A Court of a Crimson Ringmaster

All men are born unique, different if you may. They are all born in a different world, raised by different people, learned from a diverse group of people, and consume a different form of media; combine all of those, and one can form a different human apart from the rest of the world. However, such differences of human beings are not caused simply by the behavior which they developed through an arduous process of coping through the different needs they need to fill in their environment. Humans are different because they are born different.

The beautiful is hailed, the creative is praised, the strong is marveled, and the authoritative is followed. Meanwhile, the ugly is shunned, the bland is forgotten, the weak is killed, and the follower... follows. There are people out there who were born to laugh with the tides of sneers caused by the conventional. Then there are those people who create the waves themselves. What I am saying is not an opinion, this is merely facts I learned in my decades of stay here in this court, surrounded by the psychedelic touch of a distant creator that none of us could still properly explain.

Some are born to be at the bottom of the pit.

Some are born to step on the feeble and the small.

And then there's the Ringmaster.

"Welcome, my masked guest, my wonderful companions, my longtime friends, and my most loyal subjects!" He said in such a loud and articulate voice that one might confuse him to have a microphone in hand as he theatrically moves his hip along with the hysterical swaying of his arms. The man talks in a slightly corny and somewhat try-hard fashion, but all of us seem to be eating it up. "Are you rrrrrreeeady?" He said with a significant emphasis on the 'r' like a prowling tiger, which is applicably accompanied by the almost chaotic way he sways all of his fingers at the same time.

The Ringmaster wore his usual attire, but with the addition of an ornate mask donned with macabre engravings and an articulate golden arabesque design. It was a simple mask that covers only his eyes; in fact, it doesn't even seem to have a hole for him to see, and yet for some reason, I could still feel his eyes on me.

He wears a red burlesque tailcoat with a visible black and violet stripe pattern engraved on the collar lapel down to the break line. The coat itself has this beautiful engraving of a flower on its yoke front while its stem runs down the jacket front. I could also see a black vest hidden within his unbuttoned coat that has yet another seamless gothic pattern outlining the exterior design of the vest itself. He partnered that top with simple black slacks that fit him really well and a brown belt that complimented his V-shape body. Finally, as a little cherry on top of his entire arsenal of designer clothing, he chose to wear a tall pair of black boots that also has some designs on it. However, he was too far for me to see its intricacy, and he also wore a black glove that I'm guessing is covering the entirety of his right arm while his other arm is strip bare. 

"Makes you curious what's hidden behind all of those fancy clothes of his, huh?" I heard a woman speak beside me with a light chuckle.

"Veronica!" I exclaimed in a whisper. "I didn't know you're here."

She scoffed. "Thomas, come on. I've been talking here for the past, what? 5 minutes?"

"Sorry," I whispered before I sipped a drink of my bourbon. "you're just too forgettable."

She then nudged me softly, which felt like nothing to me. "I didn't know you're talking about you."

"Simple doesn't mean forgettable," I said with my eyes still glued on the Ringmaster's Caravan. "you're just a try-hard."

"Please." She said while shaking her head. "When do you think he'll finally get off his horse? I'm famished for more content after that thing they showed us earlier." She then covered her lips with her fingertips while sticking her finger out as if to imitate a person barfing followed with a "blegh!" with her eyes rolling up towards the ceiling of his eye socket.

"Haven't seen it."

"Lucky you." She said while adjusting the bust of her black dress. "God, I just hate corsets so much; bras are just, ugh, so much better!"

"Why did you wear them then?"

"Well, it comes with the damn dress." She spoke in a sarcastic and annoyed tone while raising her hand on the level of her shoulders. "Idiot!" 

I wasn't lying when I said Veronica is being a try-hard little piece of shit with her dress. Her long black hair was tied loosely and perhaps, purposely messy into a psyche knot, which revealed the tiny bits of baby hair crawling above her slightly moist forehead. She's wearing a black cape with intricate designs such as the buttons around the upper part of the cape, which goes down till the very end of it around the waist. The cape also has eight folds; there are also subtle details and embroidery that made the cape look like a sleeveless coat, which made me ask who would care to make such fine details for a cape? Within the cape is a black dress with tiny details engraved on the see-through portion of it, that falls from her neckline to the bust level of the dress, carefully hand-sewn with feminine designs such as hearts and... a more intricate looking heart?

Along with amethyst and some other jades and stones I haven't heard of or seen before, the dress tried its hardest to exemplify the bourgeoisie fashion she was trying to capture. I could also see the outline of a tiny frill under layer beneath the bust level of the dress that creates a fake largeness on her bust. Lastly is the engraving of a rose on the bodice, which was large enough to conquer the area of the peplum. Her skirt covers the entirety of her feet, and I could see that the dress was not made for her because the skirt hits the floor a bit when it probably shouldn't.

"Who are you trying to please by wearing this ugly dress?"

"Excuse you, I..." Before she could finish her statement, the surrounding people gave thundering applause to the man who was busy giving a speech in front of us while we bantered among one another. Veronica quickly shot her head up and clapped as loud as everyone in the court with her shoulders low and her chest up.  

I did nothing and gazed at the Ringmaster while I drank the rest of my bourbon in one gulp. I then looked for the person giving out our drinks, but I couldn't seem to find them amidst the people's cheers and booming claps.

The Ringmaster leaped from on top of his horse in his usual exaggerated movement. He did so with both his feet up before landing on the ground. From what I can see, he must have been thinking that he looks like a hero from the MCU. However, the way he executed it made him look a lot more like the main villain of the first part of Jojo's Bizarre Adventures. By the time he stood on the ground, he had done a little pirouette and pointed his bare hand towards his Caravan.

"Everything you wish to buy and everything you wish to have is all within the confines of the Caravan, folks!" He then turned his head towards us slowly. "And I mean..." then he turned his whole body to face us with his hands open wide. "... Everything."

I looked at him with much adoration in my eyes. I also noticed that everyone was doing the same. Some were even going the next mile to get his attention. People were putting a great effort into their voices to scream at him. They would hurl words that would get his attention and physically move their bodies in an otherwise sexually compromising position. Every sane person in this court had their switches flipped just so the Ringmaster would glue his eyes on them, but it was all useless. He's unfazed by all of our efforts; I know this, so I don't even try to get his attention. I simply lick my upper lip as I directed my eyes on him with a gaze filled with ill intent.

"However..." The Ringmaster continued as he lowered his arms. "We need to do something first." The Ringmaster said as the spotlights coming from nowhere started to dim until it's almost impossible to make out his face, just a silhouette of his red coat. "I want to call the attention of Thomas! Please come with me here in the ring!"

"What?" I whispered as I glued my eyes on the Ringmaster. My hands shook so hard out of the conflicting feelings of both fear and excitement welling within me. My body swayed to the point that my glass slid off from my hand, falling down the ring.

"Yes, Thomas." The Ringmaster said while his head was facing my very direction. Like I said earlier, I cannot see his eyes, but somehow, I knew his eyes were on me. "You."

Clang!

My glass finally hit the ring.

And for some reason...

I am now right in front of the Ringmaster, only a few centimeters away from him, with his hands grabbing my jaw ever so gently.

"We're gonna have to do something about you."