[ ooc ] i apologise for my late reply. i would have replied yesterday but i was really busy </3
He used to cry a lot when he was younger, a mere boy who didn't know any better than what he liked and what he didn't like. Back in the village, which was the only other place he did know, everyone used to hush him: "Jean-Jacques, please don't cry." Sounds were all he had ever known. It was hard for him to differentiate between talking and shouting. Once he woke up in the middle of the night, screaming from what his parents thought to be a night terror. He heard something sharp but later it had only turned out to be the sound of a person slicing vegetables, cooking at the brink of midnight. Later he came to learn that no one else could hear the noise he heard, and eventually came to assume that only the animals could hear what he heard. Tequila always wondered what it would be like to be an animal. As far as he was concerned, the universe had always meant him to be human. But even sometimes he's capable of realising just by the smallest of tremors that the birds didn't know what he was worrying about. The stillness of their fragile forms and the brief ruffles of their feathers meant that they understood and knew nothing. He felt almost alone again, increasingly aware he was just different.
His fingers press gently against the bandages over his eyes, feeling the ovular shape of his unknowable hues before dropping his hands in an almost defeated manner. He always used to say he had good ears, and it was always proven. After all, Tequila had been on high alert for a while now. He knows strangers have approached and by the pattern of feet launching and landing off the ground, he counts two figures approaching the edge. There's an uneasy breath. His toes wiggle within the soles of his boots, expecting to feel a tremor but realising the material of his shoes were so thick that they often drowned out such distances. He had never been able to control his sense of touch, it was too easy to be overwhelmed by the tremors of the earth that he had to find other means to block it out. His head raises. A female and a male conversing is what he hears and, immediately possessed by initiative, Tequila himself begins to move. They must be talking about a hurricane wheel and he begins feeling mildly sheepish. He's never had particularly good aim himself and may have been responsible for a few dramatic injuries and deaths with that wheel. He can only say that it's a bad idea to make the blind one throw knives, no matter how good they were at navigating about as if they had eyes.
"They could be cleaned by they'll just get dirty again," Tequila muses, phasing his head through the torture device. He gives a polite smile to the two foreigners as he pulls the rest of his body through the wheel and stands on his two feet. The boy isn't unaccustomed to greeting two strangers at the border. Heck, he was sure he had met entire families wishing to give their lives up to the circus so he couldn't say he felt the least bit uncomfortable or nervous. That being said, he was wondering when their 'Marvelous' Maverick would arrive. He points to the older male, tilting his head a little, "Luci? Is that a nickname?" He giggles to himself then turns his head to the woman, a figurative gaze burning straight towards her with a strangely brimming curiosity. "And your name, miss?" He doesn't, however, let them answer straight away. He quickly slips into what's more important as names can be learnt later. "It's a bit too early for a show to start but I'm sure we can make an exception - we've been a little quiet lately." Yes, it seems like with the other groups absorbing all the hype, they haven't had much limelight. It's been a while since he's been able to show his card tricks. "Unless, of course, you two are looking to join The Berserkers instead?"
He used to cry a lot when he was younger, a mere boy who didn't know any better than what he liked and what he didn't like. Back in the village, which was the only other place he did know, everyone used to hush him: "Jean-Jacques, please don't cry." Sounds were all he had ever known. It was hard for him to differentiate between talking and shouting. Once he woke up in the middle of the night, screaming from what his parents thought to be a night terror. He heard something sharp but later it had only turned out to be the sound of a person slicing vegetables, cooking at the brink of midnight. Later he came to learn that no one else could hear the noise he heard, and eventually came to assume that only the animals could hear what he heard. Tequila always wondered what it would be like to be an animal. As far as he was concerned, the universe had always meant him to be human. But even sometimes he's capable of realising just by the smallest of tremors that the birds didn't know what he was worrying about. The stillness of their fragile forms and the brief ruffles of their feathers meant that they understood and knew nothing. He felt almost alone again, increasingly aware he was just different.
His fingers press gently against the bandages over his eyes, feeling the ovular shape of his unknowable hues before dropping his hands in an almost defeated manner. He always used to say he had good ears, and it was always proven. After all, Tequila had been on high alert for a while now. He knows strangers have approached and by the pattern of feet launching and landing off the ground, he counts two figures approaching the edge. There's an uneasy breath. His toes wiggle within the soles of his boots, expecting to feel a tremor but realising the material of his shoes were so thick that they often drowned out such distances. He had never been able to control his sense of touch, it was too easy to be overwhelmed by the tremors of the earth that he had to find other means to block it out. His head raises. A female and a male conversing is what he hears and, immediately possessed by initiative, Tequila himself begins to move. They must be talking about a hurricane wheel and he begins feeling mildly sheepish. He's never had particularly good aim himself and may have been responsible for a few dramatic injuries and deaths with that wheel. He can only say that it's a bad idea to make the blind one throw knives, no matter how good they were at navigating about as if they had eyes.
"They could be cleaned by they'll just get dirty again," Tequila muses, phasing his head through the torture device. He gives a polite smile to the two foreigners as he pulls the rest of his body through the wheel and stands on his two feet. The boy isn't unaccustomed to greeting two strangers at the border. Heck, he was sure he had met entire families wishing to give their lives up to the circus so he couldn't say he felt the least bit uncomfortable or nervous. That being said, he was wondering when their 'Marvelous' Maverick would arrive. He points to the older male, tilting his head a little, "Luci? Is that a nickname?" He giggles to himself then turns his head to the woman, a figurative gaze burning straight towards her with a strangely brimming curiosity. "And your name, miss?" He doesn't, however, let them answer straight away. He quickly slips into what's more important as names can be learnt later. "It's a bit too early for a show to start but I'm sure we can make an exception - we've been a little quiet lately." Yes, it seems like with the other groups absorbing all the hype, they haven't had much limelight. It's been a while since he's been able to show his card tricks. "Unless, of course, you two are looking to join The Berserkers instead?"
[align=center][div style="font-size:17pt;line-height:1.1;;font-family:georgia"][i]the universe sitting in my hands[div style="font-size:8pt;line-height:.1.1;font-family:arial;margin-bottom:5px;margin-top:-2px"]
[ JEAN-JACQUES | FEMININE BOY | THE BERSERKERS | STORAGE ]
[ JEAN-JACQUES | FEMININE BOY | THE BERSERKERS | STORAGE ]