THE URCHINS

You hear a tittering of laughter: high-pitched and discordant, like bent, cracked silver bells clattering onto sheets of rusted metal. In the gloom of a dilapidated tent, the glow of small red eyes reflects on shining steel blades.

Dust and dead, dry flowers, ice-cold skin, the swish of a metal blade, and a memory of honey.

5ml Perfume Oil
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Carnaval Diabolique

A Pantomime of Deviltry and Debauch in Seven Acts

ACT IV: THE INTERLUDE

The flames leap from Priala’s body, touching the dry canvas walls, setting the 13-in-1 aflame. Squinting your eyes against the blinding bursts of light and motion, you see a sign on the wall that reads “TO THE EGRESS”. Staggering through the fire, you make your way out of the tent and back onto the rain-slick Midway.

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