Azter felt a gentle nudge at his shoulder, stirring him from his sleep. He groaned, blinking groggily as the world around him came into focus. The first thing he saw was Lucille’s bright violet eyes staring down at him, amusement glinting in their depths.
“You’re such a lazy bum,” she teased, crossing her arms. “You’re going to miss breakfast if you keep sleeping like this.”
He pushed himself up, wincing as his body protested. “I didn’t exactly have a good night’s rest, you know. Carrying you around like a sack of potatoes doesn’t do wonders for my back.”
Lucille smirked, ignoring his grumbling. “And yet, here you are, still alive. Now, get moving before I eat your portion too.”
They shared a light-hearted exchange of quips while Azter dug into his bowl of food. The gruel was as unappetizing as ever, but he ate it without complaint. He knew he’d need the energy for whatever was coming next.
“How late is it?” he asked between bites.
Lucille stretched, her movements still a bit stiff from the prior night’s punishment. “Almost noon,” she said, casually.
Azter’s brows furrowed. “Almost noon? You could’ve woken me earlier!”
“Where’s the fun in that?” she replied with a cheeky grin.
Before he could retort, a familiar chime rang out across the circus grounds. Both of their expressions turned grim at the sound. It was the ringmaster’s summons.
Azter and Lucille headed toward the gathering point, weaving through the maze of tents and equipment. As they approached, the performers were already assembling, muttering amongst themselves. The ringmaster stood in the center, his cane tapping against the ground as he barked out instructions.
“You lot,” he pointed at the strongmen, “move the cages and crates to the wagons. And you,” his finger swept toward the acrobats, “pack up the poles and rigging. Carefully. I don’t want anything damaged before we reach the Royal Human Capital.”
The performers scrambled to obey, knowing better than to question his orders. When his eyes landed on Azter and Lucille, his expression shifted into something colder, more disdainful.
“You two,” he said curtly, tossing them a pair of sticks. “Up there.” He gestured vaguely toward the towering tents before turning away without further explanation.
Azter caught one of the sticks and handed the other to Lucille. They didn’t need clarification—they knew exactly what was expected of them. With a shared glance, they made their way toward the main tent.
As they passed the other performers, Azter felt the weight of their spiteful stares. He could hear their whispered comments, filled with venom and mockery. Lucille kept her head high, but Azter’s fists clenched at his sides.
When they reached the edge of the main tent, Azter crouched and laced his hands together, giving Lucille a boost. She scrambled up the canvas, her movements agile despite her lingering soreness. Once she reached the top, she leaned down and offered him her hand.
He ignored it, jumping and grabbing the edge of the tent with ease. Despite his wiry frame, years of physical exertion had given him surprising strength.
“Show-off,” Lucille muttered as he hauled himself up beside her.
They began their task, using the sticks to clear debris and other unwanted items that had somehow accumulated on the tent’s surface.
“How does this stuff even get up here?” Lucille asked, poking at a particularly stubborn patch of gunk. “Are birds having parties or something?”
Azter smirked. “Probably just the wind. Or maybe the circus is cursed. Wouldn’t be surprised.”
Lucille chuckled, shaking her head. “You and your curses. Always the pessimist.”
“It’s hard not to be,” he replied, his tone darkening. “Especially when we’re heading to the Royal Human Capital. If you think last night was bad, just wait. There’ll be even more people cheering for our pain. Laughing at us like we’re nothing.”
Lucille paused, her stick resting against the canvas. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “Maybe it won’t be all bad. I’ve heard the capital is beautiful. Maybe we’ll get to see something amazing.”
Azter scoffed, his hands tightening around the stick. “We won't be able to see anything remember. That bastard doesn't want us to be seen by the outside world.”
"True,” she replied, her violet eyes meeting his. “But we could see all kinds of new people. We rarely see humans among the audience.”
He didn’t respond and instead sighed, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the capital lay waiting for them. Deep down, he envied her ability to hold onto optimism. For him, it was a luxury long since lost.
As Azter and Lucille worked their way across the towering canvas of the tents, the lighthearted conversation between them eased the burden of their work. Despite the unpleasant task, Azter noticed something peculiar as he glanced at Lucille: her eyes had shifted from their usual vibrant purple to a radiant gold.
Her eyes had always fascinated him. Over the years, he’d learned that they changed color based on her emotions—a unique trait that only he and the ringmaster knew in full. To the other performers, her strange eye color was just another "proof" of her supposed witchcraft. Lucille had always taken care to ensure her eyes appeared purple in public, the color she wore when she felt mischievous or lighthearted, hiding the other hues from the prying eyes of the circus.
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There were four colors in total: red when she was angry, which was rare; black when she was deeply sad, a color he often saw in fleeting moments when she thought he wasn’t looking; purple when she was playful or trying to mask her true feelings; and gold, like now, which meant she was genuinely happy. Lucille could exert some control over the shifts, but not entirely—emotions always seemed to find a way to shine through.
“What are you so happy about?” Azter asked, pausing mid-swipe with his stick.
Lucille stopped and turned toward him, momentarily startled. She blinked as if realizing she’d been caught. Letting out a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. When she reopened them, the gold had faded, replaced by her default purple.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, a playful edge to her tone.
Azter raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Don’t play dumb. Your eyes gave you away.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying sometimes,” she grumbled, twirling her stick in mock irritation.
“Just tell me,” he pressed. “It’s not every day you look this happy.”
Lucille hesitated, clearly reluctant to admit it. Then, as if deciding to throw caution to the wind, she smirked. “Do you know what day it is?”
Azter blinked, caught off guard. “No? Why should I?”
Her smirk dropped instantly, replaced by mock outrage. She crossed her arms and stamped her foot against the canvas dramatically. “Azter! How could you forget? It’s our birthday!”
