Cirque du Arctique - Le prologue & L’hermine
Wasn’t quite satisfied with the prologue I posted the other day so I’ve decided to combine it with the second part. Wrote this for the sex lol
Cirque du Arctique - Le prologue & L’hermine | R
Zhoumi, Henry, Kyuhyun, Ryeowook
The strange troupe of Monsieur Z’s Cirque du Arctique.
The meadow mouse scurried swiftly across the white plains; crisscrossing through the crooked, twisted trees of the still forest. It leapt into its underground burrow; a little hole by the partially frozen lake in between some damp wood. It waited inside quietly, its small heart drumming wildly as it listened for movements above the grounds.
Several moments had passed when the animal heard any sound beyond the protection of its home. It crept warily to the opening of its burrow, its nose sniffing cautiously for signs that had its eyes and ears deceived.
Unaware to its stealth hunter’s presence, the mouse peeked its head out from the ground in the beginning, then slowly inched its body outwards. Within a heartbeat, the meadow mouse was snatched up in between the strong jaws of an ermine. The mouse made a quick, piercing squeak when merciless, sharp canines sunk through its skin and tore at its throat. The slightly larger animal gobbled its prey quickly; deep red rivulets tinged its pointed snout, its pure white coat and the snow beneath its rounded paws.
Henry made a disgruntled noise as he licked at his tiny jagged teeth - he was still insatiate. He’d only found small rodents of the forest to devour for over two weeks and these small finds could barely keep him from starving in the harsh wintriness of the harsh season. As he padded to the unfrozen part of the lake, he pondered about the arctic hares and rare quail eggs.
As he washed his tainted self in the waters, his pointed ears pricked to the hollow sounds of clopping hoofs and the turning of wheels deep inside the heart of the monochrome woods. Henry scampered towards the direction of the thunderous sound cautiously and he could hear the distinct whistling of a man and the crack of his whip in the air. The noises frightened Henry, but his curiosity beckoned him forth.
There was a small human village in the vicinity, a couple of miles to the south, but few men had dared to venture through these parts of the forest before. There were no manmade paths leading through these parts; the thickets in the northern region of the arctic forest were dense and impassable, the briar patches twisted by vicious thorns which vowed to pierce trespassers who hoped to pass them. The northern forest gave the terrifying impression of what hellish creature dwelled beyond its forewarning barriers.
The ermine drew close to the source of the noises after awhile. He hid inside the hollow trunk of a fallen tree and found himself watching an unusual sight before his eyes. He had never seen something quite like this.
There was a mighty black stallion clopping down an unmarked path; thick leather harnesses strapped over its body as it drew a strange caravan behind it; golden fancy letterings on one side of the carriage: Monsieur Z’s Cirque du Arctique.
There was a man with a black top hat in front, the red strands of his hair falling over his eyes. He had a unique smile curled over his lips; frightening, but at the same time, riveting - it piqued Henry's curiosity some more. The man whistled sharply suddenly and pulled at the reins firmly. His horse grunted at his ministration but obediently halted.
"Good boy, Lucifer," he praised his dark stallion and hopped off the carriage, his black boots made a thud when it met the snow covered ground. He secured the reins to the thick branch of a tree before stroking the mane of his stallion gently; whispering words into its ear softly.
A sudden burst of boldness egged Henry out of hiding. He crept closer.
Zhoumi had heard many stories about hellish creatures which lurked in these parts of the forest; they pursued any human who intrude their territory and killed without mercy; so he couldn’t help but to smile when he noticed the small forest animal behind him. The white ermine stood on its hind legs, while staring at him with myopic beady eyes.
“Bonjour, mon petit,” he spoke mannerly to the tiny animal with smiling eyes. “Welcome to Monsieur Z’s Cirque le Arctique!” He proclaimed and bowed, tipping his hat slightly. Henry tilted his tiny oval head sideways mechanically. The ringmaster laughed softly.
Henry did not scurry away when the tall human strode to him. Shadow fell over him and he slanted his head upwards and stared at the man hovering him that moment. Zhoumi smiled, reached downwards and patted his head softly. Henry purred softly at the gentle touch. Then, a vice grip encircled his small neck, constricting his throat and he hissed sharply when he was lifted from the ground.
