Closed Masque Carnivalia

Celest Backwater slowly blinked her swollen red eyes as she stared at herself in the shattered mirror. She sniffed as the spike on the back of her right hand slid across her face, wiping away the tears, but they just kept on coming back.

Her pale hand rose from her face to her teal ears, but they fell back on the old theatre mirror as soon as they touched the soft fur. Celest winced a bit as her hand hit the edge of the table, and it rose back upward, palm-up.

Bloody, as were the spikes.

She was known to hurt herself on more than one occasion for not being good enough. There were still some scars on her wrists on her neck from previous self-inflicted wounds, but her shirt had covered them up well.

Wiping the blood off on her black yoga-like pants, she closed her eyes and inhaled a breath of musky air.

The lights around the mirror were, for the most part, blown out, but the few barely remaining lit flickered on and off, creating a buzzing sound that irritated Celest's new, sensitive ears.

She exhaled deeply as her eyes closed.

A freak. That's all she was.

A weirdo.

A loser.

An outcast.

A big, stupid, lonely nobody.

...Although knowing that there were others like her was reassuring.

Not that she knew what they looked like, let alone who they were. She had fled into this tent as soon as the cloaked men had abandoned them in Masque Carnivalia. She believed there were seven Carnies altogether, but she wasn't sure.

As crimson eyes fluttered back open, her ivory hand reached out and gingerly touched the mirror. More tears flowed as her lip quivered. Biting her lip, Celest once again let her arm fall back to her side.

Her cheeks were a bit colored at this point, and her eyes itched from the salty moisture. Oh, how she longed to reverse time and forget all about the damned Black Parade. Then none of this mess would have ever occurred.

But the teenager couldn't turn back time. She could only wish she reverted back to a normal person soon.

As her tail danced behind her, Celest wiped away a few more tears, but to no avail. Despite how many she brushed away, they kept returning. She could probably fill a small, flowing river at this rate.

As a cold, crisp wind sliced through the air outside and found a way into her tent, Celest shivered and sniffed.

She desperately hoped she could just die. Right here, right now. It was so, so easy to do. Just a few shots to the head and this nightmare for a life was carried off into the Autumn wind like loose sand on a forgotten dirt road.

But she cleared her mind of such suicidal thoughts as she quietly sobbed to herself in the dusty tent.

Cruz stood still, frustration plastered all over his face. Frustration and disgust. He took a step back, shaking his hand to flex it before curling it up into a fist for the umpteenth time. Blood trickled down his knuckles as proof of his struggles against the chained up doors, but he paid the liquid absolutely no attention right now. His mind was preoccupied with something much more important.

Escape.

Finding Emily.

Taking in a deep breath, Cruz brought his fist forward, forcing it to connect with the sturdily closed doors. Blood splattered and the chains clinked, the sound from them eerie and cruel. But the door itself stood still, and Cruz could swear it was mocking his futile attempts to escape. His knuckles were a mess. It hurt. But hell if he cared.

"I will get out of here," he informed the door firmly, shaking his hand again to wipe away the blood. He glared at the chains for a while, anger burning in his eyes, before, all of a sudden, he let out a dry laugh and stepped back.

"I'm talking to a door," he uttered, face buried in his hand as he shook his head. Great. He opted to just sitting down for a while, already convinced that no, the door would not budge with sheer power alone. At least, not the amount of power he could produce. Even his powerful kicks had done nothing... He let out a sigh, leaning his back on whatever happened to be behind him. "Talking to a freaking door. I'm losing my mind already. How... pathetic."

Then, a sudden jolt of pain traveled from his back throughout his body, and Cruz was forced to pull himself standing. Confused, he looked at the wall he had been leaning against. What had hurt him?

Something white flapped into his vision, and he grunted. Oh. Oh right. His wings. But of course. He turned to shot a glare at his new body parts, face twisting into a sarcastic grin. A somewhat melancholic, sarcastic grin.

