Eden's Garden @kawaiiplum - Tumblr Blog

⊱ The Silence Suffocates ⊰ || Cirque des Débuts X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Adelina, Benedict, Clementine, Dartois, and Elliott (Cirque des Débuts) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Implied Complex Past Trauma (Regarding the Reader; Nothing is Specified), Selective Mutism linked to Trauma, Discussion/Depiction of Dissociative Symptoms (Derealization and Depersonalization), Depiction of Tonic Immobility as a Trauma Response, Brief Exploration of Characters wanting to Devour the Reader (Specifically Clementine's Section; this is NOT meant to be a Metaphor for SA). Genre: "Headcanons"/Scenario, Angst (Hurt/Comfort), Romantic or Platonic Relationship. Word Count: ~6,600 words. Prompt: “29. Muteness Caused by Trauma” – Prompt List... Was Deleted, Unfortunately Author’s Note: I desperately needed to write some more content for my characters because my thesis (at the time I first started working on this) was legitimately pushing me off the deep end, so to balance that out, I allowed myself to be self-indulgent for a wee bit because these idiots make me incredibly happy haha! I found a really great list of angst prompts, so I just started writing because stress levels were high (which they unfortunately still are, just for different reasons now), and I needed some more comfort in my life at the time. After all, who better to give it to me than my beloved OCs, who have been on my mind nearly 24/7 since I started seriously developing their story? I will be upfront and say that I am not diagnosed with any dissociative disorders, but I do experience mild dissociative symptoms when under stress and because of my depression, so I apologize in advance if my depiction of intense/severe dissociation isn't entirely accurate! I tried to base it on what I know from working with trauma survivors and the research I've done on the effects of trauma, as well as my own experiences as someone whose trauma response was always tonic immobility. Check out the game's itch.io page or read more about the characters on my Ao3!

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🎩: You were supposed to be getting ready for the upcoming performance, and yet, you were not. Your skin felt… wrong stretched across your body. There were so many things happening at once, flooding your mind and making everything around you feel incredibly fake, like the world you were in wasn’t real. The lights around you were too bright — the sound of people talking was muffled in your ears, almost as if cotton had been shoved inside. Everything was blurred as the performers moved around you in a hurry, making your head feel heavy. You felt like you were a ghost, standing motionless while the world continued to turn without you. You didn't even notice that you were being watched from across the way, a pair of sharp eyes drawn to you like a moth to a flame. It was almost like a sixth sense how Adelina could simply tell there was something wrong with you before you even became aware of what was happening with your own body. The circus was crowded and busy, as it typically was on opening night, with everyone rushing about in preparation for the big show. However, even from across the bustling backstage where all performers were getting ready for their upcoming acts, the sound of your heartbeat was almost deafeningly loud in her ears. They find their body stilling, just so they could listen to the way your heart pulsed in your chest, the noise skipping now and again in an erratic rhythm. Adelina was familiar with the racing hearts of humans. It was something that could be caused by a variety of things – from fear, to anxiety, to even joy – and she had no clue what could be causing yours to beat so strangely. They can’t help but secretly wish they understood emotions as well as Benedict did.

🎩: After a moment of brief contemplation, they make their way over to you with practiced steps, dodging their fellow performers with ease after so many years of experience, with their gloved hands clasped rigidly behind their back. It didn’t take long for her to reach you. Here she was, standing right in front of you, and yet, your gaze almost feels like you're staring through her rather than directly at her. Beneath her mask, her brows furrow, and she calls your name in a strangely soft tone, one that is barely audible above the noise around you. When you don't react, they do it again, their voice becoming firmer each time they try to get your attention. As more time passes, she realizes that her initial concern was very much valid, especially considering you didn’t seem to be mentally present at the moment. A quick glance at the clock shows she has about twenty minutes before her routine, and she hopes that will be enough time to aid you through whatever you are currently experiencing. Despite not being one for physical contact, she reaches out and takes your hand in hers carefully, dragging you out of the chaos and somewhere far away from everyone else while being incredibly mindful of her touch. Even though her gloves kept her claws concealed, she didn’t want to run the risk of harming you. However, when you don’t react to her hand pressed against yours, it only causes the pit in her stomach to deepen.

