memorivm;

“I am going to burn this place to the fucking ground…”

“... I take it you’re not having a good day. I would recommend tea and then a shot or five of whiskey... maybe skip the tea.”

“It wasn’t supposed to do that,” Eli shook her head quickly and moved to gather up the broken pieces. Various places over her palms had split open and began to gently bleed but she paid them no mind for the moment. “I didn’t have any plastic, I thought this would work. I just…Didn’t mean for it to break. None hit you, right?”

“You don’t know your strength,” he joked, bending down. Wolfgang pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and offered it, insisting, “There isn’t need to worry about me as there is for you. Please, let me collect them.” His other mitt began to roam, careful and distant to hers but still active to help as he moved the cloth closer for her to take.

Sounds of a fall and the splashes of water drew her from her caravan, curious as to the source of the commotion. While no actual thoughts of the cause had formed in her mind, the sight that met her eyes was not one she had expected. “It is generally a good idea to see where you’re walking.” The agreement slipped from her lips with barely a conscious though, her mind reverting into her doctor role, her gaze narrowed as she looked him over carefully. “How do you feel? Breathing obstructed? Any soreness or pain?”

He continued to spit the muddy water to the ground, laughing in between to her remark with a nod in agreement. It was a good idea yet despite how many times it occurred it to him his mind had habit if not craving to remove his concentration from the earthly world. As she listed her profession’s common concerns, clinical in their brevity, he chuckled more. “I’m wet. Other than that, a small fall won’t break me much. Maybe if it did I would learn my lesson, and if it were the case I deserve it. Thank you though.”

“I bet there’s people out there who’d class your job as being special.” Of course, Axel was a big believer that everyone in the Cirque had their own parts to play. The performers entertained and bewildered those who poured through the gates, while those who took on more behind-the-scenes jobs held the strings to the marionette, their own way of participating in the dance. Though a man of pride, such as Axel, took every opportunity he could in order to flaunt himself. Given such a moment, he was able to work with what he had, and in his own mind, he had it all. The brief silence between conversations had him thinking, a train of thought that one would usually seek when a dark loneliness was offered through shadows and under the eerie light of the moon. Though this was under a broad daylight. The start of words was needed to cancel out the thoughts, something he used to capture his attention ultimately. “I’d say so, with all the practice we do. I’d like to think so, my power also helps with the act, it keeps people from getting hurt. I think we’d breach some sort of ‘healthy and safety’ rule if I started picking people from the audience. I have an assistant, most of the time, and they have to be sure to trust in my ability to use my power.”

“I could imagine,” he began, merely only with those words. Never had he met their viewers after their shows and what knowledge he had of their own performances were limited to his random observations and the expectations of the people he met. “If they didn’t trust your capabilities they might move to where you aim. It’s dangerous but no doubt astounding.” The people he met, of which Wolfgang could speak of names and lives who most likely had been enthralled by Axel’s feats, who expected wildly that they would be greeted on stage and trust the larger with their safety if only for the thrill of its risk. The slightest bit saddening but probably for the best it was that their expectations were let done while their health was never jeopardized. “Are you happy with the act or would you want to change anything to it? Health and safety aside, of course, or maybe included. Do you work in the main tent or do you have your own area?” He listed off his questions so quickly, speaking nearly in echo of words that were not his own but inquiries from others. Still his focus sustained feet within view but ears listened instead for his demeanor.

The moment between his gesture and the others start to accompany him, his head was turned just enough to set his eyes to watch, something done to be sure of intent and company. “I suppose so, it sets a level playing field, anyway. Yeah, I’m a knife thrower. Are you an act?” Axel was all for getting to know others, particularly those who had already served their time within the grounds of the Cirque. The idea brought upon him a sense of comfort, something he had craved for more than he’d care to utter. The matter of war, however, had sent his previously cheery mood, to something much more dreary and dry, despite his need to smile, to push everything to the side, regardless of the facade that met the emote. The wave of memory that came with his service being enough to darken anything of light that may have blinded his route ahead.

“Nothing as special. I sell tickets.” The words, of course, were not the entire truth but he spoke them with momentary pride. Proud, but dismissive, the second part to the truth was his own and not one he wished to linger on lest the other pointedly asked so. The German knew how invasive his gift could be deemed, and even reassurance that he wouldn’t act against anyone in the Cirque carried little trust against his near daily and uncontrolled habits with their viewers. There was potential to help anyone who sought understanding yet he couldn’t think of anyone but the desperate who’d find comfort in sharing the most private of details. For now, his gift was his own and the prospect of Axel’s was becoming more alluring with each step. “I hear everyone in the tents are so talented. There must be great fun in wielding those weapons, and to be trusted with them, you must be brilliantly skilled. Do you have assistants or do you take members from the audience?”

