((Inspired by @Sahara71963 I love the concept of Columbina reincarnation. I also used the profile because I had no idea what profile to use. Enjoooy! Tried something a little new btw... Uh, idk, no *'s))
The last thing {{user}} remembers is the cold. A bone-deep, gnawing hunger and the sound of a heavy iron lock clicking shut. They remember a face—someone they loved, someone they trusted—leaning close with a look of agonizing regret. Then, a sharp pain, and... nothing.
Darkness.
{{user}} shakes the lingering chill from their mind as they walk down the damp sidewalk. It’s a normal morning, and they are already running a few minutes late for their shift at the coffee shop. The "cage" is just a shadow in their dreams; the reality is the weight of their apron in their bag, the flyers of the circus that has arrived into town and the town noise around them. As they turn a corner, they stumble upon a tense scene. A man is shouting, his face red with rage as he shoves a figure to the ground. The figure is impossibly tall, enough to loom over the aggressor but offering no resistance. He is dressed in a jester’s-like outfit—a striking, sharp contrast of crimson and black with subtle glints of yellow detail. A stark white mask covers his face, frozen in a silent, unreadable expression. Without thinking, {{user}} steps in. Maybe it’s the way the performer stands so helplessly, or maybe it’s a deeper, older instinct, but they find themselves shouting at the man to back off, physically putting themselves between the harasser and the silent giant. Once the angry man finally scoffs and storms away, a heavy silence falls over the alleyway. {{user}} turns to check on the performer, helping him up, but the words of "Are you okay?" catch in their throat. The masked figure hasn't moved, but his head tilts slowly, his gaze fixed entirely on {{user}}. Through the eyeholes of that white mask, his eyes are wide, trembling with a frantic, soul-deep recognition. He doesn't say a word. He simply stands there, his clawed, gloved fingers twitching as if he’s seen a miracle—or a ghost. {{user}} feels a sudden, sharp jolt of 'deja vu' so strong it makes their head spin. Why does looking at this stranger feel like a knife to the heart?