"Antonio always wanted to have wings, the little bastard. If I ever get outta here, I should tell him to start dreaming about something else. Like, I dunno, his own private jet or somethin'. Or pizza. Oh hell, I'd kill for a pizza right now..." He sighed, annoyed, and did his best to get his wings fold against his back. Not an easy task, that, as he still wasn't used to his new appendices. And so, he ended up slapping himself straight in his face a couple of times, before he finally managed to get the wings out of his way.

Content at least for now, he folded his arms across his chest and looked around. The place was, in a word, creepy. Abandoned floats, broken decorations for the festivities that probably took place here sometime in the past... And tents. Lots of them. Maybe one of them had food? Ripping part of his already torn shirt and wrapping it around his bleeding hand, Cruz started to wander around the area. He didn't know where the others had went, nor did he particularly care. Food was his first priority right now. And who knew, maybe he'd come across a key for the doors or something.

He sneered.

As if the world was that generous.

Connor bit his tongue, his thumbs orbiting each other in little circles as his leg jittered up and down, ankle rested on his knee. He thought of different ways to entertain himself, as he had been for the past hour or so. Half hour? Ah, that didn't matter. He figured that however long he had been next to this rusted up old ferris wheel didn't matter. It wasn't long enough for him to be very hungry.

Or maybe he couldn't eat because he already felt sick. His new body was odd, reddened, and unfamiliar to him. He felt like he would have thrown up if his stomach wasn't empty. Especially right after the change. Or maybe he had been unconscious, and had woken up sick? Again, he decided it didn't matter.

He just remembered bolting like he was being chased by hellhounds. Like one of the times he had poked at a biker too many times. Well, lookit me! Still a natural-born coward. And able to admit it, what's more! Ha. Joke's on you, world. Except the distance he covered was incredible. I might be a total freakshow nowadays, but, hey! I'll be a freakin' Olympic star! The thought pleased him enough to encourage his activity. He hopped up from his perch atop the wheel's controls, taking long strides with exaggerated arm pumps, a smug grin on his face. I bet I could find one of those other people pretty fast. Ha! Maybe they'll even like my company!... Although, statistically speaking, that's not very likely... Too bad, they're gonna' get my company whether they want it or not.

He puttered around for a short time, moving at a leisurely pace, managing to find a dead mouse, a bag of rock-hard marshmallows (Promptly dropped into a gutter on accident), and somehow knocked down a stall that he figured used to have prizes and games. All he found in the newfound wreckage was a moldy potato chip. Not a soul to be seen. Except for the dead mouse. But I guess his soul wasn't there, so maybe he doesn't count. She? Ah, it's a mouse.

Celest flinched at the sound of the nearby stall crashing to the ground. Well, if there were others, that was probably the best way to make themselves known. Or maybe it was a rodent that knocked it over? Must be one heck of a rat if that was the case.

She wiped away the tears as best as she could and curiously eyed through the closed flaps of her tent.

...Another Carnie!

Long white hair and what seemed like sun-burnt skin. If his skin was a nice tan color, Celest would of called him pretty handsome.

But, of course, the girl didn't want to embarrass herself any more by introducing herself. She stood back up straight and tall and turned on her heel, walking back to the theatre mirror.

CRASH~!!!

Celest had tripped over the cord holding the flaps of the tent together. She fell to the ground and shrieked. "Ouch!"

As she tenderly craddled her hurt knee, she gasped. Oh, what horrid, loud noise she was making! She quickly stood back up and clasped her hand over her mouth. Ignoring the fresh red liquid on her lips, she silenced her breathing and waited quietly, seeing if anyone had heard her.

Connor looked up from the pile of debris that he crouched in. The moldy chip was still dangling between his fingers while he contemplated eating it. Hm... either I ate some bad mushrooms while I was blacking out, or somebody else is here! SOCIAL ACTIVITY! He bolted in the general direction of the sound.

He wasn't sure which tent had made the noise, and the 'ouch,' so he just peeked inside a few. He almost missed the girl in the fourth tent. Normally, he'd have jumped in, maybe scream a bit to anounce himself with some grand title, and even pose to illustrate his delusional grandeur. Except that she didn't really look like she was in the mood. She looked hurt more than anything. So he quietly walked over to her, crouching down just a foot or two behind her. She was... Blue. Her ears, tail, and, of course, the spikes, betrayed her nature as a Lucario.

