Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You're tired and you feel heavy. You don't know how long you've been running but you're just following the tracks. You have nothing. Not a penny to your name now, your parents had no money for the house, for anything. They left you with nothing, so you ran, with your belongings that you could stuff in a suitcase. You sit on the metal edge, rubbing your ankle at the top of your shoe. Your dress is dirty, ripped and torn a bit from times you have tripped. You shove your hat in your case and run a hang through your hair. The curls shake out, tight curls just messy and un-organized now and falling in a heap behind you. Suddenly you can hear a train and your eyes shoot wide open and you stumble a bit, backing away. It comes quickly, you can't catch a good enough glimpse of the name on the side but you sure do see that outer doorway and you leap for it, fighting with all your might to pull yourself up. The creaky floor boards make noises as you shift, pulling yourself up. You look around in the train car. Cats, big cats. There are cages lining the walls, lions, tigers, hungry and laying down in their areas. Some rise their head to look at you, but they just fall back. You've always wanted to work with animals, specifically exotic ones, and even more specifically, cats. You fall, your head hitting the floor as you conk out and drift into sleep.

You wake up to hear murmurs, something about how they can't have more bums hopping on the train and it's already too many mouths to fucking feed and pay. You hear more people coming and soon their hands are under your arms and you're heaved up and you spit. Their hands are dirty, same with their clothes and you struggle to get out of their grasp. Their grips get tighter and you scowl. You look back at the men in front of you, two of them. They look alike, one it taller than the other though. Rich people. As rich as they could be, you're guessing. Money is tight now. But either way they're dressed night with their fancy button up shirts and purple waistcoats and grey overcoats that match their paints. Stage make-up dawns one's face, almost as if he were a clown that just got done performing but forgot a part of his make-up on. You don't think he's a clown though.

"Throw her out." The shorter one says.

You shake your head, "What? I was just looking for some place to stay!"

A lion growls and jumps up on the side of his cage, claws latching onto the wire.

"Well I'm sorry princess, I, /we/, run a damn good show and can't have no fucking bums hitching a ride on our train." He carries on, lighting a cigarette and letting it hang out of his mouth, puffing some smoke out towards you.

You cough, "I can work for you guys, I can perform or-"

He chuckles, "It's really not as easy as that. Tell you what, if you can help put everything up and do a damn job, you can spend the night with the rest of the working men. If not, you're gone." You're not sure you want to know how they'll get rid of you, but the two other men drop you and you climb down, heading over to the circus grounds.

The big letters on the side of the train catch your eyes. The Makara Brother's circus. You've heard of them. Apparently they're a great show, but your attention snaps away. You have to help You have a few people trying to get you to help put up dressing tents and set up other things, but it's damn hard and you're confused and don't know what to help with. When you head back to where the cats were though, what you hear is horrible and you quickly climb up. A man is trying to feed the cats, one door open and bucket full of meat in his hands. It spills, the flies and maggots following, along with the cat who jumps, landing on him. Claws sink into skin, teeth soon to be joining. He screams out, thrashing under to try and push it away. It's claws are long, ripping into the fabric of the dirty worn down shirt and pants. They press on his chest, seeming to restrict air flow. You help push the cat off, leaving it growling. But it stays away, just watching you as you stand up and kick at it, leading it back into the
cage and throwing the rest of the bad meat towards it. One of the men from earlier stands in the crowd that has formed, watching, stunned.

They help you both out, getting someone else to feed the cats, making sure the other was okay and getting the story. Everyone is mostly focused on the man, though, all his friends. The taller man, who you suppose is one of the Makara brothers (if that's even their last name), approached you. He seems kinder, he kept quiet while his brother spoke, only watching you sympathetically. You're afraid he's going to fire you. Really you did nothing today that's worthy of you staying. But he sits you down, sitting beside you. He offers you a cigarette, which you light and stick in your mouth, relaxing as you let out the smoke from the side of your mouth. He does the same, watching you. "We haven't had an act with the cats in years, after an accident with a new lion with the animal trainer. They stay in the menagerie, now, like a little show for the kids. Pacing back and forth, it's not the life for them. I've seen what they can do. Say, tell my brother you can train the cats and you'll be here to stay." He flicks the cigarette off into the grass before walking off, you stare after him. You go and sit in the train car with the cats, talking with them before their cages get brought away. You lie alone.

You're woken up by the man from before, the tall one, smiling down at you. He hauls you up gently, adjusting the top hat on top of his hair before leading you in. He leads you through the front tent, past the animals in their cages and the off tents for food and drinks and the posters hanging around. He leads you into the big top, people dawning all around on the bleachers. He smiles at you once more and tips his hat, leading off to join his brother in the ring as the performers start showing their way in. Girls dancing on long silk ropes from above, twisting and turning and doing tricks and looking like they're about to fall. People walking on tight ropes and jumping but managing not to lose their balance. People flying from bar to bar in the air, holding and clasping onto each others hands and legs and holding on as if for dear life before they flip more. Horses, elephants, loud band music. It was wonderful, you couldn't get enough of it.

You stay for a bit when it's over and he approaches you, his brother behind him. They take you to their train car, pour you some whiskey and light themselves some cigarettes.

