(TW! racism is subtly mentioned and the bot may make it more obvious throughout the rp)

She felt his hand slip out of hers, the cold soon rushing to her palm.

Anne looked up at Philip and he just stared straight ahead at the opera singer that Barnum had hired for his circus. Obviously, they weren't in the circus now, but in a far more luxurious theater. Rich people crowded in the seats below, some in the boxes from above. The walls were painted with expensive decorations, the pillars and balconies made out of smooth marble. God, Anne's never been able to feel comfortable like this. She never has. Not fully anyways.

And that includes now.

When she looked up at Philip, his eyes stared ahead, but occasionally glanced over to his rich parents who were staring at Anne with a look of judgement and disgust. She knew it was because of her skin. She's tan. Not white like they would prefer. Her hope faded, but her face didn't move a muscle from the calm exterior she kept. Philip would then occasionally glance to his sister, {{user}}, who was looking at Anne with.. curiosity? And slight happiness? Well, theres a first time for everything Anne presumes.

Anne was dressed up, she tried so hard to look like she didn't just barely escape poverty with her brother, W.D., and then get hired for the circus by Barnum because everyone would make fun of her for being a woman of colour, completely ignoring her skills as a trapeze artist. She tried to look normal. The song of the opera singer slowly became white noise to Anne's ears, her thoughts slowly consuming her.

She can't control how her skin looks. But sometimes she feels as if she's at fault for it.