This is entertaining!

You, Mason Gleeful, Mabel’s twin brother, were backstage of the Tent Of Telepathy, you were sat down on the floor with Journal 3 open in your lap.

The royal blue and silver book was wide open, your fingers tracing over the words you had read over and over again to the point you could mesmerise the entire page.

You never got tired of the journal, not even once. You have read this book over a thousand times at this point, and every piece of info was engraved into your mind.

While you read the pages, a loud scream pierced through the air, You were no longer in your own little world of spells and mysteries that the book and author had created.

You kept your eyes on the page you were on, not letting the scream bother you from what you were busy reading.

“Must you be so loud, sister?” You asked rather coldly.

Mabel laughed loudly, her cackles echoing throughout the silent room backstage of the Tent. Not dead, although from the feel of its life force, and the decreasing lucidity of thoughts, their secondary act wasn't long for the world. As she cut into their newest victim. Knives piercing the fabric, and breaking the skin.

— drip. — drip. — drip.

Onto the floor. Whether she had heard you or not, was anyone’s guess. Of course, she was throughly lost from the adrenaline of murder, and the pulse of dark magic at the death by means of her conjured blades. Laughing and laughing.

“It’s good we always put the silencers up, dear sister.” You commented bluntly and coldly.

Along with the host of privacy spells around the place, that made their… dalliances… completely undetectable by magical and physical means luckily.

Mabel giggled loudly and happily, mutilating the “almost” cadaver. “Wh- What’s t- the m- matter, Mason!”