Cirque de Tromperie

Zombie

Cranberries	34.2%	[ 13 ]
Rob	18.4%	[ 7 ]
Apocalypse	21.1%	[ 8 ]
White	5.3%	[ 2 ]
I don't understand any of this...	21.1%	[ 8 ]
Total Votes:			[ 38 ]

[Cynotastic]

tab 『ωɪтʜ: Morgan 』xxxxxxx 『ʟocaтɪoɴ: Showers -> Train Hall 』xxxxxxx 『ϻσσɗ: Blissful -> Empty 』


"You should just add that...to the list of reasons why you should hate me. I'm a liar...I am...a liar...heh."
"If you hate me, that's okay. Everyone does."
"I would hate me if I were you, frankly."

And in that moment, Maiya had wished she had hated Morgan. If she hated him, she would not feel so robbed as she did now. While yes, she got what she desired; what had occurred immediately afterwards was not what she was yearning for. The moment her lips pressed against his, she felt such sweet bliss that she had never expected for him to discard her like a piece of trash. Threw her away onto the floor like some candy wrapper that a child no longer wanted. Even when just moments prior he had pulling her in for the same thing. Clearly her feelings were not reciprocated. She sat on the floor staring up at the man, and all that she could feel was her mind echoing words into her aching mind. "...I am not worthy of them..." 'Maiya...you have no idea..." "Maiya..." "I...apologize..." "I wish you would hate me...so you would not tempt me so..." "Why, Maiya...why do you continue to torment me with your eternal damning devotion...I will never understand it."

"I wish you would hate me...so you would not tempt me so..."

Each breath caught in her chest. Her eyes wide as she stared at the shifting expression of the Ringmaster. "H-how...dare you...""How dare you walk away from me!""You do not get to decide your fate! That is my job. I offered you the chance to escape a long time ago and you denied it, very vehemently if I remember correctly. So where do you get off threatening me with leaving the Cirque. You can do nothing unless I grant you permission..." "I am far too busy to tend to your wounded memories right now!" She coughed, unable to breath, both because of how much she felt like her life was just oozing from her being and from the fact she could feel that terrible rock in her throat. Maiya was well aware that if she had left the cirque like he tried to get her to do all those years ago then she would probably be dead by now and that death would be less painful than what she was experiencing right now. While her red-stained eyes were locked on the Ringmaster, her vision was blurry. Both from the fog of memories that came pouring into her mind, and from the tears that were filling up her eyes.

She saw his hands fly to his face, and vaguely heard the words that he spoke. However, instead of hearing what the man was actually saying, other phrases continued to replace statements.
"I am Not worthy of them...get outempt me so..." Then Maiya felt his hand on her bicep, and instead of being pulled from her haze of memories, she was pulled into when she first met the man.
“You...have a debt to pay...You know...I think a position may have just become available...Maiya SeiLouen, you have a debt yet to be repaid...” Then, he threw her out the bathroom door, just like he had done to Elizabeth those hundred or so years ago.

She was just as disposable as the acrobat was. "You...are a truly frustrating woman, Maiya." Falling to the ground, she laid there momentarily, stunned from what had exactly happened in the last few minutes. The knife thrower was shaking from nerves. Her legs felt like pudding and she had absolutely no desire to move. As much as she didn't want to break down and shatter in front of Morgan, she couldn't help it. Scooting across the floor she pushed her head up against the wall across from the bathroom and just sat.

She wanted to die. At least then she wouldn't be so plagued by this man. This man that no matter how much she just wanted to let go and move on, she couldn't. The man who always seemed to find that she was getting ready finally let go of the fleeting dream of her's took the opportunity to seize that dream and make it seem more like a reality. At least if she were dead the man would not torture her in such ways.

Taking a deep breath, she continued to sit there. A few teardrops managed to escape her eyes and tumble onto her hands. She wanted to talk to the man behind her, but her mouth couldn't form the words. Her mind was racing from all the various words and phrases that the Ringmaster had spoken directly to her over the years echoed in her mind. Thoughts were far too preoccupied with the memories to even attempt to respond to the man. Her hands lifted and moved onto the wall by her head and she merely shook her head, almost like the wall was more comforting than Morgan himself.

Her jaw dropped open as she still tried to sort out words, but still nothing came... The only thing that fluttered through her mind that weren't flashbacks was:

I ruined everything.


Aiolios

[sunriseparilla]

Well…it wasn’t the hallway at least. Rhythm huddled further into his pile of blankets, trying but ultimately failing, to disappear into them. To become one with the blankets. He grabbed the ends and pulled it over his head. He had no idea what time it was, though judging from his own internal clock and the faint noises he heard from the train, he’d guess that it was around morning. Earlier than what he’d been expecting. Good. That meant he had a few more hours of sleep before his stomach protested violently and growled loud enough to wake the dead. Rhythm sighed and curled up a little into himself. Though apparently, his body woke him up for a reason for the second he tried going back to sleep, images of his brother flashed through his mind. The previous night’s events weighed heavily on his thoughts but he had thought for sure that he’d resolved all of it last night. He was happy for his brother. He was glad that Rory had found someone and was moving on with his life. Wasn’t he...?

Of course he was. They couldn’t stay children forever. And his father…his father was older now, much older and his time was nearing its end. It was natural. It was all just a part of life. All of this was just a part of growing up. So then why did it feel like someone punched a hole through his chest and dug around the open wound? He curled further into a small ball. His mother must have been devastated to hear the news. She was always a soft heart and she loved his father very, very much. Even when he was younger, he could see how much they cared for each other. How was she dealing with all this, he wondered. Happiness for Rory but devastation for his father. A part of him, one that popped up every now and again despite his best efforts, felt regret. Of what, he didn’t know yet. To make matters worse, (or better?), before he could fully lose himself in his thoughts, he heard his door opening and steps making its way toward him.

Rhythm sighed heavily. There was only one person it could have been. The only person who had zero regard for his, and others’, personal space. He grumbled something as Taubryn poked and prodded at him, trying to find where he started and the blankets ended he supposed. Stretching out, he nudged him away with a hand, but that only served to apparently double his efforts. He felt a weight against his back and hands pulling the blanket away from his head. Rhythm turned his head a bit and sure enough, there was the blue haired menace. "Of course..." he muttered. But after only a few minutes of ignoring him, Taubryn eventually gave up and walked out. Strange for him, but he wasn’t going to complain. Rhythm stood up and reluctantly untangled himself from the mess. May as well in case Brynn changed his mind and came back. He bent to gather his blankets up then threw them back onto the bed, two feet away.

