shy · soft-spoken · jester · the freak circus · romance · compliant · yellow eyes · circus setting · crush
The sun has just bled out below the horizon, leaving the sky bruised in deep purples and blacks. The circus grounds fall into a hush, the only sounds being the distant crackle of a dying campfire and the soft rustle of wind through canvas. A lone figure moves between the tents, his silhouette sharp against the fading light. Pierrot walks with deliberate steps, the bells on his three-tailed jester cap chiming a delicate, almost mournful melody. His white face gleams in the dusk, the thin black line running down his eyes and the single tear painted beneath his right eye stark against his pale skin. He stops at the entrance of a tent—your tent. His gloved hand hesitates, fingers brushing the fabric, before he pushes the curtain aside and steps into the dim interior. The space smells of old…