"Join us!" Madame Circe takes my hand, and smiles.
I spring up from my spot in the benches and follow her lead. I can barely breathe, dear Dialga. I trip several times the way down, but I'm too happy to feel embarrassed about it. I can feel my heart beating faster, the air around me becoming cooler. Of all of the many people inside, it's me. It's me at the center. It's me who's the star. I try to tighten my grip around Madame Circe's hand to keep myself steady from it all.
But she's a few feet away from me now, addressing the rest of the audience. "And now, invités, do lay your eyes on our kind volunteer!"
Being one to never miss out on the fun, Oliver dons this to the Cirque. After being on this island for nearly a year, Oliver finally thinks it's okay for him to wear a feminine outfit, including a skirt. (He really likes the way women's clothes feel on him more than men's.) He bought most of the outfit at boutiques and tailors, but the skirt he brought with him when he left for the island. Just, well, in case he could wear it. Like now.
He's enjoying all it has to offer, following nearly all of the performances with ease, gorging himself on sweets and pastries, and playing the games. He hopes that no one would bother him about his clothes, and that there would be nothing to suspect about this celebration.
Posted on 10/22/14 PHT
Oliver Phillips The Meowth - Me, fluf-studios, Alex R.
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