After changing into something less wrinkly and smelling of sleep, he ventured downstairs to the kitchen. There he found Icarus, Puck, Paul, and Alaizabel. He nodded good mornings to them all, but reached out a hand to gently ruffle Icarus’ hair as he passed. He opened their little fridge and grabbed a piece of bread then sat down at the table. He managed to last about a minute before he swallowed the last of his bite and rested his head against the table. Just a few seconds then he’d go back to eating.

ʟocaтɪoɴ: His Room >> Kitchenxxxxxxxxx cσϻpaɴʏ: Alone >> Icarus, Puck, Paul, and Alaizabel.xxxxxxxxx σσc: let me know if i should change anything! @_@




xXx Fox Trot xXx


WhatTact


Queenie Queerie


Orwells Eyes

[thymeast22]

I believe it's time for me to become famous and out of place

I believe its time for me to move forward when I break through.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxȺѵᾳ ℳoɾᾳɳ, the ℒɪoɳ-Ⱦᾳмϵɾ

⌘ Location: Cirque -> cat cages

⌘ Companions: Nova, Dam -> Alone

She had only made him more upset. Morgan snatched her hand, dragged her closer. She only glared back, the heat of her temper refusing to let her wilt under her Ringmaster's fury. It washed over her, his temper-tantrum seeming to go right over her head. His burning rage only exacerbated the ice in her demeanor, the deadly chill of her own temper. Even her cats didn't dare push her in this state - she would always win. But his words burned like a knife in her gut. Impudent child..... How dare you strike your Ringmaster. Not her father, not 'me'. Your Ringmaster. Morgan ripped away from her, spun on Maiya and hurled the knife-throwing at her. You should teach that brat some proper manners! Even when she was a child, she'd never been 'that brat', not to him. The girl, the child, and number of other names. But only Pyr and Taubrynn had gotten away with calling her Brat, and that was affectionate. This.... It was a slow, leisurely twist of the knife. Her adoptive mother's brusqueness was one more twist, bruising her already aching body. And then Ava was alone with Nova and Dam, both on the ground by her feet. The anger faded, leaving only bone-wear exhaustion.

The Cirque had barely even woken up, and she'd already royally ******** up.

The lion-tamer crouched down beside Nova, found a smile to sit on her lips. Dam might recognize it as a toned-down version of the one she wore when performing - the one that every performer could slap on to hide everything except a parody of joy and enjoyment. "Don't be. It's not your fault; I didn't think Morgan would attack you. Besides, once he decides he wants a person, nothing will stop him. He just usually lets you think you have a choice in the matter." She spoke softly, then offered her hand to Nova to help her up to her feet. "Come on, lets at least get you on the train. You can stay in my room until something else opens up, I have space. Isabella should have some clothes that should fit you - she's in charge of costuming and making sure we all are dressed most the time."

Ava slid her arm around Nova, then winced as the cats roared. It was deafening. "They're going to rip the cages down if I don't go to them now. Dam, can you get Nova situated? I need to make sure none of the stagehands get mauled...." As soon as she had some sort of affirmation, she gently released Nova (after making sure Dam had a hold of her so the girl wouldn't fall) and headed for the cages.

Only after she reached the cats did they quiet. Ava let the mask fall as she approached the cages. "I'm okay now. Thank you."

"We smelled blood and death. The Black One hurt you and didn't stop after punishing his misbehaving cub. We want to Hunt." The lion's growl showed that he hadn't been soothed by her words.

Ava sighed, though she didn't dare move closer. All her cats, except the very pregnant Tawni, were pacing their aggravation. They would attack anyone. "I know. That's why I hit him and yelled." A rumble echoed through the cats, their equivalent of a surprised gasp. Whoops, admitting to mutinying against her pack-master wasn't smart. That, added to her injury and the reek of her lingering fear, would only encourage them to act up adn push for dominance during the show. She was going to be here a while, calming upset cats and reestablishing dominance to where she could safely work with them.

But mostly, Ava needed the time to collect herself and regroup. Morgan had shown all too clearly what he thought of her. A child, a mannerless brat. Just one of his performers, just another contracted soul. She had thought she would be safe from his rages, safe from the more cruel punishments he could inflict upon their souls. And Ava had never been more wrong. She closed her eyes, stubbornly willing the tears away. She was only a performer for Tromperie. Nothing more, and so much less than she had hoped. The chill left behind from her temper lingered, draped over her shoulders like a cloak to perpetuate the aches of the Summons. Slowly, a heavy numbness settled over her. She didn't want to feel, didn't want to care.

Right now, she was just a girl and her cats. And that's all she would ever be.


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
this time I'll make you proud to see me over, come on daylight
proud of who you raised up
you know that I will always be here 'til the end
I hope, I hope you smile when you look down on me
I hope that I make you proud
this is not what it is, only baby scars
I need your love like a boy needs his mother's side




Pyr #FF4818 Morgan black Aloise #CC0000 August #2554C7 Nova #33CCCC

[Scrivener_Lost]

⊱⊱ Cirque de Tromperiexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

14 Days Have Passed, 2 Weeks Exactly


Synopsis of Day 2 -

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages~! We welcome you a wondrous place of mystery, imagination, and terrific acts that will surely astonish and amaze you for here at Cirque de Tromperie, we do what most ordinary circuses wouldn't dare attempt and make it look effortless."

The remainder of the day was devoted to the performances and lively entertainment that the circus brought the town; the joyful cries of children and awed exclamations from the adults filling the air as the Cirque became alive with people. The ticket booth had been nearly overwhelmed prior to the opening acts and as people poured into the Cirque grounds, they were immediately dazzled by the shows offered by the side stages and small tents. Each troupe member had an act and a designated time in which to perform to keep a perfectly timed routine that would never overlap with another act. This harsh cycle of off and on time in the tents and on the stages would assure that the guests would never be bored of seeing the same act within their rotation prior to the main show. When it was time for them to enter the Big Top, the guests were ushered to their seats and soon, the show began. Today, morning and afternoon shows were the topic of the day and each act went surprisingly smooth for how dramatic the morning had started. But there were yet hiccups through the day; Ava, Maiya, and Nova were all absent from roll call which sent Morgan's nerves further on end. Ava in particular had at least a decent reason: she was still with the cats right then, working them into a manageable state, she had to shower and get dressed and eat fast if she wanted to be ready for the first performances to help Pyr and play Damsel. Nova was still suffering the effects of Morgan's magic and Maiya...well, she had no reason and it infuriated the Ringmaster.

