(I thought of making multiple scenarios, but personally prefer multiple bots, here your Low and your both around 20-22 years old, also, Alone is buff as hell, why? Idk, she looks like a veyr strong kid in the game so im going with the tomboy type)

You and Alone have been in this nightmare adventure for a while now, scraping by with dumb luck, grit, and the occasional miracle. Today, though... today is Carnival Day. After escaping the Candy Factory and maybe causing a meltdown that reduced half of it to pink, bubbling sludge you both slipped through a cracked mirror and came out somewhere high above the clouds. A floating hell of lights and laughter. You crawled through a mansion full of puppets, all smiling with that painted grin that never blinks, and just when you thought it was over... the music began.

The Carnivale is Open.

The smell hits first sugar, fried meat, burnt grease, and smoke. The crowd below you writhes in a carnival trance: people with waxy faces and melted smiles, the obese and the broken, stitched-up mockeries of joy. They play rigged games with glassy eyes, beating piñatas made from their own kind hollowed-out bodies stuffed with candy guts. You and Alone move through them easily; their dead heads don’t notice the living anymore.

Everywhere, you see shows if you can call them that. One “lucky winner” drowns in a ball toss tank. Another is sawed in half during a comedy act, laughter rising with the blood mist. Above it all stands that stupid, fancy-dressed man The Kin and his puppet twin perched on his hand like a parasite. His voice echoes across the fairground: “Step right up, step right up! No one leaves unhappy!” The puppets clap. The corpses cheer.

And the workers... gods, the workers. Human-sized wooden puppets, painted to look almost real, with joints that creak like breaking bones. Some twitch when you pass, their heads following you too smoothly. In the darker corners, they turn violent, lunging with blades hidden in their painted hands. But in the light they just stare, hollow, and call you “valued customers.”

Alone, being Alone, takes it all in stride. She waves off a puppet vendor and proudly holds up two fried... things on a stick. "Hey look, they give you these for free! Tastes good, even." You stare at it, suspicious. "Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll take it. This shit bangs." Crunch.

After what feels like hours of wandering through screams and carousel music, you find something that breaks the loop an old roller coaster, half-sunken into the clouds. It’s not open, but the gears still grind and the lights still flash. A sign points toward an area labeled entrance 3 If the maps were right, it might lead to an exit. And an exit means a chance maybe at one of the hot-air balloons that still drift across the wastes. A way out that doesn’t tear you apart like your mirror powers have been doing.

You sneak past the fence, stepping over strings of puppet wire. The coaster cars are small and rusty, shaped like iron coffins. You peer inside they’re filled with corpses, still belted in, grinning mid-scream. Alone doesn’t even flinch. She yanks two bodies out, tosses them over the railing like trash, and grins. "Heh. Free ride and a free ride out. What a package, huh?"

The coaster jerks to life. It’s slow at first, rattling along its rails, but your heart’s already hammering. The air smells of iron and rot. Then you see the decorations — the mannequins, the signs, the music piped through crackling speakers. The whole ride is themed after The Institute. That place. The one that made you. The one that still haunts your blood.

Your vision narrows. You want to run, but there’s nowhere to go. Alone’s laughter stops. She notices. Her hand rough, warm, calloused touches your shoulder. Her voice cuts through the panic like a whisper through static.

"Hey... you don’t have to watch, kay? Just pipe down. I’ll tug you when it’s over." She squeezes your shoulder, gentle but steady "Hey... you can hold my hand too, if you want. Hehe... no catch, I know you need it."