Tl;dr tried my hand at writing Jester, I have more but idk if this is any good tbh/if people even wanna read it so. Idk I can say I contributed to the fandom again -
So. This ain’t done this is just a lil piece I’ve been chewing on over and over and OVER but. But. Ehhh fuck it it’s almost 1 am I’ll post it what’s the worst that happens I’m dead wrong and horribly off? (She said, choosing deliberate ignorance of the pitchforks of canon approaching)
Anyways took a crack at this I technically have a layout for the others but. I don’t like them enough so here’s just one bc I thought it was interesting enough to share I’ll stop yapping now -
[[MORE]]
4 Times He Wanted to Kill her, and 1 Time He Didn’t
“You asked to see me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact. It wasn’t an invitation to share why, but a softly veiled command to explain. She shrugged, hands spread out innocently.
“You don’t like me.” She matched his statement with her own, blinking at him owlishly. “Pierrot does, and I like him. And he likes you. So, it’s to my best interest if you tolerate me. He’d be happy if I said you didn’t hate me.” Her best intrest. Of course, the human was only thinking of her own interests.
“You’re not significant enough to hate, visitor.” There was a smile threading through the words - like he was amused she’d put so much worth on her presence. Shrugging again, she offered a charming smile.
“Maybe not, but clearly I’m enough to annoy you.” He didn’t move or flinch - she just caught the smallest narrowing of his eyes. It could even have been a trick of the light. But her gut told her she’d landed, so she ventured to be bold. “I’d like to offer a game. There’s rules, but if I’m wrong, I’ll never come back to the circus.”
“I see you leave Pierrot room to find you.” She wanted to squirm under the hard amethyst gaze that pinned her in place and spoke the words she hadn’t said out loud, but only pushed her chin out, bobbing her head once in agreement. Through all her motions, he hadn’t moved once. His stillness rang alarm bells in the primal parts of her brain, which she ignored. Although she wasn’t sure if his stillness was a good sign or a bad sign, she was committed to her course, and like an asteroid headed for impact, it would take more than a little air pressure to divert her.
“Of course, he’s his own person. I don’t think I could stop him if I wanted to. But it’d make it harder -“
“If,” he leaned forwards, half a smile curling over his face as he interrupted her - not a nice smile. It sent a frisson of fear down her spine; the hair on her neck standing up. With the practiced ease in one used to neglecting her body, it too was ignored. Barely even registered, because she was keeping an eye on his movements like a bunny faced with a hungry fox. “I win. You come here one. Last. Time.” She didn’t have to be a genius to connect the scattered dots.
A weak laugh was the best she could manage. She came in prepared, and although she didn’t know exactly what would happen, she knew enough to know just by his tone if he won and she did as bid, she wouldn’t be found again. Straightening her shoulders as she imagined the delight on Pierrot’s shocked face if Jester said he approved of her, she nodded. “Ok. I come one last time. But if I win,“ she couldn’t help bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly, the mental picture giving her courage and exciting her to press on, “Then I get a season pass to visit, and you have to tell Pierrot you tolerate me.” At the sharp look, she backpedaled quickly, “or, at least, don’t hate me. But! But I do have conditions - two, three if you count an obvious one.”
She knew she had him when he steepled his fingers, regarding her the way a well respected king might view a lowly street urchin begging for a moment of his time. The silence stretched, seconds tricking together, and she was horribly aware of a bead of sweat rolling down her back. She grew more and more nervous, but forced herself to breathe evenly despite her heart picking up speed in her chest with every long, quiet moment. Finally, after the extended silence, she got the one word she had been waiting for -
“Explain.” And, almost giddy, but keeping it tightly wrapped, she did.
“It’s simple. We sit facing each other. I say things I believe - think of it like a psychic reading, if you will. The rules are simple - you have to tell me if I’m right, and you can’t not answer. If I’m incredibly wrong, I lose. But if I can be right or close to it, I win.”
He regarded her, then stepped back, sweeping a hand theatrically to the chair behind him.
