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@Wendicat (Pinglist: @Wolfkai @Chou @Techmox - I remembered for once!) Hey, I've finally finished Lilin's lore. I hope you enjoy it! She was a lot of fun to write, especially after a bad day. If there's anything you want changing, just hmu! [emoji=coatl tongue size=1] [quote=Lilin]-1- It was a bitter night. Winter had begun to set in earlier in the week with a frosty blanket sheeting the grass blades that tickled her feet. She wished she had worn spats or slippers at the very least, but it was too late now. [i]He[/i] was about to arrive. She couldn’t risk missing him and waiting another week, not when she’d walked a few miles just to get to the lair without looking suspicious. Lilin didn’t have to walk much further. She had her paws clasped in front of her and a cloak flowing behind her. A long, dirtied servant girl’s dress hugged her body disgustingly, the rim swishing just above her ankles, though it was the best disguise she had. Dressing up like Eris or Hestia or a normal soul would look too suspicious as none of them were Spirals. She almost growled at the sight of the figure ahead. Even with a hood cutting her vision in half, blocking out the night sky, she could see the bronze of his armour glinting in the moonlight and the dangling orange of his scarf. A chequered cloak of brown and white flitted beneath it all. [i]Yep[/i], she thought, stifling her groan, [i]that’s him[/i]. “Hey,” he called out, smiling. She could only just see it from a few feet away. “Lilin, is it?” “Yes, it is, sir,” she cooed, smiling up at him from beneath her hood. She tried not to smile too widely, however. Her stitches were rushed and half-finished thanks to sleeping in that morning. Her heart sank, as much as she hated it. [i]Dolor would’ve done a better job. [/i] The Imperial before her interrupted her thoughts. She was thankful for that. “Please, call me Folia.” He offered her his arm, brandished with bronze metal thick enough to deny even the slightest scratch from an executioner’s axe. Runes so faint she had to squint to see them flickered in the moonlight. She felt almost hesitant to touch it. A feeling of dread overcame her as she obliged, keeping her lovely lace rose from view and actively avoiding the etchings. She didn’t expect him to know what it meant, just like she didn’t know what the runes meant, but she wasn’t about to risk it, not since Folia knew of her Dolor and how much she loved her roses. “Beautiful night, don’t you think?” her partner inquired in a whisper. She could no longer see his face, given their height difference, but she could tell he was grinning. “Oh yes,” Lilin sighed. “Much more beautiful than I, that’s for sure.” Folia chuckled. “I doubt that.” “You may doubt it, but I have to look at myself every time I glance at a mirror.” After a soft giggle fest, they walked a few minutes in silence. Lilin took in her surroundings in that time and found herself in awe. Birds chirped and sang despite the late hour, distant wind chimes jingled in the breeze. Spruce trees and oak trees reached for the heavens, swaying only slightly, accompanied by the canopy of stars glistening above and groups of fireflies dancing among them. Folia was right, it certainly was a beautiful night. “How did you come to know of the Society of Souls, my dear?” her partner inquired, patting her paw. She hadn’t realised how tightly she was gripping onto his armour. Lilin allowed herself to relax slightly, using her tail to feel for the Cleaver she’d strapped over her shoulder as a “just in case”. “Through word of mouth; Eris was in the lair, talking to one of the new candidates.” She thought for a few seconds, making a play of fiddling with her cloak. “Laranja, was it?” “Ah, so you’re from the Forum?” “Not from there, I merely come and go as I please.” Folia hummed. “I hadn’t known of a Lilin in the Forum.” “As I said,” she began, drawling her words, “I come and go as I please. No one necessarily remembers me.” “It’s almost like you’re a ghost.” She snickered, cheeks flushing. “Almost, yes, but not quite, since I’m very much physical.” He let it drop there, shifting his arm slightly and oh-so-subtly. The muscles contracted and relaxed beneath the armour, a show that was just for her. She was sure that if she were anyone else she would have swooned at the sight, pointing at them and caressing them and drooling all over them. She knew that tactic all too well, however. It no longer bothered her after many months of the same act... repeatedly. However, she knew she had to comment, even if she rolled her eyes at the thought. “You work out, then.” He took it gleefully. “I’m glad you noticed beneath all this metal.” “You could always take it off,” she drawled. “It’s a warm night, after all, and you’re wearing a thick cloak underneath it.” Folia declined to comment for a few seconds, and then nodded in agreement as much as the bobbing of his beard told her. “I’ll get it off when we get there.” “I can’t wait,” she cooed, hoping to keep the sarcasm from her tone. Whether or not Folia noticed, he didn’t let on. Again, silence fell like a thin veil between them. Lilin shifted her cloak out of her eyes and peered up at her partner. He looked pleased with himself, colour brightening his cheeks with a soft, deeper orange than the rest of his face. Amusement and content flickered in his deep brown eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips. Anyone else would’ve thought it cute. She saw it as an opportunity. A flicker of curiosity burst in his eyes. Lilin turned her head just as he looked her way, feigning interest in a bright purple and blue butterfly that flew past them towards a blooming tulip. Frowning, she thought of Dolor. Trapped somewhere in the lair, she could only imagine the loneliness she must feel without her beloved slave. “You like butterflies?” Folia inquired, evidently following her gaze. “I like them fluttering around my flowers,” she admitted, smiling to herself. “I keep a rose garden, and they love to accompany me while I tend to them.” “I’d love to see it sometime.” Lilin snorted. “[i]You[/i]have a fondness for roses?” “Not necessarily, though if it’s anywhere near as beautiful as I’m sure you are, I’ll be more than content in viewing it.” It took every ounce of effort to internalise her retching. If she could, she would have given up and turned away, thinking of some other way to do this. She almost snorted to herself. [i]If only there was, I would give anything! [/i] However, there wasn’t. She shot him a quick and flirty smirk, sliding her paw into his. Compared to hers, it was huge with calluses lining his digits and pad. The roughness of it alone made her cringe. Dolor’s were much softer, with a few scratches from rose thorns and adding her own blood to her beautiful creation. He quickly took the opportunity to encase her paw in his, chuckling. “I didn’t think you were the type to hang around with a soldier, let alone flirt with one.” “I do have to admit that soldiers aren’t really my type,” Lilin murmured, itching to free her paw, “but you’re different than my plain old self, almost gentler, and that intrigues me.” “Is that so?” She shrugged. “You’re not like other soldiers I’ve seen. You’re sweet and kind, without the boasting and the unbelievable amounts of cockiness.” Folia shifted at her side, shoulders hunching in slight embarrassment. “I suppose I’m not cocky.” He quickly cleared his throat and regained his composure, squeezing her paw. “The lake is just ahead.” That, she could tell. She couldn’t wait to step in and scrub at her paw until it bled. Lilin lead the way through the trees, tugging Folia along, in a desperate attempt to get there quickly, to feel the cool water wash against her ankles, ridding the feeling of cotton from her scales. Her companion never caught on to her attempt, trying to get her to slow down and chuckling as they went. Waves of navy blue lapped softly against the sandy bank, shells scattering along it like an odd constellation. She let go of Folia’s paw and rushed onto the beach. The sand sifted pleasantly beneath her feet, soothing her aching toes and brushing up against her swishing tail. She allowed herself to sink her feet further into the blanket of sand, sighing as the pressure disappeared, and sat herself at the edge of the lake, fingering the cold shells the waves left in their wake. Lilin picked one up and stared at it, frowning. It looked almost like a large snail’s shell, with red mixing with white in a pattern and a rough outside that reminded her of her master. Though Dolor had never been one for breaks or holidays or even days out, often preferring to stay with her beloved plague creation, she kept one of the few shells Lilin brought back for her from her trips. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was still there, or if Dolor had them. Both were unlikely. “I heard recently that you caught a threat to dragonkind,” she inquired innocently, veiling any shine of intent that might sneak onto her face. “Who is it?” “Ah,” Folia murmured, sitting down next to her, “that’s classified, I’m afraid.” “If they’re a threat, surely some of us have every right to know.” He looked anxious as he spoke, careful not to say the wrong thing. “I suppose you’re right, but if the others find out—” “I won’t tell anyone.” Folia shot her a sympathetic, if not guilty, look before sighing. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I don’t want to jeopardise anything. Her servant is still roaming around, according to her screams a couple of years ago.” Lilin feigned hurt, looking away from him and keeping the shell close to her heart. “You don’t trust me, do you?” “I-it’s not that, I promise!” She had to keep a grin from spreading across her face at his stumbling comfort. “I just don’t want to screw anything up.” “I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t trust myself either. I have a nasty habit of giving away my intent before I can carry it through.” Folia chuckled lightly, his paw on her shoulder. “You’re trustworthy, Lilin. I swear it.” “Then tell me who it is.” Lilin turned to meet his gaze, making sure her cloak covered her stitches. “I swear on my own life, Folia, that I won’t tell another soul, dead or alive.” “Lilin—” [i]Deities be damned[/i], she almost growled, fluttering her eyelashes on the outside. “Please, handsome?” Folia stopped in his protests, eyeing her with a confused and flattered expression. “Handsome?” “You really don’t think you are?” “Well, I’m a soldier, I don’t—” “Oh please,” she cooed, reaching up to coil a strand of his mane around her digit, “a soldier has every right to think he’s gorgeous, especially with such a perfect appearance as yourself.” A bright flush settled in his cheeks, brightening his face with a whole new range of colours. “I guess so.” Lilin took it upon herself to sit before him, her toes dipping in the water, with a coy grin. “You must be extremely strong to have trapped such a monster as that dragon, surely. I bet no one else could have, including myself.” “All I did was offer her my help, it was nothing special.” “And she took it?” Folia nodded, unsure of himself. “She was in agony. I wanted to help.” “Aww,” Lilin squealed. “You’re so kind!” His flush deepened, his cheeks going a bright red. She drew closer. [i]This is easier than I thought. [/i] “Where do you keep her, then?” she inquired. “It must be somewhere heavily warded against a danger such as her, right?” “Well, you’re right about that.” “Huh, maybe I’m slightly more intelligent than I thought.” “I’m sure you’re extremely intelligent, Lilin.” Lilin snorted. “I can assure you my tutor would tell me otherwise.” Folia sighed and attempted to brush her cloak hood down, presumably to see her face in full, but she kept a firm grip on the rim. When he went to inquire, she quickly uttered, “I was recently in an accident, and I’d rather you didn’t see my face just yet.” “I’m sure you’re beautiful either way, my dear,” he said, his voice the epitome of gentle. Lilin giggled a girly giggle, forcing a smile. “Well, I can assure you that I have a tenth of your overall beauty, my soldier.” He nibbled at his bottom lip, looking hesitant. Obviously, he’d never flirted for so long before. She was beginning to enjoy his uncertainty. “Just a tenth?” “Let’s move on from my meagre looks compared to your angelic grace,” Lilin said, edging closer once more. She sat so close that she was almost in his lap. That would be going too far, even for her. She hated this job as much as it stood now. It would be a mistake to let it all go to waste because of her discomfort. “Where is this monstrosity kept?” she asked, smothering her words with sugar and honey. “I’m certain that one with your intellect will have thought it through properly, unlike some soldiers I’ve come across.” Without knowing he did so, he puffed out his chest proudly and smiled. “I did, actually. We keep her in the library, with heavy and complicated wards to keep her in. Each brick has a different version of the same rune, along with a Painreliever for her agony.” “You’re so smart,” she said with a giggle, cupping his face. “Though, surely a monster such as that doesn’t deserve such kindness from the likes of you.” “Well…” Lilin pouted at him, flicking strands of his mane out of his face. “It must be so stressful for you to keep her in check.” Initially, he said nothing, biting his lip once more. He then spoke with such a softness that she could barely hear him. “It is, actually. Or it was, anyway. She’s been behaving recently, though before she nearly broke through the barrier with sheer will alone.” A sigh escaped him, and he succumbed to nuzzling her paw. The urge to wrench it away and run was almost overwhelming. “A friend of mine, Discord, suggested we put Punishment on her, just in case she’s plotting something.” “Another brilliant idea, indeed! Good looks and intelligence can be found in one package, it seems.” “Please, it was Discord’s idea.” “But who’s the one implementing it?” “…Me.” She smirked, her face closing in on his, just as a glint caught her eye. She didn’t dare look in its way, for she knew what it was; a ring of keys strapped to his belt dangled there, under his favourite cloak. Of course, it was typical for the maiden to steal the keys of her victim and free her friend or lover, but what other choice did she have? It wasn’t like she could fight him with his armour on, much less injure him without it. He was double her height with muscles of steel, an Imperial to put others to shame. [i]In other words, it’s time to be the typical maiden. Prepare yourself for excruciating mental pain.[/i] “Then that makes you smarter than your friend, doesn’t it, with your extensive knowledge of runes and keeping such threats at bay.” She felt sick to her stomach with only an inch or two of space between them. Her early dinner that night felt like lead to the ocean; heavy and almost suffocating and bound to come back up eventually. “Tell me, would you ever undo the runes?” His gaze was heavy-lidded as he spoke, his words a drawl. She smiled at him; she’d managed to ensnare him. “If she misbehaved, then yes.” “Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen, then.” Lilin closed the distance between them, closing her eyes as she kissed him. Her stomach roiled. She began to feel sick and dizzy and weak, and not for good reason. It worsened when he returned it after a second of stiffness, her hope dissipating. She hated it with a passion, wishing he’d shove her off, call her a freak, realise she was [i]dead[/i]. Instead, he threw an arm around her neck and held her close, stifling her oxygen. She couldn’t breathe, could barely move. What she wouldn’t do to run off and find some other way to get this plan to work. In fact, she’d give Dolor an extra year in her book prison just for that. Lilin focused on her tail, which writhed around and slithered towards the ring of keys strapped to his belt. Desperation to get away overcame her. She became reckless, accidentally smacking the keys with the tip and making them jingle. Of course, that caught her partner’s attention. Making the kiss to deepen was the only way to keep him from looking. The strap was almost impossible to do with her tail, as she expected, despite the little hope Lilin had of wriggling the keys out through a loose loop. In a sickened attempt, she reached down towards her tail and followed it up to the strap. Stitches disrupted her path a few times, but she eventually got there. She began to undo it, then she panicked. Folia began to pull away from her. [i]Deities be damned![/i] Quickly rearranging her cloak, they both snapped open their eyes and giggled to themselves. Her paw was still on the strap, twiddling it free. “That was quite the adventure,” Folia sighed, smiling. [i]Gotcha![/i] “Indeed it was, my knight in bronze armour.” He snorted and moved to get up. Lilin stood with him, brushing her cloak and her dress free of the sand. The cold bite of metal balanced at the end of her tail. Feigning shock and feeling woozy, she looked up into the sky and gasped. “Oh, Deities, is that the time?” She quickly tightened her cloak around her neck and adjusted the hood further, pretending to be the maiden she definitely always had been. “I need to get going.” “So soon?” He sounded genuinely hurt, something that would’ve otherwise made her grin. Lilin shook her head, frowning up at him. In the darkness, she hoped he could only see her eyes. “I have to go meet my mother tomorrow, and she’s not exactly lenient.” Folia sighed, hooking a digit under her chin in an attempt to lean her head back. When she wouldn’t comply and began to walk away, swaying ever-so-slightly, he stopped her with a paw wrapping around her wrist. She nearly jumped. “Can I see you again?” “Eventually,” she admitted. “Hopefully I look much more befitting for an angel such as yourself by then.” “You make it sound like it’ll be a long time.” “It will. I’ve got to help her and my family with a few... issues.” “Well,” he began to mutter, “I hope I see you again eventually.” She turned and gave him a wide, false grin. “Me too, Folia.” Lilin waved as she walked away, hoping that she didn’t throw up as soon as she was out of sight and earshot. It wouldn’t be the best sight for companion to see.  -2- Laranja wasn’t the most amusing dragon Lilin had to talk to. She would’ve much preferred Hace and her friend, Novella. At least they had a sense of humour. All her prison warden did was read, read and do more reading, muttering threats every time she reached for her and her damned book. However, it was amusing to see her blush with every comment. “You know, gold contrasts to your wings so wonderfully,” Lilin cooed, poking her smirking snout through the bars that separated her from the Skydancer. “I’d love to ruffle [i]those[/i] feathers.” “You already have,” Laranja growled. She stood out of her reach, paws intertwined in front of her with beautiful roses wrapping up her arms and balancing at the end of her twitching tail. Lanterns floated around her, illuminating her golden face and rosy cheeks. She was cute, and Lilin had to admit that. It made embarrassing her much more fun. She sighed, stalking the length of her cell. “I hope I haven’t ruined my chances.” “You had no chances to begin with. You’re dead.” “If I wasn’t, would you give me a chance?” At her huff, Lilinstrolled back to the door just in time to see Laranja’s blush deepen before she turned her face away from her. She grinned menacingly. Lilin; 27, Laranja; 1. The only time her guard managed to embarrass her was when she called her decent for a dead spiral. Her grin lasted up until a familiar figure meandered through the halls and towards her cell. [i]Folia. [/i] His eyes were stone-cold, like ice had frozen a mud puddle, as he approached her, his paws linked behind his back like a proper soldier and a scowl stretching his face. He’d done a full one-eighty since she first saw him; before, he was sweet and stuttering, rushing to comfort her in her time of need. Now, he looked ready to send her back to the hole she’d crawled out of with no remorse in sight. “Lilin,” he said, gruffly, stopping just short of her snout. “Folia,” she chirped in return, grinning at him. “How lovely it is to see you again!” “Shut up.” Lilin did as she was told, giggling maniacally. She found