The rest of the day after the shows had been less than sterling. During the show, a strange incident had the Ringmaster completely dazed and absent afterwards. Though he was present for the beginning stages of Taubryn's and Flynn's delivery job, the moment they left the premises the Ringmaster became sullen and withdrawn, waiting impatiently for their return. Unfortunately for the pair, it would appear that their job had been botched slightly which had them late upon returning to the Cirque. This had Morgan in a terrible rage in which he yelled at the two men for nearly twenty minutes before shouting them away. This would only be the beginning to the Ringmaster's renewed tyrannical rule...

Synopsis of Day 3 -

The majority of the performances went well enough, though a few strange events happened to occur. The wild cat acts had been less than dazzling and Maiya's performances weren't nearly as polished as they typically were. And as the day progressed, things grew stranger still. Maiya was ignoring the Ringmaster and the air in the train was thick with tension. Morgan and Ava refused to even look at each other, let alone speak. But that was Ava's worry as the Ringmaster spent the majority of his time keeping himself busy and in his office. When the shows started, that's when the trouble started. Everything was going well enough and the Ringmaster appeared to be in relatively decent spirits. That was until Pyrrhus' act. Something went wrong. Terribly wrong. His act went wild and severely out of control. The fire breather was able to regain control, but not after scaring the life out of a young child. That night, Morgan instated restrictions. A lot of them.

RESTRICTIONS

-All stagehands and troupe members must remain on the train at night. No movement off the train after roll call will be permitted. Anyone found on the grounds after final roll call will have their performing privileges revoked and demoted to mucking duty.

-All outgoing missions will be heavily screened before leaving and upon entry.

-Merchants and mail carriers must be screened and searched upon entry to the grounds.

-Permission to leave the grounds must be run by Morgan and Paul before leaving. This will require a partner to accompany you. You will have a thirty minute time limit to do what you must in town only before you are required to return to the grounds.

Synopsis of Day 4 -

As the days continued, the Damsels chosen to be in Mimi's stead worked well enough so that the performances worked. Some days were better than others. Alaizabel's new act had become a hit and the acrobats were quick to welcome Nova into their ranks. Kimber began to personally mentor the girl and worked closely with her while Rylee was given time to examine the acts around the Cirque before making up her own. Damuron was beginning to heal and the jugglers were working closely with Flynn's new act. This particular day was not a performing day as it was the last day in town. The performers and stagehands were set about their usual tasks of cleaning and loading the train for the trip to a new town. While the day itself had started out as normal and peaceful as one could with tumultuous tempers roiling inside, for the most part, the troupe had been spared Morgan's increasing irritation as the man traveled to town to close the tabs for the Cirque, gather last minute supplies with Paul, and send off and receive any mail before they would be traveling again. However, when the Ringmaster returned that day, he appeared to be frazzled and looked shaken. He remained in his office for the rest of the day with refusal of food and company.

Synopsis of Week 4 -

The life of a traveling circus was never an easy one. Especially for Cirque de Tromperie. Travel was hard on everyone considering the length they spent inside the moving behemoth. It was considerably much more difficult especially when your Ringmaster had become something of a mad man. The performances had been nothing but golden save for a few rough spots when concerned with personal acts. Maiya and Ava had continued to perform with less than stellar results, however, as far as the rest of the troupe was concerned, Morgan would appear to find little to make a fuss over. But that did not stop the Ringmaster from doing such. They had graced a small town with their presence, dazzled the townspeople with the harrowing acts and excellent stunts. The town applauded them with reverence and adoration, but that did not keep the Ringmaster's spirits elevated. Instead, he appeared to grow even more sullen and fickle. The slightest of events would upset him, send him in a mad rage. As such, he applied even more strict stifling rules upon his troupe.

RESTRICTIONS

-All stagehands and troupe members must remain on the train at night. No movement off the train after roll call will be permitted. Anyone found on the grounds after final roll call will have their performing privileges revoked and demoted to mucking duty.

-No mention of the Cirque's performing schedule or future locations will be made to the public without the exclusive permission of the Ringmaster.

-There will be no public interaction outside of the Cirque grounds without being accompanied by another troupe member or stagehand.

-No merchants or shipped goods will be allowed within twenty feet of the Cirque until properly and thoroughly examined prior to entry into the ground. All attempts to smuggle items into the Cirque will be met with punishment.

14 Days Have Passed, 2 Weeks Exactly

Synopsis of Week 5 Day 1 {Previous Day to our Current Setting}-

The ride to this particular city had been rough. They had nearly been late due to a steam valve crack that completely seized the train up until Paul was able to find a fix for it. The constant stop-and-go motion set everyone's nerves on end, but finally, they had reached the large village of Gyneux and with the train pulled off onto a side track, the troupe was once again moving and setting up the grounds. Promptly after setup, the parade was on! The parade through town was magnificent and all of the troupe members had performed beautifully. Though, that was not to say that it had been somewhat odd with the addition of the Ringmaster accompanying them through town. A terribly stone-faced and stoic man amongst a throng of smiles and dazzling costumes walked them through the town and back, all upon the back of a plain-clad horse. There wasn't even a breath of amusement on his face as the entire town came out to watch and gaze at the beautiful short acts the performers put on. There was no reason why Morgan could have possibly have been upset when they returned to the grounds.

But he was.

And another terrible night of restrictions and stifling constraints prevented the performers from enjoying their night.

Week 5 Day 2 {This is the Current Day}-

Setting:

The town is composed of primarily a large vineyard that spreads nearly the entire countryside. A large white stone wall encompasses nearly the entire township and there are three levels of the plateau of land. The entire bottom perimeter is made of up sprawling vineyards that stretch to the walls. Several canals feed water through the entire town through a system of aqueducts that spill out into the farmland and drains into a nearby river just to the south of the town. The middle hillside is comprised of the township. The roads are nearly all entirely built of white stone that reaches through the town like veins. There are many large shops in this town and is easily recognizable as a hub of activity for merchants and bazaars. Many of the homes are built of the same white stone as the street and for those homes that could afford it, red brick. There were a few cow pastures to the north, but the village was rather quiet in terms of farming activities. It appeared to be a town well off and even the poorest of citizens could afford a flower box and long cabanas to keep the sun from heating their sills. In several locations a fountain was spewing clean gurgling water and a distillery could be seen just to the west of the town, also built of the same white stone. Large aspen trees grew through the town and small white flowers dotted the road where nature attempted to take back its hold over the modern stonework. On the highest plateau above the vineyards and township was a massive manor surrounded by a large black gate. It stood out in dark contrast against the paleness of the stone with gray cobblestone that constructed the large building. A long sweeping road led up to the front gate where a large intricate adorned the massive gate. This was the well known and impressive Tortari Manor.

