#m.aesthetic

[containatrocity]

I see the wolf beneath the skin // Hear the Devil's Violin // A secret heaven in hiding // Can't find the silver lining.

Mercy Wainwright: Jester Magician/Bard

-Costume from img 1 -Makeup from img 2 (no contacts) -Mask and frill from img 3 -All in blue/silver tones to match his usual color language.

Electing to use the faire to busk, Mercy's costume is certainly in no small part using pieces of his usual performance garb with the cirque. Playing violin as well as performing his usual acts of magic, escapist feats, sword eating/fire swallowing and knife throwing/juggling, it's more out of a desire to do his hobbies again than anything relating to money- something to keep his skills sharp when the opportunity arises. Electing to loiter around the shops and food stalls most of the event due to the high volume of foot-traffic, He's regularly unmasked- painting his face black, blue and silver to continue the appearances when the grinning visage of the Jester is taken off.

[felldragxn]

I. THE FAIRY.  chipped nail polish. glitter highlight. tall trees with smooth bark. tangled hair. the taste of cinnamon sugar. talking too loud and too fast. overgrown flowers in your hair. crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature. flirting. walking home at 3am with no coat. platonic hand-holding. blowing smoke out of your nose. dragonfly wings. chaotic good. freckles. fairy rings. secret meetings. gender nonconformity. leather. smudged eyeliner. forbidden fruit.

II. THE REAPER. computer errors. a shiver down your spine. haunting beauty. hard liquor. crowns of thorns. shadowed alleyways. decaying plant matter. shattered mirrors and broken glass. corrupted memories. stopped clocks. the scent of stale cigarettes. tattered black hoodies. walking your friends home. the crescent moon. the sea. a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers. absolution. looking out the window of an airplane. soft kisses.

III. THE WITCH. graffiti. pretending to know what you’re doing. worn paperback books. growing up too fast. parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. lace and combat boots. moth wings. candles on every surface. a weathered deck of cards. turning the music up. fireflies in jars. calloused fingers. drawing on your skin. sunlight filtering through clouds. petrichor. a dying rose in a jar.  wearing a crystal pendant. illusions and spells. black cats. mint gum. chapped lips. dirt under your fingernails. the cycle of life and death.

IV. THE WOLF. murders of crows. frost-bitten leaves. wolves howling at midnight. knocking on your door. leaving food out for stray animals. the twang of an acoustic guitar. honey. tiny red buds on trees. claw marks on the walls. golden eyes. slightly too long stubble. sharp canines.  soft, thick fur. hunger. a small cottage in the middle of the woods. knitted fingerless gloves. sleeping on the forest floor. always finding your way back home.

[containatrocity]

THE REAPER: MERCY WAINWRIGHT

Hello lovely, I'm corruption- I just noticed that you seemed a little down. Just sign right here on this line and I can change your life This is a blind shot in the dark, I don't think what you need is love- Take that off we're gonna make you a star!!!

"Have Mercy baby! Merc Wainwright, but you can call me daddy. The better half of the Sidon Brothers, 30 years young. Freakshow barker performing feats of human strength, firebreathing, human blockhead, coal walking, ever seen a man put a hook through his face? you want to? But I'm outta the game, as seven years ago my idiot brother took a wrong turn with our circus and landed us here, in Huntsville. I've recently taken ownership of the oddities shop in town and trade in useless shit nobody wants anymore. Me and the commune don't fuck with each other, really, guess I spend too much time sniffing around it for tail and not enough time 'participating' in their whole gig. I'm a hedon, who doesn't believe in vices, but if I had to pick one, I've been known to get myself involved in the affairs of those married, taken, and otherwise off the market."

