hey hey, sorry for being so quiet here, i’ve been house-sitting for the last couple weeks and it has been so incredibly stressful that i can barely focus at all agdgdgd i am going home tonight tho!! hopefully then i can recover a bit and return here!!
hey hey, sorry for being so quiet here, i’ve been house-sitting for the last couple weeks and it has been so incredibly stressful that i can barely focus at all agdgdgd i am going home tonight tho!! hopefully then i can recover a bit and return here!!
“you guys are gonna be the death of me. we leave the two of you alone for one day!” there’s humor in their voice, despite their boisterous reaction.
“what if i painted her something?” it was difficult to tell whether charlie really heard wren; she was mostly just talking. “she likes lots of colors, so— oh, but i don’t know what to paint.” a beat, and then a soft gasp of realization. she pointed at wren expectantly. “you’re her friend, which means you know stuff about her! so — what sorts of things does she like?”
wren led foxtrot out of the tent, their knees weak. they tried not to focus on the eyes of the other circus members as they went, or the sharp pang that went through them the moment they laid eyes on fox. they’d given themself time, but they still seemed to be caught in-between their emotions, each stronger than the last—between fear, and love, and hate for something he hadn’t yet committed.
with all of this inside them, it was rather difficult to make small talk.
though the circus had moved even further up north, the temperature remained just about the same, the sky gray with clouds. wren turned to look at fox, feeling like they might crawl out of their skin. “um,” they said, their voice soft, their fingers fidgetting. “i’m– sorry for taking so long to reach out. i worried i might do something bad.”
a terrible explanation. they pushed past the lump in their throat, past the lies they’ve already said thus far, and their eyes flickered to the scattered tents around them. “when i brought you here, um– none of the mirrors had actually been broken,” they admitted. whether or not foxtrot had suspected it already, they didn’t know—clever as he was, he had probably given them the benefit of the doubt. "it was something i made up with gilmore ‘cause i knew i’d fuck up even more if we stayed at the hotel, and i know that’s bullshit to hear, but– but i have a track record of doing that when i feel that way, and—”
their stomach twisted, and their chest ached. “and you can be honest with me,” they say, their gaze meeting his at last. their arms were crossed over their chest—protectively, defensively, as though the words themselves could hurt them. "do you think i’m mad? after this, after everything—i lied and avoided you for days. i saw how you looked at me that night.” hesitant, dumbstruck, afraid. the full force of their rage and desperation revealed, to receive the appropriate response and consequences.
they gripped their arms, their fingers pressing into their skin. when they looked at fox again, they could do nothing but say, their eyes gleaming with water, “tell me if you don’t want me anymore?”
anxious anticipation coiled within foxtrot and rose in his throat as he followed wren, but he swallowed it. now wasn’t the time to lose his nerve. no matter how many gazes he felt upon them from people in the circus, no matter what wren ended up saying or doing, he needed to stay calm. levelheaded. letting emotions overwhelm him had ruined things between them in the first place. this time, he’d do better.
still, when wren turned to face him, his composure wavered. he couldn’t help noticing how their gaze darted away from him, how their fingers fidgeted and their voice faltered as they began with an apology. ignoring the ache in his chest, he tried to focus on their words. his own fingers latched onto his sweater sleeve, needing something to steady himself.
they worried they might do something bad. foxtrot’s mind briefly stuttered on this, invented possibilities for what they meant. then: they had lied about the broken mirror. this detail seemed minor compared to everything else, which softened the blow of their confession. even so, foxtrot had convinced himself they’d been honest, so a pang still went though him. it sharpened as their words quickened and tumbled out in a rush. his grasp tightened on his sleeve.
when they finally looked at him and asked their question, his heart skipped a beat. he had intended to think before replying, but instead he found himself saying the first thought that sprang into his mind, without a trace of mockery. “d’you think i would’ve found you shiny stones if i didn’t want you anymore?” stones tucked beneath wren’s pillow or hidden in the mirror house where their reflections gave them away. small peace offerings. his voice was hoarse but genuine. “you’re brilliant in so many ways, and i haven’t forgotten all that just because you got angry with me. you didn’t scare me away. i’m still here. i still want to be with you. and i… i miss you.”