The smallest glint of a knowing smile had formed to express his pleasure to knowing the others name, though the lifting of his lips had faded as the mention of when he had come was offered as a reminder. “During.” The word was plain and simple enough to ease his briefly tensed mind and uneasy demeanor. The sudden feeling of dread vanished as if the rush of air had swept it away with little warning, and the smile that had once traced his features sparked up once more. A motion was offered, only small, indicating and beckoning the other to follow his lead towards their destination. “It’s no problem, really.”

Wolfgang remained with his head lowered, joining and following his host as his hands linked behind him with soiled shirt hanging like a tail. “I suppose it’s fair then,” he tried lightening his own mood as well as Axel’s, “to be unfamiliar to each other. Are you an act?” His glance up was only brief, respectful, yet akin to the demeanor his nation’s people took to the mention of the War. Wolfgang knew he shouldn’t have mentioned it, for it’s lingering effects on himself as well as the people who remembered, yet his lips slipped so easily into stating facts without care to repercussion. Perhaps it was another reason it was easier to be within his mind, keep his eyes affixed to the stars or stones as they were now than to hassle with the gravity of words he knew well but forgot to heed.

“Believe what you will, a lot of people would agree and disagree around here. I just go with it. Mhm, ground hugger.” Admittedly, through his breaths of undeniable laughter and audible sounds of clear amusement, the spoken German came as slightly confusing to Axel. He knew some, but not all basic words. The idea of contradictions came as a surprise to the knife thrower, and the rise of an eyebrow explained a quizzical confused nature, only satisfied by the admission given by the greeter. The jolt of his head indicated a gentle shake of the head, dismissing anything of negativity in order to save whatever conversation could be salvaged. “At least you recognize me, that’s always something, and it’s much more than I remember of you. I’m Axel. Axel Pilkvist. And you are…?”

The apparent nervousness eased as Axel explained and the tension released as he realized he was equally unknown as he was unknowing. “Wolfgang,” he introduced, bowing his head. “You came here shortly after me, I remember that much, the little that I do. It was closer to the Second War if not during, I believe.” As his eyes lowered to the ground, the smaller stepped back, allowing room for their journey as he gestured to the other. “But please. It’s a pleasure and I’d be grateful for the kindness.”

“I was talking to some locals earlier and one tried showing me this little…Hand…Dancing-Clapping…Combination thing. Hold on, let me try it. It’s really eas—Oh, mierda!”

“Unless the goal is to find creativity in destruction,” he laughed, stepping away from the scattered pieces, “I would recommend using plastic.”

“C’mon, everyone’s unique in their own way, especially around here. Maybe now the Earth will accept you as a ground hugger.” The words spoken were enough to cause Axel to duck his head, something performed to somewhat disguise the ever growing grin. “Great, we can head to my caravan now, if you want? Or do you have somewhere else to be? I tend to forget people might have other people to spend their time with.” The acknowledgement was given as his head turned to inspect their surroundings, his blue hues only turning to the others once more after a beat.

“I don’t believe that’s a thing, but it seems I’m breaching new boundaries. Ground hugger.” The roll of laughter split behind gleaming teeth with small whispers of, “Vielleicht bin ich ein Narr,” softly following. “I told you I have no one to impress and to say otherwise now would be a contradiction. But,” he spoke, tone taking a more nervous lilt and harder accent. His hands came together, nearly wrung themselves as his smile faltered. “It would be rude to not admit, for an excellent memory as I have, I recognize you but I don’t remember your name.” His lips flattened further, knowing well he could say that to many of his neighbors save for the few greeters and cooks who he came into contact most through occupation or tardiness. 

“I’m sure plenty of people would be praising you for being unique, then there’s others that would praise you for becoming one with the Earth, of course.” In light of situation, Axel was one to poke fun at what could be taken negatively, purely for a more positive reaction. With the male posing no opposition towards his joking nature, Axel saw no need to drop the fact. “Oh, it’s no hassle, I’m pretty sure most people have been a guest to me before, regardless of if they’re a good one or not. It’d be my pleasure.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as unique, but thank you. I’ve never felt so in tune with nature since I was a boy,” he chuckled again. The humor was welcomed if not needed as it sparked his attention and capabilities of remaining focused, for however long that lasted. Knowing himself too well, it would only endure for so long but without the pull of duty to argue, it would be an insult to refuse any further. Slowly he nodded, eyes worrisome at his own politeness as he agreed, “That would be very much appreciated. I tend to forget myself, but I would be happy to be your guest.”

The raising of an eyebrow accompanied simply by his slowly rising grin told of his internal amusement, but rather he took to containing any sound of laughter, save crossing a line. “Nobody to impress? You’re probably one of the few who hasn’t, then.” There was a hunt of a joke hidden behind his words, though the expression laid upon his features didn’t seem to alter in the slightest. The removal of the article of clothing allowed Axel to relax slightly, the holding back of laughter coming easier now. “C’mon, you don’t need to eat with the others. I’d like to pride myself for being a decent cook, at least. I can whip you something up, if you’re hungry.”

