”
“He’s actually quite nice,” Luna mumbled into her drink. Clearly, she wasn’t used to the nature of the circus yet.
She let loose a chuckle and downed her drink before zipping open the tent flap and letting in the cool song that was the Windsinger’s breeze. It ruffled the loose fabric of his skirt, made his shirt flap uselessly against his abdomen. He couldn’t say he cared much about it. At last, he could relish in some fresh air.
“Doll, do you want to go out and practice on the ropes?”
Doll gazed curiously at his partner. “Ya sure? Ya don’ really wanna most o’ the time.”
“I need a distraction.”
“Nerves?” Jack inquired. For once, her voice was soft, almost understanding.
Reluctantly, Luna nodded, placing her empty glass down on the table. “I can’t say I’ve performed before a large crowd before, and my brother isn’t around very often...”
The daredevil frowned, patting her arm for reassurance. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you, Luna. And besides, he’ll be coming to visit soon.”
“I guess.” Luna smiled at Doll, hope glistening in her eyes. “Do you want to?”
“Sure, if it’ll ge’ ya t’ relax.”
She didn’t need to be told twice, rushing outside towards the Ropes before he’d finished his drink. As soon as he had, he followed her. The Ropes stood tall and proud inside the Big Top, with silken ribbons and trapeze swings hanging from the rigging above. To get up to them, one merely had to climb their designated rope ladder and stand themselves on the platform, readying themselves to go hurtling through the air with only the trust of the helpers and your partner to go on.
By the time Doll had made his way inside the main tent, Luna was already on the platform, stretching and bending to further awaken her joints. The stage stood open and clouded below her, unlit save for the few flaps open in the roof of the Top to let in some fresh air for the later show.
“Ya gonna be okay?” he called up to his partner, making his way towards the western side of the tent, where he’d clamber up before a show and eagerly await his own performance.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Ya sure?”
“Doll,” Luna groaned, giving him a pleading look. “Please get up here. I hate being nervous and need a distraction.”
“Aight, aight.”
“Thanks.”
Doll quickened his pace and eventually reached the western ladder. With a grip of steel, he clambered up. His trust for the unstable ladder wasn’t as far as he knew he could throw it, but he couldn’t complain. Walter did regular checks on the rigging, the Ropes and the ladders just to reassure them. Only once had he found a problem with them, and for that night he’d allowed them to either rest or do silk acrobatics.
Being the devoted, ever ambitious acrobats they are, they both went back to Doll’s caravan and slept, recovering after three days of non-stop shows and training.
He was three steps away from the top when his prosthetic gave way for the third time that day, sending him reeling on the ladder. Luna noticed instantly and flew over to him to keep the ladder in place.
“I hate this damned ladder,” he snarled, finding purchase with his feet.
“I think you need to get a new prosthetic,” Luna informed him. Her words dripped with sweetness, though he knew it wasn’t in malicious intent.
Still, he snapped at her. “I ain’t gettin’ a new prosthetic. This’un’s fine!”
His partner slunk back from him as he finished his climb. Doll regretted yelling at her as soon as he’d come back to his senses, the adrenaline rush dying down, but she didn’t seem to acknowledge his apology from the other side of the platform. He left it at that and began to thumb with his prosthetic.
“Damn it,” he growled. “My strap’s come undone again.”
Luna crept her way over to his side and peered at it, mostly out of curiosity and worry. He let her. His prosthetic—beaten and bent with years of crashing into the ground, falling from his trapeze or silk and endless fights—was nothing special to look at anymore. The gold and black paint began to peel away, revealing a rough steely coating beneath covered in scratches and dents. A few of the straps were replaced over the years. The one that’d just snapped—the one that kept the mechanics in place and arguably the most important one—would be the fourth in a year.
“Maybe you shouldn’t perform,” Luna mumbled, backing away so as to avoid any possible outbreak. “Your prosthetic keeps breaking and we don’t have a safety mat this time—”
“I’m performin’.”
“Doll...”
“I’m gonna perform, Luna.”
She sighed and left it at that, allowing him the space to fix the strap. Maybe she’s right, he thought as he thumbed at the fabric, tucking it back into place. Maybe I should get a new one.
As soon as it was done, he gave it a quick test run. Could he hold it up right? Check. Could he swing it? Check. Could he put weight on it?
Doll shrugged to himself. Guess I’m gonna have t’a find out.
