As the Raven of the Skies closes its two moony eyes, the lights of Front Street ignite to fill the darkness left behind. The main stretch echoes with the sound of commotion from every booth, from the beckoning of carnies to their games to the clanging of pots and pans cooking up every manner of confection and snack. The vivid structures both spark the imagination and leave nothing to it, showing off every vibrant challenge, treat, or oddity, and yet leaving them all to wonder who among them will be brave enough to face it.
Where they escape to the midway, the sides are packed with games and challenges of all kinds. Stacks of bottles and cans tower high behind curtains of tulle which frame the windows of the stalls. Weaponry of all kinds sits idly on countertops, waiting to find their mark on a worn-out target. Huge roulette wheels spin dizzied mice in games of feigned vertigo. Carnies from every booth watch over them like hawks. The wind blows their beckoning through the midway, and their voices echo like the songs of sirens. All manner of skill, from accuracy, to luck, to strength, and even cognition have their tests here, and no team of heroes would pass up the chance to prove themselves to their friends.
Juniper makes the first move towards a game, and the others follow behind her, each wondering what gauntlet they’ll have to run. Curtains of white and red festoon the stand, and within it is a small pool full of lily pads and flowers. The carnie which runs it stands at the back of the booth at first, but at the sight of the gaggle of adventurers bounds to the counter between his domain and the midway. He’s not a particularly tall creature, and not much intimidating either. That’s why Juniper picked his game, after all. She knows that if there’s any game she can beat, it’ll probably be his.
The carnie fixes his striped coat and matching hat, barely saving it from flopping over his eyes as he moves to address the group.
“Hey kids,” He says. His voice which isn’t exactly his real voice, but not quite unlike what his real voice ought to be. “Would you like to take a shot at the frog game?”
“The frog game?” Juniper asks, more smug about it than inquisitive.
“The frog game!” The carnie bellows, “You pick up a frog, and you toss it at the lily pads, and if it lands on one, you win!”
“Sounds good to me,” Juniper grins, reaching into her pockets for a tooth to pay him with.
She fishes around her pocket for a minute before finally settling upon a slightly yellowed canine. She hands it to the carnie, and he sits a basket full of toads upon the countertop. They croak and groan, but seem too apathetic to leap from the bucket.
“Don’t worry about them hopping,” he explains, “They’ve been lobotomized.”
Juniper looks at the toads. She recalls a tale about frogs in hot water. As soon as she remembers it, she shakes it from her mind. It isn’t important.
“Which one should I aim for first?” Juniper asks, picking up a toad.
DJ looks up at the carnie. “What’s your name?”
“Frank Ugly,” The carnie replies, almost prideful.
DJ is deadpan. “I think you should throw it at Frank Ugly.”
“At him?” Juniper asks.
“Yeah, yeah,” Fuego snickers, “Just right at his head. Do it.”
Frank Ugly silently glares at the group. He objects to their mischief, but he doesn’t dare do it aloud.
“Throw it over to the right a bit,” Peony instructs.
“You think I should throw it hard?” Juniper asks, “Like, I mean, really wing it at him?”
“You should!” Adderall says.
“Maybe not,” Sebastian says, “He’s a bit short. Don’t want to knock him over.”
“Really?” Frank Ugly says, slightly exasperated at them all, “Really? You know what, I’m not even gonna move from where I’m standing. I don’t care.”
The others look at each other in bewilderment.
Frank Ugly glares at them. “Go on.”
Juniper grins wickedly. She winds up her arm, and lobs the toad at Frank Ugly.
“Since you want to make that joke so badly,” he mutters to himself, watching the toad fly through the air.
The toad lands and hits him directly on the face, making a rather silly splat as it bounces off of his nose and hits the ground. Frank Ugly grimaces at Juniper, and she leans on the table to support herself as she laughs. The group follows suit, and even Ikimono finds their own laughter in the noise.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Frank Ugly grimaces, trying to find someone to make eye contact with. “I seriously can’t believe you just did that. Come on, take this seriously. There’s a prize waiting for you if you can do this, come on!”
Their laughter dies down as Juniper reaches for a new toad. It croaks in her hand, and suddenly the mild-apex-predator instincts within her kick in.
“Am I allowed to eat this?” She asks.
“God no!” Frank Ugly exclaims, “Aim the frog at the lily pad and throw it! Not at me, don’t aim it at me, go for the lily pads!”
Juniper turns to the others for guidance again.
“Go for the middle one, that one propped up on the fountain slightly,” Sebastian says, pointing at it, “If you hit it weirdly, it’ll fall down onto the one below it.”
“That’s very good,” Frank Ugly says, “At least one of you has their head screwed on straight.”
“My head’s screwed on bi, thank you very much,” Sebastian smiles.
Frank Ugly frowns. “I hate you all so much. Throw the frog and go!”
“So that one back there?” Juniper asks, pointing at a lily pad.
Sebastian nods. “That one, yeah.”
Juniper squints her eyes and leans forward on the counter. She gently tosses the frog, just barely missing the upper pad. The toad just catches the lower pad, though, clinging desperately with one leg.
They erupt into shouts of joy once again. Their celebration is cut off, though, by Frank Ugly’s scolding.
“No, no, it doesn’t count,” He explains, “The whole frog has to be on the pad, not its leg.”
The group’s jeers of excitement turn into disgruntled muttering. Juniper sighs and shakes her head before picking up another toad.
“Same as before?” She asks, looking up at Sebastian.
“Yep, aim for the upper pad.”
Juniper lobs the toad at the upper pad in frustration. It bounces off of the plant, throwing the fountain of water off its course, and smacks against the back wall of the stall.
“Unbelievable,” Frank Ugly chides, “Maybe you should let someone else do it.”
Adderall rests a hand on Juniper’s shoulder, and Juniper takes a few deep breaths. The others take a couple steps away from her, giving her some space to think. She closes her eyes for a moment or two, then opens them with a newfound determination.
She reaches into the basket and picks up a rather warty toad. She tosses it up and down in her hand, concentrating on some force unseen to Frank Ugly. The others know, though. Even Ikimono can sense she’s conjuring some sort of power to her hands and to the toad which occupies them. Frank Ugly takes two steps back, though he can’t seem to put his finger on why identify. The others stare intently at her, watching as she grows ever more focused on the toad. When at last she finds herself satisfied, she catches the toad, leaving her hand open as it lets out a deep croak. She lifts her head up, and her eyes meet Frank Ugly’s in a shot of determination.
“I won’t be bested by a carnival game,” She growls, “And certainly not by someone with a name like Frank Ugly!”
She leaps up into the air, and a mass of purple smoke clusters around her beating wings. She grasps the toad firmly in her hands, letting out an inaudible shriek of sonar as she hovers midair. The others stubble back as the soundwaves knock them all off their feet. She locks eyes with the lily pad, and she winds up her arm with the frog.
“Take this!” she shouts.
She gently tosses the frog. It bounces off of the upper pad again, this time landing perfectly in the center of the lily pad below it.
Everyone stares at her in awe as she gently falls back down to the ground. She takes one deep breath, and when she exhales, the anger within her has faded away.
“Did I win?” She asks, her eyes glimmering with girlish excitement.
Frank Ugly stares at her in stunned silence.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice somewhat trailing off. “I didn’t think you’d win that.”
“I did,” She says, her voice unwavering. “So what’s my prize?”
Frank Ugly hastily reaches up behind him to a shelf full of stuffed toys, keeping eye contact with Juniper. He fumbles for a huge, grinning blue whale, then awkwardly hands it to her. She accepts it with open arms, hugging it with enough strength to crack ribs as soon as she receives it.
“Thank you!” She smiles, starting to turn away with the others.
