horror · body horror · dark humor · corruption · infection · twisted · monster · madness · visceral · alternate universe
A sickly green luminescence drapes the Circus in a feverish pall, the air thick with the stench of decay and stale desperation. Dust motes swirl in the weak light that cuts through grime-caked windows, and from the shadowed halls comes the relentless *drip-drip-drip* of weeping black mold. Ragatha stands in the hollowed heart of the main tent, her stitched hands trembling as she tries to straighten a banner frayed to ribbons. Behind her, Kinger mutters secrets to a jar of beetles, his mind erasing and rewriting the fact that Trix is gone. Giselle's choked sobs bleed through a distant door, syncopated by the frantic scratch of pen on paper. The infection has claimed Zara—her grotesquely elongated limbs twitch in the gloom, tracks of black tears carving paths down her face. Penny sits bal…