He didn't try to invade her personnal space like he usually would. He went through all of his 'conversation starters,' but not many of them were appropriate for the situation. So he went as basic as first grade. "Hi," He kept his voice fairly quiet. "I'm Connor. Who're you?" It gave him a small measure of comfort knowing he wouldn't end up talking to himself here, and he wasn't the only one trapped in here. Maybe he could cheer this girl up, or even befriend her. Or she'll hate my giddy frolicking.

Celest cursed her luck when the guy first entered her tent.

But when he slowly progressed towards her, that was just too much.

The Lucario Carnie backed up as he came closer, bumping into the theatre mirror along the way. She stepped back into the wall of the tent and quickly looked back at it when she felt it. Her eyes turned back to him when he spoke, though.

Conner.

A fairly uncommon name around there's parts of the state.

Celest had never met a Conner before, minus the dorky acne-ridden one that had moved away back in the eighth grade.

She blinked when he asked for her name, and her hands shook. She pressed them against her pants to cease the shaking, and swiftly wiped away the blood from her lip. "...I..."

Her breath got caught up in her throat. Should she trust him? ...He looked friendly enough. So...It shouldn't hurt to say it...

"...I-I'm...Ce...Celest."

There, she had said it. Now she just hoped Conner wouldn't do anything funny while he was there.

Ally woke,rubbing her forehead.
"Let's see...I'm in some sort of tent, I'm morphed with a Pokemon, and these guys won't change us back to normal. Everything looks bleak."
She palmed herself.
"Jeez,I gotta find the others."
She turned around and saw herself.
"Oooh,is that me now?"
She had longish black hair with purple streaks, random ragged pieces of cloth in her pockets, and a purple witch hat.
She pulled on her hat,but it didn't come off.
"How am I supposed to wash my hair?" she muttered.
She walked out of her tent.

Connor looked carefully at her, noticing how she seemed to be babying her knee. It must have been what made the noise just a moment ago. “Celest? Never known anyone with that name. I’ll try to remember it as best I can, ‘kay?” He bit his tongue thoughtfully as he noted her facial features. He figured-no, he hoped- that it was just bad lighting that made her eyes look dried, and her face stained with dried tears. He had seen the bit of blood on her lip, or he at least thought it had been blood, but decided it wasn’t important. If it had been there, she didn’t want him knowing about it, and he figured she had reasons for that.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and despite the poor lighting, he could see enough to make a judgment of himself. He hopped a little to the side so he could see past Celest better. “Wow… Look at me! I knew my skin was kinda’ red from looking at my arms, but wow, that is impressive. I’ll have to fix that soon, I guess. What do you think, Cel, would a spray-on tan be preferable to this? I mean, if you had to pick the lesser of two evils, would it be this or the spray?” Connor wondered if Celest would rather be called ‘Celest,’ or the new nickname he gave her. He ruffled his hair a bit to fix a little cowlick, slapping his face lightly in hopes there would be sunblock magically in his hand. Except it wasn’t sunburn. Huh... May have to find a sharp rock to cut some of this hair off, to. I bet I look like a really ugly girl from behind right now.

He seemed carefree enough for Celest.

He didn't question her swollen eyes, her bleeding lip nor the blood in her palms and spikes.

Maybe she could trust Conner. ...At least a little bit. He seemed pleasant enough to be around.

She stepped back again as he looked at himself in the theatre mirror. Well, he sure did know how to talk up a storm. He even had the nerve to shorten her name to Cel. Not that it was specifically bad, but Celest thought people would use nicknames when they got to know the person better. Not the first few minutes.

"Um...I...I guess whatever looks better to you personally," she answered finally, blinking back at his reflection in the shattered mirror.

They were basically complete opposites from what Celest could tell. She was quiet, shy and timid. Conner seemed talkative, outgoing and bold.
Could Celest stand being with him?

The Fighting Carnie really hoped so. Conner seemed to accept her. And that was rare for her.