Frank Ugly babbles for words.
When they’re a few feet back into the midway, the group cheers for their champion. Juniper holds up her whale in pride, and the others form a circle around her. Ikimono is hesitant to join in on their celebration, but they can’t help but find themselves enticed by the small opening in the group that’s just their size. They walk in, unsure of what to say.
Yelling’s a universal language, right? They think to themselves.
They just start making noise and jumping in time with the others.
“That was awesome,” Adderall says, her voice calming the crowd.
“Let’s go and try another game,” Peony grins.
They all bound off down the midway, ignoring the stalls with shadowy carnies lacking faces. Ikimono trails close behind. They at last come to another game, a grid of goldfish bowls behind another counter. Frank Ugly stands behind the counter, visibly dreading their arrival.
“Aren’t you the guy from the other booth?” Fuego asks,
“Yeah,” Frank Ugly groans.
“Geez, do they have other carnies here?” Ve asks.
Frank Ugly grimaces. “Nope. Unless you’d rather deal with the shadow people.”
“I’ll pass. At least we can pick on you.”
“Wonderful.”
“So what’s this?” Adderall asks.
“This is the goldfish toss,” Frank Ugly begins, less than enthused to be having them as clients. “You toss a goldfish into a bowl, and if it lands, you can keep it.”
“Aren’t you supposed to toss a ping pong ball into a bowl or something?” DJ asks, a little worried at Frank Ugly’s proposition.
“No,” Frank Ugly insists with a malicious grin. “You toss the goldfish. Why else would it be called a goldfish toss, hm?”
“I mean, yeah, I guess,” DJ shrugs.
Adderall slaps a tooth on the counter, and Frank Ugly picks it up and deposits it into a small bucket. He scoops up a bucket of orange fish and sets it in front of Adderall, who grins and giggles as she wiggles her fingers and mutters “gimmie, gimmie, gimmie” under her breath.
When the bucket is at last set down in front of Adderall, she sticks her hand inside the opaque, red plastic.
“Here, fishy fishy fishy,” she says, waiting for one to swim into her awaiting hand.
A little more-red-than-orange fish swims up to her hand. Adderall sticks her other hand in the bucket to corner it. Instead of calmly swimming into her open hands, however, the fish bites with shockingly sharp teeth.
Adderall jumps up and yelps, the fish still holding strong to her finger. “Ow, fuck!”
She rips her hand out of the tank and frantically shakes her hand, hoping the fish will fly off of it. Meanwhile, Fuego, who stands idly next to the bucket, looks inside it. The other fish are swimming contently, unbothered by the commotion. Ve spies a particularly plump looking one and scoops it out of the water. Ve eyes it for a moment or two, then throws it at Frank Ugly without a moment’s hesitation. Frank Ugly stumbles back in surprise, and the others look on in concern.
In the midst of the chaos, the fish finally grows tired of the taste of Adderall’s finger and draws its teeth out from her flesh. Adderall, still flapping her hand, launches the fish high into the air. It hangs overhead for a minute, then begins to fall, perfectly landing inside a bowl of brackish water.
Everyone, Frank Ugly included, looks at the fish in astonishment. Adderall, realizing her feat, sassily leans on the counter and crosses her ankles.
“Well, that’s not something you see every day now, huh?” She says with a sugar-eating-grin.
Frank Ugly wipes the fish oil from his brow and grimaces. “No.”
He reaches for the bowl of water as Adderall turns back to her friends. As he places the fish in a marginally cleaner bowl, Adderall begins to talk again.
“What should I name it?” She asks.
“Skin,” Peony blurts out, hardly thinking.
“You should call him skin,” Juniper corroborates with a laugh.
“I’m accepting answers from everyone but you two,” Adderall says sarcastically.
“I think you should call him skin,” Sebastian smiles.
“Everyone except for you three.”
“I agree, skin’s a good name for a goldfish,” Fuego says.
“I’m with Fuego, skin is a very good name for a fish,” DJ nods.
Adderall desperately turns to Ikimono, pleading with her eyes for them to say any word other than skin.
“Ikimono, help me out here, please,” She says, hyperbolizing her anxiety.
Ikimono pauses for a moment to think. What would they do to seem more like the others in the group? What would be funniest? Did the two overlap at all?
Finally, after much deliberation, Ikimono makes their choice.
“I think you should name him skin.” Ikimono says.
Frank Ugly hands the bag of water and goldfish to a disappointed Adderall.
She sighs. “Skin it is.”
The group begins chanting the name of Skin. Even Ikimono joins their chanting. Adderall holds the bag of fish to the empty sky, and the others begin to chant louder. Their chanting grows until Adderall lowers the bag to the center of their crowd, and they all cheer for joy in the name of Skin. When at last their fanfare finishes, they take their leave again to find another game.
Frank Ugly hopes he never has to see them again.
As they continue on down the midway, they find that the games district is slowly fading away into the attraction district. Grand contraptions of shoddily built metal scrappage fill out the sidelines, and the overwhelming stench of motor oil consumes the air overhead. The others can hardly hear each other amidst the grinding of rust. Their yelling sounds like a mere whisper in their surroundings. They contemplate going back to the games. Suddenly, DJ’s voice cuts through the noise.
“You guys wanna go on that thing?”
The group turns to find just what exactly DJ points a claw at. The large tower is painted with chipping pinks and yellows, and six arms of all lengths poke out from it like spears. Each arm holds a car which might be in the shape of an airplane, but might also be a rocket ship. They can’t tell. Nevertheless, each plane looks big enough for two, and even though there are seven of them, DJ usually takes up two seats.
Juniper looks at the idle structure. She hopes the bars don’t spin. She looks at the faded paint and decides that maybe the workings are too rusted for it to spin at all. Is it worth the risk, though? For all anyone knows, the ride could be two seconds away from crumbling to dust.
“You think that’s safe?” Fuego asks.
“This is a circus,” DJ replies, almost dumbfounded at the question, “We’re like, an inch above Six Flags quality here.”
“That’s an insult to the circus,” Adderall says, “I think this place has enough sense to not let us burn to death in a haunted house.”
Juniper jumps in astonishment. “Burn to death in a haunted house?”
“Yeah!” Adderall continues, “On May 11th, 1984-”
“Adderall,” DJ begins, calmly, “We haven’t seen a haunted house here yet, so how about we cross that bridge if we come to it.”
“When,” Ikimono interjects. “There’s a haunted house here.”
DJ looks down and shoots Ikimono a rather surprised look. Ikimono nods back at them.
“We have a haunted house,” Ikimono repeats. “It’s not open a lot though.”
DJ nods. “Alright then, sorry, when we come to it. But do we want to ride the-”
They turn around to read the rather vivid sign in front of the towering attraction. The paint on it looks brand new in comparison to that of the ride. The neon lights look new too, almost blindingly new.
“The,” DJ cringes, “The Giganto-Spin-A-Tron-Inator of Death 500,000.”
The others look on at the sign as though a creature of twisting bone were offering them a handful of worms and they were contemplating on how to best decline the treat without offending the god.
“You know what?” DJ shrugs, “This is a circus. No offense to you, Ikimono, but what did I expect?”
“None taken,” Ikimono replies.
“If I ride this and die, I’m cursing you from whatever afterlife is next,” Juniper says.
“You’re not dying on my watch,” Peony playfully protests.
“So we’re going, then?” Fuego asks.
“I think so,” DJ replies.
DJ leads the group up to the entrance of the line. They enter with no grand display, but soon the snaking labyrinth of metal fencing makes its mark on the group. They all walk in rhythmic steps, each one synchronized and mirrored with whomever stands in front of them and behind them. Patterns of spiraling lines creep like legions of ants as the midway grows ever hazier in their sight. Perhaps they even began to hear the sounds of a flute trying to hypnotize their line-snake. Whatever the case, they walk for what feels like eternity.