“Ready?” Luna called from across the way, her trapeze unhooked from the rigging of her end of the platform.
He nodded curtly, unhooking his own and rolling his shoulders. “As I’ll ever be.”
Luna always began first out of the two, swinging off from her platform and flipping herself up onto the seat of the trapeze. After all, she was the catcher in recent times thanks to his prosthetic. She enjoyed it, though, laughing and giddy like the child she was after every show.
After bowing to an imaginary audience, she swung the trapeze until it was the appropriate height for them both and got herself seated on the catch bar. She then swung back until she hung on only by her legs and signalled to him that she was ready.
With one deep breath, he was off.
He let himself fly once before swinging his legs up and over the bar. His calves pressed against the strong Starwood of the fly bar, readying for a heel-off catch. In his upside-down state, Doll could almost imagine an audience ooh-ing and ahh-ing at their performance already. It excited him; the nature of his work was always a fresh dream come true.
Soon enough, he was flying through the air. He reached the peak of his swing within moments. Locking his eyes onto Luna’s, he let go of his bar and stretched his paws. Falling through the air was the worst part. His heart raced, pounded in his ears. Everything in an aerial act could go wrong at any moment, though he had complete faith in his catcher.
She hadn’t dropped him yet, after all.
Their paws clasped together and he almost let loose a whoop. Luna grinned at him. Heels-off was almost always their beginning act; it wasn’t too hard on either of them, giving them time to warm up to the roughness of the wood and the altitudes of the swings, and it was Doll’s favourite morale boost.
They held on for one swing until Luna gestured that his board swung above them. She then threw him up in its direction. They let go of each other. Doll spun in the air, eyes peeled for the bar, and grinned when he spotted it reaching its peak just beside him. Reaching for it, something clacked in his prosthetic.
His outstretched arm fell to his side. All he could think was, Oh no.
He let loose a curse that could make even Shanty blush with embarrassment, falling through the air with no support underneath him. Luna yelled his name, the scratching evidence that she was trying to tear herself free from her bar. It was too little, too late. With a crash, he landed on his prosthetic and screamed as it pierced into his skin.
“Doll!” Luna cried again, her shadow looming over him as she swooped towards the ground. She soon appeared at his side, her face a blur through pained tears.
He coughed through the agony and managed a small, spindly grin. “That’s ma name.”
She growled at him and helped him sit up. His prosthetic had pierced through the skin upon impact. Blood oozed from injuries he couldn’t see. It didn’t help that each time his now-broken prosthetic jerked, the pain got worse, growing like a fire.
Luna—bright little Luna—eventually got help, screaming for it as if someone had been murdered. In a way, Doll supposed he could’ve been. He’d been warned by many that falling on his prosthetic could be jarring, traumatizing, and even cause death if done in the wrong circumstances. Had he listened? Of course not! This is Doll we’re talking about. He’d much rather die doing what he loved with a prosthetic than waste away his dream.
Walter soon came, tailed by Nova and Chip Scale. He grinned despite the danger looming over him. I’m in for a lotta screamin’.
“What were you thinking?” Nova hissed, crouching down at his right to look at the damage. “You knew we warned you against this!”
“Calm down, I’m still alive—”
“Let Nova speak,” Chip murmured, fingering his way through vials. Anxiety glinted in his soft, oval eyes.
“Yes, let me speak.” She took a deep breath and tugged gently on the prosthetic. In order to keep his dignity, he grunted and did no more. “We told you—Walter told you—repeatedly to get a new prosthetic. You declined. Now you can see just why we warned you.”
Doll noticed the ringmaster’s lack of presence at his side and looked around. He spotted him stood by the entrance to the tent, his face riddled with all different kinds of emotion. Sympathy, and a lack thereof, as well as anguish and disappointment pulled his face into a soft frown. Doll almost felt ashamed of himself. As he was a father, he was remarkable at making others feel something other than indifference, even when he said nothing or stood in the shadows of a performance.
“Let me have a look at him,” Walter told the doctor, making his way towards them. “Perhaps I’ll be able to talk some sense into him, too.”
“I hope so,” Chip muttered. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Please. He’ll probably need a vial or four.”
Nova grunted with approval and let them haul him onto unsteady feet. “The prosthetic’s pierced the skin just above his collarbone and under his arm. I’ll go get a scalpel, see what little I can get done at the caravan.”