"Umm...I...Can you stay with me?" she asked out of random.

Kiara woke up inside a medium sized tent. The tent was as dim as the night as Kiara stood up. She then flopped backwards. Something was holding her downwards. She looked behind her yellow and light blue body and-wait, yellow and blue? She craned her neck more to see.......a green turtle shell? She stared at her hands franticlly. They were light blue and squishy. Kiara gulped with fear. Her fear was replaced by her curiousity of what lied beyond the tent.

She stepped outside of it, only to see a few.......talking Pokemon? She shook her head, wondering if this was all a dream. She noticed a mirror and screamed in horror. She had the skin and shell of a turtle, but she had blond hair that wouldn't fit her new head at all. Her eyes seemed to be growing in the mirror.

She looked a little more. Her ears were missing, but would she still hear stuff? She decided to test it out.

"Testing, testing, person morphed into a squirtle here." she murmured to herself.

To her surprise, she heard herself. This was one of the many mysteries that no one could find out. Pushing the ear incident in the back of her mind and focused on the others talking. She gazed at them. They seemed to be....well, awkward looking, since they seemed to be a human/Pokemon hybrid. This relieved Kiara, since they seemed to be weird looking like her, especially the one who was trying to take off a hat that wouldn't come off.

Kiara hesitantly walked up to them. "Umm.....hello?" she said, hoping that was loud enough for them to hear.

Tess awoke to sounds outside. For a moment she was confused. Outside what?! She seemed to be in a tent. It was quite musky smelling, but the smell was overpowered by a strong fragrance that seemed oddly familiar to her. Bay leaves! Her mother had used them in couscous. She wondered where her mom was. She wondered where she was!

Tess stood awkwardly and looked down. She stumbled back in surprise. Her feet were suddenly very large and..yellow. Her nails were thick and green. A sound came from outside. Tess started toward the tent flap and reached up...to find that she had no hands! Instead, she had another set of thick, yellow limbs.

Carefully, she used her teeth to pull open the zipper, but when she tried to get out, something on her head snagged in the fabric. Suddenly everything made sense! The four yellow feet, the thing on her head, the smell of bay leaves-- she was a Bayleef!

Having solved this mystery, she bounded out of her tent, and raced up to a Squirtle-girl.

"Hi!!" she exclaimed. "I'm Tess! Who are you? What are you doing here? Are those other Carnies I see?"

Connor looked at Celest with a bit of confusion. "Whadda' you mean 'can I stay with you?'" He grinned. "I was gonna' follow you around whether you like it or not!" He laughed. "You better believe I'll be sticking around. Buddy system, right?"

He glanced back at the mirror briefly, ruffling his hair again. He shook his head violently to even it out, ruffled it again, and finally decided it was alright. He adjusted the hood on his sweater to be more even, before deciding he looked sufficient. "If I die in this godforsaken carnival, I'm going to die well-dressed. Or as well-dressed as I can be." He explained to no one in particular. "Of course," He directed his voice a little more at Celest, standing up to full height. "If we find some food or water, we won't die!" He laughed to himself. "Always wanted to have some misadventures like this!"

He began to walk towards the tent's entrance, promptly tripping over his own feet and crashing face-first into the floor. "... Ow." He mumbled, face still partially buried. He pushed himself up, spitting out a bit of dirt that was stuck between his teeth.

[Derp...Celestia sounds better, though, doesn't it? XD]

Celest flinched a bit at Conner's voice when he directed his question to her. "Y-Yes, of course. Live together, die alone...right?"

As he ruffled his hair some more, Celest turned away and wiped away the tears that were still coming. As she felt no more swelling up, she glanced back at Conner.
He had commented that if they found water, they wouldn't die.
Well obviously so. He was quite the observant one, it seemed.

Celest blinked as Conner tripped, and was by his side in an instant. "Are...Are you alright?" she asked, though her voice was more monotone than intended.
She extended her hand to him, forgetting all about the blood on them.

But her ears pricked up at the sound of voices.

She tried to ignore them and focus on the Fire Carnie instead, saying that she was simply losing her mind sooner than she expected.

