&& zale
⸻ sam nivola, 20, demimale, he/him/his or they/them ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of ZALE HENLEY. they are TWENTY, and have been missing for TWO WEEKS. when the sun rises, they work as an ERRAND BOY. rumors in town say they can be SYCOPHANTIC and DEVOTED. they chose to live in THE SETTLEMENT, and have an uncanny resemblance to PHOEBE BUFFAY (Friends), EURYDICE (Hadestown), JACK WILDER (Now You See Me), SAM GREST (Cirque du Freak), SHADOWHEART (Baldur’s Gate 3), LUCY GRAY BAIRD (Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes).
BIO - STATS - MIRROR - PINTEREST
*// A E S T H E T I C S
a coin disappearing between fingers, pricking fingers over rusted barbed wire, a bloody nose wiped across the face and shirt sleeve, eyes blinking back from broken glass, wood splinters under fingernails, a dog’s tail between its legs, seeing dawn through red rimmed eyes, a broken lock on the floor of a cage, the scent of caramel corn and cotton candy filling the air, the poison suckled from a snake bite, venetian masks cracked right down the center, a head bowed to the floor, bare footprints running in the mud
*// I N Q U I R I E S
How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?
A thin young man stumbled barefoot over the fields behind the Settlement. The sun hung low in the sky, illuminating the row of huts an orange color. Zale never liked the color orange, but he did then. The sun reflected back to him on the windows of the big building, the one that stood at the center, and he went that way, like nature was leading him in the right direction. He thought that was inviting - Zale wasn’t around in the sunshine very often, let alone led by it.
The door was open, and it took him no time at all to make himself at home and politely introduce himself as “one of the circus boys”, from the caravan that had pulled up not too far away from here. He didn’t want to be long, but he had been walking such a long time and if they could just give him some directions - not that Zale had much to go on, since they had planted themselves at the edge of the forest near that big city in the mountains. It wasn’t very specific, but someone had offered him a nice cup of tea that he didn’t say no to, of course - he wasn’t rude. It made his head swim and time had passed in that funny way it did when he smoked those papers Orion gave him, or the little pills some of the older performers slipped him; he was in a safe spot, then.
Why did your muse choose to live where they do?
Zale had first wandered into the backyard of the Settlement, and that’s where he’d stay. It was even nicer that they let him sleep in a real bed, as he was fully expecting to curl up on a blanket in a corner somewhere like a feral street cat brought in from the cold. Now he has a room, his own - it’s not very big, and it’s still pretty bare (the previous tenant died outside) but it’s not like Zale had much to his name anyway. The clothes left behind fit him well enough, so what else could he ask for?
What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?
He was lost; hopelessly so. He hadn’t been gone that late, he thought. There was a crowd after the show, and Orion had insisted he go with them. A special group, he had said. “Can’tcha hear the way their watches jingle, the flutter of cash in their wallet?” It would have been an easy mark, easy for Zale to worm his way in with the promise of a good time, courtesy the rolled up flower in his pocket, a sleight-of-hand trick to seemingly produce them from thin air.
It was a long night, and a hazy one. When he could think straight, when his fractured mind pieced together moments blurred, he felt a pain in his nose, blood not far behind, but a rewarding clinking in his pocket - a beautiful watch, not the kind with the little TV screen on it, but a real face, with numbers and ticking hands and everything. It was a great score to add to his repertoire of rehomed goods. Orion would be proud.
Sunrise was coming, and Zale was all turned around. They were in the middle of mountains, and there was a clear path before from where their encampment was to the town. Where did it go? He was beginning to panic when through the fog, the misty rain that had collected, the kind that made his hair stick to his forehead and the bones in his foot hurt. In place of the path was a huge tree, black almost. He had stepped on a mushroom at its base, and when he put his hand to its bark, it felt warm to the touch, as if it had been roasting in the sunlight for years. He stayed there for a while, as if praying, to guide him in the right direction before everyone left without him.
Onward he went.
Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?
Zale has to contend with the idea that the circus left without him. That maybe Orion had sent him on this thievery mission to get him finally out of his hair, to abandon him like he always threatened to. Then again, Zale knew who he was, and what he meant to the man. He was his favorite, he was the performer taken out to the afterparties, bragged about, showed around like a willing participant of a dog-and-pony show. Surely he wouldn’t leave him behind with at least trying to look a little harder?
He hadn’t meant to stay out as late as he did, everything was so fuzzy and time always passed in odd increments to him. This was the first time in a long time, of what he could think of, where he wasn’t sleeping in a tent, under the stars, leaving a place before the sun came up. Where he had a real bed. But of course, of course he wanted to return to the family that was the cirque. But if it was true, and he couldn’t leave… what else was he supposed to do?
*// T H R E A D T R A C K E R
(owed in bold)
Total: 5
Dilara / Zale (event)
Nika / Zale (event)
Sera / Zale (event)
Stella / Zale (event)
Tessa / Zale (event)
(starters to write)
