Showtime (A Sanscest Story)

The Path Onward

Cross swore loudly as another vine hooked around his leg. He formed a glowing red blade and sliced it off of himself. He winced, feeling a pain in his ribs. He'd forgotten how damaging some of his father's attacks could be. He paused for a moment, a bag slung over his shoulder and his hood pulled up. It was growing dark. He dissipated the blade, but continued to stand still, a hand over his ribs. "Ah!" He hissed as he pushed one back into place. It fucking hurt. He continued and managed to break forward into a clearing.

He quickly dropped his bag and leaned against a tree. He pulled up his shirt slightly. His ribs were fractured and a couple were out of place. He lowered his shirt back down before looking around. There. He grabbed a stick, placed it between his jaws, and sat back against the tree.

His hands lit up red and he screwed his eyes shut, muffling a shriek as he forced one of his ribs back into place. He continued until his ribs were healed. He pulled the stick out of his mouth, bitemarks having been splintered into it. He tossed it aside and tried to calm himself down. He glanced to the side, his soul still pounding. There was nothing in the clearing but some thorn bushes. He closed his eyes and continued to take in some breaths. He slid down the tree and put his head in his hands. He was close, right? He had to be close. He paused for a moment and tried to focus.

As much as he hated this ability of his, he wanted to prove to himself that it could be useful. He continued to focus and, finally, he felt a small tug. There! There was someone nearby! They seemed to be in a good mood, Cross barely managing to scoff at the difference in their days. He grabbed his bag and stood up. There was a tingling feeling on the back of his neck and he glanced around the clearing, furrowing his brow as they settled on the thorn bushes. It felt like... something was missing. He managed to tear his gaze away from them and shook himself off. He turned away, leaving the clearing and moving through the trees. He furrowed his brow, his focus starting to loosen. He stumbled onto a path and had to stop for a moment, the jolt sending screaming pain through his ribs.

It distracted him enough that he failed to sense the monster behind him. He shrieked as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stumbled again and almost fell forward. Before he could hit the ground, something grabbed his hood. He stopped, panting, his eyes wide. Whoever it was pulled him back and he managed to catch himself on his feet. His ribs were aching and he barely managed the turn. A red glow greeted him. "Heya! You good?" For a moment, Cross didn't answer, distracted by what appeared to be a target-shaped, glowing red soul. It was another skeleton. He seemed to study him with empty eyesockets.

Cross was momentarily distracted by the glint of gold on one of the skeleton's fingers before glancing back up to his face. A smile seemed to tug at the other's mouth. "Why're you dressed like a cow?" The skeleton snickered. Immediately, Cross froze up, bad memories returning to him. He quickly shook his head, focusing instead on the cheerful curiosity and faint amusement he felt from the other. Emotions like that always made him feel a little better.

"My name is Cross. I'm looking for the Sceletus." He said uneasily. The circus often came through his town once a year. The other skeleton blinked and gave a quiet chuckle.

"Well, I'd say you're in luck! The name's Killer. I'm one of the knife throwers. Can I ask why you're looking for it? We don't open for another few weeks, at least!" He held out a hand and Cross glanced at it. He reached out and shook Killer's hand. He pulled his own away quickly. He only wanted to touch others for the least amount of time possible. Killer blinked at him in confusion and surprise. Cross apologized quickly. "Well?" Oh. Cross blinked and gulped.