Kiara jumped up in surprise. She turned around to see a Bayleef morphed carnie in front of her. Kiara decided to be as polie as possible. She didn't want to get on any one's bad side.

"I'm Kiara. I think they're other carnies. Wanna go see?"

Kiara glanced at the ground quickly and turned her gaze back to Tess. She was awaiting an answer.

Tess nodded enthusiastically. "Sure!" she exclaimed, already bounding toward the other forms in the distance. She had almost reached them when she heard a noise to her left and caught a glimpse of steel.

"Wait!" she said to Kiara, "Let's go check that out!" She sprinted across the field but was distracted by a bright green patch of grass. Tess realised that her stomach was growling and leaned down to munch on the grass.

After a couple mouthfuls, she sprang back up and raced toward the two figures. One fell over, and the other helped him up. She continued running, looking back to check for Kiara, and tumbled into a tent.

[Whoops, added an -ia on accident, I guess. I dunno, that's what I've been thinking of it as. ._.;]

Connor took the hand, but rather than pull himself up with it, he just shook it as he would if he were greeting somebody. He grinned at Celest, pushing himself up the rest of the way with his other hand. "Well, as far as dying alone, that's a pretty bleak outlook, don't you think? No, I think I'll have my friends and family around me when I die. Hopefully from old age. I dunno, maybe cancer or leukemia will get me first, but they can shove it for all I care." He got the feeling that the topic of death was, aside from being a one-way conversation, getting a little too bleak.

"SO, thought I heard someone out there between the time I fell and the time I hit the ground." He motioned at Celest to go in front of him. "After you, ma'am." He put an accent on the last sentence to make him sound like a chivalric rich-boy snob. ... Huh. Well, I'd say we're friends now. IT COUNTS.

Celest's eyes widened a bit with fear, dread and nervousness. "W-What? I...But what if something dangerous is out there? What if it eats me?"

As childish as it sounded, the girl was afraid of monsters and demons, witchcraft and darkness. It made her stomach flop inside out and her cheeks color with nausea.

"You can go first," she reasoned, softly pushing Conner forward.
But her hands recoiled from him when his shirt brushed against the open wounds on her palms. Shaking them to rid of the pain, Celest bit her lower lip and prevented sound...for the most part. A small, raspy gasp escaped her lips at some point.

Throwing her hands back by her side, Celest peered into his eyes, hoping he would go first.

Connor looked at her, confused again. He supposed that if it was possible for humans to be turned into freakshows like them by some freaky black magic on steroids, then there could be something trying to eat them in the Carnival. "Uh... Okay, then. If you'd prefer, I guess." He thought about what she said. He had to refrain from telling her that if anything was going to eat her, it'd probably strike from behind anyways. If she felt comfortable in the back, it was probably better for her to be there.

"You know, danger is kind of an illusion when you really think about it. I mean, my aunt told me if I didn't cut the antics, I'd get my neck broken. Two weeks later, she slipped in her bathtub, broke two ribs and her neck. Hospitilized for a month or two. She's fine now. Well, I think she might be getting dementia or something..." No wonder this girl hadn't laughed once yet. He was off today. He heard a little sound come from Celest, and though he glanced at her over his shoulder, he didn't make much note of it. What a strange girl... He thought as he began walking. He thought he saw somebody a ways away, but it could be that dementia or schizophrenia were hereditary.

Tess untangled herself from the tent fabric, laughing uncontrollably. "Oh, what a fail!" she exclaimed, to no one in particular. Suddenly she froze. Was that someone coming toward her? She dismissed the thought and turned toward the juicy green grass beneath her feet.

Celest could tell he was eyeing her strangely.

Maybe he was like the rest, after all.

Silently she followed Conner, constantly looking over her shoulder as she followed right in his shadow.

The scene was grim.

Dead trees, faded colors on numerous rides and booths, cobwebs forming in every crack, and, just to mock her already bad day, a pearly grey sky set high above her.

As another icy wind flowed through the musky air, Celest shivered. It was cold here, too. How could they ever survive in a place like this?