It’s the smallest bit of contact, but it means everything to me, and I hope the crowd can feel the tension building between us. Trapeze is about control and knowing exactly how far you can lean before the world goes upside down.
I rise to stand on the bar, and it sways under my feet. Her body mirrors mine, our shoulders almost brushing, but we still don’t look at one another. Not yet.
A murmur ripples through the crowd. I hinge my leg, hooking one knee over the bar, and shift into a backbend, and my hair cascades toward the ground. The world is now upside down, but Yasmeena is above me, framed in the glowy circus lights. They make a halo around her. Had the stories I’d been told about the Goddess not described her as a lupion, I would think Yasmeena were her.
She reaches down, taking a seat on the bar, and her hands close around my wrists. The touch feels intimate. She leans back, counterbalancing my weight, and I release my other leg. For just a moment, my body hangs entirely from her.
The audience gasps.
I shift an arm, wrapping it around her, and curl the other beneath her legs. Yasmeena takes my hair in her hand and grips it tightly, forcing me to look up at her. It wasn’t a part of our choreography, but I know this part isn’t for the audience, it’s for me—for us.
Sometimes, in aerial arts, stillness is even harder than when we’re in motion.
Every sense in my body narrows onto Yasmeena—her movement, her breath, the beating of her heart. As we continue our choreography, there’s no hesitation between us. Just trust.
It’s the kind of trust I wish we could have for one another off-stage, too. The kind I yearn for. Complete and all-consuming, but I know it’ll never happen.Thishas to be enough for me.
There’s a charged silence with every drop, every risky move as we finish our performance.
I assume the audience erupts into cheer, but I can’t hear it. I can’t hear or see anything, my entire body running off the high of performing, my eyes still blinded by the lights. Someone ushers us into the crowd, and I finally start to come to my senses.
Yasmeena’s hand is in mine as we walk through an audience unmasked. It was the concept for tonight’s show. The Sinner’s Circus is normally the place where everyone gets to play assomeone else. For just one night, they can be free from the burden of being themselves.
But tonight, we wanted it to be different. Instead of everyone disguising themselves, we wished for an embrace. The felion and lupion in the audience are a part of the act, and we hope they see one another for who they are.
That we can work together.
My heart is thundering, my breaths heavy, and my skin slicked with sweat as I continue walking through the audience with Yasmeena, blowing kisses and waving at attendees. Everything is going as planned, when a felion puts his hand on my upper arm and yanks me backwards.
“Do not touch her,” Yasmeena hisses, but it’s too late. I’ve already been absorbed into the crowd.
Fists are flying, blood splattering as a fight breaks out in the audience, and every hair on my body raises. I don’t know what to fucking do. There’s a howl coming from the center of the ring, one I recognize all too well.
Nico.
“What is he doing here?” I shout, trying to make my way out of the frenzy. Panic floods my senses, but I try to take a breath.
“Nico,” Gemma calls out, clad in a matching pajama set. It’s clear Nico must’ve heard all the ruckus and snuck out of his tent. I just hope our performance was all he saw.
Every atom in my body wants to protect him and Yasmeena from this violence. My magic sizzles at my fingertips and I make the conscious decision to let go. The force of my magic knocks me back onto the dirt.
Ice forms every which way. Crystal shards form on fists, stilling hands mid-fight, and large chunks develop towards the ground, locking everyone in place.
I don’t feel bad at all, my need to protect is far more important than these people’s vengeance or comfort. Yasmeena makes her way over to me, unaffected by my rage, and helps me from where I’d fallen. We clear out from the ice. Lupion growl, felionhiss, but we don’t even acknowledge their reactions as we continue up towards the center of the tent.
Nico must have managed to get ahold of Raph’s microphone, and I hear his little voice begin to speak.
“Lupion, felion, demons, mermaids, and serpentine,” he starts, listing every species he can imagine. “Oh! And orcs. And vampyres. And and half-demons. Oh and mommy is a human.”
Some of the audience giggles, clearly amused by his antics.
“Please be nice to each other. My aunt Tempest and aunt Yasmeena worked really hard on this performance and it’s very rude of you to fight after,” he finishes, scolding the crowd.
I scoop Nico up, flipping him upside down, and Gemma takes the mic. I sigh in relief, grateful I don’t have to address the crowd.
“As you can see, we had an unintended guest at The Sinner’s Circus tonight,” Gemma says. “Everyone, give a round of applause to Nico Orzath.”
This time, I can’t help but hear the crowd cheering. It roars to levels I’ve never heard before, everyone clapping and whistling, screaming and shouting. Nico eats it up, and I tickle him before throwing him over my shoulders.
