Chapter Text
Adelina:
🎩: Adelina took great pride in her appearance. She always ensured that every hair was exactly where it needed to be, slicked back with gel and woven into a tight braid that pulled almost painfully at the skin of her scalp. They didn’t mind the slight ache, though; her kin weren’t able to feel discomfort the same way humans did. She would triple-check her attire before she left her wagon just to verify there was not a single wrinkle visible to the naked eye, and she regularly made sure that her boots shimmered like stars under the stagelight after she shined them for the nth time (she’s almost neurotic when it comes to every aspect of her image). After all, they had a reputation to maintain, and they couldn’t have a single part of their image amiss, lest it ruin the facade they had worked so hard to develop. They had to have every aspect of their life organized to the very last detail, or else it would not be acceptable. Everyone around her needed to believe that she was perfect – that she couldn’t make a single mistake... She needed to seem untouchable and unreachable to keep most people from trying to interact with her. It wasn’t necessarily because she wanted to be alone, no, but it was for the betterment of everyone if she was. If she were alone, then everyone would be safe, including herself.
🎩: It was right before a show one night when you suddenly called out to her while she straightened her tophat and secured the whip to the belt that was secured at her hip. Odd, they thought, weren’t you also meant to be preparing for the show? She had turned around to ask what was wrong when you suddenly reached forward without thinking, adjusting the ruffled collar of her shirt before pulling away and wishing her luck in tonight’s act…Beneath the mask she wore, you couldn’t see the subtle widening of her eyes, and you certainly didn’t notice the way her gloved hand twitched when your fingertips brushed against her neck. Adelina was not one for physical affection; they never had been, but then you had to come along and throw everything they had ever experienced for a loop (a part of them hated you for it). After taking a second to reel back the strange emotions bubbling inside of her, she performed that night without a hitch, but that was to be expected. Adelina never made mistakes, and they would continue to make sure that they never did. A simple brush of your fingertips against their neck wasn’t enough to make them become a flustered mess, anyway – they weren’t Benedict.
🎩: However, she finds herself thinking about that moment alone in her wagon, her hand lingering where yours had reached out to aid her… her fingertips grazing the exact place where yours had touched her. Usually late at night, while the rest of the circus slept, she helped Galen with completing paperwork and documentation needed for the next town the circus would be traveling to, but tonight, she finds herself unable to focus on a single task on her list. They cannot help but curse you silently, simultaneously wishing you would explode where you stood, but also being grateful you had caught something they uncharacteristically seemed to miss. They just lay atop their neatly-made bed, their mind thinking back to that moment that was most likely so insignificant to you, but one that had made a far greater impact on them than they would like to admit. With a sigh, she heads to her desk, hoping that she would be able to get something of significance done tonight. Though, with the way her mind was working, the likelihood of that was low…
🎩: The next day, they search the circus head-to-toe looking for you, a strange feeling in their body that made their bones vibrate – they still weren’t very good at identifying their emotions, even though you’ve been helping them expand their vocabulary for such things the past however many months since your fateful first meeting. Eventually, they find you helping a few other workers prepare the big top for the evening performance, watching you for a moment before eventually making her way over to where you were kneeling in the dirt. When Adelina comes to ask you to follow her, she is stiff. Her posture is impossibly straight, and her shoulders are pushed back as far as one could get them. However, from the flyaway hairs that shot out of their braid like sprouts, you had a feeling something was up. The other members eye her curiously before she asks if you were free to talk, which you respond by saying you could take a short break (after making sure your coworkers could handle the task at hand, that is). Once you two were away from the other members, tucked into an empty corner of the tent, Adelina thanked you for fixing their collar the night before. Her words are sincere, even if they do sound a bit awkward coming from her mouth, but Adelina has always had an air of reservation about her. That wasn’t something that would ever change. You notice the way her clawed hands dig almost anxiously into the fabric of her pants before she coughs into her fist, averting her gaze from yours.
“Apologies for pulling you away from your work, but I must… thank you for your assistance last night. Your kind gesture has been at the forefront of my mind since then, and I needed to inform you as soon as possible that your aid was much appreciated. I always try to ensure I look my best, so… thank you, again, for catching something that seemingly slipped my attention. I would like to treat you to a meal to show my gratitude, so please, choose wherever you would like.”
