It starts as hunger.
A steadily building desire.
A needy creature residing not in the stomach but in the heart.
He can’t be alone.
All of his tricks–his speeches and illusions–they only work if there’s an audience. He draws them in close, keeps their attention on him. Eyes and ears and minds on him.
Hearts outstretched until he sinks his teeth in them.
Next is conflict.
The spark catching flame.
Growing and roaring and burning everything it touches.
High Priestess. Guardian of Mysteries.
The stars near to attainable, but scorching. Some tricks are better at a distance.
Cages and chains and timers, mirrors and wires and bright blinding light. Trappings for the oldest struggle in the world: humans versus danger. None of it works without her
Her best prop has always been herself.
Then comes decay.
A gradual descent.
Skin crawling and eyes closing and a creeping sense of unease.
Hermit. Introspection. Isolation.
He’s always been the most patient.
Never needed anything but himself.
Words and glances and the occasional finger snaps. Listen carefully, set them up, wait for the trigger, and watch them fall.
Revenge and gratification all the sweeter for a delay.
Last is the end.
Or perhaps the beginning.
Slate wiped clean and ready for new marks.
Nothing is as it seems.
A/N: I watched Now You See Me to watch Now You See Me: The Second Act in theaters so, I dunno, some Horsemen thoughts.