Walter nodded and looped Doll’s good arm around his shoulders. “How bad does it look?”
“Fairly.” She turned towards the flaps and stalked away, before halting just before the entrance. “He may pass out on the way, so you’re going to need to hurry.”
Doll, through weakness or a want to irritate others, did just that.
*
The light was blinding when he came to. It took whatever dregs of effort he had left in order to stop himself from diving under the duvet, and take in his surroundings.
Underneath him was a bed of green and white; the typical doctor’s bed when examining patients. He found himself separated from the world by a curtain with odd shapes and colours on it, the light throwing them across him as he laid there. The lamp itself had a mixture of reds and yellows on its shade. It gave him the uncomfortable-yet-warm feeling that this was all to comfort a child.
Soft clacking came from the other side of his curtain, accompanied by a silhouette. From the other side, Doll couldn’t tell who it was, and the mumbling didn’t help, nor did the flaring pain that sprang to life as soon as he moved. A soft grunt escaped him before he could stop it, catching the attention of the individual on the other side.
“I think he’s awake,” a voice squeaked, moving toward the curtain. His heart dropped into his stomach. He knew whose voice that was.
Torny tugged the curtain open and peered at him with a worried and extremely peeved expression. For a sixteen-year-old, he was terrifying when he was angry. Doll was certain he’d inherited it from his Pa, Vladimir; the squint and hardness in his Wind heritage eyes was identical.
He didn’t stick around long. As soon as Nova entered the picture, he moved aside to sit down beside his fathers, one of which was snoozing on the other. Vladimir tapped at his leg, his fluffy tail end swishing and kicking up dirt. Walter was the one sleeping.
Nova clicked her digits and brought his attention back to her. She looked exhausted with spots of red that matched her eyes littering her mask. “How are you feeling?”
Doll groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head. His shoulder felt like it was on fire. “Where’s... where’s my prosthetic?”
“In the bin.”
He started, attempting to sit up until he moved the nub on his right. He almost found it funny that such a tiny piece of him would be enough to take him down. Wincing, he whispered, “Can I ‘ave it—?”
“You’ll have to talk to Walter about that. It was by his orders that I throw it out.”
As soon as Doll growled in frustration, Walter sat up and rubbed his eyes with a lengthy yawn. Somehow, everything around him looked tired; both Torny and Vladimir looked ready to topple over onto each other and sleep, his robe looked dim and lousy compared to his usual fashion sense, and even the room looked dimmer now that he’d woken up.
“Walter,” Nova said in a gentle voice, prompting Doll to sigh, “he’s awake.”
Nodding slowly, the ringmaster got to his feet and turned towards his husband and child. “Why don’t you two go back to the caravan?”
Vladimir shook his head. “I’m not leaving, Walter.”
“Come on, Viper. You need sleep.”
“So do you. Besides—” His flaring green gaze landed on Doll. He withered under it like a dying flower. “—I want to have a word with him.”
Walter didn’t protest, instead crouching down before Torny as he yawned and stretched. “What about you, Little Blue? Are you going to go back or do you want to stay?”
“I’m gonna go check on Luna,” he muttered. “Then go sleep at Solomon’s.”
At his father’s evil chuckle, Torny swatted him away and stormed towards the exit of the caravan. It was evident that both of the young dancer’s fathers thought the same that Doll did about the young males.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, munchkin!” Walter called after him, wincing only slightly as the door slammed shut.
Vladimir came up behind his husband and prodded him in the shoulder. “Stop teasing him.”
Nova cleared her throat to bring their attention back to the matter at hand; Doll and his prosthetic. Vladimir’s smile immediately died, though the previous fire in his gaze also dimmed, which he supposed was a good thing. Walter, however, looked heavily disappointed in him. He supposed, even as he attempted to wriggle away from such a gaze, that he deserved it.
Walter grabbed the chair he’d slept on and sat next to Doll’s bed. “May I ask, first of all, why you didn’t have the net or even a safety mat out? I never had the chance to ask Luna before she went back home feeling sick.”
“Didn’t think of it,” he choked out, hoping that Nova would notice his agony soon enough.
“How can your own safety not cross your minds?”
“I dunno.”
“Honestly,” Walter groaned, burying his face in his paws. “You’re as bad as Jackie.”
Doll forced a smile. “That a bad thin’?”
