ɢᴏᴅ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ


Location: Jester's Wandering Parade, Undercity, Coruscant.
Equipment: Short axes.
Wearing: X.
Tagging:


The air was hot and slightly stale. All kinds of smoke laced the weak breeze that managed to make it this far down the ecumenopolis. The Coruscantii underworld was no place for the faint of heart - or the heavy of pocket. A little bit of concentration was all it took to hear uncontrolled laughter in the distance, or an alley brawl, or someone shedding tears for oh, how miserable were the lives of so many here... The Jester felt right at home. The wayward, the hopeless, and the thieves were her people, an open book. There was so much joy in rewriting, folding or ripping their pages apart and watching them unravel before her.
A Jester's paradise.
The eerie white eyes of the young Sith wandered to and fro, the spot she had chosen was perfect. The tents were up, the little shops and the con-artists stands. Everyone was in position, and soon their unkowing, poor visitors began filing in, seeking the solace of entertainment to their bleak, underworld lives. In here, she was a god. They flocked to her temple of wonder and derangement like sheep to their pastors. And today, the Jester was feeling generous. She would indulge their fantasies and bring forth a display of their wildest dreams...so long as they entertained her back.
Fire breathers, clowns, and contortonist were walking among the tents, guiding people here and there, mingling with the gathering visitors to give them a taste of what was to come once the show begun. Leven watched, perched on an impossibly tall and out of order lightpost, the only light that reached her pale face coming from the warm candles and bright neon signs several feet below her. Out of sight, a pupeteer. The corners of her long mouth curved into a satisfied, perhaps even excited, smirk. There was something different about tonight, the whispers in the shadows rang soft bells in her ears.
As her smile grew the Jester begun softly humming, her claws starting to dig into the rusted metal of the post. The tune was lost to the growing night, except perhaps to a particularly keen ear.
"Pop the latches open the hatches
Out comes Jack in the box
Doing tricks and taking licks
Out comes Jack in the box.."
Out comes Jack in the box
Doing tricks and taking licks
Out comes Jack in the box.."