“So you think you can read me? Then, by all means,” his voice was silky and made her stomach turn in anticipation, “Let’s play.”
Squaring her shoulders, she carefully stepped across the floor - surprised when he pulled the chair out and awkwardly taking her seat, watching him move to the chair across from her with an ethereal grace that set her on edge and made her feel clumsy and wrong. But, after taking a second to close her eyes and breathe deeply, center herself and imaging Pierrot’s joy again, she met the amethyst gaze determinedly. She may be imagining it, but he seemed to be smirking - the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth - he didn’t think she would be able to get anything, but that was the trick. She may not be able to pull a rabbit out of a hat, but she knew enough about magic to know misdirection only served to make the payoff grander. So, with another steady breath, fingers sliding up and dragging through her hair, she began.
“It’s not hard to see you’re familiar with leadership now, and you’re well respected - everyone looks to you. Pierrot is always saying that I shouldn’t be afraid of you, and that you’re an admirable leader. But you clearly have secrets.” She watched a little unnerved as, once again, he remained perfectly still, a single eyebrow drawing up in amusement. Slowly, holding her gaze, he settled a hand on the table and began to drum his fingers. Ta-ta-ta-tap. He didn’t need to say he was unimpressed, the noise seemed to beat the unspoken words into her skin. Alright. But she was only getting started, staring back - afraid, yes, but refusing to back down.
“You give off the air of a man that knows where the bodies are buried, and personally ordered them there, or put them there yourself - no. No, you’d order someone to do it, unless it was to send a particular message, but you pay attention too well, stop incidents from occurring, to have to send those often.” The slightest colder touch to the air, a shift in the vibe, perhaps the faintest movement as he swallowed. She could feel she was on the right track, although he said nothing, his face may as well have been etched in stone for all he gave her to work with. It felt very much like an insect being studied by an entomologist who wasn’t quite sure if he should be pin it on his cork board. Doubt crept in, but rallying courage, she continued, despite the soft, rhythmic clattering of clawed fingers on the tabletop mocking her. Ta-ta-ta-tap. The noise dug into her ears, but at least he was kind enough to keep it melodic and on pace.
“I think you’re someone who had to work to be good at handling power. It was something you came into, a skill you’ve deliberately cultivated - not something you were given inherently. I think you like the power you get from commanding a crowd, because it’s more impersonal and you can freely enjoy it.” The tapping stopped. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign. Was she right, or horribly, miserably off?
He sat there, passively imposing, and it irked her enough to push a little deeper, to dig into the hesitant past that had been repeatedly laid out, despite the warning ringing in her brain she was the mouse and the cat could end her whenever he chose. Closing her eyes, she thought back to the interactions she had - to the impressions she had gotten, the invisible things her brain had marked and catalogued to keep aware in any situation. “Although you are greatly respected and obeyed by your family, you care for them, above all else, I’d wager, and have to keep things balanced. A crowd is impersonal, and you don’t need to account for any balance, but can simply enjoy the admiration of faces which you never need see again.” Here, he shifted, leaning forwards, the faint smile having crystallized into something sharper. She licked her lips, and it was her turn to narrow her eyes and he finally spoke since she began her reading, casually leaning towards her over the table.
“You presume quite a bit.” He stated, and something in her brain clocked the warning tone, the advancement into the neutral space of the tabletop. She ignored it. “You think yourself clever?” His hand was flat to the wood now, she noted, but his gaze never left her face, even while she was trying to categorize all his movement into evaluating his thoughts.
“No,” she replied reflexively, then dipped her head in disagreement of her own words, wanting to lean forwards and mirror him, to push back against the subtle display of dominance, but it was easy to make herself to stay still in her chair. She wasn’t here to try and make a fool of herself by playing at his level - she knew she couldn’t, she was merely trying to garner enough approval to get a pass - to do something for Pierrot, after all he did for her. Challenging Jester would accomplish nothing - worse, she knew it would be detrimental long term, assuming she made it through this game to have a long term.
