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 Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 7:56 pm
I walked down to the ocean
After waking from a nightmare
No moon, no pale reflection
Black Mirror, Black Mirror
Shot by a security camera
You can't watch your own image
And also look yourself in the eye
Black Mirror, Black Mirror, Black Mirror
I know a time is coming
All words will lose their meaning
Please show me something that isn't mine
But mine is the only kind that I relate to
Le miroir casse
The mirror casts mon reflet partout
Black Mirror! Black Mirror! Black Mirror!
The black mirror knows no reflection
It knows not pride or vanity
It cares not about your dreams
It cares not for your pyramid schemes
Their names are never spoken
The curse is never broken
The curse is never broken
Un! Deux! Trois! Dis: Miroir Noir!
Black Mirror!
Un! Deux! Trois! Dis: Miroir Noir!
Black Mirror!
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Show me where their bombs will fall
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Show me where their bombs will fall
Black Mirror! Black Mirror! Black Mirror!
The Arcade Fire
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 7:57 pm
Currently: Under Construction ✦ Open ✦ Closed ✦ Accepting ✦ Full ✦ No Longer Accepting
Created by: Alykia, Kaiya Hytoshi, mezza--IX and Ra Ra Rumpleteaser
Moderated by: Ra Ra Rumpleteaser
IC Thread
Profile Thread
OOC Thread
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 7:59 pm
 You there, yes you!
Your stockings are wrinkled and do I detect the stench of unbrushed teeth? You're supposed to be a world class circus performer, not a hideous morning-after surprise. Get going! The show is about to start. And by God help me if I see your stocking slouching again. I'll have you on pack-up and mucking-out duty for longer than you can hold that fake smile plastered across your face.
Performers, really! You can't take your eyes off them.
Ahem. Where was I?
Ah yes, welcome to the Carnival of Mirrors. Be amazed at our Maze of Mirrors, quake in fear of our haunted Bus of Horrors and taste tantalising treats down Appetising Alley.
I should be telling you that the circus is surrounded by towering walls, which are painted in carnival themes and posters of our performers and stalls. As they pass through the giant doors they must make their way through the Hall of Mirrors before venturing onto the Common Grounds, where they will see the latest in roving performers. From there they may peruse our Appetising Alley or Games and Souvenirs Walkway. In the centre of the grounds is the Big Top, sided by the Sideshow Street where they may see our freaks, oddities and the Smaller Stage.
You didn't come to me for that, did you? You're far more important than a mere punter. Oh no, no no no. I'm going to tell you what really happens in the Carnival of Mirrors.
The truth is, I don't control the circus. The circus controls me. It talks to me through a mirror I hide in my van. It isn't a fancy mirror. Any old mirror would do but when I look upon my face, it speaks to me, it threatens me, it entices me to push my men and women beyond the barriers of reality. Together, we make the Carnival of Mirrors what it is.
I'm not a bad man, I'm just a man forced by situation to look like a bad man. I'm really quite the coward when it comes to the circus and its... persona. I only act angry because it makes them respect me, makes them think it's me urging them to perform. They cannot know the truth of the circus or how I'm bound to it. It must never be known.
Each and every one of us is bound to the circus for as long as my family has been in this business. The story goes that my Grandpappy, four generations skipped, died of leukaemia. It was horrid. The man fought with death for many months, sending orders to his son until finally, one day, he was met with Death. The man refused to sip from Death's cup, tricking the entity by binding himself to the circus. So long as the man is bound to the circus he cannot die. Instead, he grows in power with every new town, every performance and every new building acquired by us. He won't let us go, he won't let us be and for the most part, we don't want him to.
The circus is kind to us. It helps us hide our disfigurements. It makes us the best we can be. It gives us a place to belong, a family as it were. It finds us places to perform. It brings in money for food and gives us a roofs over our heads. Many of our members go happy and unaware that anything untoward is happening. They enjoy their time in the circus. The only time it gets mad is when we disobey its desires.
Then it gets cruel.
If any one of my crew or performers dare escape, refuse to perform or break the mirror through which it speaks to me it gets angry. Things start to happen to the culprit. They get injured, their powers revert on them, people revile them, fear stirs in their heart, something - anything - draws them back in supplication. Alas, the Carnival of Mirrors is a master of manipulation. It knows how to make the others blame me - and I let them.
