StaringatStrangers
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Summary
He fell into a deep bow, smiling the whole while. “I’m the ringmaster, of course.”
“Is that skin— Is it yours?” Old wood groaned as the Archivist shifted his weight. “Originally.”
“It is!” the ringmaster said as he swooped back upright. “Nikola decided I wore it well, so she let me keep it. Why do you ask?”
The Archivist gave him another once-over. “You just… you look familiar. Like someone I know.”
On relearning, reconnecting, and redefining.
Series
- Part 1 of Come What May