The Funambulist

Chapter 7: The Taming (part 1)

So, a few things before we begin:

First thing's first (by ptx) this chapter is nearly 8K words... you're welcome <3 Consider it a little gift from me to you for always posting super late all the time (but sadly, since exams are on the rise, this will likely be the last update until the end of June). OH and sorry if I scared some of you earlier with my premature update on Friday.. that was 100% unintentional. I blame my clumsy thumbs.

Um HOLY SHIT I got private performance + GA tickets at my show and there is a 100% chance I'm going to lose my mind after I meet them - send prayers. I'm meeting so many lovely pentaholics and I couldn't be more excited. I love y'all a lot.

And finally, I wanted to dedicate this chapter to the amazing palebluedream <3 not only is she one of the best writers I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, but she's super cool as well. If you're not reading 'The Watchmaker' right now, well, you should be.

No music this chapter since I couldn't find a song that encompassed all the drama that happens. Instead, enjoy this picture Mitch looking like the lovely androgynous princess she is ^^

He had watched as Kevin sprinted across the sandy expanse of earth to a speck in the distance, presumably Avi's tent based on how lavish it looked compared to the other housing options in its close proximity. It was a lovely white and gold combination, tails of the fabric whisking and fluttering about in the gust as Kevin approached, the gaps in the entrance swallowing him up upon his arrival. He vaguely wondered what Swan's tent would look like, blue eyes glazing over with woe at the thought of it being so empty. Many of the tiny set-ups were likely void of people at this point, a good number of the performers settling upon other housing options nearby as they waited to see what was in store for the circus' future. They were patiently awaiting Avi's next move, though Scott knew that they were all secretly skeptical about his ability to make un-biased, universalist choice.

The food tent was far less warm and homely now that Kevin was gone; its walls, which Scott remarked to be a luxurious red upon entering, were now draped in a film of disgust, as if avoiding his unwelcomed presence on the grounds. He felt a sharp reminder of the feeling he felt upon entering the premises the night of their show; it was a numb pang of jealousy that twitched across his jaw, vibrating along the lining of his throat like cold water.

The blond's fingers grazed the edge of the glass dining table, hand tensing at the sudden rush of ice along his nails. He wasn't sure if the sudden drop of temperature was due to the room's reaction to his presence, or if it was Scott's own internal lack of warmth. He hated to admit it, but the faint drumming of blood at the back of his ears served as the sole indication that a part of him still had fight, body reverting to lackluster functions to drive him forward. It was ridiculous. Scott usually allowed things like this to pass him by like nothing at all, for worrying about petty things was undesirable in every sense. Yet Kevin's claim was something he had not foreseen, for he found himself rapidly trashing this philosophy at the deep stinging in his stomach. He knew he was exaggerating. In fact, he completely understood Avi's intentions regarding Swan's safety. But Scott still found his mind jumping to every moment he had with the man in some measly attempt to fit the pieces together, how he could have missed something so blatant. He sifted through their first encounter in his head, their conversation in the gardens, their debate about Texas delicacies last week – a part of him felt hopeless, for now there was a chance that all these moments were just a fabrication. A test.

His hand dove into his back pocket to retrieve his phone, finger frozen momentarily over Kirstin's phone number. The realization dawned on him that she was probably still in the studio, and any sort of disruption could completely throw off her artistic process. She had her head screwed on straight – Kirstin had a bright future ahead of her full of the wonders that tailed her potential, a simple fact that she deserved more than anyone he had ever encountered. Scott was not so lucky, facing the unforgiving slap of reality first hand through his narrow way of thinking, a bitter conclusion that prodded at him once again in this very moment.