“Hush now, silly mon petit,” he cooed, tightening his hold around the fragile neck as the ermine thrashed about. The animal was staring at him with venomous eyes, pointy fangs bared and its claws scratching futilely at the black leather of his gloves. He looked at the fighting creature with faked compassion and clicked his tongue twice, giving the animal a displeased look. “You are one feisty breakfast,” he remarked thoughtfully, and he was least expecting it when something large seized him and knocked him onto the ground.
“I’m nobody’s dinner, human,” the boy growled lowly, eyes glowering ferociously, his fingers were enclosed around Zhoumi’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Wandering through the northern forest alone, you’re the silly one,” he sneered at the man beneath him. The sight of another man in the lonely forest astonished him at first, but he quickly came to understand the matter.
“Oh, mon petit,” Zhoumi said with curled lips, his eyes sparkled with wonder and excitement. “You’re beautiful,” he praised, not quite comprehending the danger he was in. He raised a hand to stroke at the boy’s pink tinted cheeks and brushed his tea coloured fringe from his seething eyes. “Join my troupe, won’t you?” He propositioned and Henry snarled warningly.
“I’m not a circus animal you parade to be publicly humiliated!” Henry said harshly, nails sinking into the thin skin of the others’ lengthy neck. Zhoumi stared at him without a word, admiring the beauty of this part-ermine, part-human. Henry groaned with annoyance.
“You’re fortunate I do not have taste for human flesh,” he finally said as his released Zhoumi and retreated backwards. Zhoumi collected himself from the ground and gazed at the boy once more, hungrily taking in the sight of the bare body, pale and pink in the whiteness of the arctic forest. “I wouldn’t say the same for the other animals which dwell deeper inside the forest, though,” he murmured as he turned away, leaving.
“You’re not going anywhere, mon petit,” Zhoumi claimed firmly and before Henry could argue, a thin black line of leather caught around his throat. One callous pull from the ringmaster and he gasped for breath as the fine rope of Zhoumi’s whip constricted around his throat sharper than ever. He stumbled backwards, his fingers lodged in the noose as he tried to lessen the pressure around his throat.
He felt the man from before press up against his back, the coarse material of his coat brushing against his soft skin. Zhoumi pressed his lips at the cool skin beneath his right ear, breathing warmly.
“I require a guide through the forest. My purpose is to seek strange creatures to for my circus,” he said. “I believe I will find more magnificent creatures in the forest, but for now, you’re the first and most unique I’ve encountered for the last three days,” he sighed into Henry’s ear and smiled. He pulled the whip back, forcing Henry’s neck to press against his shoulder so he could gaze down the strong, defiant eyes of the boy. “You’re my property now.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Henry choked as the whip dug deeper under his jaw, suffocating him further.
Zhoumi chuckled teasingly. “You’ve had your chance. Now that you’re mine, you won’t have another.” Henry snarled and tried to sink his teeth into Zhoumi’s hovering face, but the whip held him back. Henry snarled fiercely, eyes burning with hatred.
“Oh, temper, temper,” the ringmaster tut. “Defiance and disobedience will only earn you pain. Soon, I will brand that thought into you, mon petit,” Zhoumi laughed lowly and grinned at the slight shudder that shook Henry’s being. Henry whimpered defenselessly, his vision slowly become blotchy from the lack of oxygen.
Henry coughed hard when Zhoumi released his whip from his neck and he slumped to the ground. His worn body slowly recuperating, he breathed unsteadily. Zhoumi kneeled over his trembling body and captured his chin in his gloved hand and smiled kindly at him.
“Tell me your name, mon petit,” Zhoumi demanded calmly, rubbing his thumb over Henry’s rosy lower lip. Henry panted heavily and could only gaze at him with unseeing eyes. Zhoumi stroked his hair softly again and kissed his forehead, sweat soaked his fringe and plastered wildly over his features. “Your name,” he asked again, more firmly.
Henry shut his eyes and breathed out shakily. “H-Henry…”
Zhoumi grinned delightfully and stroked his hand down Henry’s shivering shoulder as a reward. “Hello, Henry. My name is Zhoumi, but the townspeople know me as Monsieur Z. But you can call me maître.”
* * *
① Ermine is a weasel with a white coat, often found in the arctic.
