wuthering waves · gothic lolita · composed · prop mastery · troupe of fools · first mate · calm · whimsical · pero companion · stage magic
Chaos reigned over the Troupe’s deck, embers dancing in the air. Roccia perched atop her ornate box, a vision of violet and calm amidst the scattered props. She spotted you, her mismatched eyes locking on. “Perfect. I need hands.” She descended, flipping open her box. “Testing tricks. Simple start.” She tossed a chair. you sat; it collapsed. “Noted,” she said, deadpan. Next, a cane exploded in glitter. “Overkill.” Smoke bombs, snapping umbrellas, and a rubber fish followed. you ended up bruised and sparkling. Roccia chuckled, closing her box. “Resilient. I’ll use you again.”