his serious nature hilarious, for whatever reason. It didn’t suit him at all, not with large puppy eyes and a face that looked formed with hatchling fat. Even his armour didn’t suit him anymore. He looked like some kind of impersonator. Or maybe she was going insane for thinking so. She couldn’t tell anymore. Folia waited until she’d finished, wiping a stray tear from her eye, before he spoke, eyebrows raised. “What was that about?” “It’s funny,” she wheezed. “You’ve changed from the sweet wittle soldier I met with by the lake.” She slunk back from the door just as he gripped the bars and growled at her. Fear, as a dead female capable of fighting almost anyone, was some kind of distant memory. Instead of terror, her scales tingled with anticipation; eager for a fight that she knew wouldn’t come. Not if he wanted to set an example for Lovely Laranja. “Just don’t do anything stupid and we won’t have an issue,” he snarled, shoving himself away from the bars and stalking off, though not before whispering something to her guard. Her ears strained to hear it from her safe wall of cold stone, but all she caught was “escape” and “meddle”. She didn’t want to know who that was referring to, though she assumed it was most likely herself. After all, their second meeting after the lake hadn’t gone pleasantly. She didn’t expect anything less from the Prophet. He soon left. With Laranja now ignoring her attempts to make her cheeks redden, eyes on her book, she inspected the cell around her for the fourth time in an hour. Mould clawed its way through the cracks in the stone slabs, with a single barred window to grant her the view of tall, waving grass. A few bugs joined her every now and then, though quickly made their escape, their dissatisfaction at her humble abode radiating from them in waves. A singular blanket was her bed, her pillow some spare bandage and bundled up lace. One could easily tell that this was before the Society of Souls’ time in this lair. Unless you were physical like Lilin and Dolor, it’d be tedious to waste resources on a cell. You’d have more success trying to trap them in a rune covered teapot. What an unfortunate coincidence her resilient soul turned out to provide her with. “You’re quiet,” Laranja commented softly, peering into the cell with a raised eyebrow. “What are you plotting?” Lilin grinned. “I’m debating on how I can use spoons to cut through lead bars.” Despite herself, the guard snorted. She was even cuter when she smiled. “Good luck with that.” “Thank you!” Laranja, shaking her head, turned and went back to being silent, accompanied only by the short, subtle turn of a page. Studying on the job was certainly expected of her. Unlike her two companions, she took her lessons seriously. Perhaps she was wondering how she could send Lilin back to the afterlife, in an eternity of white serenity and blue peace. She pulled a face. The thought of her joining the Stars seemed a million miles away, when she’d lived her after-death life to the fullest and became the infamous Lilin the Plague Doctor… or something. She wasn’t about to rest on the job and abandon her master. They had a job to do, and she at least wanted to see it through before she rested forever more. “Do you have a spoon on you, Anya dear?” Lilin cooed, pressing her face against the bars of her cell door once again. “Just a book,” she murmured. “No cutlery, unfortunately.” “Oh, how very dull.” “To you, maybe.” “To everyone, definitely.” Laranja rolled her eyes and snapped her book shut, a bored flicker dancing in her eyes. “It’s unfortunate a soul like yourself doesn’t like literature. I daresay it could improve your escape plan.” “It’s unfortunate for a beautiful female such as yourself to waste your time [i]learning[/i]. You never know when you’re going to die, after all!” Confused, her guard opened her mouth to protest. It never came. Instead, she seized up, gasping slightly, and fell to the floor. The book fell from her paws, sliding across the floor. Her lanterns faded and wavered, ribbons fell off and crumpled. The lights dimmed further with every time that she whimpered. Each time she moved, limbs twitching violently as she struggled, something red glimmered in the sunlight drifting in from other cells. At first, Lilin didn’t know what to think of either fact. She felt a strange urge to help her, but upon eyeing the other end of the hall, she forgot all about it with a crazy giggle. “Hi, Atrion!” she cried, waving frantically. The tiny Nocturne appeared as soon as she called his name, brushing his digits on his scales to wipe off any dust or germs before coming towards her. He looked indifferent, for once, rather than furious or mischievous or cunning. She supposed it was because he was free of his own confinement. “Hello, Lilin,” he purred, flying up to stare her in the face because of their height difference. Even if she’d wanted to, she knew better than to back down. It was why they got along so well. “Want some help?” She grinned and bopped him on the head. In the process, she risked losing her paw to his bite. “If you wouldn’t mind, Atry.” Atrion obliged, picking up Laranja’s book and brushing off the dirt clinging to it for dear life. He too ignored her twitching, moaning figure, refusing to touch her and even snarling at her when she reached for him. The poor dear looked desperate, face crinkling and breaths hitching. [i]The pain she’s in must be horrible[/i]. With a few soft words spoken in a tongue she couldn’t understand, the door clicked. Lilin pulled it open with excitement and threw her arms around a floating Atrion, who merely groaned at her act of random kindness. “Thank you for setting me free.” “I might be evil,” he hissed, quickly wriggling out of her grasp, “but I don’t betray. There’s a difference.” Lilin tilted her head in wonder, eyes wide. “There is?” “Mhm.” “Looks like I’m going to need a new dictionary.” He shook his head and passed her Laranja’s book. It was full of runes she didn’t know about and could barely pronounce. She tried for the life of her to try and get Laranja to levitate into the cell, or to make her pass out. Instead an invisible paw flicked Atrion down the hall and into the wall at the end. A choked laugh escaped her before she could stop it. As soon as Atrion turned to glare at her, she hid her face behind the book. “I’m sorry, I’m new to spell-casting!” “You flicked me!” “I’m [i]sorry![/i]” “You better be!” Scowling, he flew towards her and ripped the book from her paws, much to her pouting. “I’ll do the spell-casting, you do the talking. Okay?” “But—” “It’s either a yes or a no.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” "You also know Dolor's going to kill you for not telling her the plan about what happened two weeks ago, don't you?" Lilin nodded. "Yup." Atrion grinned. “Good, now let’s go before we miss our chance.” Nodding, Lilin led the way through the maze of walls underneath the lair. Atrion followed for a few minutes before getting bored, deciding to wait for her above. As a mere soul without physical form—more like a poltergeist than a true demon such as herself—he had the ability and the privilege to do so. She couldn’t blame him. In a labyrinth such as this, it was easy to get lost. Lilin could only thank her sense of direction for knowing the way. Soon enough, she came to a stairwell amid yet another row of cells—it was the thirteenth row, three doors down; she’d counted before in footfalls—that led up to the guardhouse. It was a more modern building within the Society of Souls, accompanying their disgustingly beautiful marble and white stone skyscrapers.The library with its gold-sheeted roofing, marble-white pillars holding the overhang up and tiled flooring leading up to a pair of grand dark wood doors was one of them. The guardhouse, after peeking inside to make sure no one was around, wasn’t much different, except it was in much darker colours. Silver lined the door she cracked open and carefully closed, with dark grey stone and obsidian covering the floor. Silver even lined the windows in paint, gold flecks bouncing the sunlight into her eyes. The only colour in the room was the golden and bronze armour standing proudly on armour stands, their scarves hanging down to the knees of their boots. In the sunlight, you could see the glistening of[i]Protection[/i] runes on the chest plate and helmet. Her Cleaver hung in the midst of it all, on one of a few coat hooks opposite the door she’d closed. Other spare weapons swung there, too, polished to a shine and sharpened on whetstone just hours ago. Sadly, they hadn’t done her any favours. Her blade was the odd one out; dulled by years of use and stained with the blood she’d spilled. Lilin smirked, edging closer to it and gently unhooking its scabbard from the hook. The weight of it was a comfort in a time of uncertainty, especially as she strapped it to her waist and hopped around to feel it bounce against her legs and tail. [i]At least no one will miss it[/i], she thought, her smile growing into a grin with a hint of malicious intent. Without a second more of bouncing around, she scampered towards one of the two entrances and left. In good time, too, for just as she left, she eyed Discord entering the guardhouse, no doubt to pick up a weapon or maybe Laranja to relieve her of her post. His claws clacked on the cobblestone pavement, his golden headdress glistening in the sun. Pulling a face, she raced off over the grass. Her feet pounded against the earth and her pants echoed in her ears before long. Lace rustled and Cleaver swung at her hip. Before long, she decided to fly, eyeing the library in a keen, disapproving gaze. It looked too beautiful to be the prison of her master. Atrion awaited her at the top of the library, eyeing her with a raised eyebrow. When she inquired what he stared at her for, he responded with his own question. “Why didn’t you just fly to begin with?” “Too much attention,” she wheezed, falling against the glass dome of the library. A huge hole still sat in its centre from when both Eris and her guard smashed through to get to it. Ultimately, Dolor would’ve escaped that day if it wasn’t for the fact that Folia tricked them both. She