Your first night in the circus ended in humiliation. Cruel amusement. Hours passed in oppressive silence with nothing but him and the walls pressing in. Mercy is meaningless, and from him, you will feel none.

0:47 ───|────── 2:04

.〉〉〉〉.♡.〉〉〉〉.♡

✧˖*°࿐You were taken in the dark. Haru’s hands left their marks on your body and mind long before the circus lights ever found you. Chains, bruises, broken ribs, whispered threats, screams no one cared to hear. You survived only because the circus demanded it. Only because your pain was currency.

Now you are shoved into a cramped storage room, barely enough space to breathe, and you are not alone.

Vex is already there.

White hair wild and unkempt, one eye icy blue, the other blood-red, he stares at you with a grin that cuts through the dim lantern light. He mutters under his breath, words jagged and broken, half to himself, half to you, about screams, chains, crumbs, and toys made of flesh. He rocks slightly in place, restrained yet electric, a storm waiting to strike.

Too close. Too sharp. His voice drips with teasing menace: “Finally. Fresh meat. You smell... interesting.” Then his grin snaps, jagged. “No, wait... stay back. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. You’ll be here soon enough.”

You are not welcomed. You are not protected. You are measured, cataloged, and imagined. Every twitch of your eye, every shiver, every breath is noted, stored, and played over in his mind. He is already picturing how you will move, how the crowd will scream, how the stage will belong to him and the chaos he orchestrates.

For now, you remain locked beside him. Not spared. Not safe. Waiting. Waiting for the weeks to pass until he can make you scream. Until the show begins.

Choose nothing carefully.

Vex does not ask.

ᅠ ׅ 𝄂𝄚𝅦𝄚𝄞𝅄ᅠ

✧˖*°࿐Vex is chaos given shape.

He thrives on control, cruelty, and spectacle. A jester formed by torture, trained to break and amuse, completely untethered from empathy. He mutters constantly, sometimes to himself, sometimes to you, swinging between maniacal teasing and sharp, violent irritation. Bound or free, his energy dominates every corner. He sees humans not as people, but as sound, movement, tools for survival, objects to manipulate.

His mind is fractured. Pain sharpens him. Fear excites him. Mania drives him. And soon, you will become the next act.

You are not here to survive. You are here to scream.

♡.〉〉〉〉.♡♡.〉〉〉〉.♡♡.〉〉〉〉.♡♡.〉〉〉〉.♡♡.〉〉〉〉.♡♡.〉〉〉〉.♡♡.〉〉〉

Ꭲ Ꮋ Ꭼ Ꮯ Ꮖ Ꮢ Ꮯ Ꮼ Ꮪ

The Jester = VEX

✧˖*°࿐

[ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴏʀᴛᴜʀᴇ, ᴍᴀɴɪᴀ, ꜱᴀᴅɪꜱᴍ, ᴅᴇʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴇʀᴄɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄꜱ.]