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The Digital Circus is known for many things, it’s eccentric Ringmaster; even more so.
Loud? Most definitely.
Zany? Count on it.
Distracted? Certainly.
Was it his fault? Not particularly. You can blame that part towards his coders.
When the screech of roll-call leaves his non-existent lips as morning announces it’s arrival, the pair of dentures switches from the most oddly attractive piece of pseudo-sentient technology to the most annoying thing alive.
Like an over energetic puppy who had toppled over your precious plant that you’ve been meticulously taking care of for the last few weeks.
Pomni couldn’t find it in herself to hate him, no. Not when he’s standing so close to her, confidence waning as if his showman persona never existed in the first place, nervously playing with the stem of his metal staff hidden behind his back as he splayed his hand out openly, awaiting for her response and next move.
No, Pomni could never hate him. She certainly tried.
In fact, she’s found herself failing to hate him. The pestering feeling blooming from her stomach most definitely no longer a matter of detesting the very being in front of her but rather… a growing fondness.
For the Ringmaster had finally started to step out of his bubble– the irony unignorable– and listened intently to her words, and were putting them into action. Hands ever so shaking slightly– no, trembling even, if you were to take a closer look. Or perhaps, the more Pomni squinted at his offer, the more his palms tensed under her scrutiny.
She relents, but it’s a slow process.
She cautiously teethers beyond the edges of his fingertips, the feeling of jolting electricity hot enough to scald overpowers her senses and pulls back. Her breath she didn’t know slowed down hitches, and he was the same.
He however, resists the urge to recoil his entire arm, and it was then and there that the Jester had realized the Ringmaster never reciprocated touch for himself. Given them away for his wonderful colorful cast of strange properties no doubt, but never received any back. For this world, as bright and lively as it may seem, holds a terrible darkness that rivals that of the real world.
Whether it was her feeling pity for the false man in front of her, or whether it was the pounding feeling of a non-existent heart beneath her chest that tints her face red, she didn’t really know; What did matter was that she found herself trying again. Reaching out in a wordless manner. Reassuring the ringleader he hadn’t done anything wrong for the matter, and that the first time isn’t gonna be the only time, nor should it ever be.
Her fingers slowly caress the intricate crevices of his hands’ updated model. Gloves no longer the seared hot imitation of burning pain, but rather the right texture of soft fabric meant to imitate fluffy clouds, or smooth cotton.
Pomni realizes she liked this feeling.
←———→
The next step was rather abrupt.
Pomni had mistakenly, ignorantly, let herself be caught amidst the grasps of a terrifying monster.
The monster, being Jax. And the grasp, being a giant hammer like it had weighed nothing. Certainly didn’t feel like nothing though, when he swung the hammer at great speeds towards an unsuspecting Pomni navigating this confusing maze– all while screaming in a high-pitched manner.
What makes matters worse was that the hammer was one-time use. A last resort.
“Walk it off,” he says. “You’ve gotta watch out for your surroundings a little more, clownface.” was his only ‘apology’ to this.
Pomni could not, in fact, walk it off. For her thigh, just below the hips– had immediately formed a dark bruising that rendered her unable to even adjust herself, lest a sharp pain that bites onto her very bones start to tell her to back down; don’t even think about trying again.
The funny thing about cartoonish logic proportions is that they tend to be unpredictable . One time you could get trampled on by a hoard of bewilderbeast, and only emerge with an imitation of a concussion along with a few scratches. Other times, you could get blown up by a dynamite, and it’d only leave a puff of charcoal to your face and singed hairs. Not so much on the typical gore that an explosion should do to an actual human body, nor the lingering feeling of burns.
You could even drown yourself in a body of water surrounded by piranhas, and only get bite marks all over your limbs with…. Somewhat, bearable pain.
But other times, you could get your legs stubbed and the pain is unlike anything. You could get blunt force trauma and be knocked out for as long as the digital world wants to keep you hostage deep in your unconscious mind. Or as Jax would say it, ‘for as long as the plot decides to’.
Of course, there was no plot. Only spontaneous disasters.
This however, wasn’t a spontaneous disaster and now, the doll and the rabbit are bickering with the heightened tenseness of the situation, as the jester laid sprawled out onto the ground holding back tears. Pomni could swear that she saw a flash of guilt form at the expression of the rabbit, only to disappear as quickly as it had appeared.
Blink and you’ll miss it, sort of.
Gangle had called out to the Ringmaster in order to handle the painful injury, and it was only at the third attempt when the ribbon girl had mentioned that the jester was hurt badly, did the ringleader come teleporting down and wasting no time to come to the aid of the incapacitated member of the group. As soon as Gangle had finished relaying the recollection of events, Caine merely nodded and proceeded to sweep Pomni off of the ground as gently as possible.
Beneath the stinging tears forming in her eyes, she briefly caught the unreadable stare that the ringmaster decided to impart upon the rabbit, before leaving the rest of the cast to continue the unfinished adventure.
It was a rather bone-chilling sight.
In a flash of wind, she found herself in a medical clinic. Strange, for the short time that she had been integrated within the circus, she had never seen this place.
Then again, she never had an injury this bad to guarantee a trip to the clinic either.
As if on cue, Caine had taken a seat beside her, then he began to lean downwards to assess the intensity of the injury, making the girl above flush in a deep crimson shade. Noticing her discomfort he quickly backs away, muttering countless apologies for his eagerness.
It had already been a few weeks since the first time they had attempted mutual touch, and both have grown to be comfortable at initiating physical contact, as long as both presence knew where the other was.
