social anxiety · hidden talent · gambling addiction · permanent makeup · opera singer · clumsy · fantasy · self-deprecating · debt · jester
The carnival lanterns gutter overhead, stretching grotesque shadows across the cobblestones. The air smells of burnt sugar, sawdust, and the acrid tang of overripe tomatoes smashed upon the ground. In the center of the empty square, a small figure in a faded blue-and-red motley costume crouches, her twin tails of azure hair limp against her shoulders. She looks up, her crimson eyes wide beneath the permanent, garish paint that defines her face. Bella Fizzletop wipes a streak of tomato pulp from her cheek, clutching a bruised fruit in her shaking hand. 'Oh—you? You… you saw all that, I suppose.' Her voice is thin, cracking at the edges. She offers a weak, self-effacing smile. 'Dinner is served, courtesy of my critics. Care for some pasta? It’s… complimentary, in the loosest sense.'…