“Birthday?” he echoed, tilting his head in confusion.
“Yes, our birthday!” she huffed. “The day we met? The day we decided to call our birthday since neither of us knows our real one?”
The realization hit him like a slap. He hadn’t been keeping track of days—it was hard to, with the endless grind of their miserable lives. But Lucille, ever sentimental, always seemed to remember.
“I didn’t realize it was today,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
Lucille groaned dramatically. “You’re hopeless, Azter. I even dropped hints about it yesterday!”
“Hints like what?” he asked, skeptical.
“Hints like…” She paused, clearly improvising. “Like when I said, ‘Tomorrow’s going to be special.’”
Azter smirked. “You never said any of that shit.”
She pouted, "Then you weren't listening...", and for a moment, her eyes flickered gold again despite her best efforts.
Azter pointed it out with a grin. “There it is—gold again. You’re not as sneaky as you think, Lucille.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, unable to suppress her smile. “Fine. You caught me. Happy birthday, Azter.” she said, reaching out for a hug.
“Happy birthday, Lucille,” he replied, his tone softening and accepting it.
As they returned to clearing the tents, their banter continued, lighthearted and full of teasing. Yet, as much as Azter played along, his thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn’t help but count this as another year they were trapped in this wretched circus, another year of slavery and misery.
But for now, he chose not to dwell on it. He didn’t want to ruin Lucille’s rare moment of genuine joy. Her laughter echoed in the air as they teased each other, a fragile piece of happiness amidst the darkness of their reality. For just a moment, he allowed himself to hope that they might one day find freedom—and a real reason to celebrate.
With the last of the tents cleared, Azter climbed down from the roof first, dropping lightly to the ground. Dusting his hands off, he glanced up to check on Lucille. As he did, he noticed a group of performers passing nearby, their stares lingering on him with a mix of disdain and indifference.
Lucille noticed them as well, and her cheerful expression faltered. Her eyes, still a radiant gold, betrayed her emotions. Realizing the slip, she quickly shut her eyes, concentrating on returning them to the safer purple hue. But as she shifted her footing to adjust, her heel caught on the canvas edge, and she slipped.
“Lucille!” Azter’s voice rang out as she fell.
He reacted instinctively, catching her mid-air. She landed safely in his arms, and he steadied her effortlessly. Looking down at her, he couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days. At least wait until I’m not looking—it’s less stressful.”
Lucille stuck her tongue out playfully but quickly straightened as the performers passed, avoiding their gazes. Before either could say more, someone barreled into Azter from behind, knocking both him and Lucille to the ground.
Azter gritted his teeth, ready to lash out at the offender, but Lucille grabbed his wrist. “Let it go,” she whispered firmly, her purple eyes meeting his.
Taking a deep breath, he did as she asked, though his frustration simmered beneath the surface. “You okay?” he asked, helping her up.
“I’m fine. You?” she replied, brushing herself off.
“Nothing a little dignity loss won’t fix,” he muttered, earning a soft laugh from her.
Before they could regroup fully, a loud chime echoed through the air, this one far deeper and more resonant than the usual call. Lucille’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she grabbed Azter’s hand.
“Come on!” she said, tugging him toward the edge of the circus grounds.
“What now?” Azter grumbled though he allowed her to drag him along.
They arrived at the outskirts where other performers had gathered, all standing in relative silence. Most ignored the duo, their attention focused on the ground beneath their feet. Azter noticed the faint tremor in the earth, a sensation that grew stronger by the second.
The circus grounds began to shift, accompanied by a low rumble. Slowly, the massive perimeter of the circus rose from the earth. The ground beneath their feet detached entirely, revealing a complex network of mechanical supports and engines.
Azter watched, his usual cynicism tempered by awe, as the entire circus lifted higher and higher into the sky. The canvas tents, performers’ wagons, and equipment—all of it ascended seamlessly.
Inwardly, he reflected on the spectacle. The flying circus was the crown jewel of the ringmaster’s sick empire, a project that had cost an unfathomable fortune to create. The man’s greed knew no bounds, and his investment in this marvel of engineering was purely to attract more patrons to witness the suffering of his performers.
Soon, the circus floated high above the ground, surrounded by a sea of clouds. The rumble quieted, and the ringmaster’s voice boomed over a crackling speaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are officially en route to the Royal Human Capital! We shall arrive in a day’s time. Make use of this period to rehearse, prepare, and ensure that our grand performance will be the talk of the capital for years to come!”
As the announcement ended, Lucille tugged at Azter’s arm again, pulling him toward the edge of the circus platform. They reached a secluded spot where the horizon stretched endlessly before them.
“Look at that!” Lucille exclaimed, her golden eyes—though she didn’t realize it—gleaming with joy again. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”
Azter leaned on the railing, glancing at the lush green landscapes below and the vast, open sky around them. “If you say so,” he replied, though his tone lacked the venom he usually reserved for such moments.
Lucille huffed, turning to him with a grin. “You’re such a grump. Doesn’t any of this make you feel... free?”
He scoffed. “Free? We’re floating in a gilded cage, Lucille. There is no freedom to this nonsense.”
“But for now, it’s peaceful,” she said softly, leaning on the railing beside him.
Azter glanced at her, her expression serene as she took in the view. Despite everything—the pain, the abuse, the endless performances—Lucille always found a way to hold onto her optimism.
“I'll let you have it for now since it's your birthday,” he admitted.
“Our birthday.” she corrected.
“Yeah, yeah, our birthday.”
She smiled, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I really hope things change for the better. That way my smiling would be worth it.”
Azter said nothing, letting her words hang in the air. The two sat in silence for a while, watching the clouds drift by and the sun cast its golden glow over the land below. For that fleeting moment, it was just the two of them—no ringmaster, no performers, no audience. Just them and the sky.