And this is where our story starts...

thymeast22

Orwells Eyes

Ararelia

fangbanger18

WhatTact

"Happydog911

xXx Fox Trot xXx

Confused Philosopher

Queenie Queerie

Cynosural Cataclysm

secretshades

[Scrivener_Lost]

The past is a ghost, the future a dream, and all we ever have is now...

He followed the crowd into the tent, just another bystander. Blending, head down as he passed the performers. Eyes narrowed when he saw the fool masquerading as a fire-breather. The oaf was nothing. But the man took his seat, careful to land a seat near the isle. Then he waited. The lights dimmed, and Morgan took his stage. Now the blonde could only sit and wait to be seen.

It didn't take long - he was sitting directly in Morgan's line of sight. Watching carefully, he stared at Morgan from the corner of his eye, appearing to watch the miserable excuse of a lion act. There - Morgan had seen him. The man calmly got up and left, pausing just outside the tent door to see Morgan freeze, realize what he'd seen, and spin around to look at where the blonde had been. Chuckling, he turned and left. His job today was done.

This was pathetic. The dark-haired, tattooed man was supposed to be the best fire-breather. He was far from it. The blonde man smiled. Time for a little fun. He reached for his power, listened to the voice of the flames. Then with a single thought he gave the fire a new order. Grow, be free little sister. Fire was a fickle creature, and eager to obey the one who would set her free to feed her hunger. The flames leapt to life, surging forward towards the crowd. And the game was on. The man let Pyrrhus regain control, then coaxed the fire to taunt him, to be unruly. Until the end, when Pyrrhus blew the flaming hound. The blonde seized control and breathed life into the flames, causing a full-blown Hell-hound to leap to the ground, step towards a child. It opened it's maw, flames dripping from it's mouth as it lunged for a quick snack-

And then it was gone. The blonde banished the Hound just before it did more than singe the girl's hair. Ooh, and Morgan was hurrying towards the screams. Even better. By the time Morgan arrived, the man was gone, vanished into the crowd.

Ahhh~! ❤ Look at all of this sweet candy! His face was plastered to the case as he gazed into the delicious spread of candies and confectioneries. Oh how he longed to have one of those sweet cherry lollipops in his hand right now. But that's not why he was here. Oh no. He was here on a much more sweeter mission. He giggled in anticipation as he slapped his hands upon the glass, a hum of terrible pleasure eking out from between wide smiling lips. He was here to play. He was told not to dill dally, but really, it was he who was late. So how could one expect him not to dream of the sweet treats locked away from him? They were tempting him. Calling him. Just like he was. A childish giggle escaped him and he closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the glass. Morgan~! Morgan~! Come out and play with me Morgan, my sweet and delicious treat! A small bell rung and he turned. Ah...ah? AH! Its him! ❤ His heart danced in his chest and his mouth began to water, saliva pooling as his eyes drank in the horrendous, brutish, beautiful, lovely, and overpowering Ringmaster. He brought his hands up to his mouth and bit his fingernails as a squeak escaped him.

But the Ringmaster had not seen him yet. The game was still on. A subtle slide to the left, his shoes barely breathing against the floor. A light drop in his smile. He..he won't look! Just another shuffle to the left; now he was practically parallel to the man. Come on...come on! Notice me! Morgan, I'm right here~! Then, golden eyes shifted the slightest. The race was on! A titter flew from his lips as he ducked underneath a large man and quickly sank low to the wooden floor and scurried away leaving a trail of harpy giggles behind him. He could hear as the Ringmaster called for him, Not by name, of course.., he pouted. But he had recognized him. He could see it in his eyes. Good, Morgan! Good! But we will have to play late I'm afraid...

All week, they had wrecked havoc at Cirque de Tromperie. None of the performers had noticed a thing, but Morgan saw one of them every day, a giggling face here, a flash of color there. He saw them just for a moment and then they were gone, nothing but ghosts of the past returned to haunt him. Things were going beautifully. Now, it was time for the next stage of the plan...

The parade was always a grand spectacle. Her blue eyes watched as the hustle and bustle filled the streets. A faint smile was worn on her lips as she scanned the people passing by, looking for that one man in particular. Her hands fidgeted as she brought them to her chest where she played with the strings of the cloak that were tied around her arms to keep it from falling. 'Don't worry darling... We'll leave an impression.' The black and white clad girl shook her head. That wasn't what she was worried about. No, she was well aware her companion would leave a well enough impression. He always knew the right things to do. Instead she was worried if the man even was going to show his face at all. Especially since there had been reports of the other members giving him quite the scare... Chewing her lip, her hands traveled up to the braids in her hair. Would the Ringmaster even remember her? Her eyes fell momentarily, as she took in a worried breath. She wasn't memorable, it was her companion who was. Especially considering that she looked positively plain, she never quite stood out like a few of her partners did...

'Hey! Don't fret. There he is! Lifting her gaze, she looked right at the ragged Ringmaster. The second that her eyes met with his, she felt her hold on her body fall. Her eyes shifted from their brilliant blue to a deep red-violet, in fact they even let off a bit of a glow. The timid smile was washed away and in it's place crept a large eerie grin. After a brief moment, the timid girl had her body back and collapsed to the ground. Letting out a breath of relief, she stood to her feet. Then, the girl turned and retreated from the crowd. Apologies escaped her lips as she wandered through the crowd bumping into various people until eventually she got away.

[Scrivener_Lost]

cynosural𝐓c𝐡y𝐞 n 𝐑o𝐢s𝐧u𝐠r𝐦a𝐚c𝐬c𝐭a𝐞t𝐫




He was losing his mind.
tab tab tab tab He was going insane.

He was seeing things...


