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hurry. I splayed my hands out as pale skin gave way to paler, milk-white cotton that wrapped my long fingers and tightened into notched cuffs at my wrists. A soft jingle sounded as the fake medallions on my regal waistcoat fluttered into being, suspended across gaudy gold brocade and burgundy velvet.
a wereclown transformation. 💀💀💀💀💀
I gasped, dismayed. “But why? I’ve only ever been kind to people, given them nice balloon sculptures, and smiled at their children. How could anyone hate clowns?”
Indeed! 😮