“Yeah, having one Lady Jack is enough.” He sighed and sat back up. “Please, if you want to practice, let us know so we can set up the net early.”
“We will.”
“Onto other matters,” Vladimir jumped in, arms crossed and eyelids heavy. “Why did you try to practice with a broken prosthetic?”
Doll growled. “It ain’t broken!”
Walter’s husband snarled back at him, “It is broken! You’ve had five straps replaced, with multiple mechanical errors as reported by Rose. This isn’t even the first time that your prosthetic failed you during a practice, though last time we had a net to save you.”
“It ain’t broken, aight?”
Vladimir threw his paws up into the air and stalked to the other end of the caravan. Evidently, he was now leaving it to Walter, who instantly took up the position of negotiator. “Vladimir’s right, Doll. Your prosthetic is broken, now if not before.”
He growled and shifted onto his side to properly look at his ringleader. “Can I ‘ave it out from the bin, at least? I don’ appreciate it bein’ in there.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you’re going to do with it,” Walter said simply.
“I wan’ it back.”
“What are you going to do with it?” Unlike per usual, Walter pronounced every letter as if he was born in a royal family, or nobility. It was the only sign anyone ever got of his irritation.
Doll, in his daze, made a mistake. “Why d’ya wanna know?”
For the first time since coming into the circus, the ringleader of Shatterskull glared at him. The golden flecks in his eyes flared to life like a wildfire before a sunset, and soon enough he was staring into the achingly similar eyes of Vladimir, except with red replacing the misty green. “I want to know because I can’t have a liability in my circus.”
“Ya callin’ me a liability?”
“I’m calling you a danger.” Walter slouched against the back of the chair and rubbed at his eyes. The fire in them refused to die down. “Without a prosthetic, you can’t perform. With a broken prosthetic, you risk hurting yourself, Luna and any audience members. I’d prefer you didn’t have one than take that one back.”
“I ain’t gonna use it.”
He raised his eyebrow at him just as Vladimir made his way back towards them. “You’re not?”
“Nah.”
“Then what are you going to do with it, if you’re not going to use it?”
Doll frowned, eyebrows creasing. “I just wanna have it back.”
“Doll...”
“Fine.” He groaned as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, then proceeded to push away the curtain and stand on shaking legs. “I’ll ger’it maself.”
“No, Doll,” Vladimir said, standing before him like a wall. “You’re going to rest.”
“I’m gonna get my prosthetic back, since you won’t.”
Doll shoved his way past the ringleaders, grunting when his shoulder smacked into Vladimir’s, and shuffled towards the door. The room began to spin. He had to lean against the door to keep himself upright, with the brass handle the only thing keeping him from sliding down to the floor. It bit into his paw, keeping him there.
As he panted, he only just heard Vladimir’s question. “Why’s that prosthetic so important to you, Doll?”
“Wha’d’ya mean?” he huffed.
“Why is it so important?” he inquired as he grabbed another chair. Initially thinking it was for himself, Doll focused on the biting cold of his palm until Vladimir stood beside his husband and patted the chair. “Sit down, we don’t want you to fall over.”
“Why’m I so dizzy?”
“You lost a bit of blood,” Nova called from another room. “Your body is trying to recover while you keep pushing yourself, so do yourself a favour and stop.”
“There you have it.” Vladimir patted the chair again. “Come on, sit down.”
Doll found himself sitting down before he could physically protest, letting loose a groan. The cold metal of the backrest nipped through the bandages on his shoulder. It did little to unsettle him.
“Now,” Vladimir began, crouching down before him. He hated it; it felt like he was a child being scorned. “How about we do this; you get to keep your prosthetic, as long as you promise us you don’t use it.”
Doll had no answer. He’d promised her he’d keep the prosthetic, but what did that mean about keeping it?
“Doll, I need an answer.”
“I dunno,” he snapped, irritation boiling his blood.
Vladimir sighed. Sitting on the floor, he rubbed at his face until his scar turned a soft pink. “You can’t use your prosthetic, Doll. We’ll get you a brand new one—”
“Gettin’ a new one isn’t what she wanted.”
Damn it.
He raised an eyebrow at Doll, with Walter tilting his head at an angle. He couldn’t tell whether or not he was asleep. “Who’s she?”
Doll shrugged. “Nothin’.”