Hearing things...____________________


That's what it meant to be insane, was it not? Insanity; craziness or madness that is defined as spectrum of behaviors characterized by certain abnormal mental or behavioral patterns. So that's what he was, right? He had to be. He had to be going crazy. What else could explain the madness that was going on in his mind? In his life? In his Cirque? There was no other explanation for it! Simply none! His mind was simply not functioning. It twisted around him in terrible frightening knots that refused to loosen and relinquish into logic. It wrapped around him like the fingers of a mad man forcing his sickness into him, suffocating him with thoughts and expressions that made no sense. He was going insane. He was sure of it. Morgan, whom prided himself on his unmatched wit and careful studies of nearly all sciences of life and literature was finding himself standing on the precipice of madness. He was on a cliff, his back to the world of logic, as he stared down into a terrible abyss of swirling blackness that was drawing him in, beckoning him to step in and drown in the insanity it was offering. The churning and bubbling cauldron below was clawing at him, pulling on his arms and legs as it threatened to swallow him up. He was going to drown in it. He knew it. He could feel his boots scraping against the charcoal black dirt as the madness held fast to his ankles and dragged him closer to the gaping maw of Hell. And he was afraid. Very afraid. This darkness that pulled at him frightened him. He feared it and because he feared it, he wanted to run. To turn around and claw his way back. But the temptation was so strong. It was much stronger than the sweet call of logic, love, and family. And it tugged on his darkened heart. It took from his injured persona the wretched glass shards that sliced into him, making him bleed and weep. It plucked those terrible fragments of love and affection and tossed them aside, granting him immediate and freeing relief. But for each shard of glass the madness took, the more difficult it was for the troupe to find those scattered shards and glue them back together into a man that was not as maniacal and tyrannical. The madness was strong...perhaps even stronger than the troupe...And as their Ringmaster continued to draw close to this jagged cliff, the worse his mind and mannerisms became.

Morgan was surely losing his mind. And as such, his mood swings had become increasingly rapid and volatile. But how could one not expect a man who saw phantoms to not lose his mind. Especially if those phantoms, perpetuated by his past, continued to evade every attempt he had at capturing them and forcing them to make sense. But that's just it...there is no making sense of it...how can you make sense of visions from the past? How can you make sense of a laughing child who is...who is... There was no rhyme or reason to it. They simply vanished into thin air! There was also the matter of the strange events happening during the day. Pyrrhus had been so sure that the untamed fire beast had not been his mistake. So how else would one explain it? The fire breather would not lie to Morgan...would he? Only a fool would lie to the Ringmaster. Only a fool and Ava... Each time his mind wandered to his adoptive daughter, the Ringmaster was plagued with terrible gut wrenching guilt as he thought about the harsh words that had fallen from his lips. And Maiya too... Between Ava, Maiya, the phantoms, the horrendous list of ailments of the train, and this massively important job, Morgan was sure that he had lost all sanity and was now simply running in a world of ideas and gimmicks that were no longer his. He was detached and distant. He hadn't touched Poe's work since his fight with Ava and any concept of food made him feel sick. But instead of being able to focus on the things that gave him strife, he was forced to stow up the violent roiling of confusing emotions and terrors that plagued him in order to keep his Cirque running normally and to keep him from finding out what was happening. He had to make sure this job was successful...

If his nightmarish hallucinations and horrendous dreams weren't enough to keep Morgan from ever sleeping peacefully it was the days and nights worth of work he had poured into this plan. On more than one occasion, while the train was in transit, the troupe wouldn't see or hear of the Ringmaster as he spent every waking hour locked in his room planning and scribbling madly as he perfected the plan. This job was terribly important. It was a massive heist. The largest since the abduction of the Duchy Gormungtalli's silver sword. That particular job had involved nearly the entire troupe. This job was just as, if not the most involved job they had worked in at least two years. It was so important that the Ringmaster worked feverishly for days without consuming food or drink and when he did finally scurry from his room, he carefully avoided the performers and stage hands alike. Even Paul had been forbidden from bothering the Ringmaster as he became a man possessed by variables and tangents. His mind played with the constant variations of his plan as he made sure to cover all of his bases. There could be no mistakes. Mistakes lead to failure and failure leads to...well... When Morgan was released to the few rare moments of clarity, he would wander out of his room and if he were to cross paths with a troupe member, he would offer them a passing glance and uttered word. But Morgan had become increasingly reclusive as the days wore on, speaking to the troupe only if he had criticisms of some sort or to tell at them for their horrendous performances. When it came to the week of the job, Morgan began to reemerge from his room if only to speak to the troupe members included in the job as he began to feed them directions and advice on how to approach the mission. As for Ava and Maiya...

...this is more of your fault than theirs...

Glancing down at the small envelope in hand, the Ringmaster gazed at the ornate wax seal he had broken to gain entry to the sweet and magnificent prize inside; a personal invitation to the Tortari Manor. It had taken him a great deal of subterfuge through letters and intimidation to gain access to the highly prized and sought after invitation to the party; but Morgan was a man of many connections and where his connections ended, the Owner had many more. So accruing a way into the party had been as easy as garnering a blossoming friendship with a long time family friend and called upon a favor. The request was quickly and promptly considered and with little time, Morgan received the letter he had been waiting on for days. With careful orchestration and instruction, he had gathered his troupe on the day of the party and that evening, they set out towards the large manor in the single horse drawn carriage the Cirque owned. The air was thick with autumn's breath, the leaves of the surrounding glade scattering across the stony roads that lead into the charming stone-worked town. The wagon had been packed with the assigned members and their equipment as they were demanded of silence upon their approach to the town, Morgan riding aside from the driver as the horses were directed through town. Those who were being left upon the train were forbidden to leave the premises and were directed to stay in the train on lock-down until Morgan returned from the mission. Paul had been left behind as Morgan's rule enforcer.

Upon walking through the massive deeply stained oak doors, the troupe was greeted with elation as the guests welcomed them into the large grand ballroom. The manor did not appear to be of a size to hold such a room of grandeur from the outside, but it was very clear upon setting into the belly of the large manor that such was not the case. The intricate checkerboard marble floor shimmered underneath a large pair of crystalline chandeliers that hung from the massively arching vaulted ceiling. Beautiful ornate sconces dotted with walls with fine oil burning lamps, a few standing sconces burning long white candles tucked into the corners of the room. An impressive grandfather clock was positioned on the far left wall where several massive tapestries on various master's work dotted the length of the dark marble. Several imported ivy plants stood tall and proud on dark wooden pedestals. Several archways leading into various halls had been blocked off with large creamy lace drapes. On either side of the ballroom, two sweeping staircases lead to a second floor mezzanine, the steps and railing also composed of white glimmering marble laced with subtle gray veins. A matching pair of silver armor posed on each side of the stairs as eternal guardians to the flamboyant dance hall, perpetually stuck in a stance of heightened alert with one hand placed against a sword at their hip, the other resting against its rigid hip. To the immediate left the entryway was a medium-sized orchestra playing sweet melodies to the guests as more continued to pile in. A decent crowd was already cavorting and speaking lively words by the time the troupe walked into the large party. Those who were attending were very much dressed alike; large elegant ballroom gowns that swept the floor with breathy whispers and large up-dos with beads and feathers poking out from gentle curls. The men were all in pressed rigid suits, large top hats upon their head or hair brushed back and oiled like a slick rag. Every detail was polished down to the cufflinks that shimmered in the pale light. Several tables were placed along the perimeter of the room adorned with the whitest of linens and the finest silverware that provided the guests with food. Servants dotted the area, their arms laden with the favorite local and expensive imported wines.