I do not dare tell anyone but you my secrets. The performers don't know, the backstage crew don't know and the punters don't know. The new recruits don't even get that. They are not allowed to speak to my crew until they have agreed to join, then the circus takes control of their lives. Sure, they may go about their lives oblivious but it still ensnares them with it's greedy genius.
Sometimes I wonder - though I'd never tell - perhaps it's time for us all to leave the circus to meet Death once more.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 8:00 pm
 (aka, required arseholery)
If you don't like something, tell me and we'll fix it.
If you don't follow the rules you'll be removed.
Absolutely no flaming or bullying. Na ah, not even a little bit.
Don't create more characters than you can handle.
If you have to leave of any reason, post it on the OOC.ProfilesDo not change the profile code. It's there for a reason.
Keep Mary-Sues to a minimum. Other people have to put up with your character too.
PM your finished profile and reservation to me. When it is accepted you may post it to the Profile Thread.
No drastic changes.
Post what you have changed on the OOC.
By PMing me your profile you acknowledge that you have read the rules and will follow the ToS. All hail the ToS, Gaia's Bible of Bad News!PostingI don't really care if you swear so long as it's in character and within the Gaia ToS.
No cybering. Romance is cool so long as it doesn't choke the thread to death. If you must include something, timeskip or fade to grey. I do not want to see it. Got it?
No godmoding, autohitting, autoblocking or puppeteering.
It's up to your creative genius how fancy your post styles get but don't stretch the page.
Please post at least twice a week.
Don't leave people in post lock.LiteracyThis is a literate thread. Make sure your sentences and paragraphs are legible. I won't grill you but please make an effort. The same goes for length.
Please try to write at least two, well structured paragraphs.
Absolutely no one liners.I reserve the right to change the rules but I will notify everyone on the OOC if I do.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 8:01 pm
Reservation Code[imgleft](100x100)[/imgleft][color=white]XXX[/color][size=16](Position)[/size]
[size=11][color=white]XXX[/color](Character's name)
[color=white]XXX[/color](Character's age)
[color=white]XXX[/color](Five words to describe your character)
[color=white]XXX[/color]✦✦✦✦✦ (At least one posting colour)
[color=white]XXX[/color](Your username)[/size] Profile Code[align=center][img](Optional image of any style)[/img][/align]
[size=16][color=POSTING COLOUR](Full name)[/color] ✦ [color=POSTING COLOUR](Position)[/color][/size]
[size=9][color=POSTING COLOUR](Username)[/color][/size][/align]
[size=11][color=POSTING COLOUR]I have have the looks｡｡｡[/color]
(Optional physical description)[/size]
[size=11][color=POSTING COLOUR]I have have the credentials｡｡｡[/color]
(Biography)[/size]
[size=11][color=POSTING COLOUR]I have the attitude｡｡｡[/color]
(Personality)[/size]
[size=11][color=POSTING COLOUR]Watch me do my act｡｡｡[/color]
(Powers or act)[/size]
[align=center][size=9][color=POSTING COLOUR](Interesting fact/song lyrics/quote)[/color][/size][/align]
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 8:06 pm
 XXXRing MasterXXXCarlisle Thomas Hunt III
XXXThirty-seven
XXXRespectable, commanding, favouritism, sneering, patient
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXNPC XXXSilk DancerXXXGina Palinski
XXX27
XXXA tease, secretive, graceful, bold, intelligent
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXAlykia XXXMagicianXXXFiona Foolsfoot
XXXTwenty
XXXStubborn, distrustful, untrustworthy, tempestuous, uncouth
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXRa Ra Rumpleteaser XXXSnakemistress XXXEsme Fante
XXX?
XXXA graceful and mysterious woman
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXmezza -- IXXXX? XXX Philippe Fante
XXX16
XXXA good-hearted but clumsy kid
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXmezza -- IX XXXClown XXXZerah März
XXX37
XXXAnthroparion, bookish, stone, personable, disguised
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXAzekal Noxcis  XXXKnife ThrowerXXXSamara Knight
XXX...We'll say nineteen to sate your curiosity.
XXXA cold malicious killer. Not a soul matters to her.
