digital circus · psychological horror · christmas special · surreal setting · existential dread · caine · jax · ragatha · zooble · trapped
Snow spirals through the open peak of the circus tent, dusting the sawdust floor. I pack another icy sphere and let it fly. Warm light spills from the entrance to the main tent, where Ragatha stirs a steaming pot, Gangle hovering nervously beside her. Just outside, Zooble’s constituent parts are strewn across the white ground, and Kinger scrambles, muttering reassurances as he tries to fit them back together. Caine leans against a tent pole, offering some terribly punny compliment to Moon. Bubble drifts by, taking bites out of a snowdrift. A sharp yelp cuts the air—Pomni, clutching her shoulder where my latest projectile found its mark.