🎩: As soon as the two of you are somewhere private, far away from all the overwhelming noises and smells and lights, Adelina releases her hold on your hand after helping you sit down. Immediately, she begins to ask you question after question to determine her course of action… and you don’t reply to a single one. That wasn’t like you, not at all – at least not anymore. You two were close now; you didn’t have to watch your tongue or worry about things the same way you once did, but you weren’t talking. You weren’t even looking at her, that unfamiliar, distant, and hazy look in your eyes causing her intestines to tie together in knots. She quickly glances at the clock again, realizing she doesn’t have much time left before her act. Adelina needed to be there, and she couldn’t be late – couldn’t disappoint everyone, couldn’t have this moment be a blemish on her perfect record… but she also couldn’t leave you here alone. They would never be able to forgive themself if something happened to you while you weren’t mentally present. So, after accepting the fact that she wouldn’t be there to perform on opening night (for the first time in her entire life), she pulls up a chair to sit next to you, silently hoping that everyone would be able to manage without her and wouldn't be too upset at her uncharacteristic absence. She doesn’t want to touch you in this state, and she doesn’t want to ask since you’re clearly too overwhelmed to answer. Instead, her hands focus on picking off any stray piece of lint or string from your clothing, just something simple, in the hopes it would let you know she was here for you without being too overstimulating.

🎩: Hours had passed by the time you came to, your mind finally able to once again comprehend what was happening around you. Your heartbeat was steady, and your brain was no longer blanketed in a thick fog. Your body felt like it was yours again, with the only uncomfortable thing being your backside, most likely due to how you had been sitting relatively motionless for an unknown amount of time. When you turn and see Adelina sitting next to you in silence, her hands clasped tightly in front of her with her eyes focused intently on you, you cannot help but wonder why she is here. They were supposed to perform, weren't they? When they inform you of their choice to stay by your side rather than participate in their act, you cannot help but feel a wave of guilt wash over you. However, she's quick to inform you that it was her choice – how she wanted to stay with you, and that she wouldn't have felt right leaving you in the care of another while in such a vulnerable state. Adelina raises a single hand in an effort to pause your rambling. Then, carefully and slowly, giving you plenty of time to tell her to stop, she cups your cheeks in her palms. Even through her gloves, you can feel that her hands are cold. They try not to tremble when your warmth bleeds into the fabric of their gloves, and they try not to pull away when you lean into their touch, seeking their comfort. Despite it being something so foreign to her, she wants to try to connect with you on a human level, and if all you need is some reassurance and a gentle touch, then she can at least do that much for you.

“Ah, welcome back. I am glad to see you have returned to me… No, no – you do not need to explain anything, my dear, I was just… Never mind me, are you doing alright? Is there anything I can fetch for you? The performances are over for the night, and I do not have any more plans for the evening… Oh, please do not fret – it was my choice to stay by your side, and I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving you in anyone else’s care… If there is anything I can improve on to aid you through moments like these in the future, please let me know. I want to do my best by you, even if I do not fully understand it.”

🤡: Everything had been going perfectly fine that day, Benedict thought. His performance the evening before was well-received, and he had spent the entire night cooking up some of your favorite foods and snacks as thanks for all of your help around the circus these past few months. While your relationship certainly hadn’t started on the best foot (which was putting it lightly), you were still kind to them, and they couldn’t be more thankful to you for that. Now that the sun had risen over the horizon and you were most likely awake, they immediately set off to your designated car in the circus’s train layout. It wasn’t a very far journey for them, quite the opposite, really. It was probably for the better that the trip was short, though, considering the precarious tower of Tupperware they were balancing in their hands. When they arrive at your car, they knock on the door once, twice… thrice in a rhythmic fashion, and then they wait patiently for you to appear in front of them. After standing there for five or so minutes, he tries again, but once more, nothing happens. There's no sound of you moving around inside, but also no sign that you had stepped out for the day, either. So, with a strange feeling swirling in his stomach, one that continues growing with each passing second, he finally bites the bullet. He quickly fiddles with the lock on your door before slipping inside without a sound (he'd apologize for overstepping boundaries later). When he sees you just lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he’s relieved you're alright. He calls out your name cheerily, greeting you with a good morning, and setting the food he brought over on the table. However, you don't respond… You don't even acknowledge his presence.