② Mon petit translates to 'little one' (m) in French
③ Maître translates to 'master' in French
Cirque du Arctique - Le prologue & L’hermine | R
Zhoumi, Henry, Kyuhyun, Ryeowook
The strange troupe of Monsieur Z’s Cirque du Arctique.
The meadow mouse scurried swiftly across the white plains; crisscrossing through the crooked, twisted trees of the still forest. It leapt into its underground burrow; a little hole by the partially frozen lake in between some damp wood. It waited inside quietly, its small heart drumming wildly as it listened for movements above the grounds.
Several moments had passed when the animal heard any sound beyond the protection of its home. It crept warily to the opening of its burrow, its nose sniffing cautiously for signs that had its eyes and ears deceived.
Unaware to its stealth hunter’s presence, the mouse peeked its head out from the ground in the beginning, then slowly inched its body outwards. Within a heartbeat, the meadow mouse was snatched up in between the strong jaws of an ermine. The mouse made a quick, piercing squeak when merciless, sharp canines sunk through its skin and tore at its throat. The slightly larger animal gobbled its prey quickly; deep red rivulets tinged its pointed snout, its pure white coat and the snow beneath its rounded paws.
Henry made a disgruntled noise as he licked at his tiny jagged teeth - he was still insatiate. He’d only found small rodents of the forest to devour for over two weeks and these small finds could barely keep him from starving in the harsh wintriness of the harsh season. As he padded to the unfrozen part of the lake, he pondered about the arctic hares and rare quail eggs.
As he washed his tainted self in the waters, his pointed ears pricked to the hollow sounds of clopping hoofs and the turning of wheels deep inside the heart of the monochrome woods. Henry scampered towards the direction of the thunderous sound cautiously and he could hear the distinct whistling of a man and the crack of his whip in the air. The noises frightened Henry, but his curiosity beckoned him forth.
There was a small human village in the vicinity, a couple of miles to the south, but few men had dared to venture through these parts of the forest before. There were no manmade paths leading through these parts; the thickets in the northern region of the arctic forest were dense and impassable, the briar patches twisted by vicious thorns which vowed to pierce trespassers who hoped to pass them. The northern forest gave the terrifying impression of what hellish creature dwelled beyond its forewarning barriers.
The ermine drew close to the source of the noises after awhile. He hid inside the hollow trunk of a fallen tree and found himself watching an unusual sight before his eyes. He had never seen something quite like this.
There was a mighty black stallion clopping down an unmarked path; thick leather harnesses strapped over its body as it drew a strange caravan behind it; golden fancy letterings on one side of the carriage: Monsieur Z’s Cirque du Arctique.
There was a man with a black top hat in front, the red strands of his hair falling over his eyes. He had a unique smile curled over his lips; frightening, but at the same time, riveting - it piqued Henry's curiosity some more. The man whistled sharply suddenly and pulled at the reins firmly. His horse grunted at his ministration but obediently halted.
"Good boy, Lucifer," he praised his dark stallion and hopped off the carriage, his black boots made a thud when it met the snow covered ground. He secured the reins to the thick branch of a tree before stroking the mane of his stallion gently; whispering words into its ear softly.
A sudden burst of boldness egged Henry out of hiding. He crept closer.
Zhoumi had heard many stories about hellish creatures which lurked in these parts of the forest; they pursued any human who intrude their territory and killed without mercy; so he couldn’t help but to smile when he noticed the small forest animal behind him. The white ermine stood on its hind legs, while staring at him with myopic beady eyes.
“Bonjour, mon petit,” he spoke mannerly to the tiny animal with smiling eyes. “Welcome to Monsieur Z’s Cirque le Arctique!” He proclaimed and bowed, tipping his hat slightly. Henry tilted his tiny oval head sideways mechanically. The ringmaster laughed softly.
Henry did not scurry away when the tall human strode to him. Shadow fell over him and he slanted his head upwards and stared at the man hovering him that moment. Zhoumi smiled, reached downwards and patted his head softly. Henry purred softly at the gentle touch. Then, a vice grip encircled his small neck, constricting his throat and he hissed sharply when he was lifted from the ground.