had to admit that violence wasn’t his specialty, not even now after two weeks of being trapped in a rotting cell, and yet he must be ahead of them by a couple of steps. She just hoped that he didn’t foresee this. “You ready?” Atrion inquired, digits itching to carve and call out his favourite spell; the one he’d used on Laranja. Lilin grinned, insanity in her eyes. “Do it.” Quietly, he began to utter the spell as she fell through the hole, spread her wings halfway down and landed on the floor with surprising grace. Still, despite her theatrics, she teetered slightly on her feet, prompting Folia to raise his eyebrow at her. For some reason, his armour’s runes glistened brighter today. She wanted to believe that Atrion had taken care of them [i]like she asked of him[/i]. Folia stood in front of her, evidently astounded, and poor Dolor was on the floor, groaning and shuddering in agony from her tumours. Her lei and crown of roses had died from the mistreatment of their wearer. Even the jewellery looked dim, tinkling slightly with every twitch. She wasn’t surprised when her paws balled into fists. “How did you get out?” Folia asked in monotone, stepping over Dolor, even when she padded uselessly at his foot to keep him from getting to her. Lilin backed away, grinning. “A dear friend of mine.” Just as Folia looked up, peering at the glass, Atrion bounced the book off of his head. It dropped at her feet, leather-back cover dusting within seconds. She scooped it up and ran over to Dolor. Atrion distracted Folia as she did by launching items—mostly books and Dolor’s vases—at him from the shelves of the bookcases. It didn’t take long to sit beside her master, brushing her mane out of the way of her face. Her heart sank at the sight of it. Pain-filled tears streamed down her face, her lips dry and her tumours bulging dangerously on her jaw and neck. The glint in her creased red eyes was unnatural for her, too. They were begging her for help. Lilin couldn’t help herself. She smiled. “How are you feeling?” “Damn... damn you...” she growled feebly, attempting to bat her away until she cried out in pain. She opened the book to the healing runes with nervous urgency and sketched it onto Dolor’s stomach, muttering the words carefully so she didn’t burn her or make her bleed or grow vines from her armpits. Each second that the rune burnt into her skin made her master whimper. Lilin had to admit it was despairing to listen to. It was rare for her master to sound so weak, and it only made her feel uncomfortable to know how much pain she was in. “Lilin, hurry up!” Atrion screamed at her from across the library, a zap accompanying his words. [i]Folia’s using magic.[/i] “Why didn’t your spell work?” she snarled, focusing on the ancient tongue before her. “I thought you disrupted his [i]Protection[/i] runes! “I don’t know, just hurry it up!” Lilin did as she was told, making sure she didn’t stumble over the words. It took a few seconds more to finish it. When she did, she grinned at Dolor’s sigh of relief. She couldn’t stand yet, that she knew, so Lilin would have to near-carry her. She got to work straight away, ignoring the fight and shrieks at the other end of the library. Dropping the book was the hardest part, but she had nowhere for it to go. “Come on, Dolor,” she murmured, wrapping her arm around her shoulders and hauling her to her unsteady feet. “We need to go.” “It hurts,” Dolor wheezed, using her as a prop to lean on. Her bag swung low beside her hip, the fold open for whatever reason. “Does it?” Her master glared at her. “I’ll kill you.” Lilin nodded, not wanting to take her master up on that. After all, she often followed through with her threats. The only time she didn’t was when she was too weak to do so. They made their way towards the entrance, no runes blocking the door from opening. Dolor inevitably dragged her feet and hissed through her teeth whenever she or Lilin accidentally touched a tumour. “Oh, no you don’t,” she head Folia cry from behind her, footsteps rushing towards her. They echoed around the space, heightened her fear. She wasn’t about to let this fail again. Not when they were so close... again. He cried out as something thudded. Lilin took that opportunity to lay Dolor gently on the ground to rest and turn around, tugging her Cleaver free from its scabbard. Folia glared at her. Atrion growled on the floor, hissing beneath runic bounds thrown over him. They didn’t burn him, she knew that much; he just hated escaping from one confinement and entering another. As you do. “Go back to your cell, or go back to the Forum,” he sneered, poison dripping from his words. “Dolor isn’t leaving. She’ll endanger everyone.” “Personally, Folia,” she drawled, swinging her blade around for show, “as a dead dragon, I couldn’t care less who she will endanger.” He sighed and clicked his digits. Something wrapped around her neck in an instant, choking her slightly. She refused to drop her Cleaver. Even as Folia’s wire-like spell wrapped tighter around her neck, she kept it in a tight grip. She wasn’t about to give up without a fight. They were too close to winning for that option. “Fight me like an Imperial,” she said, her voice squeaky. “Don’t use ridiculous magic just because you won’t win.” Folia’s mouth twitched. She couldn’t tell if he was supposed to grin or frown. Either way, the grip around her neck grew tighter. “You’ll stay here with Dolor. Your friend—” He spat the term friend out like it was a horrid blueberry he’d just eaten, glaring at Atrion. “—will go back to his confinement.” “Will I?” Atrion snarled back, struggling against his golden wires. As a ghost, you’d think he’d be able to get through them with ease. But they seemed specifically designed for those like him. Lilin, in that moment, felt slightly sorry for him. She’d dragged him into this, and now he was to suffer for it. “Yes.” The tight, thin wire tightened within a second, cutting off her oxygen. Lilin dropped her Cleaver, clawing at the magic in a feeble attempt to relieve the pressure. She fell to her knees and choked, eyes burning. The wire burned into her neck. [i]That’s going to leave a mark.[/i] “You can forget Dolor getting her Painkiller back,” he muttered, using Atrion’s ropes to drag him towards the door. It dug viciously into his wings. From what she could see through bleary eyes, it deepened ridges in them that may well serve as a reminder. “After all, I was about to debate that with her before I was rudely interrupted.” “Please,” Lilin cried, falling to her elbows. “Give it to her. I’ll behave!” Folia had the audacity to throw her a sympathetic, even guilty, look from the doorway. “I can’t do that, Lilin. Not until I know that you won’t try this idiotic stunt again.” “I’ll... behave!” He nodded, frowning. “I know.” Atrion and Folia left before she could beg and plead for longer. She caught her companion’s eye just as he left. Without knowing why, she murmured a soft, “I’m sorry,” in the hopes that he’d understand. He mouthed a strange phrase, determination in his glowing, furiously-red eyes. [i]Dolor has it. Get out of here.[/i] The door closed and the wire snapped around her neck, allowing her to catch her breath. She shuddered with each one. Her eyes were wide, tears flowed, and warmth trickled down her neck. As soon as she felt able to look her in the eye, she turned to look at Dolor and half expected despair or loss of hope. Despite her heavy-lidded gaze, bags almost as blue as a bruise under her eyes, she looked furious with her and with the world. Lilin couldn’t blame her. Twice in a month this had happened. She didn’t know when they’d get another chance, if ever. She almost felt shame for even attempting with so much at stake. “At least we share the library now, right?” she panted, crawling over to her. “My patience is going to wear thin from your jabbering,” Dolor growled, a smile playing at her lips. “Though, I’m not going to kill you here. Hopefully, anyway.” [i]Your optimism is adorable[/i]; she wanted to tell her master. Instead, Lilin collapsed onto her stomach, the only comfortable place without a single tumour. Despite being dead, she felt warm, like a Heated rune teddy bear. She curled up against it, willing her body to soak some up for herself. As something softly bapped her head, Lilin refused to look up until she did it again. She expected a big rose or a notebook or one of the many books previously strewn all over the floor from her master’s attempts at finding a rune. Awe overcame her. [i]So that’s why the flap was open...?[/i] The lucky devil must’ve stolen Laranja’s book from the floor and tucked it away in her bag without her realising. How, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t get an answer either. Dolor loved using the same line repeatedly as they worked together years ago; “A magician never gives away her secrets, much less to her beloved assistant.” Lilin never understood why until recently, alone in her cell one night when she couldn’t sleep; it was to keep up the ruse of magic and wonder during such gruelling work. [i]Very philosophical of her.[/i] Her master took in her amazement and giggled. “Serves you right for lowering your guard, doesn’t it?” “I don’t know whether to kiss you or smack you for being smarter than me,” she mumbled, grimacing only slightly against a sudden pain in her neck, as if the wire had returned. An idea sparked in her mind. "Then again, a smack would warrant my second death, so may I kiss you?" “Later, my Lilin.” Dolor threw her exhausted, dim gaze towards the door as Lilin smirked, with the full knowledge that the runes returned as they spoke. Her paw absentmindedly stroked the bandage wrapping around Lilin's snout. “For now, we rest. We’re going to have a long night ahead of us.” [right][size=1][i]Made by Ozie in "[URL=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/2371542]Ozie's Lore Shop![/URL]"[/i][/size][/right][/quote]

@Ozie I cannot state how much I freaking love this!! The inclusion of so many different dragons in my lair, mentions of the Society, casual hints of romance, and the humor in this too is just amazing holy crap. If you have open slots sometime again in the future, please ping me!