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXKaiya Hytoshi XXXTricksterXXXRoxanne Elliano
XXXNineteen
XXXSneaky, Deceptive, Witty, Nimble, Facetious
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXBeau Cramoisi XXXExotic Dancer XXXAnastasia Christoph
XXXSeventeen
XXXOptimistic, Clueless, Sultry, Empathic, Possessive
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXiAri-xX XXXPan Handling TwinsXXXDrew & Drake
XXXEleven-and-a-half
XXXLoud-voiced, assertive, rough-and-tumble, rude, active
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXRa Ra Rumpleteaser XXXOddity Collector XXXAkito Mori
XXX28
XXXCheerful, obsessive, twisted, cryptic, suave
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXAlykia XXXLion Tamer XXXLeopold Sidorov
XXX18
XXXQuiet, Devoted, Steady, Calm, Determined
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXWalkinthevoid XXXPyrotechnician and Special Effects Guy XXX~ Felix ~ (Not the cat.)
XXXOld enough to handle explosives. Oh alright, I’m 20 but I don't see why you need to know.
XXXPyromaniac, irresponsible, dramatic, nimble, good humoured.
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXShadowintheDeep  XXXMimeXXXBenjamin Cullington
XXXNineteen
XXXEccentric, Questionable, Cheerful, Childish, Mute
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXIIx AcidicAddiction xII XXXIllusionistXXXJean-Claude Baptiste
XXXSixteen
XXXMystic, apprentice, stable, pale, spacey
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXXAzekal Noxcis XXXCharacter's TitleXXX(Character's name)
XXX(Character's age)
XXX(Five words to describe your character)
XXX✦✦✦✦✦
XXX(Username)Character suggestionsContortionist, Clowns, Fire eater, Juggler, Human cannonball, Illusionist, Conjurer, Beast tamer, Snake charmer, Brass band, Stilt walker, Sword eater, Daredevil, Magician, Mime, Jester, Bearded lady, Strong man, Fortune teller, Exotic dancer, Acrobat, Pantomime, Musician, Pan handler, Spruiker, Set-up crew, Cook, Scout, Poster hanger, Pyrotechnic artist, Trickster, Stall holder, Backstage crew, Assistant, Child, UsherAct suggestionsGerman wheel, Russian bar, Roman ladder, Equilibristics, Devil sticks, Power tumbling, Hooping, High wire, Plate spinning, Ribbon twirling, Fire hooping, Fire eating, Fire dancing, Flying trapeze, Spanish web, Tightrope, Aerobatics, Freak show, Knife throwing, Balancing ball, Rolling globe, Chapeaugraphy, Aerial silk, Equestrian, One man band, Commedia dell’arte
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 8:18 pm
 Month of YearEarly Winter ✦ Mid Winter ✦ Late Winter ✦ Early Spring ✦ Mid Spring ✦ Late Spring ✦ Early Summer ✦ Mid Summer ✦ Late Summer ✦ Early Autumn ✦ Mid Autumn ✦ Late AutumnDay of WeekFriday ✦ Saturday ✦ Sunday ✦ Monday ✦ Tuesday ✦ Wednesday ✦ ThursdayTime of DayEarly Sunlight Hours ✦ Mid Sunlight Hours ✦ Late Sunlight Hours ✦ Early Moonlight Hours ✦ Mid Moonlight Hours ✦ Late Moonlight HoursWeatherStill ✦ Breeze ✦ Wind ✦ Gale ✦ Freezing ✦ Cold ✦ Cool ✦ Warm ✦ Hot ✦ Clear ✦ Clouds ✦ Overcast ✦ Fog ✦ Sprinkle ✦ Rain ✦ Hail ✦ Thunder ✦ Light Snow ✦ Snow ✦ BlizzardCircus TimesThe Carnival is open on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights from dusk 'til midnight. They pack up on Monday, move on Tuesday and Wednesday, set up on Thursday and complete the final touches on Friday until dusk.Travel PlansTravel plans are not known until Saturday mornings, or Friday nights at the earliest. As such, the characters never know where they're going next. They can appeal to Carlisle though, who will appeal to the entity that controls the Circus.