Chapter Text

The whiskey burns at the back of your throat as you drink it down, leaning back in the small, cushioned chair across from them. Outside you can hear the performers celebrating a great show, cheering and laughing together. You suppose they do this every show. But you can’t be sure. You stare at the two men for awhile, green eyes pouring into theirs in turn. You wait for one of them to speak up.

And eventually, one does. The tall one, “She can train the cats.” Your eyes go wide, unsure.

“Really now? We do need another trainer for them. Poor, poor Nepeta. She liked them alright, but they just didn’t quite agree with her.” He chuckles, leaning back into his chair and puffing the smoke from his lips.

It falls silent in the train car once more, the only sound comes from outside, pouring through the door and windows. Music starts to play from the band quickly and you watch the dips and spins of performing couples and a few workmen and ladies in the background. You smile to yourself as you watch through a window before the clearing of a throat comes from one of them.

The bottle is grabbed up from the table only to be poured into another glass that the shorter one is holding, he takes a large swig of it before slamming it back down on the table. He gets real close to you, his breath on your face.

“Well I tell you what, you got the job. But we haven’t had a great opening act in years, so you better not fuck this up for us. You train those cats, and if there are any accidents.” He glares at you before smirking, “You’re out princess.” He clicks his tongue and jerks his thumb back to the outside of the train before stalking off to join everyone outside. You watch silently, shaking. A few people cheer as he joins. You’re now alone with his brother, unsure of what to say to break the silence.

“I’m sorry about him.” He smiles at you, and you cock your head to the side, shrugging as to say that it’s fine. You’re not sure you know how to train big cats. It’s scary to think of, actually. But soon enough he’s in front of you, hand out to shake yours. “Kurloz, Kurloz Makara. That was Gamzee. Welcome to the show.” He smiles again and pulls you off to join in outside.

There’s music and the swinging of bodies and the smell of strong alcohol and cigarettes floats around in the air. It’s all so fun and you’re so caught up with the expensive liquor seemingly appearing in your glass and the smokes being lit you don’t even realize you’re dancing with Kurloz until the band speeds up and you two swing across the grass. He pulls you tight and you wrap your arms around him accordingly, smiling and giggling as he dips and spins you. You don’t remember the last time you’ve had this much fun in your life. And you don’t know if it’s the booze’s fault or how close you are to Kurloz or just how you feel so much more safe and wanted here.

You wake up with a slight pounding in your head and on an uncomfortable bed close to everyone else. You slip out of your bunk. More workmen slip out of theirs, heading out, and to be honest, you don’t know what to do. You stretch, and slowly head out. The cookhouse is up, smoke coming from it and the smell of food in the air. You head over, eager to have food. Sausage, eggs, bread, loaded up on your plate and your mouth waters and you can’t remember how long it has been since you’ve ate real food but you waste no more time thinking about it. You spot Kurloz and Gamzee with a few others on one side and try to go over before someone stops you, pointing over to where the workmen are eating at their tables. You pout lightly. As you head over Gamzee slips behind him, quietly explaining that you are to eat at their table with them. Saying that you’re going to be the new cat training and are going to completely lift their show out of the dumps, of course. Why should you eat with all the work men who are all dirty and grimy? Exactly, you shouldn’t. You follow him over.

The bench for the table is hard and slightly uncomfortable, but you quickly sit down, setting your tray of food in front of you and laying a napkin across your lap after smoothing out your skirt. Gamzee slips in beside you and plops himself down, Kurloz doing the same across from you. Other performers and bosses sit around on this side. The work men are on the other side, but you look over. Your eyes flicked from man to man, going to even dirtier tables without the nice table cloth and flowers like on yours. You feel sort of bad. You’re not special, you’re just the new cat trainer that has literally no experience with big cats! After awhile you end up spotting the man that was attacked by the cat yesterday. He’s still in one piece, but there’s bandages around his middle and some on his arm. But at least he’s okay. You’re sort of scared to hang out with the cats after what happened, but you don’t want to get redlighted. Nobody does.

When you’re finished, satisfied with a full stomach, you slowly make your way back to the train car that holds the cats. Another man comes from them, luckily with no punctures but with a few empty buckets that flies follow around, hoping that there’s still meat in it. Before you can make it up the ramp, a cold hand on your shoulder stops you and you twist around quickly to see who it is. It’s the man. With the bandages. That you saved. He gives you a toothy grin, shifting from foot to foot.

“Thanks for saving me, yesterday. I would have been dead meat there if it weren’t for you. I’m Mituna, Mituna Captor.” Shakily, he holds his hand out for you to shake, which you do.

“Meulin, Meulin Leijon.”

“Be careful with those cats.” He has a lisp. You smile and nod, heading up.

Your small hand presses against the bars of the cage. Not a finger dipping inside, or something that the tiger could latch onto. Just your hand against the cold bars of the cage. Quietly, he saunters up to you and sniffs loudly. You can hear him growl and your breath catches in your throat, afraid. But he stops, sniffing at your hand before wandering back off and plopping down. He doesn’t think you’re a threat. That’s a good start. You do the same with the other cages, watching as the cats approach, sniff, growl, sniff more before deciding you won’t hurt them. You’re just there to be nice and train them and give them love! You want to make them big, rake in the money for the circus, not get thrown off. In fact, it would be amazing if you could even perform! But Gamzee said it wasn’t as easy as that, so you’ll take this job any day.

You decide not to start training yet, but you walk from cage to cage, sitting beside it and pressing your hand up against the cool bars of it.