When they at last reach the front of the line, they’re met with the shifty-eyed glare of a white-furred satyr. The others stick behind DJ, who still leads at the front of the line. They take a step closer to the creature with no small pride in their gait.
“Welcome to the Giganto-Spin-A-Tron-Inator of Death 500,000,” He bleats, pushing up the brim of a blue ball cap, “How many of you are there?”
“Seven,” DJ replies.
“There’s two to a seat,” He continues, “One of you is gonna have to sit by yourself.”
“I’ll do it,” Ikimono says, raising a holey hand.
“No,” Sebastian protests, “I’ll sit with you. I think this is a spinning ride and I, uh, go a little crazy sometimes.”
Peony shoots him a glare before turning to the satyr. “Is this a spinning ride?”
“Of course!” He replies, leaning against the gate, “There’s a little steering wheel in each of the cars, and you can make the whole car go upside down if you want. The arms attached to the cars spin too, so make of that what you will.”
“You go with them,” Peony says, leaving Sebastian with Ikimono, “I’ll see if Adderall or Juniper will let me in with them.
Sebastian nods in reply, and Peony walks over to Juniper. Adderall and Fuego give each other a knowing glance. DJ, who watches them all make their choices, shrugs and returns their look to the satyr.
“Guess that’ll be me,” They say with a rather tired smile.
The satyr pulls a small coin purse out of the pocket of his sweater. “Teeth?”
“How many?”
“A molar for every pair.”
DJ counts out three molars, then drops them into the waiting hoof of the satyr. He counts out the teeth, then turns his gaze back up at DJ.
“And you?”
“I’m not a pair,” DJ says, a small grin cracking along the edge of their mouth.
The satyr shoots them a glare that ought to stab at them like knives. He looks back down at the teeth and slips them into his change purse. Begrudgingly, he opens up the gate and allows them all to pass.
Juniper and Peony take the plane that looks to be made of copper. They’ve already agreed between themselves that there will be as little upside-down time as possible. If anything, fight against the twisting of the arms. Adderall and Fuego take the golden one right by the gate. They giggle to themselves, already betting the evening snack against whomever gets sick first. DJ takes the silver one by the satyr’s booth, watching him light up a cigarette as he watches them set up their restraints. Sebastian and Ikimono take the brass one behind DJ, and as the two pull down on their lap bars, they negotiate their spinning.
“Do you like being spun, Ikimono?” Sebastian asks.
“I don’t know,” Ikimono says, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Do you like being thrown around?” Sebastian asks.
Ikimono shrugs, tapping on the lap bar with nailless fingers. “I don’t know.”
“How about I toss you around a bit. If you don’t like it, you tell me to stop, ok?”
“Ok.”
“And if you want to help me spin this, you just take the wheel and help me, ok?”
Sebastian takes the steering wheel in his hands, and Ikimono can’t help but marvel at his hands. Hands with fingers much too long. Hands with veins that look much more like wires than veins. Hands that have too many bones, and bones that look like parts of a machine. Hands that despite everything unnerving about them, have the humanity of neatly manicured opal blue nails.
“I like your nails,” Ikimono says, their voice trembling with anxiety.
“Oh, thank you,” Sebastian grins, “Peony does them for me sometimes.”
Ikimono, feeling a bit more comfortable around Sebastian, carefully reaches up and grabs the steering wheel. Sebastian, already thinking of Ikimono, looks down at their hands. Hands with flesh that looks far past being dead. Hands with holes that dot on clusters, some holes big and some holes small. Hands with fingertips that have hardly any nails to speak of, and some that have no skin atop them. Hands that look like the hands of a sculptor or seamstress.
“You know, I’m sure Peony would do your nails too,” Sebastian says.
“Would she?” Ikimono asks, “I mean, I hardly know either of you.”
Sebastian pauses before speaking. “That will change soon enough. But we can start here.”
“Here?”
“Yeah, why not? Spinning your brains out is always a good way to bond with someone.”
The Satyr’s voice rings out again on a broken loudspeaker. “I’m coming around to check your lap bars, if you’re spinning and I can’t check them, and you fall out of the ride, that’s on you.”
Immediately, Adderall and Fuego grind the spinning of their car to a screeching halt. It’s not that they would mind getting flung from the ride, but the Satyr sounded a little annoyed at them. The Satyr emerges from his booth and walks to each car, forcibly pushing each lap bar a little too far into the laps of everyone seated. When he is sure every restraint is even the slightest bit secure, he saunters his way back to the booth and starts to speak over the intercom again.
“Alright, gonna go over this once to make sure everyone’s got some clue for what’s happening,” he begins, “Your hands, feet, wings, tails, tentacles, and whatever other appendages the quarterless bastard we call god has given you? Those stay in the ride at all times. If you don’t do that you’re gonna, uh, get struck by lightning and die or something, I don’t know. The wheels on your cars make them spin. If you spin them too violently and the handle falls off, the entire car is gonna fall off the mechanical arm. Also, I think those arms are just entirely rusted on the inside. Nothing but rust. I could scrape the inside of them and give it to Frank Ugly and he would probably make cotton candy out of it.”
“Oh, that’s comforting,” DJ chuckles.
“Uh, where was I?” He continues. “Yeah, I don’t remember the last time this ride was inspected, let alone repaired, probably back in ‘82, but I’ve been here for so long that I’ve kind of stopped giving a flying foozle about it. But I’m giving you a fair warning anyway so in case something happens and one of you dies I don’t live with guilt for the rest of my life over not telling you about that. Uh, yeah. Also, I’m pretty sure the rose gold car is in its last stages of life, so if a bolt comes out and hits you or something you all had better promise me you’re gonna sue Sunshine and not me. If that twink comes at me with the “hurr durr you should've inspected it” argument, I’m just going to shoot him on sight. It’s already happened twice and I’m not letting it happen a third time. Smitty Warbenyagermanjenson looking bitch.”
The others just stare at him.
“Are you done?” Juniper shouts.
The Satyr shrugs. “Yeah. That’s it. Let’s hope I can get you on and off of this death machine safely.”
The Satyr flips a couple levers on his control panel. A metallic screech runs down along the tower.
“Should we be concerned about that?” Sebastian whispers, leaning into Ikimono, “About him?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Ikimono replies.
With a crack and a jerk, the ride springs to life. They begin to spin around the tower, slowly rising up to the canopy as the arms begin to rotate. Sebastian takes a stronger grip on the wheel and looks over to Ikimono.
“If you want me to stop, tell me,” he says.
“Go, do it!” Ikimono smiles, their grip quickly becoming white-knuckle, “Ikimashou!”
The two triumphantly grab hold of the steering wheel and push it to the side. They grind against the rust at first, but as the inertia of the ride takes over, they slowly start to flip much easier. They barrel-roll along the circumference of the ride, and all the lights around them blend into a single spiral.
The spinning is foreign to Ikimono at first. The ever-changing spiral of vision confuses them at first, but they take to it in no time at all. They join Sebastian in his pushing of the wheel, and soon the wind around them grows faster as the car spins with more and more force.
“Ikimono, slow down!” Sebastian calls, “I’m getting a bit dizzy,”
“I thought you said I’d be the one asking us to slow down,” Ikimono laughs.
“I did say that, didn’t I?” Sebastian replies, looking a little bit green.
Ikimono lets go of the wheel, and soon the force of the car jerks Sebastian’s hands away too. The two toss about like beached tuna, slamming into the sides, the lap bar, and even each other as the car continues to spin. Ikimono instinctively grabs the lap bar for safety, but Sebastian reaches out for the steering wheel. He turns it back clockwise, and soon the car steadies to a horizontal plane.