“Doll—”
“Look,” he snarled, shooting to his feet. It took every inch of his being to stop himself from swaying. “Just gemme a new one. Ya don’t need t’know why I want my oldie, just as long as I ger’it back.”
Vladimir, for once, looked stunned. Doll supposed it was merely exhausted, that he’d been up much longer than he should’ve been. He didn’t even know what time it was; the clock that was in the doctor’s caravan was broken, with a snapped handle and shattered glass case. It looked strange to see a broken item in a doctor’s place of work. Must be recent.
“We’ll get a new one sorted for you, then,” Walter yawned, putting his chair back where it belonged. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll try to find a similar model to your old one.”
Doll wasn’t about to let them leave, not with uncertainty weighing his stomach down. “What about my oldie?”
Walter smiled at him. “We’ll get it dusted off and fixed up for a display, but please, Doll... don’t use it again.” 
-3-
Munich, in his photo of her, looked happy, a bright smile on her face in a gown that swept the floor. It wasn’t like her to wear gowns, not even when he left her. She stood in a field of flowers, green and blue and yellow and red littering the grass around her, with a rose slotted behind one of her Mirror fins.
On the back was a simple message; Finally got married to Lilo. Bet you’re surprised, ain’tya! x
Doll had to admit, through a blur of tears and a shaking voice, that she was right. He was surprised. Sure, a long distance relationship would’ve never worked, but he’d still had hope. Perhaps he would’ve retired, even at his relatively young age, and gone back to her with a pouch full of coin. It seemed, now, that it wasn’t meant to be.
Slowly, he folded the portrait up and slipped it into a small pocket slit between his prosthetic wrist and forearm. Walter and Vladimir went all out when buying him a suitable prosthetic, going so far as taking Tobias and Gulliver along with them to assess just how good they really were. Eventually, they found one that resembled his old one, but with a few upgrades. One of them was the tiny pocket of space.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. In the hopes that it would calm his nerves, it only made them worse. It wasn’t like Doll to get nervous about anything, but Munich was in the crowd just beyond the backstage area. He didn’t like that thought, hated it even more when he’d spotted Lilo sat with her, nuzzling her.
A paw patted his shoulder. Their claws were a glittery purple with orange highlights under the torchlight, their paw a pastel pink. Luna.
He managed a small, cheeky grin for her sake. “Ya good, Lun?”
“I should ask you the same thing,” Luna mumbled, frowning. “I saw you looking at the portrait again.”
Doll scoffed and waved her away. “Just fa’ Memory Lane, ya don’ need t’worry ‘bout it.”
“Doll, you’re not a very good liar.”
“And I ain’t a very good truther, either.”
When she didn’t answer, he looked at her properly only to see that she was peering through the curtain at his old friend. Guilt and a fresh spurt of pain rang true in his heart. He had to look away as the flap closed, as his gaze landed on Munich’s. He hoped that she didn’t see the resigned stature, or the flushed cheeks.
“You two ready?” Vladimir asked from the other side. He was designated as Doll’s board worker for his performance, with Solomon standing in place for Walter as he ensnared the crowd with his mystery and charm. “We need to get up there.”
“I am,” Luna said, smiling.
Doll nodded curtly. “Me too.”
“Come on, then.”
The two of them weaved their way around seats up to the west ladder, with Luna splitting off to clamber up the east side. Unlike their practice performance a few weeks ago, the safety net was in place, a disguised soft mat beneath it to further soften their fall. The ladder was also steadier this time around, having nailed to the post that the board hung next to.
Vladimir let Doll make his way up first, following soon after to unhook the flyer’s bar. Walter still enamoured the crowd many feet below them, twisting and turning ad hollering about the next performance. In that time, Doll took the opportunity to dust his non-robotic paw with chalk and adjust the grips on his wrists. Luna did the same across from him. The bars they used were made more comfortably as well, especially for Luna; the poor girl ended up with burns and scratches on the backs of her legs from scratching her way out of her catcher’s bar.
Across from him, Solomon kept the catcher’s bar in place, chatting to Doll’s partner so that she didn’t get worked up. She caught his eye from across the ring, and nodded. A determination unlike anything he’d seen before sheened her eyes, the icy blue sharpening against the pinks of her accents.
He nodded back. Rolling his shoulders, he took hold of the bar and waited for Walter’s signal with Luna.
