A delicate hand took his chin and he met Cis's eyes. He stared into their deep pools and felt his heart race. The fear rose again, the image of the coin searing his eyes even though nothing was there. Whatever it was played to his imagination and the fear -- the guilt of being born who he was washed away. He didn't care. Whatever this feeling was made it all worth it.
Cis asked him the same question Camillia had asked her. He didn't have an answer. Cruz shrugged with the shaking of his body. It took everything he could not to cower with the fear. "Ready for what?" he whispered.
Cruz pulled away and the rush of sensation fled but the images around him did not. He backed up another step and then another and tripped over a rock, careening backwards, flailing his arms. It felt like he was falling into a black abyss, and maybe he was. Moments felt like forever without the touch of the warm hands that had fueled his fear.
Crashing to the ground in a heap, his heart raced. His body ached. When was the last time he felt like this? He lay sprawled out on the ground and didn't care who stared. Moving didn't seem like a good idea, he couldn't stay on his feet.
Sámiel found himself captivated by the vulnerability and authenticity in her words. He listened intently, his gaze unwavering, as she bared her soul. It was as if time had stilled, and the only existence was the connection between them, a bubble woven by the spell of his words that enveloped them both.
His heart swelled with empathy as she revealed her longing for something deeper, a desire to be truly seen and understood. He knew the weight of feeling unnoticed, of being admired for superficial attributes rather than cherished for the essence within. The carnival's enchantment had brought them together, and he felt a profound responsibility to nurture the essence that flickered within her heart.
"I see you,” he spoke softly, his voice carrying a touch of reassurance. "And in that vision, I see a soul yearning for more, seeking to touch the essence of existence itself.”
Her nod conveyed a mix of gratitude and uncertainty, and Sámiel sensed her inner turmoil. He understood the fear that held her back, the worry that vulnerability might lead to rejection. Yet, he saw strength in her, a strength that emanated from the depths of her being.
"You are not weak, nor are you pathetic,” he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You possess a courage that few realize, a courage to embrace the truth of your own desires and dreams,” and he turned her slightly to face the others like an offering of a delicious elixir. His gaze settled on the frosted gaze of Esper’s for a mere moment.
As she expressed her intent to return, he felt a sense of hope bloom within her and pride within himself, and he smiled softly. What was her name, he wondered. He could almost taste the flavor of it. "Whenever you're ready, the carnival will await your return with open arms,” he assured her. "There is much more to explore, to discover within yourself and my realm.”
Sámiel watched as she turned her gaze back toward the shadowed building, and he sensed the shift in her perception. The dark beauty of the carnival stood before her, radiating heat and allure. It was a place where the depths of her soul could be nourished, where she could touch the magic that lay within and without. With a knowing nod, Sámiel acknowledged her desire to see beyond the surface, to delve deeper into the mysteries that beckoned. He felt the disconnection between their present surroundings and the world beyond their walls, and knew that his Embrace would always be here to welcome her back as it would for anyone.
However, amidst their intimate exchange, a commotion nearby caught Sámiel's attention. A man stumbled and tripped, falling to the ground with a startled gasp. His face was etched with fear, and he seemed shaken by an unseen force.
For a moment, Sámiel's eyes flickered towards his Romani kin before settling upon the fallen man, concern written across his features. He hesitated, torn between continuing his conversation and attending to the distressed individual. "Please excuse me a moment," he told his companion.
As he drew nearer, the shadows seemed to be pulled away, revealing the man's trembling form, eyes wide with fear. Sámiel knelt beside him, offering a calming presence.
"Are you alright?” Sámiel inquired, his voice a soothing balm. "What happened?” He asked as he offered to help him to his feet.
This was why Esper adored the stage. The single-minded focus of an audience, the awe, the way the world faded but for the imprint of her presence on another’s eyes. Cruz trembled all over until the primal in him snapped, and he fell back and tripped. He didn’t look away though, and he earned a small smile for it. Pushed emotion wasn’t as pure as that genuinely felt, though Cruz had already been afraid, and all she had done this time was coax those feelings back to the surface. But she hadn’t done it for sensation; she’d done it for the association it would burn into his mind. That she and Roza were the path he must follow to chase that high.
Sámiel’s smooth approach interceded the moment. Esper had not drawn closer after Cruz’s stumble backwards, nor did she follow to where Sámiel bent to kneel at his side and offer him aid to his feet. She only watched.
Roza watched the enraptured effect Esper had on Cruz. He fell into her eyes with ease. Anyone would even without her gift. But when her gift was present Esper was a forced to be reckoned with. Like a wildfire coursing through your body. It could be amazing and dreadful all at the same time. Cruz was horrified. He was hooked. And she was grateful it wasn't on drugs. Yes there was a hallucinogenic but it wasn't addictive nor could it kill him like P. Maybe they could avoid the Rubic Room and gain Zeke's favor with just Esper. Though Zeke still wanted to profit from it too. She wasn't sure what he wanted from the rich kid though. Not their usual mark.
