Chapter Text
The racket of the crowd consumed the tent. Dozens of people crammed into the rows and platforms all peek over each other’s shoulders to see the stage. The currently empty stage. Lined with stripes, color-changing lights, and draping fabric, the atmosphere was set for a performer.
All the spotlights went out. Hushed whispers fell over the audience.
Darkened by shadows, only the noises of confusion that reverberated through the tent were able to make out clearly.
Until every spotlight awakened and became trained on the slumped over woman on the stage.
Her blood-red dress, puffed out by a white petticoat, bunched around her legs as she sat on the floor. She wore a black, stringed corset over a ruffled blouse and her leg was wrapped with black ribbon. Her face was obscured, leaving her only defining features as the doll mask, decorated with roses, covering the entirety of her face and a high ponytail of flowing purple hair.
As she sat completely still, what looked like plushies entered her spotlight. The dark plushies of little creatures with stitched expressions and circus outfits surrounded her. They poked and prodded her sides until she finally showed signs of life.
Her head lolled to the side, causing a wave of purple curls to cascade over her right side. She raised her left hand daintily, letting her wrists hang loose. It looked like a surprise to her as well because she turned her mask to look at the raised appendage before the other followed suit. Then her body was dragged upwards to an unstable standing position, balancing on her stilettoed pointe shoes.
One member of the audience, curiously with the same shade of purple hair, gasped in disbelief. Her eyes watered, but no drops escaped.
The performers only continued their act as the marionette was taken around the tent, swaying hauntingly graceful. She had accompaniment by the trapeze artist who swung on a platform above, her soft voice complementing the marionettes movements.
Sat behind the trapeze artist was another figure, obscured and shadowed over. You could only make out the golden horses on the coattails of the silhouette when it caught the light. You could only see the strings attached to the marionette’s limbs if the lights angled the right way.
She floated around the stage, lightly tapping out her dance and swinging her arms above her head.
This was the last act of the day. Following the acrobatics, trapeze routine, and theatrical dramatics of the brief plays, this seemed more tame in comparison. But this was the most horrifying thing to see to the marionette’s mother in the audience.
Her sentiments were not shared by the other audience members as their thunderous applause filled the room. Her sentiments were not shared by the performer she once recognized as her perfect daughter. The aforementioned daughter cracked barely a smile behind her mask, finally feeling her heart pump faster than usual. It seemed the clown noticed somehow, behind the mask, because her own smile split her face almost unnaturally upon glancing at the marionette.
The cast gathered at the edges of the stage, with linked hands, and bowed deeply at their dear audience. The troupe’s goal was to spread as many smiles as possible, of course. Today was no exception, it seemed, as the crowd’s roaring hadn’t quieted yet.
Some people stuck around simply because their heartbeats hadn’t lessened from the excitement, but one purple-haired audience member jumped out of her seat to vault over the rails and into the back. She threw open the doors in hope to see her daughter, but was met with light pink fluorescent lights that nearly blinded her and a clown mask, sporting wide, dark eyes. She recognized this as the clown from the show due to the head of bright pink hair and huge smile underneath the mask.
“Hello, audience member!” the clown exclaimed cheerfully. Her voice was high and pierced through the silence. She just finished rolling a humongous striped ball to what she assumed was a prop room before fully facing the intruder.
“Hmmm…” the clown looked on either side of her and then bounced to attention.
“You don’t have a backstage pass! That’s not very wonderhoy of you to snoop!” the clown said with a huff.
She tried her best to calmly explain, “Well I saw my daughter performing in the last act and I wanted to see her—”
“Oh! You’re today’s marionette’s mom!”
She grimaced at how familiar this performer behaved with her daughter. She chuckled blandly, “Ah, yes, that’s me. So, where—”
“I don’t know!” The clown tapped her cheek for a moment, contemplating something unbeknownst to her. “Ok! You can ask Ringleader! He’s suuuper tall and wears a big hat! And he knows everythinggg.”
The clown swayed in place and left the last syllables drawn out in such a way that made her uneasy.
The clown imitated a drumroll. “He should be…”
“In the accident room!” She finished with jazz hands. “Two rooms down! It’s marked with a big X!”