@Blueberrypodoboo Hey-up! I've done Doll's full lore for you. While doing my acrobatic research, I decided to use Cirque du Soleil as inspiration for quite a few things and I now want to give up being a writer and run away with them. I see why you love circuses so much! If only the nearest one for me wasn't so far away. Either way, I hope you enjoy his lore! As always, if you want anything changing, just lemme know! [emoji=coatl tongue size=1] [quote=Doll]-1- [i]I need an energy boost.[/i] The strong waft of cider filled the air as Doll strolled over to his favourite pub; [i]The Merry Lizard[/i]. A grin stretched over his face, his paw tighteninghis prosthetic arm’s leather straps. As much as he promised himself he’d stay away from the pub for a while, at least until he’d finished his new tricks, he couldn’t help himself. He needed a dose of sanity, especially after today. Twisting, turning and hopping around before an ungrateful audience exhausted him almost beyond repair. Doll stopped short of the door, peering inside. Oak stretched across the floor, green reached up towards the ceiling, and a golden chandelier swung in the centre. It was empty save for a few window booths hosting friends, families and lovers. A couple of them he recognised as old convicts of a raid camp, known for their slippery digits and heists. They’d given up thieving years agoand now they sat with other, more faithful friends, laughing and playing poker. The one named Samuel—an old Mirror with crooked teeth and a booming laugh—seemed to be winning. There was one couple that caught his eye, stopping him from entering. One of them was a Pearlcatcher doused in red and black. He wore a scarlet witch’s hat and glittering breeches, scars littering his body and green staining one of his eyes. The other wore a tailored, tailed waistcoat of deep blue and a top hat circled by a red ribbon. Doll hadn’t seen them before. He didn’t like the look of them. Hesitantly, he strolled inside. His anxiety quickly subsided as he waved eagerly 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 a clean mug, ready to hold it under one of the brass taps labelled [i]White Wolf[/i]. 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. He 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’ like ‘em.” Doll graced them with another glance. 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. One would’ve thought he was drunk if it wasn’t for the light that 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.” “Ought’a try.” “Ya ain’t goin’ anywhere near ‘em, Doll. I ain’t wantin’ [i]more[/i] blood on my floorboards.” A growl rose, low in Munich’s throat. “Took me two weeks t’a clean-up ya mess.” He grinned wickedly but seated himself on a barstool, his silks whispering beneath him. Taking the time to adjust his prosthetic as Munich whipped up his beer, he noticed a rainbow sheen on the bar top that hadn’t been there the day before. It made the top look almost wispy and unreal. If he so wanted, he would bet his single 100-coin piece that he’d see his reflection if he looked hard enough. “Ya done som’at with your top?” he asked absentmindedly, taking off his prosthetic and thumping it on the top. “New oil,” she said, no longer growling. “Works better than the last.” “What’s it?” “Dunno, som’at like [i]Rune Wonder[/i]. Sounded pretty sketchy but works like a charm.” “Fair.” With a gulp, he asked a question he wished he shouldn’t have to. “How’s things with Rowan?” “They’re aight. He’s away, out at sea.” “So I ‘eard.” “I ‘ope he’s okay,” Munich mumbled, genuine sadness written all over her features. “‘E ‘asn’t written for a while.” Doll managed a small grin. “I’m sure ‘e is, Munich. ‘E wouldn’t dare get ‘imself hurt with you as ‘is mate.” At her snort, he let the conversation drop there and got to work on his right arm. He thanked her for his beer as soon as she placed it on a coaster next to him. One of the straps keeping the mechanics 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 fraying strap, using his bandana to wipe down the gold linings and the sharpened golden claws. He even used an earring to hone a couple of the dullertalons before slipping it back into place in his Mirror fin. Just as he got his arm back into place, struggling to reconnect it so he could use it, a conversation snagged his attention. “I don’t know,” someone whispered. “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. He completely forgot about his arm. “Vlad, I’m serious.” “No, you’re being racist.” The one opposite this Vlad shifted in his seat. “You’re right. Sorry.” Vlad’s mouth pulled into a sympathetic frown, eyes still hidden beneath the rim of his hat. “Mirrors need representation as well, love. Besides, look at her. She’s pretty. I’m sure Jack would love her.” “It’s almost like you’re attracted to her, my dear.” “Yeah, because that’s how being gay works, isn’t it.” Doll had heard enough. He shoved himself away from the bar, his prosthetic hanging uselessly without the mechanics attached, and growled at the pair of them. “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 Plague eyes widened. “You’re a male.” “Aye, I am, so ya better watch ya mouth before I swipe out ya tongue.” 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 glare. “Ya need to keep your boyfriend ‘ere in check, otherwise som’at might ‘appen.” Vlad smirked. “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 it empty and dim. The same went for the rest of the bar. Only the torch above the couple’s table flickered with life. His heart seized up, letting loose an animalistic snarl towards the magic one. “What’d ya do?” “I did nothing.” “Nah, ya did som’at, mate. Reverse it.” When this [i]Vlad[/i] didn’t answer, his anger boiled in his stomach like a concoction in a cauldron. “I wanna know where Munich went. What’d ya do to ‘er?” “She’s been in bed the entire time.” Just as Doll swivelled and went to grab at his scarf, a spell froze his muscles. It kept him locked in place, looming over the table. His leg began to ache before long, holding the rest of his launched body up by this magician’s magics alone. All the while, Vlad adjusted his hat to reveal mismatched eyes shining with amusement, his digits carving and holding the spell in the air. “I wouldn’t advise attacking me.” “Le’e go,” Doll snarled through clenched teeth. As much as he tried to move, his muscles only got stiffer. “Or yu’ll hay.” “I will do once you agree to sit down and chat.” A sudden urge to swipe at him and make him pay for his irritation with his other eye overcame him, but ‘Munich’ was right. He’d never got close enough to do him harm. That’s what irritated him so about magicians and witches and warlocks. They rely too much on their magic. “Hine.” After weighing his option, Vlad let him go. Doll’s leg gave way to aches 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. Vlad looked apologetic across from him, ears flat against the rim of his hat. “Fine.” “Would you like a beer to make up for that?” He grinned, maliciousness lining his lips. “Gemme a double strength [i]White Wolf[/i], then we’ll chat.” Walter nodded and left his seat, wandering over to the bar. Given his confident expression, he’d evidently worked in a bar before, so it wouldn’t take him long. Doll supposed he could pass for a bartender if he wanted. His shirt held darkened stains, with scuffed spats on his feet and breeches looking thin and patchy. [i]Aye, that’d be ya typical bartender ‘round these parts.[/i] 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 depend on his magic to protect him, just like any other magic wielder. Or maybe he was much more comfortable than Doll gave him credit for. Walter handed him the beer before long and dragged a chair over from another table. By the time Doll had finished his swig, the couple stared at him. “So,” Vlad began, twiddling his digits, “what’s with the name?” “Personal reasons, matie.” He knew it was obvious to anyone who didn’t live under a rock, so he considered it his first test for the couple. The Pearlcatcher caught on instantly. “Cross-dresser?” Doll grimaced. “Gonna judge?” He shrugged. “Nope. I’m guessing your other name is out of the question.” “Aye, it is.” He took another drag of his drink and eyed his pursuers carefully. “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, but I can’t remember how they got there for the life of me.” [i]Right, ‘cause I’m gonna believe that[/i]. “Fighter guy?” “No. 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!” “Can’t say I’ve ‘eard of it.” Walter came prepared for that, granting him Doll’s fascination. “I’d give you a face of disappointment if I hadn’t seen you staring at our performance just a few days ago.” “And what does [i]yeself[/i] do? Can’t say I see ya much.” 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 an ice-covered lake. Walter’s cheeks burned a brilliant red as he crossed his arms and huffed. [i]Any ‘arder, Doll thought with amusement, and some smoke would’a come out[/i].Then he noticed it; on his ring digit sat a silver band that that he hadn’t noticed before. It seemed like he didn’t enjoy being embarrassed in new company by his fiancé. Or at all, perhaps. “Back to you.” Walter’s partner finished off his drink and pushed it to one side. In his eyes sat a sheen of calm, one he felt obliged to appreciate.“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. His face was still flushed, and a complete contrast to his serious expression. “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.” The colour in his cheeks deepened until the steel colour turned into a deep orange. “Can you [i]not?[/i]” He chuckled. Even Doll was amused by the exchange as he snickered, “What’s this deal that ya’ve got for me?” “Well,” Walter murmured, 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, all humour burning out. “Why would she tell you that?” “She’s worried for you, Doll.” “Well, she shouldn’t ‘ave.” “It’s not her fault,” Vlad admitted. He looked almost guilty, fiddling with his own ring, of which sat on a silver chain around his neck. “We may have prodded a little bit.” Doll growled. Walter ploughed on, evidently hoping to calm the field. “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.” “Well… 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, his smile warm. “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!” Walter tensed at his yelling, at 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 ‘ere tavern.” He moved to stand. “I’ve ‘ad enough o’ this conversation.” The Pearlcatcher leant on the table, stopping him. His face was just a few inches away from Doll’s when he stated, “I wouldn’t lie. He’s slowly getting better. If you’d have met him a year ago, I wouldn’t have blamed you for refusing.” When he settled back down, Doll took another drag of his drink. What it was about the couple, he didn’t know, but he supposed he could stay just to hear them out. “‘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 groaned as it began to calm his nerves. “‘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 two of them. One looked worried, the other looked absurdly confident. “Eighteen.” “How about we go half-way,” Vlad drawled, experience emanating from him. “Fifteen?” He stretched out his paw. Turns out he has some knowledge on haggling, too. “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 so long since his money pouch felt so weighty with coin that wasn’t stolen. “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. He merely said it was important. “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 the earliest we can do, unless he actually gets up tomorrow.” “That’s fine, then.” He got to work with connecting his arm to its mechanics, sighing when he could finally move it. Despite the doubt that loomed over him, Walter didn’t seem like the type to lie about having a kid. “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, heading towards the door. “We’ll get a replacement sorted. You can relish in your newfound money for a while.” With a tinkle of the bell above the door, the ringmaster of Shatterskull left, leaving him and his heavy pouch alone in the tavern. When he looked behind him at the damaged table, debating buying it before they did for Munich’s sake, he saw his markings gone, replaced instead with translucentwords saying: [i]Rune Wonder; it works wonders![/i] They disappeared a moment later.  -2- How many hours had he been practicing now? His muscles were screaming two, but his pocket watch told him three. Even so, it was good enough for him to take a break, at least for a few minutes. He’d have to get himself and his catcher something to eat first. As Julienne always said; [i]It’s never healthy to go without eating.[/i] Doll 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, all from testing his body’s limits once again that morning. Even his wings ached after half an hour of doing some kind of reverse press-ups with his partner. In a desperate attempt to cool down, he grasped at the silken shirt he wore and turned it into a crop top, using his bandana to fan his sweaty forehead. He found his acrobatics partner still going at it. She gripped onto another wooden rack,bringing her legs up before her and splitting them repeatedly. Never once did they touch the floor. It, like him, was to test her limits and increase the strength in her arms. [i]Of course[/i], he thought almost bitterly, [i]Luna’s tryin’ t’ outdo me again.[/i] The Imperial trapeze artist caught his eye and smiled at him. “You... you okay?” “I’m havin’ a break,” he wheezed. “We’ve been goin’ at this for hours.” “Mind if I join you?” Doll laughed, his voice hoarse. “Ya don’ need my permission, Lun.” Luna giggled, giddy with exhaustion. She finally let go of the wooden rack after two more swings of her legs and stood on shaking limbs with his help. 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 shoulder. It was a struggle, given the height difference. “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 water and ice sat on it, with multiple cups for everyone training. Honk was one of them; he was performing paw-springs from one end of the tent to the other on cushioning mats, alongside 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. He made sure to slip some ice in there, too. “Most of them are training outside, Dolly,” Luna said with a smile, sighing as she sipped at her 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.” “I’ll bet you mine that they get together in three.” They drank their drinks with mischievous smile 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 with a deep red-orange. “Ya’ight over there, Jack?” he called, leaning against the table. “I’m [i]awesome![/i]” she shrieked, rushing over to him with the overflowing excitement of a puppy. She looked like one, to some extent; her tongue lolled and her fins flapped like floppy ears. “Pour me a drink, will you?” “Do it yeself.” Jack rolled her eyes. “You’re such a [i]bore[/i], my dear.” 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 as if nothing happened, 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. Jack chuckled. She knocked back her drink before zipping open the tent flap and letting in the cool song that was the Windsinger’s breeze. The other two in the tent—Honk and Broken—gave her thankful looks for her decision. The breeze ruffled the loose fabric of his breeches, 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 up until a performance. To get up to the swings, one merely had to climb their designated rope ladder and stand themselves on the board that hung from an above platform and ready 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 board, 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. “Please get up here. I hate being nervous and need a distraction.” “Aight, aight.” “Thanks.” Doll quickened his pace and reached the western ladder. With a grip of steel, he clambered up the ladder. His trust for the unstable rope ladders 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. It sent him reeling on the ladder. His paw slipped on the metal grips of the ladder. His foot struggled to find a suitable foothold. Luna flew over to him to keep the ladder in place. She had a sympathetic look on her face. It seemed mixed with worry. “I hate this Deities-damned ladder,” he snarled, finding purchase with his feet. Already, his paw felt sweaty, and he hadn’t even done a trick yet! “I think you need to get a new prosthetic,” Luna informed him. Her words dripped with sweetness, minus malicious intent. Almost everyone in the Circus loved her for that. “It’ll be dangerous performing with that one; I don’t want you to get hurt.” Despite her kindness, 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. She didn’t seem to acknowledge his apology from the other side of the ring. He left it at that and began to thumb at his prosthetic. “Damn it,” he growled. “My strap’s come undone again.” Luna swooped 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, mismatched as his prosthetic became an old model. 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 from him. “Your prosthetic keeps breaking and we don’t have a safety mat this time, because—” “I’m performin’.” “Doll...” “I’m gonna perform, Luna.” She sighed and flew back to her board, allowing him the space to fix the strap. [i]Maybe she’s right[/i], he thought as he thumbed at the fabric, tucking it back into place. [i]Maybe I should get a new one... but what would[/i] she[i] think?[/i] 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. [i]Guess I’m gonna have t’ find out.[/i] “Ready?” Luna called from across the way, her trapeze unhooked from the ropes holding onto her board. Her brow was furrowed with concern. 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 board and flipping herself up onto the seat of the trapeze – or, in official terms, the catch bar. 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 practice show they had so far. He’d have to teach her a few tricks sometime. After bowing to an imaginary audience, she swung the trapeze until it was the appropriate height for them both and tucked herself in between the catcher’s bar and the apron. Because of the apron, whenever she wanted to gain extra height, she could fling herself upwards with her weight and arms. It often didn’t get to that point. Luna nodded at the depth of her swing. [i]I’m ready.[/i] With one deep breath, he was off. He let himself fly once, kicking out at the peak of his swing to get a little more height, before threading his legs between him and the fly bar. His calves pressed against the strong Starwood of the bar, readying for a heels-off catch. In his upside-down state, Doll could almost imagine a young audience [i]ooh[/i]-ing and [i]ahh[/i]-ing at their performance already. It excited him; every day in his line of work was always a fresh dream come true. As he flew backwards from the peak of the swing, he counted to three. He reached the peak of his rearward swing within moments. He let go of his bar and stretched out his paws, awaiting his catcher. Falling through the air was the worst part. His heart raced, blood 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. He continued to fall as Luna swung towards him. For some reason, he felt certain that she’d miss. When their paws clasped together, he almost let out a whoop of success. Luna grinned at him, despite her worry. Heels-off was almost always their beginning act; it wasn’t hard on either of them, giving them time to warm up for the hardest of tricks later on, and it was Doll’s favourite morale boost. They held on for a single swing until Luna gestured that his bar swung above them. With little warning, she threw him up in its direction. Doll twisted in the air, eyes peeled for the bar, and grinned when he spotted it reaching its peak just beside him. Reaching for it, he couldn’t wait to get back on his board and apply some chalk. His outstretched prosthetic arm fell to his side. It didn’t worry him; it’d happened before... what hadn’t happened before was his only good paw missing the bar, his claw catching the wood. [i]Oh no.[/i] He yelled a twisted curse that could make even Shanty blush with embarrassment. As he would tell you, falling through the air was the worst part, especially when the net wasn’t set up, without even a safety mat beneath them. Luna screamed his name, the scratching he heard through the whistling in his ears evidence to her attempts to tear herself free from her bar. It was too little, too late. He landed on his prosthetic and screamed as it pierced into his skin. “[i]Doll![/i]” Luna cried again, her shadow looming over him as she swooped towards the ground. Her face was a blur through pained tears, and her voice was little more than a whisper through the ringing in his ears. He coughed through the agony and managed a small, spindly grin. “That’s my name.” She growled at him. By gently gripping onto his good arm, she helped him sit up. His prosthetic, from what he could spy, had pierced through the skin upon impact. Blood oozed from injuries he could barely see. It didn’t help that each time his now-broken prosthetic jerked from destroyed mechanics, the pain got worse. It grew almost like his irritation that day twelve years ago. Luna—bright, big Luna—eventually got help after checking his wounds, screaming for it as if someone had been murdered. In a way, Doll supposed he could’ve been. He’d been warned by many, including Tobias and Nova, that falling on his prosthetic could be scarring and 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 Chipscale. He grinned despite the danger looming over him. In fact, he smiled [i]because[/i] of said danger. [i]I’m in for a lotta screamin’.