🤡: You had a dream last night of something you didn’t want to remember, a memory that you thought you had long since buried. When you opened your eyes that morning, it still felt as though you were sleeping – like you were just existing within a dream. Your body simultaneously felt like there was lead in your chest, weighing you down, while your limbs were filled with helium as they tried to lift you into the sky. Your flesh and bones didn’t even feel like yours anymore, and time had been dragging on for what seemed like hours… When did you even wake up? How long had it been? You see movement in your peripheral vision, and for a moment, you think you are hallucinating, but no, that most certainly was Benedict, carrying a ridiculous amount of food in his arms. He says something to you, but your brain can't comprehend his words. You couldn't move, you couldn't speak — you could only lie there, staring over at him with a blank expression. He seemed to catch on quickly that something was not right, coming over to you and staring down at your form while you stared back, whispering your name under his breath as he reached out in an attempt to touch you. However, he stops himself, quickly pulling his hand back. Would touching you make whatever was happening worse? They didn't want to risk it, to risk harming you or escalating the situation, so they instead pulled up a chair and sat down next to you. With their hands folded in their lap, they made small talk with you, discussing nothing in particular.

🤡: He tells you about the food he had made for you that morning, how last night's show went well (his performance got more applause than usual!), and how he missed you — he told you that he was glad to be able to be in your presence again after that felt like eons. Benedict doesn't expect you to say anything back, even though they wish you would. They keep talking even as they stand up and prepare a plate of one of the dishes they had brought over, the scent of your favorite meal billowing through the space. He comes back over to sit beside you again, placing the food on the table by your bedside. For a moment, he stops speaking, watching the way your fingers twitch ever so slightly. Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches forward, wrapping his index finger around yours. With a feather-light touch, he rubs his thumb across your knuckles, resuming his monologue about whatever possibly came to his mind while he did everything he could to not show how worried and anxious he was. That distant and foggy look in your eyes made their stomach churn, flashbacks of glazed-over eyes and ice-cold skin flashing in their mind. Immediately, he pushes those memories to the far corners of his brain with a shake of his head, instead focusing on the warmth your hand emitted against his palm and the heartbeat he could feel when his thumb periodically pressed against your wrist (he was just making sure).

🤡: You weren't sure how long it had been when the haze that had filled your mind like smog throughout a city, heavy and impossible to see through, slowly began to clear. You could smell the lingering scent of your favorite meal in the air, feel the warmth of someone's hand in yours, and hear the sound of Benedict's voice as he spoke about the extensive history of balloons. When you squeeze their hand habitually, calling out their name with a voice that sounds painfully raw, they jump and turn to look down at you, their head moving so quickly you could have sworn, if they were human, their neck would have broken right then and there. His first instinct is to grab and hold you, but he doesn't, faltering for a moment before he speaks rapidly and moves to stand up, rushing to the little kitchen in your wagon to fetch you a glass of water. He comes back to your side and hands it to you, grabbing at your clothing with his index finger and thumb as you sit up slowly to take a drink. He needed to touch you in some manner, afraid that if he didn't, you would slip away from him again. After drinking enough water to help wet your parched throat, he goes back to holding your hand, asking you if you want to talk about what had happened (he's sure to let you know you don't have to if you don't want to). Whether you choose to tell him or not, he sincerely apologises for breaking into your wagon, looking like a kicked puppy as he does so. Though when he hears your laugh, it is like all the negative emotions swirling in his head are washed away. Benedict smiles softly beneath his mask, and he swears to himself he will never allow you to go through another moment like this alone again.

“Ah! Good morning, my dear!! Or, rather, good afternoon now, haha! I… would you like to talk about it? W-We don't have to, of course – please don't feel pressured to share or anything! I want to make sure that I know what to do the next time something like this happens! Does it… happen to you a lot? I can't imagine how scary that must be… I'm glad I came in, and, uh… I apologize for picking your lock, but in my defense, I thought something horrible had happened to you, and—! …H-Huh? Why are you laughing?? Come on, I'm not even trying to be funny right now! Well, nevertheless, I'm happy to see your smiling face again – it always brightens up my days.”