“You alright?” Sebastian asks.
“Yeah,” Ikimono says, “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.”
Sebastian lets go of the wheel, and the car begins to rock with the spinning of the arm. The two find themselves tossed around again, although this time they’re a lot less worried about falling or getting sick.
Just as slowly as the ride had started, it begins to come to an end. The arms stop spinning, leaving the cars to dangle at the bottoms of the metal beams. The cars sink down to the ground as they stop spinning around the tower. They stop about a foot from the ground, and the Satyr comes around to free everyone from the cars. As he comes around and helps them out, he congratulates each one of them on surviving the ordeal.
“Have you a name?” DJ asks, stepping out of the car.
“They call me Big Guy,” He replies, “I think I had a proper name at some point, but I don’t care enough to remember it, honestly.”
“You forgot your name?” DJ asks.
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“Don’t worry about it. Happens a lot around here.”
When Big Guy lets Sebastian and Ikimono out of their car, the two hurry over to their friends. Fuego’s already covering his mouth, frantically looking for a bush to duck behind.
“So how was it, you guys?” Peony asks.
“I had to ask Ikimono to stop spinning us,” Sebastian says with a laugh, “I thought I was going to be the strong one when it came to spinning, but I was wrong.”
Ikimono beams with pride. “You sure were.”
“At least you're not as bad as Juniper,” Adderall teases.
“Hey now,” Juniper protests, “I know where my limits are. If you look real closely, Fuego’s leaning over that railing and getting sick.”
She points over to the corner by the Satyr’s booth, and Fuego is right where she says ve is: hunched over the railing, hurling up glitter and skittles.
“Is he alright?” Ikimono asks.
“Oh, sure,” Adderall replies, “That happens sometimes.”
“At least he didn’t get sick on the ride,” Peony grimaces.
As the others continue to wait on Fuego, Sebastian leans down to Ikimono.
“I think we forgot to tell you our pronouns,” Sebastian explains, “Peony’s a ‘she’; I think Juniper’s a ‘she’ too, but I think she walks into ‘they’ territory from time to time. Adderall’s a ‘he’ and a ‘she’, either one works, but Adderall isn’t called a ‘he’ very often, so it might make him feel nice; DJ’s a ‘they’ but sometimes they’re a ‘he’ too, but it’s one of those situations where you have to be pretty close to them to call them a ‘he’; and Fuego’s a ‘ve’.”
“A ‘ve’?” Ikimono asks.
“Yeah,” Sebastian says. “Like, ve is a little weird with ven’s gender, so ve made up vens own pronouns for venself. Does that make sense?”
Ikimono pauses and nods. “Yeah, I think so. And you?”
“Oh. I’m a ‘he’, really. I’ve been considering trying out what Fuego’s up to, but I don’t quite feel up to doing it. What are yours, Ikimono?”
Ikimono jumps at the question. “I don’t know what I am.”
“Not yet, at least.”
“Sebastian, I didn’t have a name until this afternoon. I don’t know what a ‘gender’ is.”
“That’s, uh, fair. So, ‘they’ is fine? It’s, uh, what you say if someone doesn’t have one or is weird with theirs.”
“I guess? I mean, as long as I’m not an ‘it’ to you.”
“Alright. If you want to change it, tell me, ok?”
Ikimono nods.
“So is Fuego alright?” Sebastian asks, turning back to the group, “Can we go?”
“I think I am,” Fuego replies, rubbing his neck as he rejoins them. “So yeah.”
DJ turns around and calls back to Big Guy. “Thank you!”
Bug Guy waves back in reply.
They all leave the enclosure through the rusted open gate. The midway is much darker now, and much more claustrophobic at that. The lights overhead dangle into the path, and those around the stalls have dimmed. The only reliable source of vision comes from the glow of the neurons around them.
“What time is it?” Juniper asks.
“It is,” DJ replies, lifting their wrist up to their eyesight and squinting at it, “Time for me to get a watch.”
Everyone rolls their eyes as DJ giggles to themselves.
“Do things close here?” Juniper asks to no one in particular.
“When the lights all fade to red, we need to leave,” Ikimono replies.
“Oh, now that’s not concerning at all,” Fuego mutters.
“I mean, I don’t think anything happens,” Ikimono says, “Right? That’s just what Sunshine told me, I think.”
“Have you ever bothered to stay around past then?” DJ asks.
Ikimono opens their mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. When they finally speak, they stutter.
“I, I,” They pause to think, “No, I haven’t.”
“What’s the harm in trying?” DJ says, “Worst case, we’ll just call for initiative and take whatever’s coming to us.”
“Don’t sweat it, Ikimono,” Peony says, “If anything happens, we know what we’re doing.”
“We usually get paid for it though,” Juniper adds.
“And that’s how you know we’re good at it,” Peony replies.
Ikimono looks at them in wonder. What are the odds of an entire fighting troupe finding their way here?
“Wow,” they gawk, “I suppose it’s not often you get out, then.”
DJ shrugs. “Eh, we get out enough. Most of the time we get sent pretty far away for work.”
“Well, you know what they say, DJ,” Sebastian smiles, “If you love what you do, it’s not work at all.”
“Yeah,” DJ lies, “It’s not work then, I guess.”
“So, where to next?” Juniper asks.
“Is there a fun house here, Ikimono?” Sebastian asks.
Ikimono nods. “Of course there is.”
“How big is it to walk through?” DJ asks, “Are the hallways cramped?”
Ikimono eyes DJ up and down. Their height might not be a problem, they could always duck through, but with outstretched wings? That might be a challenge.
“Can you close your wings?” Ikimono says, their voice going squeaky with stress.
DJ nods, folding their wings into their back. It’s dicey to say whether the halls would be big enough for them to fit. At least for the first quarter of it, the rooms always get smaller the farther along they go.
They don’t want to bear the news, though. Goodness, if there’s one person here they don’t want to be mean to, it’s DJ. Not just that they could send them back to Sunshine in a soup can if they wanted to, but they seem like a good friend.
“How about we see when we get there,” they say, hoping to come across as polite as possible.
DJ dips their head, signaling for them to lead the way. Ikimono bows in return, then turns to lead the others to the fun house.
How does anyone trust me? They think to themselves, For all they know, I could be out to kill them or something. I mean, isn’t that what everyone thinks of everybody else?
Ikimono looks back at the group. They all follow them constantly, occasionally looking at the other stalls or talking amongst themselves. A sinking feeling burrows inside their chest.
I’m just a Judas Goat, aren’t I? They think.
Ikimono continues on, slowly cowering into themselves as they inch closer and closer to the fun house. Ikimono finds themself clutching at their stomach, but there isn’t anything inside of it worth throwing up. If there’s anything in it at all, that is.
They feel a hand on their shoulder, then Peony’s voice. “Are you alright?”
Ikimono nods. They’re lying.
Eventually, Ikimono stops before a large red house. There isn’t a door per se, but a large spinning drum leading into a bright room of soft neon obstacles. The entire front of the lower floor is glass, and from where they stand in the midway, everyone can see the traps and tricks within the building.
DJ looks at the drum, idly spinning without so much as a carnie to guard it. Then they look into the glass walls, and notice how close together the vinyl bumpers and drums are. It looks claustrophobic, even for someone as small as Juniper.
“I think I’ll have to sit this one out,” DJ sighs in disappointment. “I’m really sorry, you guys.”
Ikimono is almost hesitant to respond. “It’s alright.”
“I might sit this one out too,” Fuego adds, “How much spinning is in here?”
“However much you’d expect from a fun house, I guess,” they shrug.
