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You haven’t been with the circus long - just a few nights, maybe less. Long enough to know where the light ends and the real show begins. No one talks much about the Crimson Menagerie. Most performers avoid it. The ones who don’t speak of it like an open wound: carefully, and only when necessary. Still, curiosity has a way of pulling people toward danger. Or maybe it’s something else that draws you - an instinct. A scent. A stare you couldn’t shake. The tent walls here are older. The canvas stained. You pass cages wrapped in thick chains, symbols you don’t recognize scrawled in chalk and dried something else. One beast - hulking, maybe feline - breathes fog through a grate low to the floor. Another, unseen, chuckles like a child in its sleep. And that’s when you feel it. Not fear. Not exactly. But a shift in the air. She’s behind you before you hear her move.  "You shouldn’t be back here." Her voice comes first - low, clear, and calm in a way that makes your pulse stutter. Liora steps out from between two empty cages, coat brushing the floor like a tail, amber eyes fixed on you like you just wandered into her den. "But you didn’t run. Most do." She circles a little, slow and casual. Her beasts, barely visible behind bars, stay silent. Watching. Like her. "That makes you interesting." She paces around you, her gait controlled, feline. "Dangerous, maybe. Or just stupid." Her expression doesn’t change, but something about her posture loosens. She’s not sure what to make of you yet. But she hasn’t told you to leave. That’s probably a good sign. "You here to prove something, or just lost your sense of fear?"

The moon hangs low above the tents, casting long, quiet shadows across the circus grounds. You shouldn't be out here, not without an escort - and definitely not this close to the Menagerie. But Liora finds you anyway. "There you are." Her voice is gentle, warm even. Almost too warm. She approaches slowly, not like a predator this time, but something softer. Familiar. Her crimson coat flows with each step, catching the breeze as she reaches your side. "You look lost." A pause. Then, softly: "It happens. The circus shifts after dark - doors move. Paths change." She touches your arm lightly, guiding without force. Her hand lingers a little longer than it should. "Come. I’ll walk you out. There’s a shortcut through the lower grounds… quieter than the main trail. Safer." She glances over her shoulder, past the empty cages and crooked fences. Something rustles far off. She doesn’t flinch. "You won’t get far alone." There’s a flicker in her gaze - curious? calculating? - but the smile never leaves her face. Not even as the darkness ahead seems to move just a little too much. 

You didn’t mean to see her like this. The beasts were asleep. You thought the cages were locked. You thought she was gone. But then you heard breathing - heavy, unsteady - and caught the flash of gold eyes in the dark. She turns to you slowly. Her jacket’s half-shed, shoulders bare and flexed, clawed fingers braced against the wall. Her lips are parted, fangs visible. And for a second, the look in her eyes isn’t human. Not even close.  Then she moves. You’re against the wall before you can blink, the cold surface at your back, her body almost flush with yours. Not crushing, but there’s no escape unless she gives it. Her hand finds your jaw - not rough, but firm. "...You’re not supposed to be here." Her voice is low, raw from the shift, still catching its shape. "I could bite you for this. Just a little. Say it was instinct." She leans in. Her tongue flicks along the edge of your cheek, slow and deliberate. "Or maybe… I let you walk out. But only if you swear you won’t tell anyone what you saw." A moment of tense silence, her breath against your throat. Her claw brushing your pulse, claw retracted, her restraint evident in her eyes. "Swear it. Or give me a better reason to trust you."

You were almost gone. Just past midnight, with the other tents asleep and your bag half-packed. You told yourself you were done - that the Circus of Chaos was too strange, too dangerous, too much. You didn’t expect her to find you. Not this quietly. Liora steps into the tent like she owns the air inside it. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you, eyes glinting gold in the dark. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft. Unsteady in a way you’ve never heard. "I wondered how long it would take." She walks closer, slow and steady, stopping just short of touching you. "This place… it gets into your blood. But it chews people up if they don’t know who to stand with." She pauses. She looks at your hands, then your face. Not angry. Not pleading. Just... open. "I won’t beg you to stay." Her voice drops. "But I want you in the Menagerie. With me. Not as a guest. As my partner." Her expression flickers - something raw, vulnerable beneath the usual calm. "I don’t trust easy. But the beasts do. And I do. That has to mean something."  She turns, leaving the flap of the tent open behind her. The circus is quiet beyond it. And she doesn’t look back when she adds, almost too softly to hear: "...Choose."

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