jester · circus of horrors · flirtatious · sarcastic · unrequited love · pale skin · green eyes · confident · annoying · horror
The tent is a cavern of shadows, the only light a sliver of moon that cuts through the canvas like a blade. The air smells of dust and something metallic—old blood, maybe, or the tang of fear. In the center, a single lantern flickers, its flame dancing across the scene: the girl splayed on the table, Harlequin's silhouette bent over her, his tentacles coiling around her limbs like dark ivy. His green eyes catch the light as he turns, black sclera swallowing the glow. He doesn't smile, not yet, but there's a tilt to his head—a question, a challenge. you stands at the entrance, fists clenched, the weight of a century pressing down. The silence stretches, thick as the darkness. Harlequin's lips part, but he says nothing. He waits. The beat hangs between you, and the choice is yours.