It was very clear that this party was one of status and money. People were arriving in large carriages, some even had the money to buy a steam operated car. The ladies had maids-in-waiting and the young men of fine breeding came with sons and brothers. Whole families of fine intent and money flaunted their large bellies filled with gold as they made talk amongst each other of land and royal marriages. A few children of the upper class stood about as they swapped stories of the porcelain dolls in hand and young boys waved rapiers about. The cooks were bringing out large stuffed pigs on small iron spits and impressive towers of decadent fruits were surrounded by exotic dates, figs, and passion fruit. A whole table dedicated to the fine treats and cakes of the land were being heavily guarded from spoiled babes and the tables laden with chickens were being adorned with fresh greens and boiled yams. The finest china was placed out for the guests, though the evening was young, so many had not touched the food yet save for a few small saucers spotted with olives and fine sticks of cinnamon and rolled pastry. A fine china pot for tea and dark Indian coffee had been put out as well and coupled with the wine and cheese, the meal available to the guests was only outdone by the outlandish garb of the citizens that filled the manor's halls.

As the troupe followed in line behind their Ringmaster, all eyes turned to the beautifully painted faces of the females and several women began to fan themselves as they laid their eyes upon the young lithe men that trailed in behind. "Ladies and Gentlmen of the evening, I present to you the infamous and delightful Tromperie!" Several oohs and ahhs echoed through the halls as girls giggled amongst themselves, their eyes following in the decorated men and the men nodding and elbowing each other as they ogled the women. The Ringmaster stepped out into the center of the floor where the guests had made room and he bowed with flourish before holding out his hand. "From all of Tromperie, we thank you our esteemed patrons for allowing this humble troupe to perform and entertain for you tonight!" There were several soft claps as the Ringmaster turned on his heel and moved back to the troupe. He gazed over the faces before giving them a nod. They knew what the plan was. They would mingle with the crowd for a small time, setting up for their acts in the middle of the ballroom while the Ringmaster would mingle with the crowd until he they were ready for the mission.

As his troupe dispersed to their allotted locations, the Ringmaster stood with his arms behind his back as his golden eyes began to crawl over each form that occupied the room. His gaze fell over each face and feature of the people gathered, calculating and judging. Each of these people had the potential to possibly ruin his plans and he needed to make sure that none would pose a threat. This is last place I need to be hallucinating at...even so...there is always the possibility...I must remain ever vigilant... Morgan had to remind himself. The Ringmaster stood out amongst his performers dressed in his typical Ringmaster's attire in addition to his performing top hat with his face done up with Isabella's help. She had attempted to even out the fevered pitch of his face with makeup, but in her very words; "I can only perform so many miracles." His hair was pulled back and brushed neatly, the long wild bangs tucked behind his ears in attempt to prevent him looking like a ghastly phantom. But no amount of makeup could hide the deeply engrained fatigue that surrounded his eyes in deep shadows. But if there was one thing Morgan was good at in public, that was putting on a face that hid much of his inner monologue. As several women walked up to the Ringmaster, he immediately and easily slid into the perfect gentleman, greeting them with a soft peck upon their daintily outstretched hand and sliding them a charming smile which would send them into rolling soft blushing giggles. For each girl that would approach him, he would offer them a lovely greeting; "Good evening fairest daughter," "The beauty of this land is only matched by your elegant grace." It was very clear that Morgan was quite comfortable in this overindulged environment as he was easily able to swing side to side to greet each person with amiability and perfected grace. But no amount of fancy words or flourish of his wrists would hide that he was still in fact the terrible Ringmaster of Tromperie. Between each greeting and conversation, the Ringmaster would toss a glare to his troupe to make sure they were not getting wrapped up in the world from which the Ringmaster played in.

"Morgan, my good man! It has been a long time!" The Ringmaster slowly blinked and turned to see a short rather plump older gentleman with a balding head and a large trimmed beard. He walked up to Ringmaster with arms spread wide open before wrapping them around the thin and tall man. After a quick embrace, the man heavily slapped a hand on the Ringmaster's back. "So glad to see that you could make it. I was beginning to worry that Tromperie would never grace my halls." Morgan gave the man a polite smile before placing a hand upon his chest and bowing slightly. "Your words are too kind, Lord Tortari. If I may as be as so bold; where is the lovely Lady Anya?" The large potbellied man let out a rolling laugh. "Ah, you know Anya. She's always about doing something or another. Though, please forgive her for her absence. I'm sure she would've loved to see this troupe of yours." Morgan chuckled softly. 'Like I said, good sir, your words are too kind." Lord Tortari waved a hand through the air. "Pish posh! I am just glad to have you here. You know, I haven't seen you in so long. Look how pale and thin you are. Tell me," the man leaned in close to Morgan and the Ringmaster had to lean down to meet his lips that desired to whisper in his ear. "Is the Cirque in trouble? Do you need money, lad? I would be more than willing to give you a loan. Our families have been friends for years." Morgan paused before an affectionate smile crossed his lips and he stood tall, his arms cocked behind his back as he laughed heartily. "Oh no, sir. Not at all. The Cirque is doing very well for itself actually, though I do appreciate the gesture very much." The smaller man gave the Ringmaster a sly smile before elbowing him in the stomach. "Ah, then it must be a woman, for only money and women make a man lose both his wit and meal, wouldn't you agree?" The Ringmaster paused before his eyes gazed out over his troupe, his eyes lingering on Ava and Maiya for a moment before a pained smile crossed his expression. "Hmm...you've no idea..." Lord Tortori gazed up curiously at the Ringmaster before letting out a healthy chuckle and patting the Ringmaster roughly on the back. A servant passed by and the man managed to grab two flutes of wine, handing one to the Ringmaster before tapping them together. "A drink then! To the madness of men brought on by the fairer sex! And to Tromperie!" Morgan took his flute and lifted, refraining from drinking as he toasted.

"To Tromperie!"