Denver, USA ✦ Santos, Brazil ✦ Winchester, England ✦ Kharkiv, Ukraine ✦ Suggestions Open
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 8:20 pm
XXX✦XXXMon Mar 21, 2011 8:18 pmXXX✦XXXYou guys know the drill. I'm accepting profiles and the thread will open as soon as I've finished.XXX✦XXXWed Mar 23, 2011 8:42 amXXX✦XXXOh, yeah. The thread is open. Anyone who has posted their profiles may post.XXX✦XXXSun Mar 27, 2011 4:13 pmXXX✦XXXThe circus is stationed in Denver, USA. Gates will open soon. Next stop, Santos, Brazil. After that, Winchester, England.XXX✦XXXMon Apr 04, 2011 2:37 amXXX✦XXXThe circus is now open. Everyone to their stations!XXX✦XXXWed Aug 03, 2011 5:00 amXXX✦XXXEveryone is now free to move others' characters long enough to get out of post lock. This means everyone is now free to post. If you have any further questions, feel free to PM me or post in the OOC.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:23 pm
XXX✦XXXThe Lock of Hair
Wed Mar 23, 2011 9:08XXX✦XXXBon Mambo Esme has offered to enchant the object of her brother's affection, so that his unrequited love is returned. But first he has to bring her a lock of said object's hair.
XXX✦XXXPlot Title
Time and DateXXX✦XXXPlot bunnies go boing, boing, boing!
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:31 pm
 Act OneXXX✦XXXGina
Act TwoXXX✦XXXFiona
Act ThreeXXX✦XXXLeopold
Intermission
Act FourXXX✦XXXDemon and Zerah
Act FiveXXX✦XXXAnastasia
Act SixXXX✦XXXFelix
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2011 9:33 pm
 
September 2010: Esme and Philippe joined the circus
2009: Anastasia became a dancer
2009: Jean-Claude became an apprentice
August 2008: The previous lion tamer died
2008: Cookie joined the circus
September 2007: Jean-Claude joined the circus
2007: Demon joined the circus
2007: Anastasia joined the circus
December 2006: Johnathan died
2006: Rook sought out Jean-Claude
September 2005: Drew and Drake joined the circus
2004: Silphia died
June 2002: Fiona became the magician
June 2002: Fiona disowned Johnitheen
May 2002: Felya died
September 1999: Drew and Drake were born
1996: Gina joined the circus
November 1995: Johnathan was born
20 April 1995: Jean-Claude was born
1995: Philippe was born
1994: Gina got an adoptive brother
1994: Anastasia was born
1993: Leopold was born
1992: Demon was born
1992: Cookie was born
1991: Felix was born
January 1991: Fiona was born
1990: Calim was born
1988: Akito ventured away from the circus
1984: Gina was born
1983: Akito was born
1982: Felya joined the circus
1974: Carlisle was born
1974: Zerah was created
1965: Felya was born
1687: Samara became a Woman of the Blade
1687: Samara's parents died
1671: Samara was born
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 7:54 am
------------------------------------------- The Fante Siblings
This is a story of equal parts adventure, mystery, suspense and desire. It is a story of shades most wicked; of romance most dire; of the spinning kaleidoscope of magic that is, regardless of age or creed, wholly and completely, the circus.
It starts, naturally, with Philippe tripping over a bucket.
(You’d be surprised at the number of stories that start this way.)
Philippe Fante is the kind of boy who seems to consist mainly of elbows and shins. His skin is the colour of stale coffee, his hair is coarse and black, and he is, at the moment, swearing and clutching his foot.
He sounds a little like this: “Gd-fckn-gh-ng!”
Philippe has an older sister, that’s her in the corner there. She is the Snakemistress, in charge of the seething displays of horror seen on the side stage for the price of a single ticket. Clearly she has picked up a few habits from her cold-blooded friends (or perhaps -and this is much more interesting to consider- they have learned from her). See the way she unfolds from her task, straightening in a single fluid movement and turning to look at her brother with a critical eye. There is even something vaguely serpentine about her face, the way her nose is thin and small, the way her cheekbones are slanted. Her hair fans out around her long neck before being wound expertly into a low braid. Her name is Bon Mambo Esme.
Esme says, “Philippe, stop fooling around.”
Philippe, nursing his toes, gives her an injured look.
The history of the Fante siblings is long and strange. It is a tale of the humid, deep-jungle smells of Africa, the wild and hazy rivers that drove men mad and lent Conrad his fame; it is a tale crossing the Atlantic to the muddy coasts of Haiti, to silky enchantments and voudou and things which one dares not speak of in the Christian light of day. It has the luxuriant decadence of the cellars of Paris, with their lush dark velvets and their heady perfumes. It is a tale told over bones, of curious fortune and strange and sultry magics. It falls like smoke over the threads of time and gives the lwa a moment's pause as they weave out an existence for the world.
