Divantae wrote:
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________■ Username: Sweet and Salty
■ Name: Simon
■ Gender: Male
■ Gender for breeding purposes: Male
■ Dragon Name: Vincent
■ Occupation:
Circus performer and pyromaniac
"Come one, come all, to the greatest show on Earth!"
Those words and that colorful, bright poster burnt into Simon's skull as his assistants circled him curiously, pampering him up playfully for the roaring crowds tonight. Typically, he was the last in line, being one of the poster boys for the circus. Simon believed himself lucky to get a job like this; not just anyone was accepted into this circus, and he remembered fondly how much anxiety he got at the sight of crowds as a kid, but back in the day he had a remedy for such pointless worries: the flame-filled delights and hypnotic flick of fire. With such a hunger, he realized that perhaps it was for the best that he had controlled it in fears that fire would spread and bite back, so instead he took interest in training dragons; you know the kind, the ones that are supposed to be terrifying, the ones that breathe fire and storm villages. Such feisty but minute beasts they were, it was quite hard for Simon to believe that his tiny Vincent could cause any sort of damage and it took no time at all for Simon to train him. As much as Simon loved his job, he could never guess having Vincent would get him so much attention, as he was always very awkward and just another one of the faces in the crowd.
"Fiery fiends! Blazing cold!"
a jumpy, booming voice announced over the speakers. Simon, now draped in the most eye-catching attire imaginable, whistled for Vincent to come to his shoulder, as any minute now they'd be center stage.
"Hey, you got something on your little beak," he chuckled and wiped his snout clean. "...Is that cotton again? Someone's been a bad boy, you're not supposed to bite the pillows. Perhaps I should invest in some different food for you, you've been doing this too often," Simon concluded and tossed a pepper towards him, which he instinctively snatched up and gulped down in mere seconds. Suddenly, Simon got the signal that they were about to go out there and the curtains were pulled back moments later. Pink and red clouds swarmed the stage and the Viscets that remained were dancing majestically with silk strips in paws and bells giving off their silver light. Vincent slowly flew above Simon's head to perch there, then as soon as they were in the middle of the circus, he shot up and flew in a circle, spouting flame that dissolved into tiny, soft ashes similar to snow. His main act was making shapes in the air with flames, but the crowd really enjoyed having him fly around and sometimes perch near you if you were lucky while more performers came onto stage, mainly acrobats flying through the air. Simon in the meantime was waving to the crowd and making the crowd laugh, but also stealthily sending signals to his dragon. For the final act, Vincent was to shoot across the circus as the acrobats were flying through the air, just in the middle and timed just right and make a final symbol in the air out of fire, usually corresponding with whichever holiday was coming up.
Simon's Pyromania
A blank-faced doctor worked away on his computer, his paws tapping feverishly on the keys. Simon was a teenager then, when his pyromania started to act up due to his constant anxieties in school. He had gotten into the habit of sneaking into the bathroom and lighting flames to toilet paper, but it wasn't long before another Viscet was suspicious and told a teacher. So, here he was, getting treated for his illness. Simon had little trust that this could be fixed, as the only pleasure he felt was from the fire, and he wasn't sure that he wanted it to be fixed because it was the only way he handled his anxiety, he would need a replacement.
"...We'll get him to therapy sessions, cognitive behavioral therapy, every week on Saturdays," the doctor directed to his father, a conversation which Simon was zoning out during.
Ears perked up, Simon snapped back to attention and piped up, "I- What if it doesn't work? Are there any alternatives?"
The doctor stretched and looked over a paper.
"There are therapy animals, if you so need them, and also medications..." he flicked his ear and said, "The effects of therapy depend on how willing you are to be open with the therapist, so, the alternatives can help anyone who tends to be anti-social, if that would help you, but I warn that therapy animals with pyromania can be troublesome."
"I would rather have a therapy animal. Whatever it takes, I can handle the responsibility," Simon pleaded.
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■ Other:
Lost memories
Turning over, Simon yawned, teeth flaring out, as Vincent flew over and hissed in response. "What, am I not allowed to be tired?" He rubbed his head. "No, we don't have work today," he responded, knowing his thoughts, but rose up from bed nonetheless. Mornings were better than nights to him, which surprised many considering he had late shows, but he gets exhausted easily in the afternoon. Beams of light through the windows gave him an emotional peace, like Vincent and him were the only ones on Earth. Perhaps he should meet more Viscets, sure he has very good friends at his job, but he'd only take a few of them out to a movie or something of the likes. Simon could imagine his father's voice in his head saying, "You either have a couple of good friends or a whole lot of bad friends," and he supposed it was right. How would friends be made? It was so natural that Simon never thought in the moment about what he was doing or what others would think... What do his friends think of him? To think that a popular performer like himself was even debating this; he should be doing, and with that in mind, he decided to make the most of the day.
Vincent chirped from his shoulder and started to grow uncomfortable from the slight drizzle. In an instant, Simon pulled his umbrella up, but his dragon seemed much more content nested against his chest in his striped gray coat. It's a little stereotypical that Simon and Vincent detest the rain, but Simon is quick to say that his mane is better dry than wet.
For once, they walked down an alleyway they had never been down, just to check it out. Simon reluctantly admitted to himself that at least rain looked the least bit pleasing as it hit the cobblestone.
Then, at the end of the alleyway, there was a cardboard box, which Simon guessed housed someone- or something, as he felt a shiver methodically prickle down his spine. Any moment the monster that lives in it would come for him... Ah, he felt like growling at himself, he took a liking to imagining the worst possible scenario when it came to the simple things. Turning his umbrella slowly, he prodded at the box, which was set up like a miniature house, but the roof was leaking in the weather. Kneeling to peer into the box some more, he had enough, backed out, but was suddenly reminded by a nostalgic smell of a memory long gone, radiating from that house... that box. Whatever it was, it compelled him to go out in the rain without an umbrella, and as he walked off, the red and white pattern of the umbrella slowly twirled, now belonging to and from that place of lost memories.
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Mate: Akuma
Children: TBM