This time it was Roza who wrapped her arms around the other woman. Roza made sure to make lots of noise as she walked swashing her purse and jingling the bells she liked to wear. She never liked to sneak up on Esper. Always made a lot of noise, she was like a cat who was always underfoot. The let you not step on her. She giggled at the thought and purred into Esper's ear. "Is he hooked?"
Sami was there to rescue Cruz. She watched with giddy glee. Sami might have a regular too. She glanced around looking for their friend. She held out her hand behind her. "Come join us."
Images fluttered in that strange after image and reality mode and slowly faded as Cruz found himself on the ground. The vaguest of memories of falling backwards. He wasn't sure exactly what happened. And when he was asked what happened he blinked at the man who'd sent them into the darkness for the thrill of fear and death and the image that haunted him. "I fell." was all he could muster as he took the mans slim hand. Cruz felt as if the man's hand might break in his. But it didn't. There was lingering fear... panic and paranoia. How did that image make it inside. It was clearly a man who'd channeled, he'd seen the weaves. But...
Cis and Camillia were wrapped around each other again, perfection in a bundle. One subdued the other would wrap him up and send him to hell with a sticker and a bow. The image made him smile. He could deal with that. "I think I need a drink, and to sit down." Maybe this was why his father drank so much wine.
Cruz smiled at their patron. "Thank you. This all yours?" He waved to the attraction. He meant the images inside including the image he'd seen but he doubted a man would fully admit he was behind the image. How would he even know what haunted him.
The rush of fear was fading and Cruz' head was spinning a little. Worse than a hangover. He blinked through it. Maybe a drink was not going to work either. "Go again?" Though a second trip through might not work as well, he knew what to expect. "Maybe not. Won't be as good so soon."
As Cruz's voice cut through the stillness that had settled after his fall, the vibrant aura of the carnival seemed to pulse with life once more. Sámiel's attention shifted to Cruz, his eyes resting on the man who had stumbled, both figuratively and literally, through the realms of the unknown.
Cruz's words carried a mixture of bewilderment and a touch of humor, revealing the rollercoaster of emotions he had experienced within the haunted attraction continued since his emergence. Sámiel extended a slim hand, offering Cruz his support as he helped him up from the ground. He noted the lingering fear in Cruz's eyes, the traces of an image that had carved its mark upon his psyche.
"You fell,” Cruz's words were simple, yet they carried a weight that spoke of the intensity of the experience he had just emerged from. Sámiel's gaze held a blend of understanding and reassurance, for he knew well the unsettling effects of his enchantments.
As Cruz mentioned his need for a drink and a seat, Sámiel's lips quirked into a faint smile. "The Veil can leave its mark,” he replied, his voice gentle. "A drink might help steady your senses, though I must admit, the sensation you're feeling is not entirely unfamiliar."
Sámiel’s smile in response was a glimpse of camaraderie, a shared understanding of the intricate dance between fear and exhilaration.
As Cruz gestured to the attraction, his question hung in the air, and Sámiel's gaze swept over the dark beauty that stood before them. "Indeed,” he answered, his voice tinged with a touch of mystery. "The Veil is mine to oversee. A blend of reality and illusion, the echoes of the past and the whispers of the future. Which is real and which is the echo of your own soul is something you must discern for yourself.”
Cruz's inquiry about going through again hinted at a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, and Sámiel's smile deepened. "The thrill of the unknown is a path best traversed with a measure of anticipation,” he said, his words carrying the wisdom of an ancient soul. "Perhaps a pause is in order. The enigma you've witnessed will remain, awaiting your return on a future visit.” And he offered to hand off the disoriented man back to his Romani companions.
Rena felt cold, like the campfire she was standing next to had suddenly gone out. His touch- his words, words that said he knew her...somehow, heard her, read her- had filled her with heat...
...and then he turned his attention away to the others. And she was suddenly enveloped in the cold of the night, surrounded by darkness and the void. And she hated it. Anger flickered at her mind. Frustration. She looked at what had pulled him away, resentment brewing. Vega had fallen to the ground. His shadowed chiseled face was still as beautiful as ever, but it now seemed boring. Generic. Dull. There was nothing alien or dark or hidden about it. It wasn't interesting.
The man....she didn't even know his name- was at Vega's side, trying to help. The two girls looked at each other and spoke but she didn't understand any of it. They were playing a game, she realized. She smiled slightly, the frustration and cold fringing her thoughts and feelings. She didn't feel sorry for Vega, not really. Turn about was fair. The rich always got away with whatever they wanted while girls like these- like her- struggled to survive and have any kind of control over their lives. If these two wanted to have fun with him, he deserved it. he was just like-
-the man turned and looked at her for a moment and her heart jumped, and time stopped. Hope flickered...and then his attention was on the others again. Deflated, she watched. One of the girls- she couldn't even remember what her flower name was- held out her hand, telling her to join them. She didn't want to go. Not because she was afraid. Whatever they had planned, she wouldn't be in danger. She had her tricks. No. She didn't want to leave him. She looked at the girl and her outstretched hand, stepped forward, heart pounding.