“Ladies and gentleman,” he heard the ringmaster cry. “Boys and girls of all ages, I’d like you all to welcome two of our favourite artists.” Walter threw his arms wide from the centre of the ring, grinning with infinite amounts of mischief. “They’re sure to astound you.”
Just like that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke. The stage went from brightly lit to black in an instant. Gasps sounded all around. Doll’s heart pounded in his chest. One deep breath calmed it only slightly. It was all he could do as Luna leapt off the board and swung down to greet her audience.
Cheers rang in his ears at her appearance, swinging on the trapeze with a beautifully white smile on her face. Her accent glimmered in the dancing lights, her silks whispered as she bowed. He was always impressed by her balance, and this show as no different. With only one paw on the rope, she bowed low towards the audience, even as the trapeze swung upwards, backwards.
By the time she’d reached the peak of her second swing, Luna tucked her legs between the apron and the catch bar and winked at him. It was his time to shine.
Just as Vladimir nodded his good luck, Doll jumped up from the board and swung down. He relished in the oohs and ahhs of the audience, the whoops and even the whistles. During a performance, he could be himself without any consequences. He didn’t have time to curse out everyone who thought him a female.
He performed a force-out swing at his peak, just to gain that little more height. Then, at the midpoint, he tucked his calves up against the flyer’s bar for a heels-off, just like before. The only difference this time was the prosthetic; being brand new, it wouldn’t fall to his side just when he needed it to work.
With a twist and a “hup!” he was safely in the clutches of Luna. The audience went wild. Doll caught the eyes of many as soon as he was caught, though he couldn’t help but focus on Munich, who grinned at him and applauded. He tore his gaze away quickly. Focusing on the show become his main priority.
As well as showing his lovely audience a good time.
Luna flung him up towards the flyer’s bar that came towards it. His heart skipped a beat. For a second, his mind flung him back to the accident. His shoulder was still stiff from the crushing of his old prosthetic against muscle and bone. Coolness overcame his anxiety; a typical performer’s tactic. You couldn’t let yourself get worked up.
Twisting, he reached towards the bar with near desperation. When it greeted his paws with a soft thunk, he couldn’t restrain his sigh of relief, swinging his legs up to reach the board. Luna took that opportunity to swing for a few seconds as he reapplied chalk and readied himself for his next trick; the knee-hang.
Nowt too complicated, he told himself, dusting excess chalk off his paw.
Of course, he was right about that. Leaping off to perform yet another force-out, he revised what he would do in his head despite not needing to. At the lowering of his swing, he brought his legs up under the flyer’s bar and swung them over so that the posterior of his knees balanced on the bar. When he was certain that he wouldn’t fall, he let go.
Swinging upside down, watching the world fly by underneath him, was one of his favourite parts of acrobatics. From this perspective, he was almost someone new; he smiled and winked at audience members as he dangled from the bar, relishing in their laughter and coy smiles.
The very prospect of impressing his crowd made him hurriedly slot a new trick into place. Poor Luna would have to figure out what he was doing by herself.
Doll moved backwards through the air. He caught the eye of Vladimir, who raised his eyebrow at his sneaky smirk. All he did was wink at him. I’ll be fine, he hoped Vladimir saw in his eyes. Maybe was the part that he hoped was kept to himself.
He bent backwards in order to see the forth-coming face of Luna. She looked more confused than Vladimir did, though Doll couldn’t blame her. As her catcher, it was up to the pair of them to figure things out. This trick, on his behalf, was one they’d done before, however they hadn’t planned on doing it today.
Oh well. What’s a little adrenaline for a performance?
Without thinking, Doll flung his body upwards. His legs came away from the bar and stretched up before him in a somersault. Gripping onto them was the only way to keep them from accidentally smacking Luna in the face. As soon as he was done with the backflip, he let go, let his legs fall out behind him. He reached for his catcher and only just caught her outstretched paws.
“You’re an idiot,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Doll grinned at her. “Ya love me, really.”
As soon as she huffed, he was flying back towards the flyer’s bar and landed on the board with a thump and a grin. Vladimir was shaking his head as soon as he landed.
“What’s wrong wit’ya?” he snickered, downing some water from a glass beside Vladimir’s feet.
“You shouldn’t just throw things in like that, Doll.”
“Ah, please.” With a final roll of his shoulders, he grabbed the bar out of his helper’s paws and grinned. “Ya won’t see anythin’ new now, aight?”