Fuego scratches at the scabs on the back of his hands. “How mad do you think whoever runs this would be if I threw up in there?”
“Sunshine?” Ikimono says, “Him? Very.”
“Oh dear. I’m with DJ on this one.”
“Alright. I understand.”
Fuego takes one look at Adderall and walks beside DJ. Adderall follows ven.
“Adderall?” Ikimono asks.
“She gets really bad separation anxiety with Fuego,” Peony explains, “Fuego gets that way too when ve’s not around her.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” They reply.
“And I think I’ll stay with them too,” Juniper says.
“Why?” Peony asks.
Juniper pauses, her ears perking up in surprise. “Because I’m going to scout out the food stalls so we know what’s here to eat.”
“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Peony asks, “Ikimono knows where all the food stalls are, right?”
Ikimono nods.
Juniper looks at Ikimono, trying hard not to grimace or cringe.
“It’ll be a lot quicker if I go and do it myself,” She replies.
Peony glares at her, but decides not to do anything. “Suit yourself, then.”
The four turn to walk away, and Juniper scurries off faster than the others. Peony keeps watching them, glaring at Juniper as she disappears into the lights of the midway.
“She’s not sorry at all, is she?” Peony grumbles.
“Take it on the chin, Peony,” Sebastian says, hiding his disappointment with the same opaqueness of saran wrap. “You know how she is with me sometimes.”
“That wasn’t directed at you, I don’t think,” Peony replies.
Finally, someone with the right idea, Ikimono thinks to themselves.
Ikimono still finds themself hurt by Juniper as they step into the rolling barrel at the front. If she was right about them, why did it feel so wrong? But as they spin around as Peony and Sebastian push the barrel around more, the idea tumbles out of their head. They stick to the walls from the force for a brief second, then roll back down along the twisting spirals of teal and maroon which coat the inside of the barrel. When at last they fall out on the other side, Peony and Sebastian fall down at their sides. The sound of music hits their ears, and they know their journey has begun.
The walls here, where there are walls, at least, are completely black. Some of them have splatterings of neon paint or patterns of dayglow, but for the most part, the vinyl foam obstacles are what gives the place its color. Right next to the holding where the trio fell into are pillars of plastic cylinders stretching from one wall to the other, forming a dense maze of stickiness. Sebastian steps out first, throwing himself over one of the cylinders and snaking into the mass. Peony follows close behind, ducking underneath another to crawl on the ground beneath the maze. Not wanting to be left behind, Ikimono throws themselves into the center, wriggling through the weaving mass of bright colors in the hopes of finding their friends.
The maze is like crawling through the dense thickets of jungle in the amazon, except now it reeks of the miasma of old socks. Sebastian finds he has to pull his hood over his head and his sleeves over his hands to avoid the overwhelming stickiness of the colored vinyl. At least the tight space is comforting. If there’s one thing Sebastian wants, it's pressure, and the suffocating mass of soft play makes him feel like he’s being squashed from all sides.
Peony, on the other hand, is trying her hardest to stave off the sock smell. She holds her void hand over her nose and mouth, crawling on her stomach to try and find a way out. As she finds the remnants of bandaids and dismayed toy cars, she only hastens her pace. When her path is finally blocked by a column, she takes the chance to climb up into the weavings, only to find herself more distressed by the overpowering miasma. She races through the remaining beams, then falls out haphazardly on the other side. Sebastian falls out not long after her.
“Where’s Ikimono?” She asks.
As if on queue, Ikimono crawls out from the thicket of plastic, shaking little bits of debris from their hair.
“Right here!” they reply.
Sebastian helps Peony to her feet as Ikimono falls from the posts. The three of them continue on, through punching bags suspiciously shaped like body bags dangling from the ceilings, writhing foam noodles from the walls, and foam hills protruding from the floor until they at last come to the glass walls of the front of the house. Before them lies a path of rollers, false floors, and spinning circles.
Sebastian, a little too excited, immediately slips and falls on the rollers. Peony laughs a little, and Ikimono joins her, their hands over their mouth to muffle their giggling. Sebastian grabs the rails on the glass to try and help himself up, but he continues to slip and slide with all the grace of a newborn foal to cross to the false floors. Peony follows him once he’s done, gliding on the rollers like a skater on ice. Ikimono, with a slight touch of hubris, throws themselves on to the rollers, shooting across them and tripping Sebastian and Peony on the other side. They’re nervous that they’ve angered them both at first, but when they hear their laughter, they know they’ve done the opposite. They help Peony up, then Sebastian, before carefully leading the trek through the false floors.
Ikimono triumphantly guides his friends through the unpredictable dipping and springing of the false floors, past the spinning and turning of the floor disks, and up the wobbling stairs with minimal casualties from Sebastian and Peony. When they reach the second floor, they stand with a choice of four doors, each one marked with some sort of painted sign. On the first, the word Playground is written in old, once vibrant paints. It’s dusty, sure, but not threatening in the slightest. On the second, the word Mirrors is created in a mosaic of shards from glass bottles. Ikimono recalls a time where they pricked their finger on one of the shards. If they look close enough, the stain is still there. On the third, a simple question mark. The last one, all the way at the end of the hall, is a bit more ominous.
“Keep Locked At All Times”
For the most part, the trio ignores the last door. The first night’s not the time to get in trouble. Or find out what’s inside, for that matter. Time is a virtue, and that virtue will come soon enough.
“Which door?” Ikimono says, walking in front of the three and presenting them as if they were a ringmaster themselves.
“What’s in Mirrors?” Peony asks.
“Mirrors, obviously!” Ikimono cheers, “Mirrors of all kinds, ones that distort every image placed before them!”
“And Playground’s just a playground?” Sebastian asks.
“Yeah,” Ikimono replies, “A lot like what we just came up through. But it all funnels out to the same place at the end.”
“Can we go into the mirror room?” Peony asks, turning to Sebastian.
“Of course,” Sebastian beams.
Ikimono takes hold of the old brass doorknob and gives it a turn. They open the door, and bow to motion the two inside the dark hall. Sebastian and Peony step inside, and Peony even gives them a little “thank you” as she enters. Ikimono shuts the door behind them all, getting the tails of their purple scarf stuck in the crack between the door and the frame. They tug at it, and soon it comes free.
Peony and Sebastian wait for their friend in front of a mirror, warped so that the viewer is either far too tall and thin or far too short and fat. The three stand and marvel at themselves and each other through the dusty prism. Well, two of them did, anyway. Ikimono hides themselves conveniently between Sebastian and Peony so as not to be noticed in the mirror.
Unfortunately for them, Peony notices.
“Would you like to see?” She asks.
“Oh, no,” Ikimono smiles, “I’ve been here a thousand times. I know I’m as short as a can of tuna fish at this one.”
Peony looks at the mirror, then back at Ikimono. The two are the same height, and Peony looks to be rather wide instead of rather small in the mirror’s reflection. She brushes it off, though. It isn’t a nuance worth worrying about.
When they find themselves satisfied with the first mirror, they move to the next, then to another. Eventually, they split up to look at whatever mirror each one of them wants to.
Ikimono is a little wary in the mirrors, always making sure either nobody is looking their way, or that they’re standing behind Sebastian or Peony. They don’t want to scare the two off with their reflection, or their lack of one at that. So they lean against a broken mirror by the end of the line of glass, tapping their foot to the little chiptune which hums in the hall of mirrors.
