Thinking about Court Jester!Ghostface standing on stage at a festival. the queen is sat beside the King with two brave knights by their sides. The man who dares to scream and taunt on stage for all to see;
"Ladies and slimes and everyone who dares to climb, come quick, come quick!" Bells ringing as he prances around the stage his hat flopping about as children giggle at the scene. "I have a tale to share in honor of our newly crowned queen!" He bowed twirling his hat off his head revealing a mop of shaggy disheveled black hair. His eyes glancing up lingering on each one standing in the royal stand. Smirking as he felt the Captain stare him down. "I have tale, most fictional! But it tis grand and it tis smart and it tis only mine to tell. So listen closely..." He voice dropping softly watching as the crowd leaned in only to shout, "but not too close! For I shall scream my tale for it must be seen!"
Arms raised to the sky the bells of his feet jingling as he moved about, "tis a dark tale of deception, murder, and most importantly—" his wrist flicking out to reveal a rose holding it out to you to take, "Love most forbidden." A smile bright on his painted face.
He stood up straight covering his face, "but oh contrare my most debonair for I hath seen it's beauty plain in the eye of my mind it drives me insane I might die!" He placed above his head rocking on his feet as if to faint, falling back before stomping forward startling the crowd. "But I shall live and release this pain for all to hear so I may gain some semblance of..." His breath stalling the sentence trailing off his gaze cast downward seemingly locked on you. Before snapping away.
"there once was lonely prince of far away whose desires of love were not what he should crave. A servant! A slave!" He shouted crouching low hands in front of him as if ready to lunge, "A slave? You might say, tis true. A prince who was blue who craves a slave. A slave who is bound with one rule, a rule only a fool would break. Protect the prince, let him not ache. For if he did, the king would quake."
The court jester looked upon the crowd eyeing each and everyone memorizing their looks. His movements wide and broad, "Little did the king of madness know of the prince of sadness that he already ached, his mind slaved away trying to purge his thoughts of gay." He clawed at his clothes as his cadence became desperate. Falling to his knees, before looking up with soulful look. "The king must never know." He whispered longingly reaching out to the captain of the guard. Head dropping as he turned to the crowd face going blank. "The slave must never know." Hands pawing at the stage as he crawled along the polished wood, bells clanging with each step. "The slave must never know," he repeated reaching out to you. Before pulling away abruptly rising to his feet hands held to his chest.
"but if madness know anything, it knows to hurt." The words almost melancholy, "it knows to look; to find the sadness and make it grow! It lashes! lashes out tearing into flesh and bone!" His words louder with each word as he pulls away from himself, "you could hear the cry and as the slave screamed, chained and bound; helpless to fight, for the prince he must protect, but the king he must serve."
The jesters hands falling to his sides as he bows his head, "the prince he must protect, but the king he must serve" his words echoing on the stage. His pacing slow as he carried on, "the slave wept mourning the prince. Mourning the softness he brought. The slave had been greedy, being so needy as to crave the prince himself... He too died that day a heart so shattered it could scarcely beat." A single tear sliding down his face as he lets a silence linger over the space. "Tis a shame that tattered lovers were torn apart, but fret not their corpses did rise. A secret they vowed to keep the slave purging himself of his vows as he plunged a blade deep in the chest of a beast who will forever now sleep!"
The jester now facing the new queen, "whatever do you think a bride feel to know her groom had lied? To think he lived a corpse that loved another, but will never love her?" The Queen's personal guard moving closer hand on the back of her chair. The jester already thinking of ways to tell that tale at the next festival. The King's inner circle knows the truth, but to you it is just a tragedy. A story told by a man you wish would pay you mind even off that wretched stage. The rose sharp in your hand blood staining the stone below you as you clutched that rose.
Turning the fruit in his hands over, Jasper couldn't help but notice the soft spots on the flesh. When the merchant spoke up, his attention was soon pulled up toward the seller and he shook his head. "No thank you." It was an indication that he didn't want the fruit. His back turned toward the cart, trying not to run over the people passing in front of him.