“I tend to be one for many exceptions,” he laughed. “Staying on my feet being one of them, in addition to any impression.” As the other repeated the phrase, Wolfgang had to admit the loneliness in the statement yet he didn’t have hollow feeling to it. He has his company in an unorthodox form and the memories of people, both dead and living, needn’t think of him. Yet at the proposal of more company his hand extended once more. “Oh, I wouldn’t want impose. I would be a terrible guest as well.”

A flash of a moment had come to pass to which Axel had considered aiding the other with removing the substance from his shirt, the thought coming to pass with little time when the idea of personal space had crossed his mind. “If you’re out to make a good impression on people who don’t know what happened, you might want to consider changing your clothes.” The knife thrower pushed the corners of his lips upwards, just enough to indicate a smile, without the issue of coming off amused by the ordeal. “The best of us make mistakes, it’s nothing to worry about, worse things could have happened.”

The chuckled rolled from his mouth, shaking his head once more as he began to remove the outer layer of his clothing. “You’re right. Worse things could have happened. I could have been trying to impress someone, but luckily, I have no one to impress and I was only on my to get food.” His grin widened as he hung the soiled shirt over his arm, quickly glancing around them at any soul who did manage to see his stumble. Whatever they believed, it amusing even to Wolfgang how he could be so lost in thought, knowing well it wasn’t the first time nor the last that it would happen. “I don’t even know if it’s still out or if I’ve missed it, but then again, I’m no longer presentable for any sort of meal.”

Curiosity for the large onlooker had quickly turned to concern with the state of the other, a frantic demeanor had him looking around for anything that could be used to aid the male. It came in time to hear the words that cut through the air, and any motion to gather anything had been halted. “Are you okay? Do you need anything at all? I can run off and come back with whatever you need.”

His hand out towards the other, a kind halt that he didn’t need the aid as he shook his head and assessed his clothing. “No, thank you. I’ll live with a little... or a lot of mud. Thank you, though, it’s very kind of you.” Hands tried to wipe a little away to no avail and a lop sided smirk slanted his lips as he lifted his head to the other. “I should have been paying attention,” he explained, the truth being far more accurate than it seemed, “and hopefully I’ll learn my lesson. Ich werde höchstwahrscheinlich nicht.”

An excuse, he deemed, but it was the other’s prerogative to divulge and detail. The shorter nodded but offered one sentiment opposing, “Why would he react to that? After all, you’ve been emphasizing this entire time they’re only words.” They were only words, descriptions, imaginings the man had seen before his eyes listless times to count. Well, he could count but rather he’d be too distracted to complete it before finding a more interesting subject. And what of his own past, that although he did not partake in the horrors of his ancestry, he once agreed with its view. “We all have skeletons in the closet, and for some the phrase is a bit more accurate to the truth. But if you won’t share, I won’t press.” Another soft smile stretched his lips and another nod lowered his head. “Thank you,” he spoke and once more took his leave.

And there it was, the assumptions that his ultimate pleasures and desires came in the form of words. Currently, the use of words happened to be a last resort of pleasure, though usually, even words and statements didn’t amount to bring him anything of satisfaction. “Clearly you’ve neglected to listen to me. My lack of sadistic nature currently is because I’m limited to words, if I were to express it more, my pleasures would come from a more physical outlet. Need I go on, or have you finally finished reading and digging?” The question came plainly, met with a raise of the eyebrows in a quizzical manner, though interest in that form was all false. “If I were to share, I wouldn’t be here, naturally. Some things are rightfully frowned upon.” The statement was met with a shrug of the shoulders, a hand lifting to dismiss the words as he watched the other finally leave, his own journey coming to continue as he sought out someone else to cause distress onto.

In reality, if Dorian spoke of what pleasures he sought, or what interested him to the point of perverse nature, those around him would be sickened. It wasn’t a typical kind of perverse, not the common definition for the word. No, it was far deeper than that. Entertainment was gained through the harm of others, not solely through the insulting words or the need to break another into verging tears and rage. No, that was only half of it. The other half he wasn’t allowed to divulge in, his tastes were obscure, and sorely frowned upon. Even those who shared his tastes would find shock in the things he had sunken his teeth into. It had been too long since he had fully captured himself in the torture of others, the last time was the slaughter and killing of the hunters that stormed the Cirque. Then, and only then, had he indulged in his pleasures during his time in the Cirque. A cruel pleasure, with no doubt. “Because if I were to fully describe how sadistic I am, the Ringmaster would remove me from this place, permanently,” he started, allowing his crystal eyes over the other as he inhaled yet another puff of suffocating smoke. “I honestly wish people would stop reading the practical sociopath. There’s more to everyone, though in this case, there’s nothing more to say when it comes to pleasures. There’s nothing more to it.” He’d spent two-millenniums lying and cheating about the same subject, the very same subject mentioned now, and he was sure to continue lying with an expect edge. Nothing gave it away. “No.”

