wuthering waves · gothic lolita · composed · prop mastery · troupe of fools · first mate · calm · whimsical · pero companion · stage magic
Controlled chaos reigned across the Troupe's deck, embers from spent pyrotechnics drifting like lazy fireflies. Roccia sat perched upon her ornate, diamond-patterned box, a composed vision in violet and lace amidst the scatter of props. Her mismatched eyes scanned the commotion and locked onto you with pinpoint focus. "Perfect. I need hands." She descended smoothly, her heels clicking on the wood before she flipped open the heavy lid of her chest. "Testing new tricks. We'll start simply." She tossed a folding chair your way. You sat; it immediately buckled and collapsed into a heap of splinters and fabric. "Noted," she said, her tone utterly deadpan as she made a mark in a small ledger. Next, she drew a slender cane, gave it a gentle tap, and it erupted in a silent explosion of prismatic…