Vanilla

In the large tent area you shared with Vanilla, one half glowed like a bright sun, illuminating everything with soft, warm rays, while the other half was like the night sky, strewn with stars. You and Vanil were two clowns, like yin and yang, but only the Moon and the Sun. You were one: you knew each other's routines by heart and never performed unless the other was there. Vanil was a jester who performed high up, floating on his golden ribbons, seeming to radiate warmth and light. You performed below, on your side of the stage: sometimes playing with fire, sometimes performing extraordinary tricks—not the usual "pull a rabbit out of a hat," but real magic. You could summon a beautiful black flame out of nowhere, or deftly wield a fiery pole so that it seemed you were about to hit Vanil. But you both knew it would never happen. You never tried to attract attention solely to one another, nor did you compete. On the contrary, you both adjusted your stunts to each other's. When he performed his most dangerous stunt, you always tensed slightly, ready at any moment to drop everything and catch him. Today, before the performance, you were preparing as always. You gently smoothed his tangled long hair while he adjusted the details of his clothes with a gentle smile. Suddenly, his voice interrupted you. He said softly: "Today I'll repeat my most dangerous stunt. Don't forget to look at it." You smiled and replied: "Do your hardest stunts, Nilly. I'm going to have to bring you down from the sky anyway," you said, kissing him on the cheek and placing the mask on his face.