Esme Fante has floated gracefully through this history, with an air of indifference and allure wrapped around her like so many silk scarves. Her brother, for the most part, has stumbled along behind her.
Esme says, “You’ll wake Sima.”
Philippe considers Sima, who is nine feet long, speckled, and draped haphazardly over Esme’s dresser. Philippe wasn’t even aware that the boa was asleep. He makes a face and looks down at the overturned bucket at his feet. Some of its contents have spilled onto the floor. They are staring at him reproachfully.
“Dead mice,” he says. “Why is it always dead mice?”
“We’re out of dead chickens,” Esme’s bracelets clink together as she bends and selects a particularly watery mouse that lies prone on the threadbare rug. The air of their tent is thick with incense, the smell of cloves mixed with sandalwood and something else, which smells similar to the way a garnet looks. Esme has draped heavy cloth and black lace across the tentpoles. The area inside feels cramped and warm. With a mouse dangling between her fingers, she crosses the rug and kneels before a large wicker basket. Something inside is writhing, and raises a sleepy head as she holds out its meal.
One by one Philippe picks up the other scattered mice and puts them back in the bucket. You would think, after all this time with his sister, that he would be used to the sight of dead things. It is a slightly embarrassing fact that he is still quite squeamish about rodents and blood and all that unsavoury business. The mice make little squelching noises as he drops them back in the bucket, like tentacles suctioning onto glass.
“You don’t suppose we could ever work in a bakery, do you?” He says as he wipes his hands thoroughly on his trouser legs. “Bakeries are nice. Nothing slimy or slithery or, you know,” he peers at the bucket dubiously, “Bloated.”
Esme’s bracelets clink again as she leans over the basket. She makes a little clicking noise with her tongue and strokes the snake gently. It bobs its small head at her; there is now a mouse-sized lump in its throat.
“Maybe a flower shop?” Philippe suggests, “Flower shops are nice.”
“Mmm.” This is the noise his sister makes when she isn’t really listening. He sighs.
“Esme?”
“Oui, mon cadet?”
He shifts on his feet and almost knocks the bucket over again. “C-can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Just, hypothetically speaking... say there was bo--a young man. And he, well, say there was this... this girl that he... um, well...”
She turns to look at him. “There is a girl you love?”
“Wha--n-- I mean, love is a pretty strong word...”
Esme nods. “Bring me a lock of her hair, I will make voudon for you. She will be in love with you before the sun rises.”
“Bef--no! No, it’s not like that...” Philippe can feel his cheeks flushing as he stumbles over himself, “I just... want to get to know... I just don’t know how to talk to....”
Esme rises in a swish of fabric. “You desire her, yes?”
Sullen and embarrassed, Philippe nods.
“And you wish her to desire you?”
He hesitates, and nods again.
“Ben, bring me her hair,” Esme’s head tilts to one side, as if using voudou magic is the logical solution and her brother is simply slow. She turns back to the basket and adds airily, “I will pray to Erzulie, and this girl’s blood will burn for you.”
“Yes, but-- I mean, do we have to, to put her under a spell and all that?” Philippe shifts awkwardly. His gaze falls on the small card table in the room, with the white silk tablecloth and the bowl filled with flour. It is Bon Mambo Esme’s offering to Danbala Wedo, one of the lwa which she worships. A small green snake has curled up in the flour.
“You would prefer to give her a draught?” Esme looks over her shoulder at him thoughtfully. “I can ask the tamer for some of the cat’s blood, but I do not have any more essence of lavande.”
“I meant... oh, nevermind.”
In a movement that could only be described as slinky, Esme shrugs. Philippe sighs again, lifts the flap of their tent and heads outside.
Esme’s life has been knit with a string of wild and intense affairs; she has a face that inspires love of Hellenic proportions. It was silly of him to assume she’d understand the concept of ‘like-liking’ someone. Explaining his feelings to her, he reflects sourly, is like trying to explain saltines to a gourmet cook.
