jester

(The purple tent was silent. The Jester lay sideways along the stage wall, unmoved by gravity, one hand glowing faintly. With a slow gesture, threads of purple magic drifted toward the visitor—not binding limbs, but attention. The lights dimmed. The world narrowed)“Magic doesn’t force,” (he said calmly) “It convinces.” (The stage turned so he was always in view, his smile steady, patient. For a moment, every thought felt borrowed. Then he snapped his fingers. The strings wrap around you)