Chapter Text
Pomni doesn’t remember how she got there.
There isn’t a specific moment she can point to when it all went black. One second is just… missing. And then she’s standing in the middle of a circus tent.
She blinks, trying to make sense of it. The space around her feels too large, the ceiling stretching higher than it should. The red and white fabric hangs overhead, bright, too bright in a way that feels unnatural. The air smells faintly sweet, like burnt sugar. All of this, her heart starts to race.
“Okay…okay,” she mutters under her breath. She looks down at herself and notices that she’s dressed like a jester. Gloves. Bells on her hat. And layers of fabric that fit her too perfectly for her to ever recall owning. The outfit doesn’t look thrown together. It feels intentional, like it belongs to her and she tries to think back.
Before this. Something feels wrong.
There should be something there, something recent, or clear, but the moment she reaches for it, her thoughts catch her like they’re hitting a wall. Still a few fragments push through,
A street at night, cold air, real cold. A flickering light above her. She was outside. Walking, maybe. Going somewhere. Was there a reason, something important… and then it's gone.
Pomni exhales sharply, pressing her hand to her temple.
“No.. what was I–”
Footsteps interrupt her and she turns quickly. There are people there that she hadn’t noticed before. Off to the side, a girl sits curled into herself, her body bent in ways that look uncomfortable to even look at. She avoids contact, speaking quietly.
“...hi.”
Above them, someone is hanging upside down from a trapeze, completely at ease.
“Guess you’re new,” he says, like this is normal.
Nearby, somebody else stands almost perfectly still, but something about them feels off. Thor's shape doesn’t quite stay consistent, like it's subtly shifting every time Pomni looks away and back again. They tilt their head slightly.
“Another one.”
A dancer steps forward next, she seems more soft and careful than the rest she’s seen so far. She offers a gentle smile.
“Hey… it’s okay,” she says. “You’re safe here.” But her reassurance doesn’t land with Pomni, not really. Behind her, a man laughs. But it's not just him, there’s a puppet in his hands, its voice overlapping his in a way that’s hard to separate.
“New friend! New friend! New Frie–”
“Alright, alright,” the man murmurs, trying to quiet it, though he doesn’t seem too bothered.
Pomni instinctively takes a step back.
“Where am I?” she asks, and no one answers right away. They all glance at each other, they’ve all heard that question before. Before they could say anything, a new voice quickly filled the space.
“Welcome to the circus!”
It's bright, energetic and coming from everywhere at once. Pomni flinches as it echoes through the tent. She can’t tell where it's coming from or who’s speaking.
“Don’t be scared,” the voice continues, almost playful. “You’re going to love it here!”
Pomni shakes her head immediately.
“No, I’m not,,, I don’t want to be here. I don’t even know where I am!”
There’s a pause, and a soft voice murmurs: “...no one does.”
Pomni looks back at the others. At the girl who won’t meet her eyes. At the dancer, still smiling, but not convincingly. At the one on the trapeze, watching her reaction from up above. At the one who hasn’t moved at all. At the man and his puppet, still half-laughing. Something starts to settle in her chest.
“...have any of you… actually tried, leaving?” she asks.
No one says yes or even pretends to, the silence is enough. It hits pomni right away that this isn’t some random place she ended up in drunkenly and that this isn't a place people can…get out of.
“Okay” she says quietly,
A sharp tapping sound cuts through the tent. Then another, they were slow, like someone announcing themselves. Pomni stiffens, her attention snapping toward the sound. It's coming from behind her.
“Now, now,” a voice says closer this time, clearer, almost amused. “We don’t want our newest guest getting the wrong idea right away, do we?”
Pomni turns and sees a figure standing right there. He stands just a few feet away, like he’s always been part of the scene and she’s only just noticed. Dressed in a red ringmaster’s blazer, black leather pants catching the light as he shifts his weight slightly. A cane rests in one hand which he taps once more against the ground.
Tap.
His other hand lifts his top hat slightly in greeting. His hair is red, shaggy, uneven in a way that looks intentional. His eyebrows thick and stark white, matching the short, grown-out beard along his jaw. A long red mustache curls outward at the ends almost exaggerated out of a caricature. His eyes are what catch her attention, one green, one blue. Both locked directly onto her.
Perched on his shoulder, a white parrot tilts its head.
“Hello!” it chirps brightly. He smiles wider.
“Ah! Where are my manners?” he says, glancing briefly at the bird. “Bubble you’re getting ahead of me.” The parrot ruffles its feathers, pleased with itself.
Pomni doesn’t move or speak. Her body feels too tight, all of this feels so wrong. Her skin, her outfit, this creepy dude along with everyone and everything else in this place.
He plants the cane lightly in front of him and leans on it just slightly, not out of necessity but style.
“Welcome”, he says, warm and easy, like this is all completely normal. “Truly, welcome. First arrivals can always be a bit…disorienting,” His gaze flicks over her, taking in her new costume, the tension in her posture, the way her hands are clenched at her sides.
Pomni finally finds her voice again.
“Who…are you?”
He pauses, but just for a second, he enjoys the question.
“Caine,” he says. “Ringmaster, host, organizer, occasional problem solver…” he gestures loosely around the tent “and more importantly, the one who makes sure everything runs smoothly.” He smiles again, charmingly, too charming.
Pomni’s expression tightens. “Then let me leave”
Caine’s smile doesn’t drop but it changes just a little. He exhales softly having heard that same sentiment many times before.
“Yes,” he says, nodding. “That tends to come up early.”
He taps the caine again, pacing a small circle around her. “As much as I’d love to offer a dramatic exit with a big door and heartfelt goodbye…” he glances at her briefly, “that’s not really how things work around here.”
Pomni turns to follow him, her frustration rising quickly now. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he says lightly, “that this is where you are. And, for now… where you’ll stay,”
Her chest tightens.
“No. That's not– no, you don’t get to just say that.”
Caine tilts his head slightly, studying her.
“I don’t get to say it, I just happen to be right.” he replies.
Pomni shakes her head, backing up a step. “You’re the one in charge right? You said that. So fix it. Get me out of here.”
Caine straightens again, smile returning like it was never interrupted.
“Ah”, if only it were that simple.”
Bubble flutters his wings slightly.
“Not simple! Not simple!” he echoes.
Pomni is getting more and more agitated with this man. She’s staring at him, really looking at him now. At how easily he talks, how controlled he is, how none of this seems to be affecting him the way it's affecting her.
“You’re not even trying, she says, her voice tightening. “You’re just standing there acting like this is normal!”
“Now!” he says, turning slightly toward the others. “We can unpack existential dead later.. First impressions matter after all!” He gestures broadly toward the tent. “Let’s get you settled in, hm?”
Caine glances back at her agitated shaking body refusing to move.
“Trust me,” he says. “It’s easier if you do.”