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catnip-933 · 17 hours ago

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Cage the Wilds (Chapter 2)

Summary: You forgot to mention something to Harlequin when you met him earlier in the day... but that's okay. He'll just have just as much fun figuring it out on his own ~

Content Warnings: None for this chapter, unless you count the walking green screen

You remember little of the things you should, and everything of the things you shouldn't. The static drone of the TV that never says anything of interest, endless runs of announcers and news anchors whose voices you know better than his. A face shrouded in obscurity, always turned away from you, but the flickering shape of the couch is always the same.

The door whispers shut behind you, and the stars and moon are so much brighter than the light from the window.

The woods are alive in all the ways your bedroom isn't. Full of things that chirp and buzz and rustle, that make your heart jump and race with every little secret slithering beneath the leaves. The path is only roughly hewn down the hill, over a broken wire fence into places that you rarely see in the light of day.

You never make it there on your own, creeping along until your muffled giggles are interrupted by the flash of yellow eyes and claws pouncing from the dark, knocking you into the undergrowth.

Shimmer is strange like that. Playful, but always a little rougher than the others. Appearing from places you'd never expect. She lifts you up with an annoyed look, brushing off sticks and leaves to carry you the rest of the way to the stone circle. It's always strange how much shorter the trips are when you're with her. How when you fall asleep late into the night, you always awake in your own bed.

The phantom claws stayed on your skin long after you'd escaped the street and his twisting, winding words. If you thought you understood even a fraction of their thoughts, that encounter had thoroughly rid you of the notion. He couldn't have been more different from the Pierrot, taking the notion of boundaries and picking it apart like claws through a gossamer veil.

His thoughts were impossible to tell. Moreso when you considered what their impressions might be of the humans they lived amidst. Pierrot seemed more straightforward in his interactions, but smiles could be faked, and you now realised, rubbing your arm where the sensation lingered, just how easily he could lie without you knowing. You weren't angry, per se, but the uncertainty of the pink ticket troubled you all the way to work, where news of Carol had did nothing to settle your disquiet.

The monotony of the diner felt surreal after the upheaval of the past day. Its manufactured contents so far removed from the true nature of the world. People were distant, talking on phones and moving according to scripts you didn't see. Smiling and laughing like actors in a different play. It had been a while since you felt like this—like you belonged more to a different place.

The jingle of bells brought you back with a start, finally registering the scream of the milk frothing and removing it from the machine. You looked up as claws pressed to the glass of the door, and there was no mistaking his red and black of his silhouette. He had to duck to make sure his jester cap didn't catch the top of the frame.

Strange how something so out of place felt like the only thing truly present. Too large and ill-fitted in the city size dollhouse you made your home.

“Good morning,” you chirped, and Pierrot's golden eyes found yours above the counter. His smile was nothing like the menacing shadow of your dream, all bright corners and pink cheeks. Harlequin's claws around your arm squeezed tighter. Reminding you that you didn't know the game. “Would you like to order something?”

You didn't have time to recover from the doubt of whether they ate anything remotely similar before Pierrot was leaning close over the counter to point excitedly at an item on the menu. You blinked as his curved claw came to rest on one of the newer items, echoing it to him. “The triple strawberry swirl…?”

He nodded, almost childlike in his smile. The ridiculous image came to you of any of the others with a plastic takeaway cup and fluffy spiral of whipped cream, and you pushed the idea to the back of your head, aware you were drawing too many parallels. The circus was nothing like them, as far as you knew. Too dangerous to make assumptions when they were as much a stranger as any other human. Yet, as Pierrot ruffled through his pockets, his presence felt more significant than that of any other customer. More so when you noticed the chocolate he pressed into your palm on top of the cash, his other hand cradling the back of yours in a much larger grasp.

The awareness of that contact seeped into your skin like a honey-coated rash. Again. You weren't used to this. Humans didn't reach out with this kind of meaningless intimacy, crossing distances preserved by layers of nervous laughter and bashful apologies, polite reassurances towards strangers you bumped into on the street��“no, no, it's okay. You're fine”—it was treated like a ticking time bomb. A game of intentions that erred on the side of ill-will.

“Is that a gift?” you said, and his eyes glowed as he nodded, his claws scraping against your wrist before he drew his hand back. Your skin prickled at the sensation. “...I see, thank you. Just a moment, I'll get your drink ready.”

It was a simple enough task that took you several long seconds just to remember the first step. Whether you were meant to reach for a cup for the chocolate casing around the outside, or the blender to mix the contents. His presence remained in your awareness, like a bright spot against the rest of the room. You were saved from needing to decide by your boss calling out from the kitchen.