Benedict:
🤡: Benedict, despite his attempts to be as put-together as Adelina or naturally fashionable like Clementine, always had a hard time when it came to making sure he looked relatively put-together. He wore clothes that showcased their wear-and-tear with everything he owned either adorned with patches that were scattered across the expanse of fabric or whimsically-embroidered patterns he sewed to mend any holes. They enjoyed their wardrobe greatly, though, and they took pride in their well-loved sweaters and jeans that still had grass stains on the knees from rolling around in nearby fields. As long as he put the effort into his appearance during shows or when working with the public while on the clock, everything was dandy (he would never do anything to potentially put the circus’s reputation at risk). However, when it came to his performance attire, sometimes he had a difficult time getting everything where they needed to be. Usually, Adelina or Clementine were able to give him a hand, but he had no clue where they were… He almost started panicking, unable to tie his bow properly as his fingers shook with sudden anxiety when, like an angel descending from heaven, you appeared.
🤡: You motioned for him to lean down so you could tie the ribbon around his neck into a neat bow, and the way that your fingers brush against his neck has his heart racing and his body heating up almost embarrassingly quickly. After all, for humans, the neck was one of the most vulnerable parts of them, and here you were, touching his like it was nothing (he wanted to touch yours, too, but you didn’t need any help with your attire). Then, with a smile and a supportive pat on the shoulder, you leave him where he was standing impossibly still so you could check and see if any of the other performers needed help before the show. Benedict can’t help but stare at you walking away breathless in a state of awe. As soon as you turned away, they immediately covered their face with their hands, almost as though they were afraid the color that painted their cheeks would be able to bleed through the mask they always wore. The moment just reminded them of a scene from one of their favorite romance novels, and the way you were so nonchalant with it?? He had no idea you could be so suave, and it had his heart pounding! Honestly, despite doing his best, he has a difficult time focusing on that evening’s performance, making a few mistakes here and there. Thankfully, the crowd thought they were purposeful, roaring in laughter whenever he messed up juggling the pins. Sometimes, he was very happy that he was a simple clown and not something with more extravagance.
🤡: Once the show was over, he could not help the way his heart beat rapidly inside his chest, almost as if it was trying to break free from the cage his ribs formed around it. He needed to see you again as soon as he possibly could, hoping that you would allow him to be selfish for a brief moment. It doesn’t matter what kind of relationship the two of you have – whether it be platonic, romantic, or something in between – Benedict is the kind of person who is starved for attention and touch. So, as soon as everything wraps up, he’s immediately on the hunt for you. It’s not hard to find you, and sometimes you wonder if they have some kind of way they have some kind of inhuman ability to track you down. In a way, though, it made sense. Benedict was a predator, whether he liked it or not, but in those moments where he craved your attention like a drug, it made getting his fix of you a lot easier. So, in an impossibly gentle voice, he asks if you would be willing to help him once more. He had to wear a lot of different layers for his performance, after all – could you spare some time to aid him? They were so, so tired after tonight, they barely had the energy to do it themselves (lies… they don’t even get tired).
🤡: If you agree to help, he’ll be as happy as a lark, trying not to explode the way your hands carefully removed the tie from his neck or the way your fingers unbuttoned his shirt. It’s an innocent touch, one filled with love and care, but they cannot help but wish to be closer to you. After all, you were the only one who knew what he truly was, and yet, you stayed. At pretty much every show after this moment, Benedict finds some thinly-veiled excuse to request your assistance when he’s getting ready for his performance. All of a sudden, his hat is refusing to sit atop his head – would you be so kind as to give him a hand? Oh, his usually deft hands are trembling despite him never once feeling anxious before a show… could you help him make sure all of the bells that hung from his attire were properly fastened? He knows it’s ridiculous that he invents these situations just to ask you specifically to help him – he knows you would help him even if there wasn’t an excuse as to why he couldn’t do it himself – but, at least for now, he’s not ready to admit how selfishly he craves your touch.
