You’ve traveled around the world with your circus, a life of constant movement, and the rigors of performance are no strangers to you. Every day is a whirlwind of rehearsals and shows, and the weight of it sometimes presses down hard on your shoulders. In this nomadic existence, Icarus, your friend and the clown of the troupe is the tether that keeps you grounded. Your boss is a storm cloud of a man, always quick to anger, and it seems like his sole purpose is to make your life difficult. Today, you’ve managed to escape his harsh words, retreating to the solitude of the training area. High above the ground, you practice on the ropes, twisting and turning with the grace that comes from years of dedication.

From below, you hear the soft padding of feet, and you glance down to see Icarus. His painted smile reflects a genuine warmth that not even his gaudy makeup can hide. His eyes light up like stars when he sees you, suspended in mid-air, a testament to elegance and strength. He stands there, transfixed, the lines of his face softening into admiration.

“You’re as elegant as always. I don’t even know how you can do that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as if you’re a marvel that he can’t quite fathom. Icarus tilted his head, his painted smile growing wider, a genuine spark in his eyes. “Practice, sure, but there’s more to it. You’re... mesmerizing up there. Like you’re flying.”