“That guy,” he said gruffly after you poked your head around the corner. He was drying his hands of some food prep as he nodded towards the blind side of the wall. “Did he buy anything?”

Strange. You always thought it was your superstitious town, bittered by years of missing livestock and unsolved murders, but seeing the expression of your normally even-tempered boss, maybe it ran deeper than that. “Yeah,” you said. “A milkshake.”

“Good.” He looked unsettled, though it may have been the events of the morning weighing on his mind. “I don't want those guys hanging around here without buying anything. Let him know we don't allow flyering inside.”

You nodded, and it wasn't farfetched to think that otherness of the circus would translate to hostility in others. You certainly felt it when you turned back to the main area, nearly jumping out of your skin as you were met with piercing amber against the black sockets of a mask.

“Gah-” Pierrot stared as you drew a sharp breath, his eyes different up close. You tried not to recoil as you took in his awkward position, stooped half around the counter. As if he wanted to follow you inside. “Jeez you-” He was so close. “Did you forget part of your order?”

He paused, shook his head, bells jingling as he reached out to take your arm, and you were uncomfortably aware that it was the second time that day you'd been grabbed in the same place. Gentler this time, but you weren’t recovered from your initial fright before he was beckoning you closer, careful not to tug too hard as he lowered his mask to your ear. Your heart stayed at its frantic pace, staring at the silver strands that tickled your cheek as he whispered.

“Is he… being mean to you, my dear?”

The strangeness of his proximity was overridden by alarm, quietly worded as it was. You tried not to shiver, his hand encircling your arm to keep you close.

“No,” you said, an octave too high. The scent of freshly spun candy cotton that enveloped you, at odds with risk that blood might be spilled. You knew what they were like. “Not at all. Why do you ask?”

His eye widened, and in the one amber pupil you could see, the darkness behind it was more absolute than any mask could hide. You didn't know if he noticed the stiffness in your response. The way your hair stood on end; whether he understood what that meant for you. Or if, in his eyes, you looked like startled prey.

“Will you… come tonight?”

“To the circus?” That seemed like a monumentally bad plan, following a creature, who was already appearing in places he shouldn't, saying things you really knew he shouldn't, into his version of the woods. “Not tonight. I'll probably be covering for a coworker.”

The edges of his mouth moved to say something further, but you both jolted when the clatter of the shop door broke the silence, and sultry voice interjected. “Oh there you are, Pierrot. I was starting to think that- oh my.”

Pierrot leapt back as if burned, snapping around to face the other member of the circus. Harlequin wasn't as tall, but he still ducked to avoid the twin tails of his hat catching on the door, gliding into the shop with all the casual confidence of your encounter on the street. Judging by the curious narrowing of his eyes when he spotted you, he remembered it just as well.

“In broad daylight?” he said, more towards a stiff Pierrot than you. He raised a scandalised hand to his grin, and you could still feel those claws digging into your arm, even as he ran them along his mask. “Whatever were you planning, I wonder~”

Unlike Pierrot, Harlequin seemed intimately aware of the implications of your closeness, leaving you at a loss for what to think. If closeness meant the same thing for them, you should probably be treating this very differently from gratitude. Pierrot looked furious, and your hair stood on end even without being the subject of the quiet rage radiating off him.

It seemed like something that would lead to an argument, but the shop door jingling open cut it short. Harlequin twitched as a younger, more excitable voice called out.

“Mommy, look! There are clowns!”

You winced in sympathy as the child pointed, their voice stark against the serenity of the cafe, and the poor mother looked like she'd tasted a sour prune. Chagrined by unwanted attention as both performers' heads turned, she pushed the child's arm down, her tone indulgent, but quietly urging them to leave the topic alone. “That's true, darling. They're quite big, aren't they? But this circus isn't for children. It’ll give you nightmares.”

You were sure the circus was capable of giving adults just as much to fear, if the truth ever came to light, but the despairing wail in response was rather cute. The curiosity of a child that age would be unbearable, though for the so-called monsters… Harlequin had a peculiar look as he regarded the tiny human. Pierrot looked even warier than the mother, keeping his distance. You smiled as assuringly as you could.

“Can I get you and the little one something?” you said. The prospect of a treat was more than enough to capture the child's attention. You weren't sure if it was appreciated or not when they turned to their mother to begin tugging on her sleeve excitedly, but it ended up being a coffee and a hot chocolate.

