WHO Niamh & Open (probably to Hanged Man performers, but I'm fine with anyone who can make up a reason to be there) WHEN November 15th, afternoon WHERE The Hanged Man WHAT Tentatively meeting her coworkers. WARNINGS Narrative references to rape but nothing detailed.
The first few steps outside of Conor's trailer as a human had been absolutely terrifying, to the point that Niamh very almost went back inside and forgot the whole thing. Fuck the cirque, fuck the contract, she didn't want any part of it, she just wanted to quell the panic that was crawling up her throat and crushing her lungs.
She tried not to think that every man she walked past was going to grab her, but it was difficult. She had spent almost all her time since the assaults as a cat, and this human body was so frail and easy to break.
Deep breaths, Niamh told herself with each step. Deep breaths. You're stronger than this. Don't let them keep doing this to you.
She needed to find The Hanged Man and begin creating something of an act. Or, at least, find someone else and see if she could join their act. She'd done so many years of gymnastics, but none of that had been training for a circus. Niamh had no idea where to even start with that.
Reaching her destination she slowly moved into the tent, seeing her first view of people swinging across the trapezes. She crossed her arms in front of herself, digging her fingers into her skin, once again reminding herself to breathe. No one was going to hurt her here. No one was allowed to hurt her here.
But still Niamh hung back at the edge of the tent, watching people practicing their performances and not knowing how to even start introducing herself to any of them.