The clown’s arms crossed over her chest, like she thought she wouldn’t know what an X looked like. Well, she thanked the clown anyways and sped into the room two doors over.
Upon opening the door, she was met with another change of lighting, this time a more mellowed purple. The ringleader wasn’t within her current field of vision, so she ventured further into the accident room. The walls were lined with what looked like mechanical parts. She recognized a few power tools dangling on the walls and spools of thread on hooks. Why were there no medical supplies in their accident room?
“Fufu, you’re not a regular.”
She turned around as the door slammed closed. This must be the ringleader. He did in fact have a tall hat to boost his already tall stature as he loomed over her, with one of the show plushies in his hands.
“What must’ve been so important that you trespassed into a cast-only zone, hm?”
His voice wasn’t what you would expect from a troupe leader. It was gentle and light, like it was meant for soothing and not shouting directions from across the room. It was unnerving to hear while peering into the thinner black eyes of his mask.
“I want to know where my daughter is,” she said firmly.
He only laughed in response. He didn’t even face her while she talked, how disrespectful. He decided fiddling with something inside the plushie with a screwdriver was more worth his time.
“I’m not a detective. You’ll have to elaborate further, I’m afraid,” he said with a giggle. His tone was one that sounded kind, in the way you talk to a child, but it sounded condescending to her.
“My daughter, the one in the last act, as the marionette. I want to see her and bring her home.”
He turned to her.
“You’ll need to acquire a backstage pass, by legal means, or wait for a fansign then,” he replied nonchalantly, letting the plushie sit on the table.
She huffed, irritated at his dismissal, but she supposed she did break a law by entering. She then noticed the plushie that once sat on the table, walking with no assistance.
“How do they do that?” she blurted out, stalling as long as she could to stay backstage. If she was lucky enough, her daughter would come by and she could take her home.
“How do they walk?” he repeated. When she nodded, he explained, “It’s simple machinery. A few pistons for feet, or a wheel for smoother motion, a few sensors, some wire, a special code, and viola! A walking robot.”
He demonstrated the robot walking again.
She asked again, “And you made this yourself?”
A thin, cat-like smile stretched across his face. Everything about this circus gave her the creeps.
“I make all of our machines. What about it?” he spoke skeptically. He brushed some vibrant purple hair behind his ear, lingering a bit too long.
“Aren’t you a little young to be making working robots for this silly little troupe?” She gestured in an all encompassing way.
The ringleader fully turned to her, with a questioning head tilt. “Are you suggesting I don’t have a permit to make robots?”
She only stared at him.
He scoffed playfully and leaned back onto the wall.
“Fine, I’ll cave. Yes, I’m young, 22 to be exact. I went to college fresh out of highschool for my bachelors and got my permit soon after. Yes, you need work experience for a permit, but I already worked as a stage director for multiple years in highschool and college. I’m a registered robotics engineer, but after working in such a suffocating environment, I rekindled my old relationships and now I’m working happily here.” He kicked off the wall. “I also do balloon art. Any questions?”
His grin was full of mirth as he soaked in her look of bewilderment.
“Why?”
Then his grin dropped.
“I really hate beating around the bush like this. Just say it. ‘Why waste all your talent on something as trivial as this?’ That’s what you were going to say, right? Or perhaps it was ‘Why drag my daughter into your foolish little shows?’ Am I right?”
She staggered back a few steps.
“How did you—”
“How did I know?” He did the same thing the clown did, raising a finger to his mouth in contemplation. They both shared the same pattern below the eye, three dots and a star. “Your daughter says a lot about you.”
His boots clicked on the floor as he stepped closer.
“I was going to end your pitiful attempts at stalling sooner, but you’re quite persistent. She’s quite happy with us, I’d say, so I don’t like the idea of you taking her, but I’ll let you see what your daughter has been up to. How does that sound?”
She opened her mouth to speak and was immediately silenced by the ringleader holding a finger to his lips.
“Don’t say anything more. I’m already bending the rules for you, fufu. She should be in the changing room at the end of the hall. The room with a star. Make sure to knock or he’ll get upset.”
He held open the door with the X on it and she dashed away. She didn’t hear when he tapped at a device in his ear or said the following words.
“Ringleader to Jester, incoming meddler. She wants to take Mafuyu back.”