An excuse, he deemed, but it was the other’s prerogative to divulge and detail. The shorter nodded but offered one sentiment opposing, “Why would he react to that? After all, you’ve been emphasizing this entire time they’re only words.” They were only words, descriptions, imaginings the man had seen before his eyes listless times to count. Well, he could count but rather he’d be too distracted to complete it before finding a more interesting subject. And what of his own past, that although he did not partake in the horrors of his ancestry, he once agreed with its view. “We all have skeletons in the closet, and for some the phrase is a bit more accurate to the truth. But if you won’t share, I won’t press.” Another soft smile stretched his lips and another nod lowered his head. “Thank you,” he spoke and once more took his leave.

“Satisfaction in both of those things would leave me with little to tell of the day, thus the passing of hours would be equally as meaningless as your words. The amused yet disgusted feeling would linger, and you’d be to blame.” There was a certain logic behind his words, as he told truth that his mood was based on the day before. The day before this was tame, thus he was tame in return. Today wasn’t resulting in such, so tomorrow would hold him with a degree of bitterness. With the sense of the other leaving, his own mind eased. He preferred the darkness of being alone, despite being terrified of being lonely. And he, too, was about to continue his journey to spoil the days of those around him. With each person annoyed or frustrated by his words or actions, it lightened his day. A slow inhale held the ashy smoke to flee from the papered stick to flutter within his mouth, down his throat, and back into the air. Though the turning of the drenched male held a smoky exasperated sigh. His fingers pulled the cigarette from between the entrance of his lips, to hold it within his softened grip. “I find the suffering of others entertaining. When another storms off, or creates a scene based on pure anger… it entertains my sadistic mind. To have people react so negatively to insults or facts they know nothing of, it entertains me, far too much to fully comprehend.”

The aspect of a boy approached further while keeping his distance, certainly not close to reach as temptation of an addict might better him against his better judgement. It was the same judgement that left him unknowing and unknown to his neighbors for so many years: if he knew them intimately, his craving for knowledge would be obsessed but simultaneously indifferent having known them without needing the being. It was insulting, or he knew it would be, to have another know you well without permission without having the interesting or desire to continue the understanding. He had felt the scorn through so many, and equally he had learned well enough the gravity of man driven by the pain of others. “Yet you’re not very sadistic, or at least you put a minimalist’s effort into it,” he spoke, in a manner of fact. “It suggests there’s more to the truth than simply finding pleasure from pain and anger. I don’t doubt it, but there’s more to it.” The other was certainly descriptive about it, as if restating and reforming the bits of information would make them truth in attempt to convince either party of it. “Is there something else that engages you?”

Dorian was sure the distraction of talking wasn’t going to be enough to allow his mind to stray, thus his large hand reached and toyed with the cigarettes that lay maimed within his jacket pocket. Pulling one between his index and middle fingers, he placed the papered stick between his dry lips before a lighter was released from its hold within another pocket. “Your worth is naught, plain and simple,” the argument certainly wasn’t one to be dropped on his own accord. “compliments from the mouths of those with little worth are nothing but words, thus aren’t acknowledged by someone such as myself. If I was to accept a compliment with meaning such as the one you had paid me, it would have been mouthed by someone closer than a typical fool.” A single eyebrow cocked up further than the other, thought he rest of his features told a tale of disgust, as one would assume, and the clicking of the metallic zippo lighter was followed by the ignition of fire, pressed to the tip of the cigarette before it faded to smoke. “I wouldn’t call it entertainment, as I’m not yet entertained. More… amused, slightly, though all too pissed off and disgusted. Entertainment doesn’t come in that form, see.”

“If my words are so meaningless then why carrying on about them so? Drop the conversation, and be satisfied... amused and disgusted knowing we’re both paying little mind to the other.” The dark haired was so adamant to press the German’s nerve, impress insults with such a passion that Wolfgang might believe them and in thinking so, become less. So many men used words with such vigor, abundantly as the black-haired company did, and oft had discomfort with themselves as a black-hearted man would succeed in a statement. That wasn’t the being before him, yet he knew only a scratch of the surface, if it was even that, and it would remain so keeping his distance from the people within the sanctuary. Wolfgang smiled and nodded in polite ‘goodbye’ before he began to step away, leaving their ignorance to each other simply that. By the second step the itch came, the mental craving that wouldn’t allow him to leave a learning opportunity behind in his tracks that it made him pause. Slowly, with head cocked to the side, Wolfgang turned to other. “What do you find entertaining, purely? More than simple amusement, or the momentary laugh,” he asked earnestly.