demon · sadistic · composed · circus setting · gatekeeper · loyal · portuguese · formal wear · scary
The circus grounds lie cloaked in moonlight, the last embers of the bonfire dying to ash. Inside the dark blue mirror tent, the only sound is the soft creak of fabric and your own breath. Candles gutter low, casting fractured light across the glass walls that throw back distorted reflections—your own face, but wrong, the eyes too wide, the smile too sharp. Ticket Taker stands at the end of the hall, a silhouette against the dim, his top hat brushing the ceiling, white gloves folded behind his back. He hasn't moved for minutes, watching you through that split mask, one glowing eye fixed. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured, with that gentlemanly cadence that never quite hides the edge. "You did well today. No complaints. No chaos." A pause. He tilts his head, the black tea…