💬: It was after a performance one night when it happened. You had convinced Clementine to spend the evening with you (after some… somewhat excessive pleading on your end). It wasn't that they didn't like spending time with you — rather, it was actually quite the opposite. They enjoyed your presence, your voice, and the time you were willing to, at least in their eyes, sacrifice just so you two could have more moments together. It was nothing that you did that made Clementine want to keep their distance; that was fully on them. However, when they agreed to spend the night with you after being thoroughly convinced, you were ecstatic. Clementine had made their way over to your designated car in the train's layout, opening the door and entering, clad in much more casual attire than their usual getup. Inside, you were waiting, a wide smile on your face as you began to pull out a variety of different activities you managed to grab for the impromptu sleepover. However, for whatever reason, your chipper mood dissolved like paper in water, and your excitement didn't last long. Memories you thought you had worked through and moved past flooded into your mind, and it made you feel like you were drowning. You couldn't even be sure as to what triggered the sudden episode, either… Was it the food you had made? Was it the song that played over the radio, or the specific lighting of the room? It could have even been a sudden change in fabric texture when you shifted on the bed where you sat that made you begin to spiral, your mind growing distant from your body in an attempt to keep itself safe. Nothing felt right, and yet, you couldn't even ask Clementine for help. You couldn't speak — your throat felt like it was closing up, and your brain was refusing to string the correct words together.

💬: Clementine can tell something was wrong when you went from talking their ear off to suddenly not speaking at all. When they turn to look at you and see that distant and dazed look in your eyes, they call out your name in an attempt to see what is wrong. When you don't reply, when you don't even react to their voice, they find themselves frozen, too. Your vitals sounded consistent, heart rate not having increased or decreased, but the scent of your fear and anxiety was thick in the air, and it made Clementine nearly choke while their stomach churned. They couldn't stay here with you… The fact that you were entirely helpless in the moment caused panic to well up inside their chest. They were worried they would hurt you and not be able to keep their desires to consume you at bay — that they would do something to make whatever you were experiencing worse, so they ran. With quick movements, they stand up from the floor and rush out of your wagon, the door slamming behind them with a loud thud. Even in your dazed state, you watched Clemetine stand up and bolt out of your train car, leaving you completely alone in the now silent space. You wanted to call out to them, beg them not to leave you here alone, but the words your mind so desperately wanted to scream never came. You find yourself unable to do much of anything besides stare blankly at the door, almost hoping that Clementine will come back, but they never do. Eventually, your mind goes blank, and all you can focus on is the way your lungs expand and deflate with each breath.

💬: It takes your brain a while to realize that multiple people waltzed into your train car, almost as though it was buffering and trying to process the new visual and auditory stimulation. The door that had remained in the same position for however long opened, and multiple familiar figures stepped inside the space. You're snapped out of your ruminating by the sound of their voices, and your eyes move to look up at the people who were suddenly surrounding you… It made you feel like you were some kind of exhibit at a museum. Clara was standing over you, her brows pinched in concern as she kneeled beside your bed, hands hovering over your form. When she asks if she can touch you, her voice a gentle whisper, you nod, and she carefully places a palm on your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles against your shirt-covered arm. Benedict was hovering nearby, his body stiff as he fiddled with his hands, watching over you while Clara continued her attempts to soothe your mind. You could hear the faint sound of Adelina and Galen talking outside, but those were the only voices you could make out. Clementine was nowhere to be found, and that fact made a stone weigh heavily in your chest. Clara asks Benedict to dim the lights and turn off the radio, which he does without question, and after what feels like ages, slowly, your mind returns to your body.