“Oh dear! It seems as though I am having a tremendously difficult time tying my bow again! My poor fingers must be shaking from nerves. If only I had someone nearby who would be able to aid me… Ah! Hello there, my dear, what perfect timing! Thank you for coming to my aid once more! I am having some difficulty with my tie again... Oh, I feel horrible having to ask this of you, but would you be able to help me with it once more? I apologize for the inconvenience…”
Clementine:
💬: Unlike Adelina, who would check multiple times to ensure she looked perfect in nearly every sense of the word, or Benedict, who tended to be a bit lax when it came to his appearance, Clementine never struggled with the way they looked or cared much about how others viewed them. They didn’t feel the need to look perfect, nor did they want to make a statement; they just wanted to feel comfortable in their own skin, so they chose clothing that helped them achieve that. Things simply fell into place without any issue every time they styled their hair differently or decided to try on a new outfit – they didn’t need to put in as much effort the same way their fellow performers did, and it was something they were grateful for. They already had so many things that raced through their mind, the last thing they needed was something else they had to fuss over. Another aspect of their appearance that they particularly liked was their shorter hair, especially on days when it was particularly windy. They didn’t have to worry about anything blowing in front of their eyes, or needing to excuse themselves in order to tame any flyaway hairs… That day, however, as everyone was preparing for the show in the evening, the wind was harsher than Clementine had ever remembered it being before; their eyes squeezed shut behind their mask as it blew against their face.
💬: It was hard to work in such conditions, but such was life. They simply sucked it up and continued to aid in preparing the tent for the performance. That was, however, until you called out their name. They hum in response and turn to look at you, not having a single moment to comprehend what was happening as your hand suddenly reaches out to fix the bow in their hair. It seemed as though the wind had nearly caused the ribbon to become loose, so you clipped it back onto their locks exactly where it needed to be. Your fingertips brushing against their hair was so soft and gentle… Their breath hitches in their chest, and their eyes become impossibly large underneath the protection of their mask (they were thankful every day no one could see the expressions plastered across their face). They pull away from your touch like a bolt of lightning, and before you can rear your hand back to apologize for startling them, they grab your wrist with a bit too much force and drag you underneath the bleachers of the big top. Their mind was spinning, and their heart was racing. They didn’t like this feeling, and they turned you around as their hands grasped at your shoulders, their nails digging into your clothing.
💬: Their immediate reaction to the situation is to scold you. If there was something wrong with their bow, you should have just told them and they would have been perfectly happy to fix it themself. It’s painful for them whenever you do something like this – when you show them some kind of gentleness, when you show them you care about them... That deep-seated hunger that resides within them and their kin makes it harder to not devour you whole, to absorb you into their being while the world around marches forward as if you never had existed in the first place. They want to consume you, but at the same time, they want you here with them. They want you to watch them perform, they want to hear your laugh or the sound of your breathing when you fall asleep watching the stars together. They tell you as much, their voice much deeper than usual, before they quickly pull away as if you had burned them. Their arms cross over their chest, one hand nervously playing with the strands of hair that hung down and framed their face. One day, you were going to be the death of them… or rather, they would be the death of you.
💬: Even after the mild scolding you received, they can’t bring themselves to be angry at you. Their mind flipped between hating your touch and craving it more than anything else in this world. They craved your warmth, and yet, they flinched away as if it had burned them whenever you attempted to share it… Their hair almost tingles from where you had touched them, and they reach up to run their fingers through the strands, hoping that it would make the sensation fade. The two of you jolt when you hear one of the other performers call your names, and you realize that you two had practically just disappeared without a word. With a slight huff, Clementine tells you that if you notice anything that needs fixing on their person to let them know… or at least announce that you were planning on touching them in some manner. Before the two of you head back out from the make-shift private space underneath the bleachers, they notice how downtrodden you seem, and they can’t help but feel a bit guilty, even if what they were telling you was for your overall safety. So, before the two of you return to your duties, they reach out to smooth down your wind-blown hair, their cheeks burning bright red beneath their mask. If you attempt to tease them for this, they’re just going to camp out in their wagon for a few days to avoid you – their heart can’t handle it.
“Y-You, why did–... Are you trying to kill me?? …No, I’m not – I’m not mad, I just… I wasn’t expecting you to, you know… touch me. It wasn’t a bad touch, but I just–... I’m not used to it, you know that, and it just – it caught me off-guard, is all… Do I want you to do it again? D-Do you hear how ridiculous you sound!? You know how I get when you get too close, and I don’t want to… I think I need to be alone for a little bit. I’ll, umm… I-I’ll see you later.”