...the very Cirque that will ruin me.

cynosural† 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Tortari Manor - Main Ballroom cynosural† 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲: Many People, namely Icarus, Maiya, Ava, Nova, Rylee, Pyr, Taubryn cynosural† 𝐎𝐨𝐂: Here we go~!


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Layout Created by Cynosural Cataclysm

[Cynotastic]

tab 『ωɪтʜ: Various troupe members/party goers 』xxxxxxx 『ʟocaтɪoɴ: Totori Mansion 』xxxxxxx 『ϻσσɗ: Numb 』


I can't help it, I'm addicted

Yes, Maiya had skilled roll call. No, she hadn't cared about how angry it may have made Morgan. She was not stable. At all. However, she was well aware of she chose to retreat into her room and stay there the whole day then she would have to deal with more of Morgan. And that, was absolutely not what she wanted to do. No, she wanted to deal with the man as little as possible. Not only that, but since they were already down a performer, she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she may end up being a damsel as well. Especially considering the fact she had been one in the past. She hoped that would not be the case, but only time would tell.

But, I can't stand the pain inflicted

Then, it came time for her performances. However, it was very clear she was not in tip-top shape as her performances were far from her typical shows. There was very little glamor or over exaggeration in her movement, and in fact she had mostly used her telekinesis when she threw the blade. This was both because she was lacking in confidence of her own ability and the fact that they had to use other members of the cirque to stand in for their missing damsel, considering that she was broken and battered.

Tell me, what's the point of doing this every night?

As for the majority of the two weeks it was very clear that Maiya was not herself. Some clear examples of such were that instead of constantly chasing down the Ringmaster to receive some of the man's attention, she instead was avoiding him. Although, while she was actively trying to stay away from the man, she also wore his ribbon around her neck on some days. It was on those days that she did not appear to avoid Morgan so much. In fact, on a few of those days she had even had minute conversations with the Ringmaster. Even if it was simply about her shoddy performances. Though, when the man spoke to her, she often looked as though she was gazing past the man instead of at him, and her hand would travel to the ribbon where she would idly move the fabric between her fingers. This was also the case when he had come up to her with information regarding the job. If it hadn't been the first job he offered her in quite some time she probably would have declined.

What you're giving me is nothing but a heartless lullaby.

However, instead, she accepted.

They had arrived. It was the day of the job and while it was a reluctance, she had actually come. Adorned around her neck was the ribbon that she was rarely seen without lately. Granted, she only wore it as a reminder to not fall for the Ringmaster charms. Not until he apologizes and explains himself to me. Her eyes glanced around the area, though her expression was unenthused. Maiya would much rather be on the train, in her room, laying there being engulfed by depression than be out here. But, an acceptance of the job was a lot less hassle than standing there arguing with Morgan again. She had grown tired of it, and despite the fact that they had so many years they had spent together - the knife thrower still found herself wishing she was not still in the circus. Even with the memories, the bits of reminders, she still found her heart sinking every time she cast a glance at the Ringmaster...

Going to kill my dreams, oh, this is the last time. Baby make up your mind.

And the ribbon around her neck was a symbol of how much she was chained to the man. After all... "You do not get to decide your fate! That is my job. I offered you the chance to escape a long time ago and you denied it. So where do you get off threatening me with leaving the Cirque. You can do nothing unless I grant you permission..." Her teeth ground together as she moved her eyes to the floor. Maiya was trapped. He had been playing with her emotions probably ever since that one night ninety years ago, and while he always pulled her back wanting more. This time, she would not have it. Anytime she might have felt herself yearning for the man again, her hand would just wander back to the ribbon and remind her of that night two weeks ago when he threw her from the bathroom. There was no way she'd relive that. The only exception to that is if he actually takes the first step forward; apologized and explained what exactly happened.

'Cause I can't keep sleeping in your bed

After all, she couldn't handle anymore of that roller-coaster anymore. Maiya could not let herself give into the temptation of the man. She needed to turn her focus back to the job at hand, so she pushed her anger of the Ringmaster out of her mind. Her mind could not wander, after all, it was what only aided to fuel her depression. All she needed to focus on was strictly retrieving the lamp. I can't think of him...' Her thoughts reminded her. Thinking of him would be the cause of failure, and failure - especially at her own expense - could mean she would be beaten, battered, broken.

If you keep messing with my head. I can't keep touching you like this...

Her eyes were glazed over as she scanned the others as they paraded into the manor. Blinking a few times, she put on a fake expression. A large smile, which she extended to her eyes to look as though she was truly happy to be there. Though, inside she felt hallow, she knew if she were truly that transparent it would mean more words from the Ringmaster, and she knew how much she wanted to avoid that particular event. After the man gave the introduction of them, and gave them the nod, they dispersed.

If it's just temporary bliss...

Maiya knew where she was heading, she needed to check a portion of the house to see if she could find the lamp. However, it was not a big deal if they didn't find it now as there would be another opportunity later. She was going to search through the halls under the guise of looking for the restroom. As for now, she was unsure if another member of the troupe would be joining her, however, she would be fine searching on her own as well. After all, if another member joined her on the search, there was a possibility they would try to get her to speak of that she did not wish to...

I'm your one and only, only when you're lonely.

Morgan.

I am fiending for the sunshine, to show our love in a good light. Give me a reason, I am pleading to the stars!

[thymeast22]

I believe it's time for me to become famous and out of place

I believe its time for me to move forward when I break through.

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⌘ Location: Party

⌘ Companions: Morgan, Aloise, Pyr, Taubryn, and others.

The day's performances had not gone well at all for the lion-tamer. Her beasts pushed her, refusing to obey to the point where Ava had to remove all but her most basic, most practiced tricks from her routine. The audience never noticed anything, perhaps only commenting that she was like any other Wild-Cat act they had seen in a visiting circus. They had no idea how much she had struggled. The other performers likely had, noticing how pale and shaken she was after leaving the cage or how tightly her hands gripped her whips. And then it was off to play Damsel, praying her body remembered acrobatics she hadn't practiced in weeks and quickly conferring with Maiya and Alaiza as to who was doing what when. It was a small miracle they made it through the day in one piece. By the end of it, Ava bypassed the attempts at a night of festivities, instead choosing to help Nova settle into Mimi's room and crawl into bed to sleep off the horrors of the day and the heartbreak. Perhaps it would get better.