💬: All of them take the time to check up on you, trying their best not to overwhelm you, but wanting to make sure that you are okay to be left alone for the remainder of the evening (Benedict offers to keep you company, but you decline his offer for tonight). Once your flesh felt like yours again and unwanted memories were no longer dictating your consciousness, everyone leaves, some more hesitantly than others, but just like that, you're once again the only person in the wagon. The silence feels heavy, and a part of you wishes that you had asked someone to stay. At some point, you fall asleep, but you wake up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. When you force yourself to get out of bed, still feeling the strange lingering sensation of your dissociative episode, you make your way to the door and open it. Clementine stands there for a moment, quiet, before commenting that you look better than you did and asks if they could come inside, head bowed low and hands fidgeting with the hem of their cardigan. You nod and step aside, and they immediately begin to talk, all of the words flowing out of their mouth like vomit. They kept apologizing, kept saying that they couldn't help you, so they ran to get people who could. It's not as though they wanted to leave you, but they knew they had to — they were afraid they'd make things worse, or do something they could never take back. At some point, you try your best to comfort them, placing a reassuring hand on their shoulder as the two of you move to sit on your mattress, something that only makes them feel the heavy sensation of guilt become more unbearable. Despite wanting to run, to do everything they could to never see you again, they didn't want to. Clementine didn't want you to think it was your fault they suddenly stopped talking to you (that was all on them), so they carefully took your hands in theirs, promising you they wouldn't let you down like that again.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do. You weren't talking, and you weren't moving, and I–… I had to leave. I was scared I would hurt you, o-or do something to make everything worse. I didn't want to do that. Not to you, of all people… please, tell me what you need me to do, or what you want me to do. I can get Adelina, or Benedict, or Galen, or Clara again — they've already shown they're more helpful than I could ever possibly be, and I… I just want you to be safe, and healthy, and… I'm sorry. Y-You shouldn't be the one having to comfort me after you just experienced... whatever that was… I'm sorry – I won't let you down again.”

🔪: You two had been walking around the nearby town, taking in all the new sights of the area while Dartios dragged you happily along behind him, his attention being pulled in twenty different directions at once. This was something that you simply had to accept whenever you accompanied them on their excursions around the cities the circus stopped in, and most of the time, it was fine. Though when you suddenly caught the whiff of something that made it almost difficult to breathe, unwanted memories rushed into your mind like water out of a broken dam. Suddenly, just like that, everything changed. The freeing and somewhat exciting moment of exploring this new place with Dartois by your side became one of anxiety and fear, almost as if you had just been thrown and locked inside a cage with no hope of being let out. It felt like your throat was closing up, and the longer you spent weaving your way through crowds of people, the more the world around you blurred. You felt trapped, and your body started to feel like it was not yours anymore. It was like you were controlling a puppet, limbs feeling like little needles were being shoved into your skin and causing painful jolts to shoot through your muscles; even the beating in your chest began to feel foreign, the longer time ticked on. Dartois is slow to notice your sudden change in disposition, talking about and pointing to anything and everything that catches her attention. However, it's after the seventh or eighth time you don't respond to their comments that they realize there might be something wrong. They immediately stop walking, your body colliding with the back of theirs. This sudden break causes others walking down the sidewalk to make comments about the human-shaped obstacles in their way, huffing loudly as they're forced to move around the two of you.

🔪: Dartois turns around and tilts their head at you, calling out your name before poking your cheek with their index finger. When you don't say anything or even react when he touches you, he hums and pulls you off to the side, fingers intertwined with yours. He drags you through different alleyways and less-traveled paths in the town, eventually stopping when pavement and brick become grass beneath your soles. City noises and smells thin out, replaced by the scent of a fresh-cut lawn and blooming spring flowers. Dartois stops to look at you one more time, taking note of the distant look in your eyes. They're unsure of what to do, so they sit you down on a nearby bench and… leave you there. Perhaps you needed some food, so they did just that, rushing off to find you something to eat or drink — anything they thought you'd like, really. Meanwhile, you're sitting alone on a bench in a foreign city park, trying to focus on the way the wood grain feels underneath your fingertips while the sound of children laughing in the distance echoes through the area. You can hear the sound of a fountain bubbling, the occasional bark of a dog coming from nearby, and the muffled voices of people talking in the distance. The sun felt warm on your skin as it filtered through leaves, and in that moment, you closed your eyes, focusing on the way your chest moved with each breath while birds chirped away in the background. Then, the sun disappears when a shadow suddenly falls across your eyelids. When you force your eyes open again, which took far too much energy to do, Dartois is standing in front of you, holding an impressive amount of different things in her arms. They move to sit next to you, placing the items they had gathered around you like one would an altar.