Sebastian chooses the mirrors in which he looks sort of at random. He darts from one to the next, trying to make sense of himself in every reflection he sees. He seems ever so slightly too tall for the mirrors, though. All of them except for one, one in the middle, beneath the glow of a black light. When he steps before it, there appears to be rusty red flowing from where his wires weave in and out of his body, all over his hands, and from his nose. His wings are gone, and as soon as he notices, an aching pain winces down his back. The longer he stares into it, the imagined smells of formaldehyde sting at his nose and burn the back of his throat. His eyes begin to turn gray and sink within his head. At last, he can bear to look no more, and turns away from the mirror. Concerned, Ikimono walks over to where he stands.
“What was that?” Sebastian asks, slightly shaken at the ordeal.
“This mirror shows you what your body looks like back on Earth,” Ikimono lies, “Pretty spooky, huh?”
“You have no reflection?” Sebastian remarks.
Ikimono’s heart just about stops.
“Oh, me?” Ikimono says, realizing he’s standing in front of the mirror. “My body’s rotten and gone, Sebastian.”
“And in the other mirror?”
Ikimono looks over their shoulder at the mirror beside them.
“Ah, I see,” Ikimono says, almost laughing off Sebastian’s worry. “Odd, isn’t it? This mirror doesn’t show reflections for anybody. It’s almost magic!”
Sebastian isn’t exactly comforted by Ikimono.
“Why don’t you try another mirror?” Ikimono suggests, sensing Sebastian’s unease.
Ikimono hurries off to try and find Peony while Sebastian tries to find another mirror. Sebastian watches them run off, and notices they’ve got no reflection in any mirror.
Peony is engrossed in the mirror of her choosing. She chooses them carefully, spending a little time at each one to fully investigate the image within it. In this mirror in particular, she finds herself engrossed.
When she gazes at her face, she finds half of it has been torn open into a maw of jagged teeth, spiraling down around the side of her head and down her neck. Her void arms grow teeth of its own, jutting about like jagged metal. Her fingers on the same arm are more like claws, and she clacks them against the mirror as if he was tapping morse code to the other side. An extra set of tentacles emerges from her back, thicker and stronger than her neat, nimble tentacles she wields now. A crown of ghastly, jagged horns rounds her head, and the polished onyx horns of a ram frame her face. In the gaze of her reflection, she finds herself knowing fear like an old friend.
“Are you ok?” Ikimono asks.
Peony jumps, startled and yet relieved that they would interrupt their looking. “Ah, yes, I was just, uh…”
Her voice trails off as she looks back at the monster in the mirror. The monster looks back.
“What is this mirror, Ikimono?” She asks, brushing aside her worries.
Ikimono lies again, this time a little more eloquently than they did with Sebastian. “This one makes you look like a monster.”
Peony steps back from the mirror, takes a deep breath, and nervously laughs.
Ikimono smiles, this time telling the truth. “It’s not going to get you, Peony, don’t worry.”
“In my dreams, maybe,” she says, a little nervous laugh intruding on her remark.
Sebastian walks over to the two, ignoring Peony’s reflection in the mirror. “Do you think we ought to head back to the others?”
“I think so,” Peony replies, resisting the temptation to look back in.
“Sure,” Ikimono nods, looking in the mirror as if on Peony’s behalf.
The three take their leave from the hall of mirrors. For such a small hall, it seems impossibly long, and the distance that should take seconds or minutes feels like hours. None of them dare so much as to glance in the direction of the glass to their sides.
Ikimono almost feels bad for lying to them both about the mirrors. They rub at the sleeves of their cardigan, trying to find a texture that will let them clear their thoughts.
Would it have been better to tell them about the mirrors? They think, Maybe they ought to know, just so they’d think about leaving a little.
Ikimono looks up at the two.
No, I’m sure it’s just an illusion. Besides, they’re nice. Maybe they ought to stay. They’d do so well here, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if I hung around with them. And they’re fighters, after all. Maybe I could join them.
Ikimono stops rubbing the sleeves of their cardigan. They take a breath, and the thoughts go away. Perhaps they’re satisfied.
Did I just help Sunshine?
Ikimono shakes his head in the hopes of tossing the single intrusion out of their mind. They didn’t even want to think about him. And plus, what could he do to them, anyway? They all could fight him off anytime they wanted to. It was just them who was the coward.
After their trek, Ikimono opens the exit door and allows Sebastian and Peony to exit. They look back for a moment’s hesitation, then rejoin their friends in the last alcove, dimly lit with the light of old incandescent lanterns. Ikimono walks over to a cramped, dark plastic tube, takes hold of the metal bar above it, and jumps up to stand on the wall.
“Here’s the slide to leave,” Ikimono says, “Shall I lead the way again?”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Peony asks, still skeptical from the mirrors.
“Yeah, it is,” Ikimono replies, “Doesn’t look like it, but hey, it’s a circus.”
“Are we allowed to go down together at once?” Sebastian asks.
Ikimono cocks their head to the side. “How?”
“Like, you sit down, then someone sits behind you, and someone sits behind them,” Sebastian explains.
Ikimono looks around the alcove.
“I don’t see any signs against it.”
Ikimono looks back at the two.
“And if it doesn’t say you can’t, you can, right?”
“Can we do that?” Sebastian asks, “If you’re fine with it, that is.”
Ikimono pauses. They can hardly believe they trust them enough already.
“If you want to, that’s fine,” Ikimono replies, “I’m humbled that you’d let me do that.”
“How about you sit first,” Sebastian begins, “Then Peony sits behind you, and I’ll sit behind her.”
Ikimono nods, then swings off of the wall and into the tube, inching forward so Peony can sit behind them. Sebastian helps Peony into the tube, and she sits behind Ikimono. Ikimono feels her bump into them, and for the first time in decades they remember what another person feels like. The two scoot forward a little more, and Sebastian slides in, his arms and legs just long enough to capture both in his grasp.
“Is this ok, Ikimono?” He asks.
Ikimono’s face is aglow with rusty red. “Yeah, it is.”
Sebastian gently pushes against the walls of the tube, and at once the three begin their descent through the long, metal tube. The only light in the metal tunnel is the dim glow of their eyes, and a train of purple, blue, and green shooting through the void. They jostle, bump, and thump their way down, until at last they fall into a ball pit by the midway.
The three are all smiles and laughs as they sit in the ball pit. They pick on Sebastian in particular, whose hair was treated rather unkindly by the static in the tube. He doesn’t mind, though. If there’s any two people who can make fun of him like that, it’s Peony and Ikimono.
When their banter dies away, Sebastian helps his two friends up from the ball pit. Ikimono brushes a couple rolly-pollies off of their sleeves, and points out to Peony she’s got some on her back. With her permission, they brush the small creatures off of her, careful to be gentle to her and the bugs.
“Any particular reason for the pillbugs?” Peony asks.
“The balls in this pit are also pillbugs,” Ikimono explains, “They get their color when they get bigger.”
Sebastian’s eyes go wide as he stares into the “ball” pit. “They’re just bugs?”
“Yeah,” Ikimono beams, picking up a ball, “See?”
The red ball unravels itself, slowly revealing its prickly legs. Its antennae pop out from underneath the plate of its head and wiggle about. When the insect finally unravels itself, Ikimono cradles it in their arms, resting its iridescent back against their arms.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Ikimono beams.
Sebastian and Peony look on in bewilderment.
Ikimono pets the bug as though it were a beloved pet. “It’s a shame, though, they’re all sick. The big ones, at least. They get red, and then orange, yellow, green, blue, and indigo, and when they turn violet they can’t unroll anymore.”
Sebastian’s face drops. “There’s dead bugs in there?”
“No. When they start turning purple, something gets them out of there. I’ve never seen a purple roly-poly before.”
Ikimono sits the bug back into the pit. It crawls into the mass of colorful insects, and soon some of them start to stir as well.
“If we wait long enough, they’ll all uncoil,” Ikimono says, “But I think we ought to get back to the others.”