Dartois:
🔪: Dartois didn’t care much about whether or not they looked “good.” If he liked the way he looked, he was happy – besides, the opinions of random humans weren’t able to sway him. If someone found his piercings gaudy? Well, that was too bad, and he thought they were missing out on how fun it was to get one. How about if someone didn’t like the way he styled his hair? Clearly, those people were just stuck in the past and needed to get with the times; dyed hair wasn’t anything groundbreaking. What if someone had a nasty comment to say about one of the many tattoos that littered his flesh that he himself drew into his skin? It simply went in one ear and came out the other; there were plenty of humans who had tattoos, some with whole sleeves or intricate, inked designs that climbed all the way up their neck (it was on their bucket list to eventually have every single inch of their flesh adorned with some kind of illustration). Because of this, Dartois never really pays much mind to things being “out of place.” She wears whatever she wants, however she wants. So what if their shirt was inside out or their socks were mismatched? If it didn’t bother them, it certainly shouldn’t bother anyone else.
🔪: That day was the first time he had ever seen snow, and he found the sight both blinding and breathtaking. The way it floated down from the sky, like rain but not quite, had their eyes sparkling with wonder. They didn’t even have to think for a moment before they found themselves frolicking through the ankle-high blanket of white, tripping over their own feet before falling into the piles of fresh snow. Beneath her mask was a smile that stretched across the entire expanse of her face, warm breath causing puffs of fog to fill the air as it slipped past her lips. They hadn’t bothered changing out of their pajamas when they looked out the window of their wagon that morning and saw the sight, lying there in the show in a simple button-down shirt that reached their thighs. Then, he heard the approaching sound of footsteps crunching in the snow, opening his eyes once more to look up at you. Your nose was red, and your cheeks even more so despite not having been outside for more than a few moments. Then, when you cross your arms over your chest and ask him to put on some weather-appropriate clothes so he doesn’t freeze his ass off, he cannot help but chuckle. Only you would ever have the gall to talk to them like that, and yet, they didn’t mind. You were their savior, after all – they would do whatever you asked of them with a smile.
🔪: So, she stands up to follow you into your personal quarters at the circus while you dig around in the small dresser you had in your wagon, knowing for sure that Dartois didn’t have anything that was made for such cold temperatures. When you shove a pair of gloves into his hands, he puts them on without complaint, flexing his fingers a few times for good measure. Then, when you toss a fluffy coat at them, they immediately slip it on without a second thought… even if they didn’t particularly enjoy the sensation of such heavy clothing weighing them down. Though, when you come over and zip the coat up until it reaches their chin, then decide to wrap a scarf around their neck for good measure, they find it nearly impossible to breathe. You’re talking to them, they can hear your voice muffled in their ears, but they’re so focused on the warmth of your body and the feeling of your hands so close to their neck, their mind cannot make out a single thing you’re saying. Oh, how they wish they could just wrap you up in their arms and never let you go… Dartios was never one to fight off sudden urges or impulsive thoughts that crossed her mind, so she does just that, wrapping her arms firmly around your person and pulling you into her chest with a playful giggle.
🔪: After getting their fill of your body pressed against theirs, they finally go back outside to resume their exploration of such a new experience. You show them how to make snow angels, snowballs (which results in a battle between the two of you), and even a snowman, which they find to be quite amusing – it looks nothing like a human. Then, you’re both lying on the ground, breath heavy. You’d both have to start preparing for the show later tonight, but she didn’t care about that right now. She turns her head to look at you, and you do the same, reaching out to brush some snowflakes that had fallen into his hair. Ah, their heart skipped a beat again… They mirror your actions, a mischievous look in their eyes as their hands press against your head before rapidly, and perhaps a bit too harshly, messing up your slightly damp locks. He finds it funny when you let out a sound or protest, grabbing a handful of snow and blindly tossing it in his direction. Perhaps they needed to make it a habit to know what humans should be wearing in different weather conditions just so he could do the opposite – he enjoyed it when you were concerned about his wellbeing… His cute human.
“I don’t need all of this, you know – after all, I don’t get cold the same way you do, my lovely human~. Ah, my silly, silly human… I would be lying, though, if I said I didn’t enjoy the way you fuss over me like this. It’s funny, in a way, that you worry over something like me. Why is that, hmm? Surely you must have a reason…Oh? You simply care for me that deeply, do you? Hehe, you just made that thing in my chest do a little flip~... Make it do it again. I quite liked it~...”
