F R E A K S H O W [Come one, come all]

[Celest]

Kings and Queens wash over this land in waves, and Celest had watched all from the comfortable distance of not giving a fuck. Her life had been short, yet the fifth self-proclaimed ruler of her home calls out for his subjects. 

Although she appears before the royal summons, this time, it is curiosity which shakes her from the shadows - not duty.  She does not fear the grinning king, as is evident in the hardened glimmer of her black-amethyst eyes. Her sister is a Queen and her father a God, and although neither knows her name she has a power of her own. 

What she sees does not particularly impress her, yet still, she lingers on the outskirts of the meeting. Crevan had formed the standard which she now held all others to, and she had yet to find anyone who could compare. But the warg had abandoned these shores, returning only long enough to pollute the woods with his wolf-stench. She had been ready to call him King, but he had faded from this world before she had been able to tell him so.

For years the thought of him had caused the bile to simmer in her gut - but now it paints a secretive smile across her face. 

But then there is a man, dripping wet and hungry, who sends a trickle of dread down her spine. He does not call himself king, yet she knows he could have whatever he wanted - she had seen him in her fever-dreams and she knows that only a fool would not fear him. 

She moves to leave, but first, she seeks the gaze of the blue-eyes clown. This king would have to prove himself before The Oracle chose to give him more than a haughty glance. 

I'm not a girl,
I'm a storm with skin