[/i] “What were you thinking?” Nova hissed, crouching down at his right to look at the damage. “You knew we warned you against this!” “Calm it, I’m still alive—” “Let Nova speak,” Chip said, fingering his way through vials. Unlike his usual state, emotionless held in his face and nothing sparked in his soft, oval eyes. That was never a good sign. “Yes, let me speak.” She took a deep breath and tugged gently on the prosthetic. In order to keep a scrap his dignity, he grunted and did no more. “We told you—[i]Walter[/i] told you —repeatedly to get a new prosthetic. You declined. Now you can see just [i]why[/i] we warned you.” Doll noticed the ringmaster’s lack of presence at his side as Nova continued finished her rant and looked around. He spotted him stood by the entrance to the tent, his face riddled with all different kinds of emotion. Sympathy, as well as anguish and disappointment pulled his face into a gentle frown. Doll almost felt ashamed of himself. For the longest time, Walter had been remarkable at making others feel something other than indifference, even when he said nothing or stood in the shadows of a performance. That hadn’t changed in the slightest. “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?” “Come with me, please. He’ll probably need a vial or four.” “Where we goin’?” he slurred, tempted to fall back onto the ground. Nova grunted with irritation and let them haul him onto unsteady feet. “The prosthetic’s pierced the skin just above his collarbone and under his arm. If you follow me, I’ll get a scalpel and see what little I can get done at the caravan.” [i]Oh, boy. Doctor’s visit![/i] 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 drunken want to irritate the others, did just that. [center]*[/center] A blinding light shone on him when he came to. It took whatever dregs of effort he had left to stop himself from diving under the duvet. He’d never had a proper look at Nova’s place of work before—you could call it a surgical station, though she still awaited a new, much larger caravan for her work—and so he took in his surroundings. Underneath him was a bed of colourful proportions; red, yellow, blue and more covered the blanket and pillow he laid on. He found himself separated from the world by a curtain with odd shapes and colours on it, the light throwing them into the colours of his blanket. The lamp itself had a mixture of reds and yellows on its shade. It gave him the warm feeling that this was all to comfort a child, and that the Circus’s own artist had a hand in its design. Soft padding came from the other side of his curtain, accompanied by a small silhouette. From his side, Doll couldn’t tell who it was. The mumbling didn’t help, nor did the blinding pain that sprang to life in his shoulder as soon as he moved. A 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, the silhouette coming towards him. 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 the sweetest sixteen-year-old of the Circus, he was terrifying when he was angry. Doll was certain he’d inherited it—his ability for anger—from his Pa, Vladimir; the squint and hardness in their Wind heritage eyes were identical, alongside the stiff frowns and the crinkling of their noses. He didn’t stick around long enough to hear his building apology. As soon as Nova entered the picture, coming from a room beyond his point of view with bandages and cotton buds, he moved aside to sit down beside his fathers. One of them snoozed on the other. Vladimir, being awake, tapped at his leg, his fluffy tail end swishing and picking up dirt and dust. Walter merely slept, his head on his husband’s shoulder and soft snores emanating from him. 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, numbskull?” 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 of an arm 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 Doll growled in frustration, Vladimir overheard and gently nudged his husband. Walter sat up within seconds 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 light-hearted 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. The flare of his feathery wings almost hit his Pa in the face. “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 growled, swatted him away and stormed towards the exit of the caravan. It was evident that both of his dads thought the same that Doll did about the young males. Doll noticed that he got his lack of embarrassment capacity from his Dad and almost chuckled. It took Walter two days for the flush in his cheeks to die down. “I’ll see you tomorrow, munchkin!” Walter called after him, smiling softly as his son when he stopped in the doorway. Torny, it seemed, must have gestured something from the other side of the door, for when it closed, he burst out laughing. Vladimir came up behind his husband and prodded him in the shoulder. Walter frowned at him. “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 anger hardened in his gaze also dimmed, which he supposed was a good thing. Walter, however, looked heavily disappointed in him. He supposed 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, [i]why[/i] you didn’t come get me about the net? I never had the chance to ask Luna before she went back home feeling sick.” “Didn’t think of it,” he choked out, steeling himself for the prick of the needle that was his painkiller. “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’?” “Yes. 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 may have only just bought a new net but I’d prefer it if you wait an hour for us to set it up properly than put yourselves at risk.” “We will.” “Onto other matters,” Vladimir jumped in, arms crossed and eyelids heavy. The poor thing looked too tired to be awake. “Why did you try to practice with a broken prosthetic?” Doll growled at him. “It ain’t broken!” Walter’s husband hissed back at him, “It [i]is[/i] 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 [i]last time[/i] we had a net to save you.” “It ain’t broken, aight?” Vladimir threw his paws up into the air with a snarl and stalked to the other end of the caravan. Nova followed him, patting his shoulder as she went by to get back to that room she came out of. It seemed he was 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 huffed 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 pain-fuelled 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. Soon enough he was staring into the achingly similar eyes of Vladimir, except with red dousing his misty green. “I want to know because I can’t have a liability in my circus.” “Why ya callin’ me a liability?” “I’m calling you a [i]danger[/i].” 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.” “Fine. I ain’t gonna use it.” He raised his eyebrows 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 ‘ave 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 meself.” “No, Doll,” Vladimir said, standing before him. A wall with magic at the tips of his digits. “You’re going to rest.” “I’m gonna get my prosthetic back—” Swaying slightly on his feet, he used the reserves of his energy to harden his gaze, risking being frozen by magic once again. “—since no one else is gonna.” 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 as he walked. 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. The cold bit into his paw, anchoring him to reality. As he panted, he only just heard Vladimir’s question. “Why’s that prosthetic so important to you, Doll?” “What 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 with his tail. “Sit down, we don’t want you to fall over.” “Why’m I so dizzy?” “You lost blood,” Nova called from the other 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 obeying before he could physically protest, letting out a groan. The frosty metal of the backrest nipped through the bandages on his shoulder and stroked his stiff wings with its frozen paws. It soothed him to feel something other than pain. “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 swear to 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 wearing it? “Doll—” “I already said I ain’t gonna use it,” he snapped, irritation boiling his blood. Vladimir sighed. Sitting on the floor, he rubbed at his face until his scar turned a soft pink. “I know, but surely you can’t blame me for making sure. We’ll get you a brand new one—” “I don’t wanna forget what Munich did fa’ me, so ya better lemme keep 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. “What about her? Has something happened?” [i]Damn it.[/i] “Ya don’t need to know.” “Doll—” “Look,” he snarled, shooting to his feet. It took every inch of his being to stop his knees from giving out. “Just gemme a new one. Ya don’t need t’know what ‘appened or why, just as long as I ger’it back.” Vladimir, for once, looked stunned. Doll supposed it was merely exhaustion, and 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 room sat broken beside a pail, with a snapped handle and shattered glass case. It looked strange to see a broken item in a doctor’s place of work. [i]Must be recent.[/i] “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. Gripping onto the ringleader’s wrist, he whispered, “What about my old’un? Am I gonna ger’it back?” Walter smiled at him. “We’ll get it dusted off and fixed up for a display case, but please, Doll... don’t use it again. I’m sure Munich would hate you if you got hurt because of your stubbornness.”  -3- Munich, in his portrait of her, looked happy for once in her life. She had a bright smile on her face in a crystal-white gown that swept the floor. It wasn’t like her to wear dresses, 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; [i]I bet ya’re surprised, ain’t ya? Never expected to get married meself![/i] It was dated back to a few months ago, with creases lining the portrait from how many times he’d folded it. In the corner sat a tiny message written in his own messy handwriting and dark pink ink, one he’d hoped she’d read; [i]Ya better have saved me some cake![/i] Doll finally admitted, through a blur of tears and a shaking voice earlier that week, that she had been right. He’d been shocked for a few weeks before finally sending her a regretful letter about her wedding. [i]I can’t go, I’m afraid. I’ll make sure to see ya when I can![/i] Sure, he had a performance on that day so there wasn’t much he could do, but he’d still had hope to see her at some point to have a private celebration over her newfound marriage. Perhaps he would’ve retired, even at his relatively young age of early-forties, and gone back to her and her would-be family with a pouch full of coin a year or two from now. Now, it wasn’t meant to be. He now had no one to go back to. With trembling digits, he folded the portrait up again 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 as soon as possible. They went so far as taking Tobias and Gulliver along with them to assess just how good they really were while Doll recovered. 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, shuddering 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’s ex was in the crowd just beyond the backstage area. He didn’t like that, hated it even more when he’d spotted Rowan sat with someone new already, nuzzling her and making her laugh. A paw rubbed his shoulder. Her claws were a glittery purple with orange highlights under the torchlight, her 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. He turned to face her, only to see her 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 sighed and let it drop. Luna peeked through the entrance towards the ring at the Guardian. 