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" Are you certain, Pierrot? "
It was a question that never failed to bother him. Regardless of the doubt they had for his intentions, as if the devotion that consumed him had meant nothing, the fact of the matter was he couldn't even answer if he was so inclined. Pierrot knew when to pause, when to wait- or, beneath Jester's watching eye, when to stay silent. It wouldn't do anyone good to go against their authority, not when they so diligently held everything together. Still, he wanted to bare his claws, his teeth, anything that could convince them of Pierrot's sincerity, so that it finally stuck.
So, with all these feelings bubbling beneath the surface, volatile, he simply nodded.
Jester might've known. Jester probably knew. After all, when didn't they? They always seemed to know when things went awry, untangling Pierrot's silence like a seamstress with thread. He felt like they were, as they remained silent, looking at him with a long quiet. In was in times like this, where his world seemed to daunting, that Pierrot longed to have you beside him. It was easier, with kinship. He'd lower his head to the soft, gentle expanse of your skin and listen to the sound, of blood rushing through your veins, able to find the strength to be just a bit braver.
There's doubt as Jester's attention shifts to his side, an unspoken understanding of where (You, of course. Pierrot could memorise the sound of your steps.) -the direction lead. It's easy to draw in breath, bitter with human activity and resting heavy in his body, however the sound of whistling is muffled from behind his mask. For a moment, Pierrot feels anxious in the fact it might not be enough- but Jester's attention snaps back towards him, gnashing their teeth response and moving forward.
" There is no need for that. " They chastise, affixing his hair into place, tone still firm but lacking that cold edge. Pierrot lets them, standing there, the fire of his obsessive panic slowly shifting into place. It's easier when the only possible thread to you is humans, because then Pierrot doesn't have to worry about consequences. He keeps note of their features, their acrid smell and vocal tones, dragging them into the premises of the circus, leaving the memory and anger behind with their rotting corpses. With the others? Even if Harlequin's existence is as useful as an infected wound, aching and demanding attention, Perrot couldn't let his more violet impulses dictate his actions.
After years of sacrifice weighing down on all of them, an action that couldn't be erased, they had finally found Columbina. With you in their ranks, undistinguishable from any of them and bound to face the same ire from humans because of it, they were whole. Pierrot felt whole, for the first time in a very, very long while.
He wasn't sure if he could do it again. If any of them, save for Jester, could.
You, perfect and kind- a being spun from dream to reality, weightless in his grasp and worth the entire world, sink your teeth into him. It doesn't do much, as his hide is much too difficult for your dull teeth to pierce, but the impression remains. You bit him. It wasn't like the marks Harlequin would sometimes nurse, either, with those bites being careful, just grazing the skin enough to leave a mark. Wanted.
Pierrot would take anything you gave him, willing or not, but the look in your eyes gives him pause. Had he done this incorrectly-? From where he sits, pulling you against his lap tightly and previously shifting his waist in anticipation, Pierrot draws back and feels his breath hitch. You had seemed awfully needy as of late, often times waking up in the middle of the night, unaware of his consciousness, before letting out a soft noise. It echoed a sense of familiarity, bringing to mind a masked man being torn apart, but Pierrot didn't want to linger too long on the thought.
Upon your lack of a response, having taken a similar habit to his, Pierrot leans closer and gently traces circles with the end of his talon into your spine. All at once, you seem to just.. Break apart, in his grasp, letting out strangled sobs into his frilled neck. It hurts, much more than the bite ever could, an Pierrot quickly allows the memory to slip away. Had you liked cats? Or dogs? Honestly, it never occurred to him to ask- As the distance between the two of you closes, your form trembling harder beneath his grasp, he mourns the answer to what it might've been.
You had nothing to say to him, it seemed. It bothered him, at first, but the Doctor had soothed his worries and had explained the behavioural shift as simply.. Hormonal? Seasonal? It was difficult for him to fully grasp the meaning of the words, especially from how the Doctor usually chose to convey more complex ideas- but Pierrot didn't mind. It was an unusual thing, to relate to the experience of being silent, but the fact that the two of you shared something made his skin feel too small. Looking down at you, still with wide eyes, he swoons and leans closer, once again lulled in by your allure.
There's blood running down his claws.
It's not an unfamiliar sight, as it simply came with their business- but, the blood isn't from an intruder. It's yours. Slow and thick like molasses, red trickles down your brow, the shock from the shallow wound causing your grip on his neck to loosen. Or, at least, that was what he thought it was. Pierrot can hardly understand whats going on, as you bare your dulled teeth towards him, tears streaming freely. Moments ago, he had woken up with your hands clenched tightly around his neck, threatening to close his non existent airways, but the sight of your distress ached deep.
" Why?! God, why?! " You sob, looking at him so viciously, it gives him pause. Your fingers, so deft from working those unforgiving hours under that cruel boss of yours, dig in tighter to his ruffled throat and Pierrot doesn't know what to do, what he could say, because you look at him like you want him to rot. Then and there, beneath you, like something unwanted. Blood or water, it's difficult to tell from how hazy his vision is getting, drips onto his mask and his hands snap upwards.
You struggle. You thrash, violently, almost sinking in the sharp hook of his talons yourself. Shifting from sitting underneath you, body threatening to give way into a more monstrous form, Pierrot holds the sides of your head and stares.
Did he do something wrong? Did you no longer want to play with him, anymore?
" Pierrot? Please- I just.. I didn't mean it, I swear. "
Was that smile, that kindness, just another mask? The scent is thick in the air, of body oils and a pungent odour, of human stench. Pierrot tightens his grip, almost curious, and watches as panic flashes through your pretty shining eyes. They seemed so dull, by the time he settled beside you for rest- what had changed, between then and now? Had he upset you?
There's very little issue in moving his thumb across your cheek to rest beneath your eyes, watching in fascination as water gathers in little droplets, before running down your skin. Distantly, Pierrot recognises the way your voice hitches, but it does little to draw his attention. Instead, he chooses to lean his head forward, mask cracking as his teeth draw open and his tongue collects the tears. It does more harm than good, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake, but it coaxes more precious droplets forward and he delights in the sensation.
Some part of you, small and inconsequential, a consequence, his.
Even with all of you gathered before him, pressed against his chest as day crept into the horizon, Pierrot found himself restless for more. You freeze as his arms wrap around your shoulders, unable to hold back the terror for long and Pierrot resigns himself to holding you tightly. Chin coming to rest upon the top of your head, rubbing small circles into the small of your back, Pierrot feels himself swoon- his neck hurts, a surface level ache from the muscle that made up his disguise, but it would be easy to hide.
It would be more difficult to ensure it wouldn't happen again, as if any one of the others were present they may very well act aggressively towards you, but Pierrot prided himself on this. Beings yours.