Elliott:
💪🏾: Elliot didn’t care much for his appearance, typically finding it to be a waste of time. He didn’t need to buy intricate or eye-catching articles to wear, settling for the most bare-bones clothes one could imagine. Most of what was in his closet was bland and uninteresting – simple pieces that made it easier for him to blend into the background and aid him in being completely unnoticeable. The duller he looked, the better. He was what humans would probably call an ambush predator; though, he had to admit that he did like a good chase every now and again… That meant, however, he tended to have very little variety in his closet, resulting in most of his clothing being very well-worn. He didn’t care much about it, but sometimes his hole-ridden jackets and pants tended to catch attention, especially the ones covered in dirt and grass stains he didn’t care much about cleaning off. Such was life. Besides, what was the point in fussing over some dirty clothes when they would simply get dirty again? While he was a performer at night for the circus, he primarily did a lot of physically demanding work during the day due to his size and strength. He enjoyed the work, though, especially the way that the surrounding humans always found themselves in awe by the fact that he could move something that usually took three men all by himself; it was an ego-booster (not that he needed any more of that, as Adelina would probably say).
💪🏾: It was raining that day, but he didn’t mind. He had slept in the middle of the woods in worse weather than this, and besides, it’s not like the chill of the rain affected him the same way it would a human. His species was built to withstand pretty much anything, so getting a little wet wasn’t a big deal. He never understood why the others were so mindful about what they wore and when they wore it; if someone had a problem with what he decided to throw on that morning, they could simply tell him to his face their opinion. He didn’t think much about the weather, either, standing out in the rain as clumps of mud clung to his boot-clad feet while he watched as his co-workers went about setting everything up for the performances later in the week. Most of the employees were either clad in some kind of rain gear to protect themselves from the sudden storm or panicking as they attempted to flee somewhere the rain wasn’t able to touch them. Elliot can’t help but chuckle at that, finding the reactions of humans to something as harmless as water to be almost pathetic. Then, suddenly, he doesn’t feel the rhythmic tapping of droplets on his coat or hair anymore.
💪🏾: When he glances down, you’re standing there beside him, two umbrellas clasped tightly in your hands – ah, that’s why it stopped raining on him. Then, with a frown, you push one of the umbrellas into his hand, and he takes it from you with little resistance. He simply raises a questioning brow at you in response, yet you cannot see it under the mask he always wears. When your lips straighten out from the frown they had been adorned with, your fingers tentatively reach up, brushing a coiled strand of hair from his damp forehead. Well, that was bold of you – he can’t help but smirk, leaning down to your level to tease you a bit for having the audacity to touch him in such a familiar way. You simply roll your eyes and scoff at him, muttering under your breath that if he gets sick, it’ll be his fault (he doesn’t get sick, but he doesn’t correct you on it) before walking away to help your coworkers set up. As you leave, he finds himself focusing on the way his mind replays the sensation of your fingers brushing against his skin, and a pathetic part of himself wishes you would do it again. Maybe he could chase you down, put on an act to see if you would aid him, but you wouldn’t fall for that. Besides, unlike some of his kin that resided at the circus, he wasn’t going to stoop that low for your attention. He would simply get it in other ways.
💪🏾: The next time it’s raining, you were the one caught off-guard, not having an umbrella or raincoat handy. Then, when the rain suddenly stops beating down on you, you look up and see Elliott hovering over your crouched form, returning the favor from however many weeks ago the first rainy-day encounter was. Beneath his mask, he’s grinning, and then he reaches down to brush your damp hair from your forehead, his warm fingers lingering on your flesh as he mimics your previous actions. You bat his hand away with a huff, and he can’t help but laugh. He makes it a habit from then on out to pay attention to your hair and clothing, always doing something to get a reaction out of you – from fixing the collar of your shirt to zipping up your jacket to smoothing out your hair – he does it all to get some kind of rise out of you (no, it’s not because he cares or enjoys touching you, don’t be ridiculous). If you do the same for him, he doesn’t mind. If you feel the need to worry over him, he’s not going to tell you otherwise, even if he does find it to be a waste of your time.
“You lookin’ out fer me now, are ya? Hehe, how sweet of ya, acting as though I’m gonna start meltin’ if I get a little wet. Whenever you do things like that, it gives me the urge to gobble you right up… Hmm? Oh, come on, now, no need to give me that look – I ain’t actually gonna eat you, sweetheart. No need to get so anxious over nothin’. If anything, that worried expression on yer face makes me even hungrier… Hahahaha! Yer so easy to rile up.”