Name: Roewan "Mercy Wainwright" Sidon

Aliases: Merc, Mercy, RoRo, The Marvelous Mr. Wainwright

Age: 30 (October 13th)

Sexuality/Gender: Pansexual Cis Male

Personality: Mercy's a showman, and that much is clear moments into knowing him. Loud and demanding of attention, he commands a room when he enters it, and isn't one to shy away from conflict. a true hedonist, Mercy's only goals in life appear to be his own pleasure and receiving the affections and accolades of others, quick to assume something is wrong with them if they don't like him, or find him attractive. Vain to a fault, he continues to defy his surface-level behavior by being a loyal friend, protective and willing to die for those who mean the world to him, if push comes to shove. A con-artist and gambler who loves to rig the game in his favor, Mercy's tendencies to challenge people to bets they 'surely can't lose' only to rinse them for their belongings is well known- a man skilled in sleight of hand and misdirection thanks to a background in the circus- not everyone in the Menagerie is a conman, but Mercy certainly took on the role early into his life.

Occupation: Former sideshow performer and 'freakshow' announcer, current owner of Auntie Em's Antiques and Oddities.

Affiliations: The Menagerie Circus, the Town of Huntsville, Arkadeon Sidon, Hex Sif-Sidon

Scent Profile: Heady notes of sugar and honey under something more bitter, like warm coffee, petrichor and blood. Lanolin from violin bows, a scent and a talent he shares with Hex, the dusty scent of old, well loved books and furniture, and the herbal notes of marijuana cigarettes smoked out of black paper rolls.

Aesthetic: A clean, well pressed vest and perfect white dress shirt ruffled by hands reaching to run down covered chest. The glint of a dagger, juggled, swallowed, or tucked along the hem of someone else's smallclothes. Rosy colored glasses hiding the aces tucked up your sleeves, blood on your tongue but the pain's always been a pleasure, so you share it, copper between lips, steel hidden away. A brother wearing a crown, your hunger for power insatiable and only asleep, not quelled by the platitudes you were offered. Black-painted nails and several rings streaked sanguine. Your suit is still impeccable, somehow.

Hello darling, Names seduction- Why don't you find something comfortable? Let me take your coat.... Don't be reluctant. Nothing you want can phase me, I'm all ice inside baby! Let's fix that addiction, You're sick'n I've got the remedy.

CHAPTER ONE: LIFE IN HUNTSVILLE POST ARRIVAL

The hedonistic, self-serving younger of the Sidon siblings, Mercy has made himself a rather unpopular member of the Menagerie in the time since his arrival with a substantial number of people. His tendency to serve only the interests of himself at the end of the day prove him to be rather impossible to get along with, and only those who have successfully appeased the selfish, lavish man first have come to know him as a loyal, well-meaning friend. As the now owner of Auntie Em's (as of mere months ago) He takes in the relative 'junk' that people can't find uses for- or things that townsfolk who meet an... untimely end, leave behind. He functions similarly as a fence, with a no-questions-asked policy for buying and selling, no matter the item. An eclectic, an artist, and an inventor of his own regard, he has a tendency to tinker, taking apart the junk and oddities in his shop to create something new- though it's typically something sharp or naughty, all things considered.

His pleasure-seeking ways aren't completely, and uniquely self serving, of course, as he's become rather well known for his 'get togethers' held overnight in houses no longer occupied, cheekily touted as the 'chance to get to know your neighbor' but decidedly leaning into the carnal. While it's an open secret- and something Mercy himself tends to hand out invites to like candy, It's still something he plays dumb about- especially to the police and government around Huntsville- generally distrusting of them at large. He doesn't seem to be bothered, by the fact he's trapped here, the looming threat of death embraced like a dagger held in his teeth- a living dead boy with no fear of death since his childhood, Mercy Wainwright has no want or need to get attached- and dead bodies piling up around him are par for the course. Calamity made flesh, chaos in flesh and bone- Mercy's seen the world before he could even drink- and now he's found himself bored of what it has to offer. He can only climb higher and higher- but Huntsville may yet melt the wax holding together inky black wings.

[containatrocity]

can't really blame the dealer. He's just trying to be the healer.

[felldragxn]

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls We were hungry before we were born