Chapter Text
Flayon danced not for the crowd's amusement but to see if today would be the day he finally died.
Naked except for a pair of shorts and an iron mask shaped like a demon's head, his body was slathered in artful streaks of combustible powder. In his hands were two iron rods, oil-soaked fiery torch heads bedazzling the audience.
He danced on a knife's edge, and the audience knew it: would today be the day the Unlit Phoenix finally burst into flames, consumed by his own guilt and hubris?
Other members of the Cult of Rakdos entertained to see other people suffer, to cause chaos and wrest control from the Azorius, or even for the sake of art. Flayon danced as punishment for his sins.
As he swung one flaming torch up to the heavens, the fire singed a patch on his side but did not alight, the pain energizing him to spin faster and faster, trying to burn himself until there was nothing left.
His eyes crossed over to a spot high up in the stands, and he subconsciously slowed to take a longer look at Raden, his friend and an unusually laidback and cheery member of the fatalistic Golgari Swarm. To get a better view, she was leaning forwards, black and white hair falling on top of the person beneath her.
The thudding in his heart grew faster as his movements grew slower.
Does she know-
No, no, she couldn't. He'd never revealed his face- it let him face them.
If Raden knew that he was trying to harm himself, to kill- to see if he would die...
He wouldn't be able to face the inevitable disappointment in her eyes. Images sprang up in his mind: her breath hitching as she realized he was the scum she harvested, how her fingers would curl around the skirt of her lacy dress, the moment all desire for his company was annihilated.
A rock hitting his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.
"Dance, damn you!" Riona yelled.
Flayon flew into a frenzy, rolling one torch under his right leg as he moved quickly and quickly until all brainpower went to his wild dancing.
Eventually, the whistlestone in his helmet buzzed, telling him he needed to get out for Ollie and Chloe's performance. After he took a bow, he vaulted back to backstage, avoiding the whip Ollie was already lashing out.
Oh, crap.
Black clothes shoved on to cover his body, Flayon raced into the stands to find Raden.
When he had been performing, there hadn't been as many people in the upper seating, but now that the Spectacle of Blood was starting up, he had to push past angry spectaclegoers to get to his friend.
"Flayon!" Raden exclaimed, pleasant tone at odds with the screams beginning below. "Why-"
"You need to get of of here!" Flayon shouted over the clamoring crowd, grabbeing Raden by the arm. "It's not safe!"
"But I want to see-" Raden said, pulling back and grabbing his gloved wrist with her other hand, trying not to rip her fancy dress. Flayon stopped tugging at her touch, a yawning pit opening in his chest.
"Please, Raden!" Flayon yelled, clothes chafing against the burn on his side. "You could die!"
Raden nodded, unconcerned. Flayon groaned.
I forgot she's Golgari...
Out of the corner of his eye, Ollie throttled a man with her whip.
"If you die, you can't tell me about the performances!" Flayon yelled, and Raden practically shot out of her seat, dragging Flayon along as the two of them pushed their way out of the amphitheater and onto a calmer Ravnican street.