ilensera A I N S I (graftable) wrote in asile_de_fous,
ilensera A I N S I
graftable
asile_de_fous

--a whore without a rope.

[ ainsi soro ]





I remember being more nervous than usual, watching Sir and Shem pull Jin and his pieces offstage. I thought it was a little harder to center myself, this time, for whatever reason, because I could see the tree, on the horizon, and the river, in the distance, and the mountain looming overhead.

In my mind's eye, anyways.

I start my act at the top of the silks, and I'm always so scared of failure that it isn't an option.

To center.
To perform.
To fly.
To make something beautiful.

I smelled smoke, but I didn't register it-- the crowd had been so sparse and rowdy and drunk and terrible that I'd focused myself on ignoring them completely.

In favour of someone more beautiful, down below.

People were screaming in the audience; my castmates; the stage manager; the musicians.

FIRE.

THE TENT IS ON FIRE.

And it was only when I opened my eyes that I came face to face with

The tree fallen,
the mountain collapsed,
and the river aflame
.

The first instinct, or at least mine, was to get away from the fire; to scramble up my silks and pull myself into the rigging. It didn't occur to me that it was hailing from above.

The smoke was heavy, up in between the metal railings of the fly rigs, the light rigs, and the tent trusses. It was hard to see.

But it didn't matter.

GET OUT.

THE TENT IS ON FIRE.

...and so were the silks.

"AVI!!!" It was choked, barely loud enough. "AVI! REVE!!"

I briefly considered jumping, as the death would be much quicker, but something like a survival instinct forced me to hang on, to hang on, to hang on.

Like a cat up a tree;
Like a whore without a rope.

An ill mannered end to an unlucky act in a forsaken city, stuck hiding in a metal rig that was getting hotter by the second.

It'll always come back to get you.

I stopped trying to see.

It'll always come back to claim you.
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