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Summary
The eyes are everywhere.
They hover in the shadows as Jax passes, spawn from random points on the walls, blink up at him from the bowl of soup Ragatha hands him at dinner. He catches one staring from his peripheral vision, sees it pulse green and pink and yellow–colors so vivid his head aches long after he averts his gaze.
No one else reacts to their sudden appearance, which is weird, sure–but so was everything else in the circus. Maybe this was just one of those things it was easier not to think about, like the fact that he looked more animal than human these days, or that at any moment one of the cast could mutate into a hideous monster and beat Jax within an inch of his digital life. Again.
Whatever. Jax can work with that. He’s great at not thinking about things.
What if Jax’s whole 'addressing the audience' bit had a little more truth to it than he lets on? Pre-canon.
Series
- Part 1 of Spectator Mode Enabled <◉>
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Oh my god. This is so sad. Eating this
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