White and red stripped sheets are pinned up to the skies, being held by long poles that are stuck in the ground. The once quiet part of town was growing more and more lively as they all started to come back alive. Main tents are set up with cages, tanks, and chairs. Signs are painted in the back of what each tent held; some are treats and some are more ghastly, they are for the ones who were more entertained by the strange and uncommon. Concession stand lights blink to life as smells start to fill the air. It's all common food; popcorn, hot dogs, corn dogs, and of course the sugar sweet of cotton candy.
Shoes scruff along the paths of the tents as each one prepares for the day. Another boring, same day; always the same, always repetitive. To normal people, it could look as though they hadn't done this before. The way his presenters show cased themselves to passersby, they all were chatting with excitement, waving to them, some beckoning them to attend later for the best show of their life. Little did those that were called the breathers know that that was part of their act. Behind those magnificent tents that were raised up to the skies and had signs out front them, were the tents they slept in. The ones they would scream in sometimes out of frustration, out of wanting to leave; wanting to not have to preform--
This was no mere circus. It was a circus for the ones who didn't know where to go, the ones who feared which direction to turn. It was a place that was made long but no one knew the truths of the dark secrets except for their master as some called him; or as he preferred Ring Leader. Jean was the puppet master who pulled the strings, the one who was in charge of catering to all these souls that didn't know what to do in this life. This circus he took care of was one for the lost souls around the world. Irises opened as he could hear circus music begin to play at the same time of day he always heard it.
Sitting up, he paused and winced on his way up before groaning as he sat up. Shoulder blade ached from the single wing that sprouted from it. So much for not sleeping on it and trying to sleep differently. Behind the music that was muffled behind his tent sheets, he could hear cries of the younger ones who didn't want to preform anymore, hear others curse him or curse this place; It was the same thing he heard every day. And like everyday, he simply sat there on the bed edge looking down at his hands.This was something that didn't ever get old for him. One hand still lightly tanned, a beige color while the other looked as if it had the colored sucked from it.
Ashen grey with sharper nails adorning his fingers. The damned color ran up his arm, over his shoulder. it spread to his chest curving around his rib cage and around his shoulder blade. It was as if the thing causing such color was the wing but he knew it wasn't. Hues had moved from his hands to the mirror that leaned against the pole holding his tent up. It was an image that disgusted him and pleased him. On one hand, he hated it only for the way it caused other people to look at him. That damned colored had managed to spread up the side of his neck, onto his face and stopped right at the middle, encasing half of it in ashen grey. The side effect was the single faded red eye that stood out against his brown one.
Getting up, he did the same thing that he had done everyday. Finger tips had touched the smooth cool glass of the mirror as he saw in that mirror his old self. The one that hadn't been ruined, one that was still considered human. A tch was heard as he rolled his eyes and looked away. He had to see this as a survival wound, he survived when many didn't. No one ever survived or had the energy to come back on this side after crossing their borderline that surrounded the tent. Sigh passed through his nose as he got dressed in attire for the day. Black colors of pants, white shirt, long over tail coat that buttoned up just to the waist only. White gloves were put on before he painted his cheek with the only make up he had.
Picking up his stick, he walked out the tent and gazed left and right. Everyone was doing their part and he supposed it was time to do his. His was to set up their main tent, set up who preformed and check the medic tent. Pausing his steps at the calling of his name, he gazed down at the younger explaining of a lost soul who was dropped off last night during sleep time. Eyebrow as he followed them to the medic tent, well he supposed he could go there first. Pulling back the tent, hues fell on the sleeping face and his body filled dread. Messy brown hair, tanned skin that was almost sun kissed,"Leave him be."
That was different. Jean wasn't one to tell them to leave a soul alone. Normally, they would have went over the chart to discuss to keep the troubled soul or if they had enough dark or light on their record, they would be taken to the other sides. But this soul was different, this soul was one he hadn't seen in years and one that he didn't ever think of seeing this early on. How old would he be now? Only just starting life for sure! Jean walked in more and let the tent fall closed. Hand is waved to dismiss to those in the tents as he sat perched on the chair a bit far from the bed edge. Hues remained on the sleeping other and he felt like he was in a dream himself.
He thought he'd never see this being again and yet here they were. A small smile, sad as he shook his head and leaned back in his chair,"Just like old times huh Eren." Visions of them as child poured in his sight as he shut his eyes for a moment. Eren would no nothing like the rest of those who first came to the circus. He would only be told his name and after, he'd stay away and let the crew care for him. Sitting up a bit, Jean brought his head back up and looked at Eren, brow furrowing a bit before he got up. Going over to the tent edge, he pulled back the curtain calling to another to keep an eye on him and to tell him when Eren woke.
