Cirque Noir

"Human beings do not seek pleasure and avoid displeasure. What human beings want, whatever the smallest organism wants, is an increase of power; driven by that will they seek resistance, they need something that opposes it - displeasure, as an obstacle to their will to power, is therefore a normal fact; human beings do not avoid it, they are rather in continual need of it"

Absinthe eyes drowned in those words, a heady cocktail of gin and philosophy permeating the air surrounding the blonde with that patent unapproachability that contradicted the vampiric allure his blood cast upon pale features—the tilt of a chin, the arch of a slender wrist, all enticing and protected by the air of ( a discontented housecat. )

The midway was somewhere Etienne did not often get the opportunity to visit—despite its allure and the atmosphere of utter magic and wonder that patrons left lingering in the air each night, the longer the pierrot had been with the cirque the more he found himself exclusively between the big top, his caravan, and off-grounds. It had been at least a month since he'd really wandered the grounds without purpose, and deciding to do so before their next move seemed something worthwhile ( with which to fill his spare time. )

The weather could not have been any better for the sightseeing Etienne had hoped to accomplish on one of the last remaining days in Japan—despite being a bit overcast, the Yokohama spring air was balmy and the perfect compliment to a trip to the Buddhist temple the pierrot had his eye on.

He'd reached out to Patrick to see if the other man wanted to come along, not only because of the inherent desire for Patrick's company, but because it seemed that after several days of sitting and fretting with a distinct lack of answers the reanimated corpse deserved to be off-grounds and seeing more than just the thoroughfare and freakshow tent. The places close to their grounds had been kept for last—quick trips that could be fit in before the draw of the cirque pulled all its inhabitants home and to its newest destination—and after the week his friend had experienced the Buddhist temple being one of those nearby destinations seemed fortuitous and ( less than coincidence. )

It was another evening of lowlight and the lull of Suadela's seductive lure—of its cascading decadence and the liquor that made the atmosphere heady with disinhibition and lust. It was tangible, thick in the air and something that had become an almost necessary base note to the words that came as the vampire's only comfort after each night that he bent that hollow spine for a spotlight rather than a set of greedy hands.

The rough transition to Yokohama had forced Trystan to rearrange all of the novels that suffocated his sparse caravan, a few duplicates discovered in the reshelving of the thousands of pages that had scattered to the floor in their move. Though some of the books offered had been claimed by other residents, quite a few had remained, left to the blonde's considerations of the words he'd devoured years ago. It was because of this that a hardcover copy of Finnegan's Wake had become this evening's companion, the vampire and idiosyncratic text sharing a negroni in his favorite corner of the burlesque venue.

He'd been there for at least two hours when he looked up from the pages, assessing the scattering of men who lingered despite the show coming to a close even earlier than Trystan's arrival. The sanguine lure wafting through the air was stifled down by a gin and vermouth swallow, his lungs forcing a sigh despite it being unnecessary—

( habit, more than anything. )

The text had come as the brunet was curled comfortably in his bed, breeze carrying through the open window to mix with raspberry-tinged cigarette smoke. Etienne had taken the day to wander aimlessly throughout Shibuya, the bookstores drawing more from his wallet than intended, and though he couldn't read Japanese, he had procured several art books that had been occupying his attention since the return home. The pages of cel-shaded figures next to their watercolour concept counterparts were abandoned in his lap as his mobile buzzed beside him, the plea for company a far more immediate concern than ( his new acquisitions. )