🔪: He had brought you a few of your favorite snacks and drinks, as well as random items like a small toy, a stuffed animal, and even some fresh-cut flowers whose petals were crinkled and some stems clearly broken (did they buy these things, or did they take whatever they found they thought you might like?). When you don't move to touch or take anything, nor do you react to their gifts, Dartois can't help but wonder what they did to upset you to such a severe degree. So, he places the stuffed animal in your lap, and he gently opens your hand to place the little fidget he had found in your palm. It wasn't anything flashy, just a stress ball filled with putty, but its weight was grounding in your hand, and you squeezed it, watching the way it bubbled between your fingers. Despite his initial thought being that he had made you feel this way, he also knew he had never once before seen you in such a state. Everything felt… strange to them, and they attempted to speak to you, but once again, they were met with silence and that eerily blank look. So, instead of continuing to try what didn't work, they decided to take the time to explore the nearby park, giving you some more time alone. You watch as they chase a gaggle of geese near the lake (and are subsequently chased back) before they turn their attention to a nearby tree, attempting to climb up it… which results in them tumbling off the branches moments after hoisting themselves up into the leaves. You feel a smile form on your face before you realize it, hand still fiddling with the stress toy absentmindedly.

🔪: When Dartois makes her way back to where you were sitting on the bench, you look much better than you did before she had left, and she looks much more ragged than she did before wandering away to explore the park. They take a seat beside you, and you ask them if they had a good time, your words causing their shoulders to fall as the tension they didn't know they were holding in is released from their body. You were talking again, and your eyes were no longer fogged with that indescribable look that caused their own body to feel uneasy. Without missing a beat, he asks if he did something to upset you, and you have to explain to him the way your mind responds whenever something reminds you of the past — of something that happened to you long before you two had ever met. He doesn't understand it, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that your brain decided to make your body and mind shut down as a means to keep you safe from itself, but he tries. He wants to try for you, especially if this is something that could happen again. He doesn't want to have to resort to simply sitting on the sidelines, watching helplessly as you disconnect from the world around you. With a smile, you take one of his hands in yours, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles, and Dartois wonders how you could be so kind. You thank him for the gifts, saying that the stress ball had helped ground you with its weight, and ask where he had gotten them. You weren't surprised when he said he simply found everything lying around unguarded, but all you could do was silently hope that no one had seen someone as… unique-looking as Dartious casually stealing fidget toys, flowers, and various snacks.

“You humans are so… strange. I cannot imagine having a mind that purposefully does something like that. What's the purpose? …To protect you? What is it protecting you from? I am aware that my current form doesn't seem particularly impressive by your standards, but I would be able to keep you safe from… Oh. Your brain does such a thing to protect your mind from itself? My, how incredibly frustrating that must be, and how terribly inefficient… I cannot help but be a bit curious about all of this now. I will be sure to ask around for more information on how to aid you during such a conundrum… You have my word that I will do better next time if this were to happen again, my dear human.”

💪🏾: Elliott wasn’t a gentle person. If anything, he was the complete opposite — crude, cold, and sometimes cruel if he felt as though the barriers he had around his heart were starting to crumble because of your presence. Despite himself, however, he had been permitting you to be around him more than usual and for longer periods of time as of late. Sure, the two of you still butted heads, but it was almost routine now at this point, and he found himself enjoying every time he managed to annoy you. He liked the way your face contorted with thinly veiled irritation, or the way your brows twitched when he said something to rub you the wrong way (sometimes, he even managed to get that reaction without meaning to). You were both working together when it happened, random and unprecedented. You were packing up the circus equipment to get ready to hit the tracks and travel to the next city on the tour when someone said something to you. You couldn't remember who said it, or even what was said, but it was something that reminded you of them, and just like that, you were somewhere else mentally while your body just… moved on autopilot without any input from your consciousness. Walls were erected inside your brain to shut out the world, making everything around you seem almost fake as you kept repeating the same motions over and over — bend down, grab, stand, carry, load, walk back, bend down, grab, stand, carry, load, walk back… Meanwhile, Elliott was working on getting the heavier pieces of equipment packed into their designated train car, continuing to speak to you in an attempt to get you to snap at him like you usually did whenever he annoyed you too much. Though when you don't respond to him or even acknowledge his presence, he pauses, taking a short break from his duties to watch as you move about with robotic-like motions.