Vladimir smiled back at him. “Good, now get going.”
He was tempted, in his excitement, to let Vladimir shove him from the board, but Doll had a couple more acts to fit in as Lady Jack got ready for her knife-throwing and sword-swallowing with Leo. So, off he leapt, nearly whooping on the way down.
Luna knew of his next trick; it was called a full twist, in official terminology. He merely called it an upside-down pirouette, and even Vladimir—the pickiest when it came to names so he properly understood what everyone meant—couldn’t argue with his logic. Everyone, through that name, understood him.
He flung his body upwards after a few swings, letting go of the bar almost immediately so that he could swivel around. He kept his toes pointed towards the point of the Big Top and his digits aimed towards the centre of the ring as he spun once, grasping onto Luna just before he was out of reach. The crowd, he realised, was applauding and cheering and crying out; The Pastel Acrobats!
“I like that!” Doll cried to his catcher, swinging his legs upward to give them a bit of a boost. “’Ow about we become The Pastel Acrobats?”
“We’ll talk about it later!”
With a wide grin, he was back on the board within seconds, then leaping off a final time. He didn’t want to leave, but considering how Vladimir began to make his way to the ring, he needed to hurry it up.
On the peak of his first swing, he tucked his legs against his body and slipped one through under the flyer’s bar in a split. His legs always ached after this trick. Splits were the one thing he always forgot to practice, in light of other tricks he wanted to try out. Did he mind? Your answer should be no. As long as he could get a nice meal and a warm caravan after the show, he couldn’t care less about the state of his legs.
Luna yelled her signal—“hup!”—for him to let go of the bar, and he did, immediately letting his legs close together and gripping onto Luna’s wrists. At the peak of his swing with Luna was the dangerous bit; he had to hand Luna his foot in order to perform the proper return. It was easy enough when you were still, though last time he’d given her a nosebleed with his carelessness. Doll had to be careful this time.
“Ya ready?”
At Luna’s nod, Doll swung his legs up. The grip on his wrist loosened and fell away. Less than a second later, it landed against his calf, with the other leg slipping through the gap between them and his good arm falling away to reach for the ground. With it, he waved at the audience. He almost laughed when they waved back, some with paws covering their mouths in shock and others waving momentarily to go back to sitting on the edge of their seat.
Doll could understand their shock. After all, there was no flyer’s bar to return to.
Now’s the fun bit, he thought with an overtone of excitement. Luna felt the same, guessing by the early loosening of her grip on him.
He fell through the air with a whoop, catching Luna’s gaze only momentarily.
“See you down there,” Luna exclaimed over the loud cheering.
Doll beamed, cartwheeling through the air until he landed on his back on the net. One would think it wouldn’t throw him up too far, but they’d be wrong. Shatterskull Circus recently purchased an engineered net that was much springier than their last, giving the performers who used it much more fun and liability to work with.
It took only one front flip for him to land on his feet—rather shakily, at that—and bow, only to be thrown back in the air when Luna landed next to him. On his part, it was unexpected, but he made the most of it. He quickly improvised, pretending to swim through the air to amuse the younglings in the audience before landing back on the net.
Luna was already on the ground, giggling and high-fiving hatchlings in the front rows, when Doll finally flipped himself onto the ring floor and danced around excitedly. Only when Walter told them to get out of the ring through an enchanted amulet all of the performers wore did they leave, waving goodbye to the adoring fans.
“You two were brilliant!” Lady Jack cried, leaping at Doll for a hug. “That was so good!”
He swung her round and laughed. Words failed him in that moment. The adrenaline was still seeping from him, his muscles relaxing as they did.
“I didn’t like you throwing something new in there,” Luna scolded despite her grin, “but you were amazing, Doll.”
“Ah, ya kid yeself,” he sneered, finally putting Jack down and throwing his arms around his catcher. It was hard, as she was much taller, but she helped by bending down to greet him. “Ya really think I could’a done all that without’cha?”
Luna giggled like a youngling. “Do you want to go get some food? I’m starving.”
They quickly looked towards Walter, who smiled at them. It was the usual, fatherly-warm kind of smile, the one everyone was used to. “You two go get yourselves some snacks and kick back. I want you both back for the end, though!”
“We will,” Doll cried, leading his partner away by the paw. As one would probably tell by the glint in his eyes, he was desperate for some of Julienne’s signature Julie’s Beef Salad.