Space: It's Quiet... Too Quiet
Fandom: N/A
AU?: N/A
Extra: This one is being written with connections to my own characters and their plot line(s).
Tag: @badthingshappenbingo
The circus grounds of Jejivan. A lively and warm atmosphere all year round, the acts and staff having as much fun as their fans and supporters! Cheers and awes would leave the glow of the tent's entrance around 6 o'clock every night for around 4 hours, 6 hours if it was a special night. Located a few miles south of the capital's centre, it stood to be the biggest source of enjoyment from residents and tourists alike. Hell, even the royals would attend frequently. Who'd expect high ranked members of society to attend events in a red and white tent that seemed to destroy all aspects of basic physics?
Jejivan's Circus. That was its name. Simple yet memorable. The main tent stood at a scarily tall 75ft, the other smaller tents standing at 55ft. Of course, that meant the space inside was just as scarily large, the centre masts stationed over 80ft apart, with a width of over 100 to add - and that's just the main tent. Why would a tent have to be so big? Well, the ringmaster and circus owner wasn't the smallest man - or naga - on Lunafullia's surface. He had to fit somehow!
Speaking of, shall we delve into the ringmaster?
A naga of the largest variety, measuring in at around 90ft long, was the ringmaster. His name was Ryoko Occidendum, and he'd been running this circus for over 150 years. He was the father of the acts, figuratively speaking at least. He made every night unique, with help from his brother on the occasion. As we mention him, Reign Occidendum is the creative manager of the circus, and also the stand in ringmaster if Ryoko couldn't partake. How would that work? Well, Ryoko and Reign are twins, identical twins.
But enough about that! This circus ran for hundreds of years, originally being called Occidendum's Circus, for it was a family thing. Popular, thriving, safe; all things for the circus that was true.
Until it was not.
No birds sang, no sounds at all. Not even the weight of his tail made a sound as he slithered over the abandoned grounds. Or, at least he didn't hear it.
He didn't know. And yet he was the one blamed. He didn't know there was a monstrosity beneath the circus. Several heads, maybe 30 of them? He couldn't quite recall. Each head had black holes for eyes, with teeth like the spikes on a flail. He didn't know.
The tent still stood. But the pain he felt, staring at the shreds of his life, was far too much. The white and red vibrance had been replaced by yellowed and tattered violence, the stench of damp fabric assaulting his senses. The fabric was torn to no end, the centre masts having trenches from where its destroyer had tried to claw its way out of its confines. Old stalls, from which attendees would've gotten their merch and snacks, now rotted and collapsed.
The air stood still. The sickening smells didn't waft away. No sound broke the silence.
It was still there.
Somewhere.
Despite the pain in his chest, he pulled back the ribbons of the tent's entrance, half debating to coil and cry. He didn't stop, advancing into the place he once stood. He stared at the main stage, the memories already surfacing.
"Welcome ladies and gents and everyone present! The circus opens its curtains to you!"
He'd said that. As he had every night. The distinguished hat he always wore, his tailcoat a charming blue, like the early hours of the morning sky. He had his tail, the reds and greens of his scales reflecting the fire light that illuminated their stages, coiled beneath him, his cane raised in a dramatic introduction.
They'd gotten two hours into their set for the night when the first grumble had been heard.
"And what a spectacular performance from our very own pirate captain! Never ceasing to amaze his crew~! Up next-"
He'd been introducing their fire dance act. He remembered it so clearly. He was cut short by a grumble, growl of sorts. He had regained his composure before attempting to introduce the act again, until a loud snarl had ripped through the grounds. He had been scared out of his skin, the first head making its horrific presence known. He had immediately called the night off, shouting and screaming for everyone to get out.
He slithered around the debris, his hood flaring slightly. He was paranoid. Rightly so, though. He didn't know what that creature had been. All he knew was that it had appeared, and ate its way through over 200 supporters of the circus, and hadn't been seen since the grounds were abandoned.
15 years ago to the day.
15 years ago, screams of fear and horror had filled the circus. Reports channeled over the city and beyond. He had been blamed for hiding it. He had insisted he'd not known it was there, and that he had no idea what it was. Survivors backed him up, informing investigators that he had been just as scared as the rest of them.
Now, 15 years on, the area was dead. Silent. Nothing. He had no reason to be there, but there he was.
Clutching his modified masamune with a white-knuckled grip, Jejivan's Circus' former ringmaster relaxed himself, glaring at the place the beast had come from all those years ago. It had destroyed his life.
He felt eyes on him, and his hood flared further. He locked his attention on the darkness ahead.
His life had been destroyed that night: his career, his family's past, his brother, his family at the circus. That beast had killed those he loved, had killed his life and reason for living.
Ryoko had come to repay the favour... Only this time, as the Lord of Jejivan, the Noble Naga of Death.
He would avenge his murdered friends and family.
The memories would be put to an end.
And he'd not be nice about it...