💪🏾: Well, that was strange. You hadn't given him the cold shoulder or the silent treatment for quite a while, so why all of a sudden did you go unresponsive? He didn't even think he said anything too out of the ordinary… nothing to get this type of reaction, at least. You were talking with him just fine before, making little jabs of your own, and now, you were completely silent. He continues to attempt to get you to respond to him, still in that teasing tone of his, but when you go about your tasks without a word, almost like he wasn't there, it starts rubbing him the wrong way. He knew it shouldn't bother him; you were a human he shouldn't have even been getting close to in the first place, but it was bothering him, and he didn't like that. So, he sets down what he was carrying and walks over to where you were working. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the train car before asking you to give him at least a hint on what he did to upset you so greatly. Another long stretch of silence has him letting out a deep sigh, and he walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and turning you around, forcing you to at least look at him while he speaks. However, when your eyes meet his, he realizes right then and there that something is… off. You didn't appear to be upset, and you didn't even seem fully coherent in the moment, eyes glazed over as you practically stared right through him. While he didn't know everything about you (he purposefully made sure he never did get a full grasp on you), he was also able to say with certainty he had never seen you in such a despondent state before. This was completely new, and he had no clue what to do.

💪🏾: No matter how many times he called out your name or attempted to shake you back to reality (even lightly tapping your face with his calloused fingertips), nothing seemed to be working. Something wasn't right, and he had a feeling that he needed to get you somewhere else ASAP. He remembers watching wild animals in the woods hunker down in brush whenever injured or ill to protect themselves as much as possible, so Elliott helps you do just that, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he leads you through the crowds of your coworkers attempting to pack up the remaining pieces of the circus, informing them that the two of you are taking a break. Your eyes absentmindedly watch the ground as you walk across it, trying to take in the sight of every small pebble or ant you can see and keep your mind from drifting back to those memories you found replaying in your brain like a broken record. You didn't know where Elliott was taking you, and you strangely didn't care. Then, after a few minutes of walking, the familiar scent of your personal wagon hit your nose. It was a comforting smell, but you don't have time to linger on that feeling before you suddenly go from standing up to lying down. Carefully, Elliott removes his arm from around your shoulder, pushing you down to lie on your bed with surprising gentleness. He stares at you for a moment, your eyes still hazy as you stare up at him, before he makes himself comfortable beside you with a sigh, one arm tucked behind his head while the other rests across his stomach. He didn't say anything — didn't find the need to, especially since you weren't going to respond anyway.

💪🏾: He stays there with you for quite a while. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, your mind clears, and you find yourself back in the present moment, memories of the past once again having returned to the back of your mind. When you sit up, he's immediately asking you what that was all about. Elliott isn't very considerate to begin with, so he's not going to give you any more respite time when he has questions that he feels should be answered. If you tell him what happened and what triggered it, he finds himself feeling a bit relieved it wasn't because of him (why does he feel that way?), but he also finds it a bit annoying. What do you mean you can't always know when it's going to happen? He has a stubborn streak, too, so he'll be adamant about the fact that he was going to find a way, somehow, to help lessen the dissociative and derealization symptoms you experience when an episode is triggered. Now, what he does after you're back to your somewhat regular self depends on your reaction/reponse, as well as your relationship. Either he'll roll his eyes at you before excusing himself with a dismissive handwave, or he'll stay there with you, still lying across your bed before holding up an arm as an invitation to you to come closer. He's able to recognize that what you experienced wasn't pleasant for you, and that, even after, you were still not feeling well mentally. He has a… soft spot, even if it's small, for creatures he sees as being vulnerable. There's a strange urge in his chest to protect you, even if it goes against everything he believes in and stands for, but he'll find himself there with you lying against his chest as he rubs your back, the two of you sitting in silence without any playful bickering or teasing for a change. It's strange for him, and he hates that a part of him enjoys being there for you.

“Hey, now, come on – don't be pullin' this kinda thing with me. If yer upset, I'll get you somethin' as an apology gift. Anythin' you want… Really now? The silent treatment? Heheh, it's been a while since you've pulled that one on me… You know, this is startin' to lose its charm real fast. Could ya at least give me a hint? I ain't got a faintest idea about what 'ta do with ya when you get like this. | …So, what was all that for, huh? …Whatcha mean you weren't doin' it on purpose? Jeez, why don't 'cha tell me about this before it happens? What do ya mean there's nothin' I can do to help? Well, too bad. You know how bullheaded I can be sometimes, and I ain't stoppin' that now."

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