“I’m not afraid of bugs,” Sebastian says, “But I’d rather not stay for that.”
Sebastian turns away from the ball pit, and Peony follows suit. Ikimono reluctantly looks back at the pit, then walks along with their friends.
What a shame, Ikimono thinks, They’ll eat pizza crusts right out of your hands.
Ikimono walks up beside Sebastian and Peony, and the three of them walk down the midway once more. The sounds of commotion from the other booths and attractions have long faded away, and some of the stalls have shut off their lights entirely. Ikimono pretends to not be nervous in the growing darkness. When at last they come to a large clearing, Ikimono leads them in. For such a dense forest of neurons, one would think that large clearings should be impossible, which is understandable, because they’re supposed to be.
The clearing is not as big as you imagine it to be, though it does have some size to it. The neurons are lined with stalls of all kinds of good food, from Portarian treats to Earthly fare. The scents of oils and spices of every kind settle in the headspace of all who enter, though none can ever seem to agree on a prevailing smell. In the open space between the stalls lies a sea of tables and chairs, each one neatly carved from odd bits of trees struck down in their prime at the hands of an odd bolt of lightning. No roots of myelin jut through the dusty ground here, nor do flickers of thought.
Across from the entrance, amidst the sea of tables, is the rest of their party. When the trio rejoins them, they find themselves greeted by the comfort of small chatter over smaller hors d'oeuvres. Across from their table is a stage woven from lesioned neurons turned gray from sclerosis, and atop it is a mouse-man perched atop a soapbox and strumming a tune on something not quite unlike a guitar.
Sebastian takes his place at the table without so much as a word, and Peony does the same. She looks back at Ikimono, but they don’t seem too keen on sitting down with them.
“How was the fun house?” DJ asks.
“They don’t call it that for nothing,” Sebastian replies, “There were a couple other different things to do in there, and we went for the Hall of Mirrors. Boy, were those mirrors weird.”
“That’s good,” DJ says, “Do you want something to eat? There’s a roll stand with some spring rolls and such, there’s one with some fried snacks, there’s a boba stand with little sweets…”
“Boba?” Peony asks.
“Yep,” DJ nods, “in that little yellow stand over there.”
“Sebastian,” Peony says, “I’m going to go get some boba and maybe a pastry. Do you want anything?”
Sebastian shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I was thinking of getting a hokey pokey.”
“Ikimono?” Peony asks.
Ikimono stares at Peony for a moment. They’ve never heard of either thing before.
“What’s boba?” Ikimono asks, hoping the others at the table won’t make fun of them for not knowing.
“It’s like tea,” Peony explains, “But it’s a sort of milky tea, and they put little tapioca pearls in it. It’s a drink and a snack in one, sorta.”
Ikimono turns to Sebastian. “And what’s a hokey pokey?”
“It’s shredded ice,” Sebastian explains, “But they mold it into a square, and they put syrup in it. Sometimes if you ask, you can get anything in the world.”
Ikimono looks at Peony, then back at Sebastian. When’s the last time they had eaten something? Could they even taste anything anymore?
“If it’s alright with you, can I come with you, Sebastian?” Ikimono asks, “Maybe I can get boba some other time.”
“That’s fine,” Peony says, “I’m sure we’ll have the chance to get snacks another time.”
Peony and Sebastian turn to go their separate ways, and Ikimono holds a lingering stare at Peony before hurrying off to join Sebastian’s side.
Did I anger her? They think, Oh, I don’t want to make her angry.
Ikimono follows behind Sebastian as he walks up to the little white cart. There seems to be no one behind it. Well, there is a something, not a someone. But paying no heed to the fact that it lacked a face, Sebastian takes two teeth from his pocket and orders.
“A lingonberry hokey pokey, please,” He says to the Something, “Ikimono?”
Ikimono stands frozen in anxiety.
“Ikimono? Should I order for you?”
Ikimono nods. They don’t want to talk anymore.
Sebastian turns back to the Something. “And one grape hokey pokey, please.”
The Something takes the two teeth from Sebastian’s sleeve-covered hand and grinds ice from the top of a jagged ice block. With its second and third hand, it forms the ice into cubes in a little metal tray. With its first, it dumps the teeth into what should have been its mouth. Then, it grabs two bottles from the inside of the cart, one red and one purple, and drenches the ice with color. It hands the hokey pokies to Sebastian, and Sebastian gives it a quiet thanks before handing the purple one to Ikimono.
Sebastian turns to walk back to the table, turning back around to make sure Ikimono is still following behind him. Ikimono can’t help but clutch pathetically at the paper cup in which the cube resides. It’s so deeply purple, more purple than anything he’s ever seen. They imagine it bleeding into the air as paint bleeds through water.
As the two walk back to the table, Sebastian starts to munch at his snack. Ikimono just stares at the cube in awe.
“Are you alright?” Sebastian asks.
Ikimono nods. It’s rude to walk and eat, or at least, that’s what I’ve been taught, they think.
“Why grape?” Ikimono asks.
Sebastian shrugs. “Your eyes are purple.”
Ikimono looks up at Sebastian. Sebastian looks back down at them. Ikimono hesitantly takes his left forearm and holds it level in front of them, then places their right hand atop it before pulling it up. Sebastian can’t quite understand, but something deep inside of him knows it means thank you.
When at last the two return to the table, Ikimono takes their seat next to Sebastian towards the end of the table. Peony isn’t back yet, and Juniper scowls when she finds that Ikimono has taken her seat. Ikimono doesn’t notice, and focuses their attention on the hokey pokey.
When they take their first bite, they’re confused at first. It’s cold, it's sweet, and it’s crunchy all at once. On the second bite, though, they find that the coldness, the sweetness, the crunchiness means something. There’s flavor, yes, sweet flavor. Something Ikimono forgot long ago, but now welcomes back like a dear friend. The texture is a delight too, something which danced on the tongue for a fleeting moment before melting away into nothingness again. The cold struck their mouth and left a painful buzz in their head, but not painful enough to deter them from eating. Why did they forget it all? What made them forget the wonderful taste of spring evenings and the warm feeling of a friend beside them?
Is this the “happiness” I’ve heard so much about?
Their thoughts are broken by Sebastian’s voice. “Is it good?”
Ikimono nods. “Can I pay you back?”
“Don’t,” Sebastian smiles, “My treat.”
Ikimono smiles, and a little warm trickle of blood seeps from their tacked-open eyelid and rolls down their cheek as they turn back to their treat.
“Are you,” Juniper asks, “Bleeding?”
Ikimono’s eyes widen, and they recoil in shock before rubbing the rust away with their sleeve. They turn away from Juniper, cowering into themselves again.
“That’s not supposed to happen,” they mutter, “I’m sorry.”
Peony returns with a cup of brownish milk in her hand. The little black pearls at the bottom of her cup jiggle as she sets them down on the table.
“Do I need to pull up a chair?” She asks.
“Yeah, unless someone wants to move tables,” Juniper replies.
Ikimono raises their hand. “I can move.”
Peony looks down at Ikimono’s shrimpish posture. She gives Juniper a look of disappointment before resting her free hand on their shoulder.
“No, you stay,” Peony says, “I’ll grab a chair.”
Peony turns around to the next table and grabs a chair, lifting it up from the sandy ground below and turning it to the head of the table beside Ikimono. She sits down and begins sipping at her tea. Ikimono lifts their head up to Peony, who gives them a little smile.
“Don’t worry,” She whispers, “You’re alright.”
The seven sit contently at the table as the muse behind them strums a song. Something about the stars and seas above, but not quite a shanty or ballad of adventure. Nobody quite pays attention to it. Except perhaps for Ikimono, who doesn’t have much to say to anyone else anyway. And besides, the muse behind them is someone worth saying hello to. Or at least, perhaps, worth saying hello to once everyone else has finished their food.