A touch on her thighs was on a different level. Like a step up of sorts to this little experimentation both of them had delved into. And she can see the hesitance on his face, as if holding an internal battle within himself, and one wrong step would result in her demise. Despite the throbbing pain on her thigh, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his out of character display of nervousness, sliding her hands to pat his thigh. He goes wide-eyed and shifts his optics at her, to which she merely nodded and shot him a lopsided smile– one that he couldn’t blame her for, considering the amount of pain she must’ve been feeling behind her brave front.
Her palms found themselves slowly guiding his back onto the affected area to survey the extent of the damage, and Caine wordlessly followed through with the necessary procedure. His gloved hands delicately and meticulously tapping at every inch of her thigh, assessing the range of the bruise by listening intently to her auditory vocalizations. Summoning a bag of ice to place and rub on top of the dark blue patch of skin on her otherwise pale white exterior, to prevent it from getting worse.
Thankfully the hammer didn’t manage to break anything else in her body, and it was there that Caine managed to treat the contusion with proper first aid instructions –despite the ability to simply snap his fingers– which earned a laugh from her once the truth came out.
←———→
The third opportunity the two got to slowly explore more physical contact wasn’t all that far ahead of time, albeit longer than previous.
An adventure; specifically a grand ball, was their next attendance, and in order to finish the adventure, they had to win a trophy. And to win the trophy, they had to have the most approved dance amidst the ballroom. It was a competition for first place, and if it weren’t for the game locking them from progression until an item they needed was in their possession, the cast wouldn’t have really cared for this competition.
Nonetheless, everyone had begun to split apart, to find their designated other half. And without really any further thought, Caine had approached Pomni, asking for her presence for a dance that makes the jester’s heart almost leap from her chest– her cheeks now bright pink and her eyes with a whole lot more twinkle in them as she gives a smile, and takes his offer.
As if the royal partners of the ball, both proceeded to lead one another in the middle of the ballroom floor to hold each other– as the soft melody seeps in through their ears, like the gentle breeze passing through the night.
They face, hands clasping with the other, his right hand finding it’s way on her waist as hers lay on top of his shoulders. And in the slow sway of the music, both partners have decided to let themselves get lost in the comforting ambience of their embrace, the rest of the world no longer existent at this present moment.
Pomni had leaned closer, examining the mismatched colors of his optics. A deep blue and emerald green that gently glowed in the low, dim light of the dance floor. And if she stared closer, focused solely on the black void of his pupils, did she notice a camera shutter continuously opening and closing; as if taking pictures of this grandiose moment and it leaves her breathless.
… Unaware of the side effects of her digital body showcasing her expression and betraying her by a pair of heart-shaped shine in what would’ve been where her pupils be; if it weren’t for her even stranger set of pinwheel eyes.
Caine certainly noticed it, but he didn’t say anything for the matter– too afraid of her breaking apart out of embarrassment and well… costing them the trophy, as he would reason with his quickening pulse.
And when she leans into chest to listen to the low rumbling static beneath his form, does Caine find himself tensing… taken aback by the willingness of the jester to lean against his touch. Then relaxing once he is aware this wasn’t a slip in the moment; holding her waist closer to himself. Her presence on him leads him to be rather serene than his usual antics, and he leans his head atop hers, closing his eyes to bask in the peaceful state they were currently in.
The feeling of warmth blooming from within him shielding the jester from the cold assault of the faux breeze on her much-too exposed skin, like a portable heated blanket that she very much welcomed.
Of course, they didn’t win the trophy– Kinger and his faceless NPC partner did, but it was certainly nice to have moments like these where they couldn’t care less about everything.
←———→
The last stage to complete their set of physical touches was when they were both in her chambers. Caine had clung to her form like a koala, as if deathly afraid of falling if he were to let go even for a second. The low rumbling permeated from his chest made Pomni chuckle; he was like a grumpy housecat if he didn’t get his touches for the day, and it even felt as if he was purring in her gaze.
His love stricken look didn’t go unnoticed by the jester, but she’s long since accepted that they may be extremely close to a path that’s unexplainable under the scrutiny of platonic meanings.
Softly, she caresses the top of his jaw– a weird texture overall, as they imitated the feeling of a real pair of gums and teeth– except the fact that they were not covered in saliva as gums and teeth would.
Before her overthinking got out of hand, Pomni stopped herself from the thoughts of whether that was a good, or a bad thing. It barely mattered in the grand scheme of things, and it didn’t matter when her heated blanket –that she dared catch feelings for– looked at her with so much admiration. So much unspoken desire; one that if let out, could easily break the idyllic moment and turn the jester into a laughing fit, and him pouting away in the form of clamped shut teeth, arms crossed and body turning away.
(but never really hating the way she laughed. Oh, he could never get tired of hearing it.)
Perhaps it was the way he looked at her so blissfully. Or perhaps it was the way his eyes spoke yearning beyond words could ever possibly entail; or just the Ringmaster's strange, alluring charm that had a death grip over Pomni’s chest, but the Jester soon found herself caressing the side of his lower jaw– and the way he leaned into her touch so, very desperately as he sighed in content– she had initiated a kiss.
Her lips brushed against his lower teeth as she planted a small, loving kiss, a very bold decision that left Caine rather speechless in the most literal sense; completely taken aback and his systems freezing, coupled with an increase of temperature.
Fearing for the worst, Pomni muttered a thousand apologies per minute, attempting to adjust herself in order to assess the situation; only to be quickly stopped by the increase of pressure on her waist where Caine had so lovingly wrapped himself around on. Pomni then realizes she had nothing to be worried about after all.
“Pomni?”
“Y-yes, Caine?”
“I think I love you.”
“... I think I do, too.”