She felt like a fork in the road was before her. She had no idea how everyone was connected. Would he come? Would he stay. What should she do? She took the hand, but turned to him, looking up into his impossibly beautiful and haunted face, felt the heat of him again. "You will come too, won't you?"
Roza giggled at Lavender's smitten behavior. Sami was truly exotic and worthy of the attention. Roza smiled at her cousin, (not of any relation, but might as well be. He wasn't a brother, but he was more than a friend. He was family.) "Sami will join us, when he's done dosing the masses with his spectacular show. Won't you cousin?" She smile happily. "We'll be dancing at the Devil's Lair.."
They'd left the choice up to Cruz earlier, but fear was in order, he needed the darkness and the rave like qualities. No P this time. And no blood and gore. Whatever that creature was dead -- hopefully nothing more remained. Vampires were only stories. But so were lost gypsies who stole your soul. The enigma made Roza smile.
She took Esper's and and grinned at her, then turned to Cruz. "Come along, my pet."
Roza’s arms captured her from behind, and Esper’s body leaned back fluidly into the affection. All that wild mischief leaked straight through, edging sharpness into Esper’s smile as she answered with a simple, low “Yes.” Her predatory gaze did not break from the boy on the ground, even as Sámiel coaxed him with kindness and other words she didn’t listen to. She was just feeling it all. Consuming the sensations with an avid sort of hunger that stole most of her focus. Cruz wasn’t the only one hooked, though. Lavender’s heart was going to break from the height she so carelessly dropped it. Esper’s gaze finally broke to brush against Sámiel's gaunt, ethereal form, and she laughed. Meanwhile Roza instigated, and Esper turned to press a grateful kiss on her cheek. “I’m changing first,” she said. “And we should find something for Lavender to wear too.” She glanced at the other girl like she saw straight to the core, though it wasn’t unkind, just knowing. They all knew who Rena would be dressing for. Cruz was the last one she looked at, sultry with curiosity to see if he would take Roza's hand or prefer to meet them there.
Amidst the intertwining threads of emotions and intentions that flowed through the group, Sámiel sensed the currents of energy shifting around him. He felt the fleeting connection with Rena flux hot then cold, and he understood the complexities of her emotions as he’d turned his attention elsewhere. He saw her gaze linger on Cruz’s plight, and he wondered if there was a mix of frustration and resentment tinging her thoughts.
When Rena turned towards him, her gaze locked onto his with a fervent hope that tugged at Sámiel's very being. He sensed Rena's hesitation, her internal struggle, and he knew that she stood at a crossroads of choices. Her words, soft and vulnerable, hung in the air like a whispered enchantment. "You will come too, won't you?"
As Roza's giggle reached his ears, Sámiel turned his gaze to her, his lips curving into a gentle smile. The affection and camaraderie he felt towards Roza, the connection that extended beyond blood relations, warmed his heart. Her words carried a playful assurance that Sámiel would eventually join their gathering once his duties were fulfilled.
As Esper took Roza's outstretched hand, Sámiel watched the moment unfold, the connection between the two girls resonating with the threads of fate that wove their stories together.
"Of course,” he replied to all three ladies, his voice a soothing melody, but it was toward Rena that he stepped closer, seeking to take her hand in his, his touch gentle yet firm, so that his lips might brush against her knuckles in a tender kiss. “Nothing could keep me away,” he murmured softly.
With a final, lingering smile shared between him and Rena, Sámiel gently released her hand. The promise of his presence lingered in the air, a vow that resonated beyond words. He glanced towards the tent’s entrance, where the pulsating rhythm of the night's festivities beckoned him.
"I must return to my realm,” he said, his voice carrying a note of both excitement and regret. "The carnival's dance continues, and I am its guardian.” The allure of his haunted attraction awaited, a canvas upon which he painted the symphony of fear and wonder, shadows and dreams.
As he walked away, his form seemed to meld with the carnival's atmosphere, becoming a part of its mysterious fabric. His eyes, warm and haunted, surveyed the passing crowds, beckoning carnival-goers with a mixture of allure and trepidation just as he had them.
The night was alive with laughter, whispers, and the thrill of the unknown. Sámiel's presence resonated within every shadow, every twist of the path, guiding those who dared to venture forth. He reveled in the magic that flowed through his veins, laughing and eerie, a dance of energy that pulsed in harmony with the heartbeat of the carnival.
And so, Sámiel embraced his role as both guardian and conductor, overseeing the dance of shadows and dreams that unfolded within the carnival's heart. With each beckoning gesture and whispered invitation, he led the curious into the depths of the attraction, where their fears and fantasies intertwined in a symphony of enchantment.
It was a blessed night for the father of fear.