They don’t need to be the one to say hello, though. As soon as the mouse-man looks down from the inky sky above, they recognize Ikimono’s silhouette at the table below.
“Hullo, Little Buddy,” He says.
Ikimono turns around, catching the attention of everyone else at the table. They wave up to the mouse, and the mouse’s eyes dart about to all the others sitting at the table.
His ears perk up in excitement, and his hat almost tips off his head. “Are these your friends?”
Ikimono looks around the table. “I think so.”
“Oh goodness,” he grins, putting his paw to his chest, “I am so glad. Are they new here?”
Ikimono nods. “These two here next to me are Sebastian and Peony. There’s DJ down by the end, then Adderall and Fuego, and Juniper.”
Each one perks their heads up as they hear their name being said. They each look at Ikimono, then at the mouse-man, who almost has happy tears forming in his eyes.
“They are new performers, then?” He says, almost disappointed. His sorrow lasts a minute before he scoffs it off himself. “But they are your friends, Little Buddy! You have friends!”
“Little Buddy?” Sebastian asks, “You mean Ikimono?”
“Ikimono?” He beams, the tears finally showing on his cheeks, “Little Buddy, you have a name now too?”
Ikimono nods with pride. “Yes, Desmond. My name is Ikimono.”
Desmond cheers with delight, almost falling off of the seat of his soapbox. He sets his instrument on the ground and hops down from the stage, swiftly moving behind Ikimono.
Just like Juniper, Desmond is made of fabric instead of flesh. He once was rather soft and white, but with time and love, has grown rather scraggly, thin, and gray. His attire, too, is worn from age, and the green of his crocheted jacket and vest is ashen from dust. Still, he carries himself with the humble pride of a duke, even with an arm hastily sewn back onto his body.
He places a paw on Ikimono’s shoulder and waves to the others. Fuego notices the patterns on his jacket are the same sort of patterns he finds on slavic tapestries.
“Hullo” he begins, somewhat awkwardly, “I am Desmond. Ikimono’s been here for quite a long time, and in that time we have become, oh, what do you say? Found family, yes?”
Ikimono smiles, “Yeah.”
“Alright, found family it is,” Desmond continues, “Circus is a bit, well, hectic sometimes, but those of us who stay try to make it easier for each other as best we can. And I am glad Ikimono-- That is what you said, right? Ikimono? I heard you right?”
“Ikimono.”
“Right then. --I am glad Ikimono is helping you out. Now it is --wait, I guess it would be ‘they’ now-- they are a little weirdo, but I am sure you are all little weirdos, so I think you will like them.”
A little laugh comes out from behind Ikimono’s grin. “Desmond,”
“Oh, I am embarrassing you in front of your friends, am I?” He smiles, “I will let you all to each other. Ikimono, I am proud of you, and when I tell Maryelle, she is going to be very proud of you, but I will tell you all about that when I see you again.”
“Thank you, Desmond.”
“Oh, and one more thing. When you leave, take shortcut by the stage over to left. You will get to tree faster. I do not want to see Ikimono alone tomorrow because you were out when lights turned red.”
“The lights,” Ikimono says, a sudden flash of fear filling their eyes, “Oh, the lights! I think we ought to go, guys. Right now.”
Ikimono jumps up from their chair, and the others follow behind. As they pass Desmond, they give him a quick fist-bump before leading their friends down the shortcut at breakneck speed.
“Follow me,” they call, sprinting down the back alleyway, “I think I feel something in the neurons!”
The others are confused, but are too busy running to consider it. Except for DJ and Juniper, who have already taken flight.
Ikimono can’t quite hear what’s on the neuron trail tonight, but whatever it is, it’s anger. No, not anger. Malice, that’s the word. Towards them? Maybe, but they sometimes feel like every bit of malice is for them. It certainly would end up for them, that’s for sure.
Ikimono doesn’t have enough focus to notice the scenery around them as they run. The only things they’re focused on are the feeling of dread in their mind, the path ahead, and the looming lights slowly fading away to red.
Soon, they see the glow of the hub tree within their sights. They’re exhausted, but they try to pick up their pace as fast as they can, if for nobody else then their friends. They keep running, through the dust, up the stairs, and to their platform, only stopping to make sure everyone made it through alright.
To their relief, everyone did. They’re sweaty, panting, leaning against the trunk for rest, but they are safe. Ikimono rushes over to the railing overlooking the ground below, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar silhouette.
They do. The tall, slender shadow on the ground down below taunts them with its crescent-moon eyes. It stands agitated, then sneaks away like a fox into the woods. Ikimono glares at the figure, who they know could never come up to their sanctuary no matter how hard they try.
“If you want them,” They call out, “You have to get through me first!”
Ikimono turns back to the others, who have all seemed to have caught their breaths.
“I’m sorry for making you run like that,” Ikimono sighs, “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt is all.”
DJ waves their hand. “Don’t apologize. There was something down there, wasn’t there?”
Ikimono isn’t sure whether to tell the whole truth or omit. They’re leaning against the biggest speaker in the circus, after all.
“Something, yeah,” they reply, “It can’t reach us here, though. This is our sanctuary.”
DJ nods solemnly. “Good, we need one of those if we could be put in danger like that.”
“Say, where’s Desmond from?” Fuego asks.
“He doesn’t talk about it much,” Ikimono says, “I think he’s from somewhere where they use cyrillic. You really ought to hear him sing in his tongue. You’d think it was an angel.”
“I saw the patterns on his coat, and figured I’d ask,” Fuego says, “Plus, I had a hard time remembering ‘the’ when I came up here.”
“Tonight was fun, though!” Sebastian beams, “Thank you, Ikimono, for showing us around.”
Ikimono bows. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome to come with us any time,” Peony adds, “We want you to be our friend.”
Juniper rolls her eyes as the others agree with Peony. She doesn’t dare say anything, though.
“Really?” Ikimono asks, putting their hand to their chest.
“Why wouldn’t we?” Fuego adds, “You’re cool!”
“Aw, you guys are gonna make my little rotten heart skip a beat.”
“Take it on the chin,” Adderall smiles, “You’re welcome with us anytime.”
“Well,” Juniper says, “I don’t know about you all, but I’m tired. I’m going to sleep, everyone.”
Juniper walks off from the group, and everyone wishes her a good night’s rest.
Even that sickly little runt, Ikimono.
“So, we have the show tomorrow, and then what?” Sebastian asks.
“Not much of anything,” Ikimono replies, “There’s all sorts of backstage stuff you can do for your acts, but there’s not many other obligations unless--”
Ikimono looks back down at the ground below.
“Unless you’re asked.”
“Good to know,” DJ says.
“Say, do you think we could find a spot to practice with?” Adderall says, “You can tie me up to a tree and pull a Willy Tell!”
“That’s a tomorrow problem,” Fuego replies, “Let’s get to bed.”
The two wave and leave, and the others wave back.
“Guess I’d better go too,” DJ says with a yawn. “You’re cool, Ikimono, remember that.”
“Oh, thank you,” Ikimono smiles, waving as DJ turns to leave.
The trio stand in silence for a moment, looking at each other and around at the neurons. All of them were thinking the same thing, all about the neurons, and yet each one of them thought the others would think them crazy for mentioning it. Finally, Peony breaks the silence.
“Thank you, Ikimono, for everything,” She says, “I think I’ll be taking my leave for the evening. Sebastian?”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Sebastian calls, watching her walk away, “But thanks, Ikimono. It sure was a good time.”
Ikimono smiles. “Always a good time on Front Street.”