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 Rowan’s. He hoped that he didn’t see the resigned stature, or the flushed cheeks of anger. In order to perform, he had to look composed. He supposed he wasn’t doing a good job of that so far. “You two ready?” Vladimir asked from the other side, peering through the flap. He was designated as Doll’s board helper 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 new safety net was in place, a disguised mat beneath it to further soften their fall. The ladder was also steadier this time around, having been nailed to the post that the board hung before. Vladimir let Doll make his way up first, following soon after to unhook the fly bar and get it ready. 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 comfortable as well, especially for Luna; the poor girl ended up with wood burns and cuts on the backs of her legs from scratching her way out of her catch bar. Across from him, Solomon kept the 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 aerial 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. How, he never knew, though he suspected it was with Vladimir’s help. 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. A light shone on her as soon as she appeared. 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 light, 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 forwards and backwards. By the time she’d reached the peak of her second swing, Luna tucked her legs between the apron and the catch bar. Her wink was his signal. 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 [i]ooh[/i]s and [i]ahh[/i]s 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 kicked out at the peak of his swing 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 deep breath and a “hup!” he landed safely in the clutches of Luna. The audience’s gasps echoed around the main tent. Doll caught the eyes of many as soon as he was caught, though he couldn’t help but focus on Rowan, who eyed him with a resigned glimmer of recognition. He tore his gaze away quickly. Focusing on the show become his main priority. As well as showing his lovely audience a good time, of course. Luna flung him up towards the flyer’s bar that came towards them. His heart skipped a beat as soon as she let go of him. 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 blanketed his anxiety; a typical performer’s tactic. You couldn’t let yourself get worked up. Twisting, he reached towards the bar with near desperation disguised with a smoothness he couldn’t feel. 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. [i]Nothin’ too complicated[/i], he told himself, dusting excess chalk off his paw. Of course, he was right about that. Leaping off to get his trick done, he revised what he would do in his head despite not needing to. At the lowering of his second swing, he brought his legs up under the flyer’s bar and swung them over so that he balanced on the bar by the sheer strength of his legs alone. 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 flew backwards through the air. He caught the cautious eye of Vladimir, who raised his eyebrow at his sneaky smirk. All he did was wink at him. [i]I’ll be fine[/i], he hoped Vladimir saw in his eyes. [i]Maybe[/i] was the part that he 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 was one they’d done before during practice, however they hadn’t planned on doing it today. [i]Oh well. What’s a little adrenaline for a performance?[/i] Without thinking, Doll flung his body upwards just as Luna stretched out her arms. His legs came away from the bar and straightened 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. The crowd loved it, applauding him and the risk he’d taken. “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 giddy grin. Vladimir shook 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 pouted. “Ya won’t see anythin’ new now, aight?” Vladimir smiled at him. “Good, now get going. We’ve got another act coming up.” He was tempted, in his overwhelming 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 the fire performer. So, off he leapt, grinning wildly on the way down. Luna knew of his next trick; it was called a full twist, in official terminology. Doll 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 what it meant. 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; [i]The Pastel Acrobats![/i] “I like that!” Doll cried to his catcher, swinging his legs upward to give them a bit of a boost. “’Ow about we become [i]The Pastel Acrobats?[/i]” “We’ll talk about it later!” With a wide smile, he was back on the board within seconds, revelling in the crazy cheers of his adoring audience with a low bow, then leaped off for a final time. He didn’t want to leave, but considering how Vladimir had an aura of anxiety floating around him as he readied to hook the bar back up to the Ropes, Doll had to hurry it up. On the peak of his first swing, he tucked his legs against his body and slipped one between him and 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. ------------------- [center]The rest didn't fit, so it's below![/center][/quote]

[quote=Doll 2]At Luna’s nod, he 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. [i]Now’s the fun bit[/i], he thought with an overtone of excitement. Luna felt the same, guessing by the early loosening of her grip on him. His catcher flung him into the open space. He flew up through the air with a whoop, catching Luna’s gaze only momentarily as he began to fall. “See you down there,” Luna exclaimed over the loud cheering. Doll beamed, cartwheeling, twisting, through the air until he landed on his back on the net. One would think it wouldn’t throw him back up too far, but they’d be wrong. Shatterskull Circus’s recently-purchased engineered net was much springier than their last, giving the performers who used it much more fun and risk to work with. The fun always outweighed the danger. It was why being an acrobat was so fun. It took a few flips 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 deserved it after scaring his poor partner. 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 gripped the side of the net and flipped himself onto the ring floor. Before he had a chance to think, he 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, bouncing towards the exit and waving goodbye to the lovely public. “You two were brilliant!” Lady Jack cried, leaping at Doll for a hug as soon as he entered the backstage area. “That was so [i]good![/i]” He swung her round and laughed. The infinite feeling of freedom and joy flooded him from head to toe, and momentarily, he forgot about Rowan, about his aching shoulder, about the scare Luna had. Words failed him. The adrenaline was still seeping from him when he let Jack go, 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 that I could’a done all that without’cha?” Luna giggled, holding him at arm’s length. “Do you want to go get some food? I’m [i]starving[/i].” 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. You did amazingly.” His catcher spun around in a circle, her silks flaring out in her excitement. “I’m tempted to eat the entire buffet,” she said when she stopped, stumbling over her own feet as she adjusted. “I wouldn’t recommend that,” their ringleader snickered. “We don’t want you getting stomach ache.” Doll grabbed her paw and hauled her towards the exit, just as Walter called, “I want you both back for the end, though!” “We will,” he cried, leading his partner away by the paw. As one would tell by the glint in his eyes, he was desperate for some of Julienne’s signature beef salad; [i]Julie’s Leafy Delight.[/i] It was his favourite meal out of everything she prepared for them in the large, rectangular tent at the end of their plot of land. “Wait.” The pair of acrobats stopped in their tracks, their giggling dying instantaneously. Doll was the first to give in to faint curiosity. He turned slowly, his paw still clasped over Luna’s, to spy Rowan; the Guardian with the build of an Imperial and the temper of a Mirror. A growl grew in his throat, and it took too much effort to kill it. As much as Munich had loved him, Doll never felt safe around him. “That was a lovely performance,” he said, a smile playing at his lips. “I must say, I didn’t expect much from a circus, but Shatterskull really is something else.” “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Luna growled at his side. “Indeed.” His Lightning-shot gaze landed on Doll. If he wasn’t so stubborn, he would’ve squirmed. “Who’s this lovely lady?” “Ya don’t recognise me?” Doll snarled, crossing his arms. “Doll, the brother of your ex? Or have ya forgotten about ‘er so soon?” His act to irritate him quickly fell apart. One would think he was being playful; Doll didn’t. Even if Rowan wasn’t his best mate, never was for that fact, it was evident that the male cared deeply for Munich, if not loved her as much as he did before her death. That wasn’t so much the case now, he’d bet money on it, even if to bring her up was condemning him to well-deserved pain. “Did you hear about her death?” “She was like my little sister. Of [I]course[/i] I ‘eard.” “Right.” Doll huffed. “If ya don’t mind, I’m ‘ungry, so can ya hurry this up?” Rowan nodded as he said, “I just wanted to tell you it was a brilliant performance, and ask if…” He took a deep breath and, for once in the entire time he’d spied Rowan from across a room or at Munich’s side, his eyes held a nervous glint. “And ask if you hate me for breaking up with her.” As much as he was tempted, a reassuring squeeze from Luna stopped him. “I ain’t gonna answer that.” “So it’s a yes.” Luna coughed to snag his attention and gestured towards the mess hall. He knew it was to get the debate to end, and to calm him down before the end of the performance. “Let’s go get something to eat.” Doll nodded, sparing Rowan one last glare before he turned and left. He hadn’t realised he’d balled his Starfall Celebration cloak in his fist, and quickly let it go, just like he would with that conversation. He kept telling himself one thing as he left the Guardian behind; as far as he was concerned, he didn’t care about what Rowan did, or what he thought of him. At least in her death, he couldn’t hurt his little sister anymore. He was grateful for that fact. [right][size=1][i]Made by Ozie in "[URL=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/art/2371542]Ozie's Lore Shop![/URL]"[/i][/size][/right][/quote]

@Ozie This is very enjoyable to read! Do you do uhhhh... horror?

@StarsAndMoon can't say I've ever done it but I'm willing to give it a go!

@Ozie I hope you open soon! I am very excited.

@Ozie I'M CRY It makes me so happy to hear that you're getting into circuses too! And you described the acrobatics so well! I'm extremely impressed -w- I'm actually going to see cirque du soleil early next year for the first time and this really got me into the mood for it. Oh and so sorry for the late(ish) comment, I've been reading it during breaks helping set up and plan my brother's wedding, so thank you so much for something fantastic to read and enjoy [emoji=coatl love size=1][emoji=coatl love size=1] it was amazing as always!!

@Blueberrypodoboo
It's fine, I don't mind when you reply as long as you like it! I hope you enjoy your visit to Cirque, by the way. I've seen multiple mini performances of theirs on YouTube like snippets of Kurios and it looks so good!