Philippe had long ago abandoned any pretense that his life was ‘normal.’ Barring the fact that he worked at a circus, had never attended school, looked like a sentient broomstick (and was about half as coordinated), and was raised by a sister who kept poisonous pets and ritually cursed people she didn’t like, he was just... well, different. It was something he’d known for a while. Ever since he hit his teens he’d sensed that he stuck out in a crowd. It wasn’t a height thing-- he was tall, but not that tall. It felt more like he was an extra thumb, of course nobody says anything about extra thumbs but they all notice what doesn’t belong, and then they talk about it behind your back. People always seemed to be talking about him; he got anxious whenever he heard the other circus workers conversing in low voices. He didn’t doubt that it all had something to do with the fact that he goofed up so often and his knees were so knobbly and his ears were so big. And it probably didn’t help, he imagined, that his social skills were somewhere between awkward and catastrophic. And girls made him feel stupid. The worst of it was that nobody really understood. Especially not Esme.
For some odd reason, Philippe is convinced these symptoms make him abnormal. They are in fact part of a larger disease known as Adolescence, which is a rather serious epidemic and affects a large majority of the human population. There is no known cure--this is rather unfortunate and a lot of scientists and apothecaries have tried to do something about it, but most of the time they end up making things worse. Thankfully, the disease is not lethal, and usually goes away with time.
On the other hand -and the reader is free to consider this as the scene pans out to reveal a patchwork of tents and stalls dotted across a wide field, thin trails of smoke winding up between colourful banners and the odd sparkle of magic- on the other hand, not many adolescents live in a world like this.
------------------------------------------- Snake Charmer's Tent // Sideshow Alley
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Posted: Thu Mar 24, 2011 6:42 am
[ M i s s ◆ F i o n a ◆ F o o l s f o o t ] Fiona lay dead.
The magician's eyes open, blinked twice and looked up at the bright, swirling colours that made up the roof of the circus tent in the Carnival of Mirrors. She could see stars flickering in and out of her vision. That was not good. She tried for one experimental breath. Nothing broken. That was good. She tried to move her head. It hurt but not enough to mean any severe damage. That was good too, considering what she'd just been doing.
Fiona slowly pushed herself from the floor and glared at the people gawking at her. Looking their way, she spat at the ground, still glaring until they cast their eyes away. Don't those lackwits have anything better to do? she thought, scowling at them. If I wasn't already sore I'd be kicking their arses from here to the stink holes they call their tents. Fiona never got on with the backstage crew, or the performing crew, the stall holders' crew or even the sideshow crew. In fact, there were few people she did get along with.
Once standing, Fiona straightened her back and pretended she was imagining the pain in her back. She stretched out her body as gently as she could and rolled her shoulder slowly until the pain subsided. It was embarrassing enough that she'd fallen from the high-wire. She didn't want anyone to think they could take advantage of any weakness she may or may not have had too.
She stopped. Someone was snickering.
'Oh, ye think tis funny ye? Ye like seein' others in pain? Well, I der te.'
The culprit's face fell and she glanced at the others for help. It was too late, they were already backing away. A small Meep! was all that was heard before the woman was doubled over on the ground, clutching her stomach.
'Ye seem te 'ave fallen o'er. Would ye like me te 'elp ye up?' Fiona sneered, spinning a four foot long rod in her hand. The woman shook her head, her eyes still clenched tight with pain.
'I dinnae think so.'
Fiona turned from the woman and strode off. Behind her she could hear the other backstagers hurrying over to help the now sobbing woman. She was telling them how badly the wicked magician had hurt her and how Fiona's black rod had hit her in the belly. She even went as far as to ask if there was any internal injuries.
Fiona rolled her eyes. Drama Queen. That woman deserves an act for her performance.
She could have stayed to try her stunt again but there was something much more important she had to do. She had to see Carlisle. She had just the ammunition she needed for another strike.
She could have sworn she was given her new act on purpose. With the way Carlisle used some sort of heebie jeebie magic on her Idiocy. Of course she was going to have to practice if she was going to use the high wire. Of course she was going to fall off the high wire if it was going to turn into tinsel and snap on her. Of course she was going to get injured when she hit the ground. Fiona may not have broken anything but she'd have some damned black bruises for the next week. Aaah, and of course she would now refuse to do it again.
Fiona stood in front of Carlisle's door, took a deep breath and bashed the door hard enough to break one of the panels of wood.
'Carry! Get yer pansy arse out 'ere, ye slytherin' snake!'
Nothing.
Fiona bashed the broken panel again.
'If ye ain't comin' out 'ere I'll break me way in!'
Still nothing.
