THEY WERE MUCH MORE COMFORTABLE FLYING. Up above, swinging, AIRBORNE high above the rest. Their figure was angelic, so they matched the stars in the sky and clouds resting on the horizon. Made to be practicing and PERFECTING their art. The dreams they’ve had recently, odd and somewhat disconcerting, were worrying him. They hadn’t seen such bizarre creatures in their life but the ones they had thought up in their head were something OTHERWORLDLY. The trapeze artist, previously sitting up on their perch above the stage and spectators, climbed down the ladder with a great amount of disdain. One foot met the ground, and then the other, and they stood there in great discomfort. The strangeness of their world continued as they gathered their coat and walked outside.
Now the trapeze artist wouldn’t have chosen to do such a thing, not on their own will. In fact seeing him MISSING might be causing quite the stir for his attendants. Nonetheless they walked out awkwardly into the brisk weather. They held a notebook in their calloused hands still dusted with white chalk. An acrobat on the ground seemed something BLASPHEMOUS. He believed so at least. Their initial triumph of getting themselves to the ground and out and about had subsided and now the ANXIETY was setting in. The trapeze artist, bombarded with crowds and automobiles zipping every which way. New places, new faces, they were beginning to become ILL. “Oh dear, oh dear” There was a mumble under their breath as their dizzying environment closed in on them. The sweetness of seclusion long gone they wondered why on earth they decided to venture out like this.
And then the trapeze artist realized they had no reason to. Why on earth they left their perch to begin with was beyond their comprehension and reasoning. It just HAPPENED as if and invisible force dictated it. Sweat began to accumulate on their brow and the feeling of nausea was becoming more and more severe. Oh yes, they felt like they were going to DIE. Their pace hastened and they weaved through the crowds with precision, lacing their way in and out until their footing was compromised. They grabbed onto the nearest person, a thick blue coat now under their fingertips as they hoisted themselves back up, their balance recovering. “Oh, hello. I’m terribly sorry-” The trapeze artist inhaled but they could not hold themselves together any longer. Tears began to stream down their face as they sobbed. “I am a fool! What am I even doing out here!? Was it God’s will?” He found himself hugging the other now, crying into their shoulder. Childish, incredibly so.
it’s alarming, to be touched & finding himself at a complete stop for an outsider . though not on purpose. he was about to shake it off & forgive them but lips brought to a close again when he’s almost knocked over from a sudden strong pull with weeps, weeps. he finds himself standing stiff in silence, just listening in what words come out of them. what should i do, what should i say ? what does one say to someone who’s distraught in irregular situations like this?! ❛ -------- there, there. . ❜ he spoke in soft whispers, cradling the back of the raven-haired head. it goes without saying that he’s never dealt with someone like this -- completely different anyways. regardless he’s not a person who’d push someone away. he’ll just have to create strategies at the top of his head as he goes. he wants to be of help.
he embraces them now, ❛ don’t speak to yourself that way, it does you no good. . . y’know. ❜ slender digits stroking that same hair. ❛ i’m sorry for -- whatever might be happening . perhaps i can be of help somehow. . would you accompany me for tea ? do you drink tea ? i just came from ---- errands myself & thought of grabbing a cuppa. helps me when i’m stressed. ❜
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