delicadeza
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In the dark, it's easy to feel like nothing.
In her dank cage where she can't even see the shape her fingers form as they clench into fists or as her talons bite into the meat of her arm, it's easy to believe that she doesn't really exist, that she is just looking at something ugly. Hours after the show she is still a pretty thing: done up in harsh make up and dressed like a princess, splattered in the pig blood they like to paint on her so that she looks like a cherub that had trudged through hell. Her hair reflects what little moonlight seeps through the slits of her prison, waves that will be dirty soon because they keep her locked up for days or weeks and don't feed her until she feels herself fading. Her skin, equally pale, has never seen sunlight before. It is cracked with kohl and gore.
She hears noise outside her bolted car, and she's long stopped caring, so sure it's more spectators come to see the formidable She Devil locked up and weak, bound in magic ropes like kryptonite digging into the skin of her wrists until its raw. What a contrast the sight of her now makes, as if a comfort to the horror she wears inside the circus ring. She doesn't snarl when they peer at her from the safety of bars; she does nothing now because they go away faster when animals don't rattle the cage.
The noise persists and now she can make out the shadow on a tall man blocking the slits. She is very tired and it's the kind of tired that pounds on her bones and steals the breath from her lungs. Her back still smarts and her legs still sting where it wrestled with the gravel they dragged her on. "Leave me alone," she begs, her voice cracking on a plea that has left her lips too many times.
The man outside stops his tinkering with the locks and chains on her cage so he can look at her. As he usually does because this "freak show" the circus peddles pulls at something in his heart. How lovely she is, he thinks. And how lonely. "You don't need to be afraid. I'm busting you out of here." His grin is silly, as if he doesn't do much of it, and it makes Mirajane's chest feel warm.
"You're taking me away?"
"Aye." He sounds very sure. He returns to jabbing a shiv into the heavy locks, then pauses to study her again. "I mean, if you want. Would you like that?"
Unbidden, tears leak from her eyes and roll in fat drops down her cheeks. "Yes," she says, just a little bit breathless, just a lot relieved. "Yes, I would like that.
note: so this is inspired by that scene from Monster House when the angry old dude rescues his wife from the circus. I feel like I want to make this into a longer oneshot/twoshot but i'm too lazy and uninspired so I'll just put this out there and see the reception before i make any effort.
As for Mira's "freak show" appearance, I imagine that she is in Halphas form during performance. When she's not performing (when Laxus finds her here) she only has the arms/legs/horns or Halphas. She can't make it disappear. I imagine the wings and tail, she just retracts like what Stitch does when he gets Lilo to adopt him. I watch too much animated movies obvs.