his grip had gone white-knuckled on his sweater. he averted his gaze, his shoulders tense. his instincts begged him to stifle his next words, but they slipped out anyway, quiet and strained. “i just, um… you know. it hurt, a bit.” an understatement. their words that night had lodged deep in his heart, and the chill that settled over him grew colder with each day they avoided him. “i’d… never seen you that way before.”
his vision had blurred now as well. he took a breath and forced himself to look at wren again. “i never should’ve gotten on that train.” a shift in subject, but foxtrot felt like this betrayal lay at the root of all their troubles. “nothing i say or do will ever make up for it, and i’m sorry. you don’t have to forgive me.” his voice wavered despite his best efforts to steady it. “you can be honest with me, too. you can tell me if you don’t trust me anymore, or if— if you don’t want to be with me. you said you wanted to, back in london, but i’d understand if you’ve changed your mind.”
selfish, however, would fit them like a golden-striped glove.
they’d evaded foxtrot for days. hidden behind and in-between mirrors, their reflection veiled in the blind corners they’d invented through trial and error and need; disappearing in the shadow-clad circus paths foxtrot had yet to memorize; spending long hours hopping between tents, breaking a game or entering a sword fight with a zanni, the harmless metal providing only a breadth of release.
finding little things from him. gifts, unsaid messages from his nimble fingers. stitching their story together until they were sound enough to tell it.
they knew foxtrot was helping in the upcoming play. as much as they avoided him, the tight-knit circus was no place for secrets, and within a day everyone knew about the new stagehand. (wren’s boyfriend, but they aren’t seeing each other a lot, have you noticed?—do you think…?—i’m surprised wren has lasted this long.) they entered the dream palace like slipping into a memory, and they inhaled deeply before finding fox in the grand, impossible auditorium.
“hey,” they said to him, as though they hadn’t seen him in years or in minutes. they stood between the sheets, the marble wall splitting in half around them. “can i– talk to you? can we go outside?”
foxtrot didn’t know what to do.
perhaps this was why he eventually allowed estella (invited her) to see his memories again when words failed him, desperate she’d tell him how to fix things. secrets don’t survive in relationships, she’d said. people don’t want apologies, they want reasons. i hope wren will be giving you some soon enough.
when? foxtrot had thought, over and over. time kept passing and they kept avoiding him, and he fought the growing fear they’d never speak to him again.
he distracted himself to keep from sinking into his thoughts. he did whatever stagehand tasks people asked of him, without a single complaint and without speaking much at all unless necessary. he performed coin tricks alone until his hands ached. each time he overheard a whisper about him or himself and wren, he ducked his head and quickly slipped away.
when he had a chance to venture into town, he gathered gifts like a magpie seeking glittery items. keychains. earrings shaped like suns. shiny stones. he hid them around the circus where he hoped wren would find them: wordless reminders that he still cared, he hadn’t vanished, hadn’t gotten on another train and disappeared. reminders he was still… there.
even though he felt invisible.
when wren found foxtrot in the dream palace at last, their voice startled him. he spun to face them, heart skipping a beat and surprise vivid in his eyes — both at their sudden appearance and at the realization they’d spoken to him. they’d searched for him. then they spoke again, invited him to talk. it took a second for him to regain his wits and summon a response.
“yeah,” he replied, as though he hadn’t been waiting for them to approach him for days. his voice came out quiet and hoarse from underuse. he cleared his throat. “sure. just, um… lead the way.” he would still follow them anywhere, despite everything.
page organization is now hopefully a bit more intuitive (e.g. more clearly separated into a muses page, story page, etc)
adjusted the navigation page accordingly (linked in the mobile blog description)
secondary muses now have their own pages rather than just links to info posts (!!)
pages in general have been polished and updated a bit, but no major changes!
please let me know if you notice any mistakes (such as typos or broken links) or if you have suggestions, or just let me know what you think in general! i have saved everything about the old theme in a word doc in case i need to switch back to it agdgdg
LOVE character regression. love when characters get hurt and revert to their old ways as a way to deflect, cope, and recuperate. love when they get scared to make a difficult decision. love when it takes time and effort. it’s going to be worth so much more when they get better.
you struggled to pick between the polish called ‘poison apple’ and the one called ‘rouge fatale.’ you chose ‘rouge fatale’ in the end — a favorite of yours, a reliable eye-catcher in parties like this. a shimmering coat of translucent polish glossed atop the red makes it gleam with a freshness you adore.