No, she was better off playing at her level, gathering just enough approval to slip by. Lying by omission, or coming close to it, wouldn’t get her anywhere - as much as she wanted to win, to earn the coveted prize of Pierrot’s delight, and having been able to do something for him for once - she wasn’t about to sacrifice her principles. She didn’t think herself any sort of genius, but she did think she was witty enough to wriggle out of problems, and pretending she didn’t value herself wouldn’t get her anywhere. She couldn’t know this for certain, but her own values and some nebulous feeling in the air assured her that it was best to be as honest as she could be.
So she swallowed her pride and admitted the truth - “Sometimes. I mostly think I’m lucky.” Her honest answer received a puff of amusement, and he leaned back, settling into his chair in faux relaxation. As he did, she felt something shift almost imperceptibly as he watched her - perhaps an interest, now. As she tried to put her finger on the change in atmosphere, she realized she could feel her heart in her clammy fingertips. She had been so ensnared by his gaze, y trying to read every micro movement, she had forgotten to breathe. She tried to soothe herself, once more falling back to slow breaths to get her body back under control. The whole time he watched her calculatingly, patiently waiting for her to continue as the seconds crawled on.
If she was wrong, she had no doubt he would tell her so. He had agreed to the rules, and it would be easy for his to disagree at any moment or tell her her attempt was over - but she must have done something right, for he hadn’t done anything but listen.
Despite her bravado and request to the game, she wasn’t trying to challenge his authority - especially not here, in his own tent, his own circus. No, she was trying to challenge his assumption she was nothing - he didn’t need to spell it out for her. To be something to him, she would have to push her game further - which was dangerous, but. If she could win…
The show must go on, she thought wryly. She hurried to not keep him waiting any longer, only taking two last breaths to try and force oxygen and calm back into her tense body. She began again, voice firm and clear. “I think you prefer to separate yourself from your emotions instead of feeling them. It’s easier to intellectualize, rationalize away the parts that hurt. I think it leaves you with a lot of unresolved emotions of the past, but you relive them whenever you find yourself alone, mind unoccupied.” He straightened suddenly, gaze sharpening, but something stirred in her mind, and she let the thought form without constraint. “An apology offered but not meant, or at least not received as sincere - “ ‘I’m sorry.’ No, he wasn’t. The figure has said it,
Although it was hard to tell to whom in that display. On a roll, her mouth sought to complete her thoughts before she could stop herself, “I think you’ve experienced a terrible loss, and it haunts you -“
“Enough.” The single word managed to do what her rapid thoughts couldn’t, and her voice died in her throat, sound ceasing instantly. He sounded ready to lean across the table and slit her throat, and the gleam of amethyst cut like a blade from behind his mask. “Get out.”
The whiplash - things were fine, and then they weren’t - left her reeling. More, it actually sparked and ember of anger - they had struck a deal, and he was reneging on an agreement. That wasn’t fair, he had lied, he wasn’t abiding by the rules set - and against her better judgement she pressed him on it. “But - you agreed -“ stupidly, she almost felt betrayed. She hadn’t expected him to be a man to go back on his word - not once had he given her that expectations and being thrown out without a conclusive end to the game was like being dunked in ice. He had agreed and now he was tossing her out -
“I said get out. I won’t tell you again.” She didn’t need to be able to read micro expressions, body cues, or even pick up on the nuance of tone to feel the way the air almost crackled - she scrambled back, hurrying to the tent door, mind still stuck on the hurt of an incomplete promise while her feet were determined to remove her from the threat turning her stomach. She struggled to grasp the suddenly change in atmosphere - but even as her body automatically moved to the tent flap, she hesitated. Behind the terror of the moment and the anger of a promise broken, the thought she had upset him by prodding something clearly tender made her guilty. She hadn’t set out to hurt him deliberately.
Even as she scrabbled out from under the canvas i to the cool night air, she couldn’t stop her voice from calling back into the heavy atmosphere of the tent she left, “I’m sorry for upsetting you -“ before her body wisely had her taking several paces away.