“Hush now, silly mon petit,” he cooed, tightening his hold around the fragile neck as the ermine thrashed about. The animal was staring at him with venomous eyes, pointy fangs bared and its claws scratching futilely at the black leather of his gloves. He looked at the fighting creature with faked compassion and clicked his tongue twice, giving the animal a displeased look. “You are one feisty breakfast,” he remarked thoughtfully, and he was least expecting it when something large seized him and knocked him onto the ground.
“I’m nobody’s dinner, human,” the boy growled lowly, eyes glowering ferociously, his fingers were enclosed around Zhoumi’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Wandering through the northern forest alone, you’re the silly one,” he sneered at the man beneath him. The sight of another man in the lonely forest astonished him at first, but he quickly came to understand the matter.
“Oh, mon petit,” Zhoumi said with curled lips, his eyes sparkled with wonder and excitement. “You’re beautiful,” he praised, not quite comprehending the danger he was in. He raised a hand to stroke at the boy’s pink tinted cheeks and brushed his tea coloured fringe from his seething eyes. “Join my troupe, won’t you?” He propositioned and Henry snarled warningly.
“I’m not a circus animal you parade to be publicly humiliated!” Henry said harshly, nails sinking into the thin skin of the others’ lengthy neck. Zhoumi stared at him without a word, admiring the beauty of this part-ermine, part-human. Henry groaned with annoyance.
“You’re fortunate I do not have taste for human flesh,” he finally said as his released Zhoumi and retreated backwards. Zhoumi collected himself from the ground and gazed at the boy once more, hungrily taking in the sight of the bare body, pale and pink in the whiteness of the arctic forest. “I wouldn’t say the same for the other animals which dwell deeper inside the forest, though,” he murmured as he turned away, leaving.
“You’re not going anywhere, mon petit,” Zhoumi claimed firmly and before Henry could argue, a thin black line of leather caught around his throat. One callous pull from the ringmaster and he gasped for breath as the fine rope of Zhoumi’s whip constricted around his throat sharper than ever. He stumbled backwards, his fingers lodged in the noose as he tried to lessen the pressure around his throat.
He felt the man from before press up against his back, the coarse material of his coat brushing against his soft skin. Zhoumi pressed his lips at the cool skin beneath his right ear, breathing warmly.
“I require a guide through the forest. My purpose is to seek strange creatures to for my circus,” he said. “I believe I will find more magnificent creatures in the forest, but for now, you’re the first and most unique I’ve encountered for the last three days,” he sighed into Henry’s ear and smiled. He pulled the whip back, forcing Henry’s neck to press against his shoulder so he could gaze down the strong, defiant eyes of the boy. “You’re my property now.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Henry choked as the whip dug deeper under his jaw, suffocating him further.
Zhoumi chuckled teasingly. “You’ve had your chance. Now that you’re mine, you won’t have another.” Henry snarled and tried to sink his teeth into Zhoumi’s hovering face, but the whip held him back. Henry snarled fiercely, eyes burning with hatred.
“Oh, temper, temper,” the ringmaster tut. “Defiance and disobedience will only earn you pain. Soon, I will brand that thought into you, mon petit,” Zhoumi laughed lowly and grinned at the slight shudder that shook Henry’s being. Henry whimpered defenselessly, his vision slowly become blotchy from the lack of oxygen.
Henry coughed hard when Zhoumi released his whip from his neck and he slumped to the ground. His worn body slowly recuperating, he breathed unsteadily. Zhoumi kneeled over his trembling body and captured his chin in his gloved hand and smiled kindly at him.
“Tell me your name, mon petit,” Zhoumi demanded calmly, rubbing his thumb over Henry’s rosy lower lip. Henry panted heavily and could only gaze at him with unseeing eyes. Zhoumi stroked his hair softly again and kissed his forehead, sweat soaked his fringe and plastered wildly over his features. “Your name,” he asked again, more firmly.
Henry shut his eyes and breathed out shakily. “H-Henry…”
Zhoumi grinned delightfully and stroked his hand down Henry’s shivering shoulder as a reward. “Hello, Henry. My name is Zhoumi, but the townspeople know me as Monsieur Z. But you can call me maître.”
* * *
① Ermine is a weasel with a white coat, often found in the arctic.
② Mon petit translates to 'little one' (m) in French
③ Maître translates to 'master' in French