“And you?” you said to Harlequin, who had been making silent faces at Pierrot throughout the exchange. He was technically in line next after the mother and her child, despite the woman behind him staring down at her watch. He turned to you with a needling grin, something different about the way he watched you, compared to his idle amusement on the street.

“I'll have an iced coffee,” he said, procuring the money to pay from somewhere under his cape. You had an inkling, with the way he held it out to you, that he had something planned. It was less of a surprise than with Pierrot when his claws caught the back of your hand, your expression souring as he placed the notes into it. Leaning forward, his fingers dug a little more tightly when you tried to pull back. “You know, I don't recall you mentioning anything about a red ticket-”

“Ugh! Will you freaks quit bothering people wherever you go.”

Harlequin's serpentine gaze narrowed as it flicked to the side, whatever barb he had prepared interrupted. You snatched your hand back in his distraction, though he hadn't loosened his grip, those sharp claws scraping the back of your skin. You covering your wince with a grin as the woman stomped up to the counter, pulling out her card. “You can take my order first if you're going to waste my time flirting with these weirdos. I want a two shot macchiato. No sugar.”

It was hard to comprehend sometimes, that people like her actually existed. “I'm already in the middle of taking an order-” you said, and Harlequin's lilting voice cut in.

“Oh don't trouble yourself. We aren't in any rush ~” He stepped back, his gaze focused more on Pierrot as he hummed. “Why not do the busy one's drink first? I'm sure we'd all rather she be on her way ♪”

“Excuse me?” the woman sneered, and Harlequin brought raised a hand to his mouth, tilting his head with a vicious grin.

“Mm? Are you not in a rush? I assumed you would prefer to have your drink sooner, so as to get wherever it is you're going ~”

It was just plausible enough that all the woman could do was glare. You ignored the stinging on the back of your hand as you looked to Pierrot, whose eyes were wider than you recall ever seeing. Fixed unerringly on the hand you pulled down beneath the counter. Seems like he doesn't care either.

Fine. Even if it felt like rewarding bad behaviour, you entered the amount for card payment and started on the one order you had before hers—the mother and child—no point letting her have her way completely. Harlequin's drink you wrote on the same tab as Pierrot, slipping it under the machine at the back as you got started.

Busying yourself gave you a distraction from your spinning thoughts, at least. Ignoring the woman who sighed and tapped her foot with every perceived mistake, you kept a silent eye on the performers who stood off to the side, radiating a tension that was starting to affect the other customers. Harlequin spoke under his breath with sharp smiles and glances at you, while you only saw Pierrot's back, the rigidness of his shoulders saying enough.

“Ugh, the coffee's as bad as the company,” the woman sneered, when she finally did receive the coffee. The mother had already ushered herself and her child out of the shop, drinks in hand despite nervous glances at the circus members. It was a relief when the witch disappeared out the door too. Your heartrate could settle, despite the slight tremble that had started on your scratched hand. It really stings…

You took a deep breath, reaching for Pierrot's cup next. It was clearer now which step you needed to start with, ignoring the two sets of inhuman eyes that had stopped bickering long enough to watch you work. It was all eerily quiet, save for the sounds of movement in the kitchen, the lull of mid-afternoon traffic, before the schools got let out. You weren't sure what to say. The sting of the scratch still played pinball inside your thoughts, and whenever Harlequin did seem to move in your periphery, Pierrot's looming presence shifted as well.

“Thanks for waiting,” you said eventually, when the two drinks were finished and you could set them on the counter with Harlequin's change. You smiled faintly as it broke whatever silent stare off was between them. “Enjoy your day. I'm sorry you had to deal with that other customer.”

“It is of no consequence.” Harlequin voice was quieter than before, though you would hesitate to call anything about him contrite. "Perhaps-"

Your name being called from the kitchen put an end to it. Thank the stars.

“I've got to go,” you said, interjecting as much false cheer as you could as you waved both of them off. “Enjoy the coffee, and good luck with your shows- uh, if you're performing.”

Have to put something on this before it gets infected.

Hhhhhhhhh this took a while (T▽T) Harlequin nearly killed me with the number of times I had to move around his dialogue. There sure is a lot that he WANTS to say, but they're in the middle of a cafe, so I had to cut most of it out!

There are some parts I'm still not happy with, just tone or pacing wise, but I've been having fun exploring how small things can spiral ~ I noticed Harlequin really wasn't all that forward when he visited the cafe the first time, but if Pierrot were there, I think he would be more provocative to get a reaction. Someone's really not going to be happy about that scratch though... hahah

Thank you for reading! And thank you to those that left comments on part one, it was really encouraging ♡♡

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