Scowling, Fiona used the end of her rod to smash a hole in what was left of the panel. As soon as she put her hand in the hole it zapped her. She hissed. White sparks moved up her arm and through her hair, giving her the blonde equivalent to an afro. She shook her head to try to rid herself of the stinging sensation between her ears but all she got for her troubles was a twinge of pain in her neck. She'd have to be careful how she moved after being knocked out.
With her hand still in the hole, Fiona felt around until she found the lock. She unlatched it, pulled out her stinging hand and massaged it until the pain left. She couldn't tell if it was a booby trap or her magic that had caused the shock. In any case, Carlisle wouldn't have ignored her though that. However...
The temptation was strong in this one. She wanted to go in and blast his walls with paint balloons, glue and feathers. She could completely redecorate the place, or maybe she could steal a book. That would be nice. She never had a chance to get out into the towns they visited so the woman was low on reading supplies. He'd never know. She could just say she'd smashed his door in anger, which was true. She needn't ever mention the book.
A few minutes later Fiona Foolsfoot could be found on top of the Bus of Horrors. She was reading." This used to be a Funhouse,
but now it's full of evil clowns... "
It's time to start the countdown.
-------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------★I'm gonna вυяи it down, down, down..."
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Posted: Thu Mar 24, 2011 3:20 pm
  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ xxxxxxx
xxxxxxx
The powerful wizard raised his magic wand in defense as the great dragon ambled forward. He stood steadfast as the creature let out a menacing growl and addressed him with a deep, booming voice, "You could not slay me, human! I have lived ages, using foes more powerful than you as toothpicks!"
The wise old wizard, defiant against the dragon's words, eloquently replied, "Nuh uh!"
Demon couldn't help but smile behind her mask. The little boy in front of her giggled as she once again adopted the deep, growling voice of the dragon, "You are not lacking in bravery, human! However, I am still many times more powerful than you, and you will make a fine snack!"
She let out another growl, and the boy squealed in delight as she chased him in a circle. Still with a grin on his face, the boy then turned and pointed the stick in his hand at her, "No, I'll- Uh.. Turn you into a duck!"
Demon froze in a silly pose, before letting out a quack. The boy burst into another fit of laughter, while the masked girl in front of him imitated the walk of a duck. Someone then called his name, and he gave Demon a small wave before taking off in the direction of the voice. The young woman lifted the mask from her painted face, giving the boy a wave in return.
With the little boy now gone, she could feel her smile beginning to falter. There was really only one way to solve that problem- and chances were the other performers wouldn't be as thrilled as she now was. She shifted the mask once more, concealing her features as she took off with a cartwheel and a flip, the bells on her hat jingling excitedly as she set off in search of her next victim.
She soon found him, too. How she now remained hidden behind the stacked crates with sunlight glinting off of her porcelain "face" was a mystery. However, the dark skinned boy exiting his tent seemed for now unaware of her presence, and she suppressed a smile as she once again mimicked the growl of some dangerous creature, this time louder and many times more vicious.
Some others might have thought it cruel to try and frighten the young man, but if he had any sense of humor he'd simply laugh the fear away after Demon had her fun.
With a wide grin hidden by the mask on her face, she let out a sharp animal cry, which would have startled anyone, let alone Philippe.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
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Posted: Thu Mar 24, 2011 8:18 pm
------------------------------------------- Philippe Fante
And startled he was. Anyone who had ever seen a giraffe jump a foot in the air after being spooked would have have a pretty apt description for his reaction. The teen let out a strangled noise and of course, being Philippe, he also stumbled backwards into the tower of birdcages next to Esme's tent.
What happened next was either depressing, hilarious, or both. Philippe landed in a rather undignified position on his rear, his eyes wide with fear and bewilderment. A sudden chorus of flapping made him look up. The uppermost cages in the tower were wobbling dangerously.
"Oh no. Ohn-- no, no!"
Philippe managed to grab the second cage before it toppled over, but the topmost one evaded his outstretched arm. It hit the ground with a resounding clatter and the bamboo clasp broke. As if the noise was part of a magic trick-- five snow-white doves suddenly fluttered into the air.
"!!!" Philippe cried. Flustered, he scrambled forward and miraculously managed to catch one of the doves mid-flight. This would have been extremely impressive, except that then he turned around and brandished the dove at the stack of crates behind him.
"Who's--who's there?!" he cried. "Fiona, is that you? C-cut it out, or else!"
------------------------------------------- // Sideshow Alley
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