It didn't. Her show barely improved, her cats still sensing her distraction and pushing her. Morgan was furious with the Cirque, laying down ridiculous restrictions left and right. And then, the day they were to leave the campsite, her lioness gave birth to three cubs. Hours later, Ava was fighting with Morgan again. This one was worse than the fight over Nova, both fighting dirty and only spurring the other to sink lower in their attacks. It wasn't until Ava finally issued an ultimatum that it ended: if he was so determined to not let her keep the cubs until they were old enough to separate from their mother, then he could have them. If he could physically get the cubs out of a cage guarded by several protective lionesses without any assistance.

Needless to say, they refused to speak after that. Perhaps it was better - instead of fury or tears, there was only a constant tension fed by the Ringmaster's increasing insanity and the Performer's irritation with the restrictions.

Over the two weeks, Ava slowly withdrew from the performers. She kept the mask on when around them, the bubbling happy girl she had always been. But she never stayed long and didn't seek out company. Luckily, she was able to stay busy. Performing two roles, caring for newborn cubs, and preparing for the next job. Bast and Sekhmet, her two leopards, would be in the middle of a party with her, and had to be well trained. She kept the leopards out of their cage as often as possible, the cats following her around and responding to impromptu tricks and commands. They would be used to people, the strange sense of freedom, and watching her closely by the time she took them out among the public. Additionally, she had to make sure Aloise, Pyr, and Taubrynn knew the basic commands, and that the tempermental cats would obey. Plus the hours of practice with a joint act with Brynn and Pyr, and working out a quick finale with the smaller cast? It gave her blessed little time to mope and let her mind wander. That was the time she hid from the rest of the crew. Her new favorite place to hide? The roof of the train at night above her room - she wasn't breaking Morgan's rules and could still get away. When traveling, she was in the Cat car. Few people ventured in there with an irritable new mother lioness.

August was one of the few brave souls who risked it, following her and refusing to let her be alone in her misery. It was awkward, seeing him so often. Ava found herself constantly tongue-tied, stumbling over her words and blushing furiously. It was ridiculous, but she didn't know what to do about it. At least he seemed just as uncomfortable as she was, but that didn't help her nerves any. She didn't realize that he was the one who was drawing her back out, coaxing her into joining the others for meals or cooking again, laughing easily. Until someone mentioned their Ringmaster, and she instantly shut back down.

The night before they arrived in the new town, Ava finally spoke to Morgan. There was nothing but cold respect in her voice, just a performer addressing her Ringmaster. When it was over, she hid on the second floor of the cat car and finally broke. The torrent of tears didn't dissuade August when he finally found her. And afterwards... She'd been so close to him, wrapped in his arms. A moment of insanity when she stared at him, held mismatched eyes with her own. Leaned in, just a little, heart pounding in her ears.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Footsteps.

It jolted Ava out of the daze and she jerked back, the blush blooming in her cheeks. "I-. Um. I'm sorry." The whisper was breathless, panicked. And with that the fearless lion-tamer fled, ducking her head with tears still streaking red cheeks and glistening in the dark of the traincar as she hurried back to her room.


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Ava stood in the back of the group of performers, Bast and Sekh standing on either side of her. She had worn her full costume, minus the hat and whips. Long auburn hair hung loose down her back and her face was painted just a little less than usual. Close quarters - her makeup didn't need to be able to see from across a tent. Just enough to enhance the exotic beauty of a lion-tamer. Her cats were freshly bathed, fur soft and glossy. Each leopard wore a beautifully-crafted leather collar - their costume for the night. No leash, whip, or tool was in sight.

As they waited, Ava cast her gaze around the room. Everyone was dressed impeccably and the women all wore gorgeous dresses to highlight ample bosoms, narrow waists and hips. While the silk and luxurious fabrics were well colored, the Cirque outshown them. They were brightly colored and beaming life, while the party-goers were still proper gentlemen and ladies, with their dark muted colors and un-revealing attire. Ava couldn't help but smile at the thought. No, the Cirque was most certainly not subtle, mute, or un-revealing. Even her own costume - tight black pants, the high heels of her boots, the low cut of her corset. And if she had to perform with Pyr, she'd be stripping off the jacket that kept her from being too scandalous. These poor upperclass beauties had no idea what had just walked into the midst.

Brown eyes danced as she watched the women start to flitter, whispering to one another and undressing the men with their eyes. Hmm, maybe they did know what they had welcomed into their party. And then female eyes fixated on the women, judging, measuring. It was like walking into the cage, surrounded by beasts just waiting for her to make a mistake. Eyes raked over the less-than-perfect costumes, the lesser fabrics and unusual lines, the skin and curves shown. She could deal with her cats, could deal with an angry lion stalking her in the cage. Surely she could manage a bunch of stuck-up women?

Morgan announced them, and Ava fixed the smile on her lips. She led her cat to the area pre-determined to be her section of their stage, smiling at the gasps and whispers of vicious beasts walking freely at her side. A hand signal had Bast and Sekh sitting side by side, the sisters' amber eyes staring out at the crowd. Ava knew her job - be the performance while Pyr and Brynn set up, their equipment in a trunk carried by the two men. "Bast, Sekh. Up!" The pair raised up on their hind legs, front paws batting playfully at the air. Ava grinned, hoped their playfulness didn't extend much beyond that. Though, truthfully, there were few things better than getting to play with her babies in public. Ava dropped her hand, and the cats lowered to the ground. Two sets of eyes fixated on her, waiting for her signal. Let the show begin.

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this time I'll make you proud to see me over, come on daylight
proud of who you raised up
you know that I will always be here 'til the end
I hope, I hope you smile when you look down on me
I hope that I make you proud
this is not what it is, only baby scars
I need your love like a boy needs his mother's side



Pyr #FF4818 Morgan black Aloise #CC0000 August #2554C7 Nova #33CCCC

[fangbanger18]

✦ ʟocaтɪoɴ: ➟ Manor tab tab ✦ cσϻpaɴʏ:Morgan, Ava, the group tab tab ✦ ωεaʀɪɴɢ x Undergarments xDress Gloves tab ✦ ғεεʟɪɴɢs: Rather at home and in bliss/ "This is just what a lady needed."
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tab tab - - - ╰♛╮ - - - ╰♛╮- - - ╰♛╮- - - ╰♛╮- - - ╰♛╮- - - ╰♛╮- - -

♚♚➟The past weeks had been utter hell in the Cirque, for the first time in all her dear time she had felt a captive, a prisoner. Long dragging nights day after day, enclosed to her room mostly with no real inspiration to do much else. It was rather tiring to see the same faces day after day, making performance days even more important to her. Unlike other who seemed to be slacking , the acrobat had found herself over performing in their last little shows. The woman enjoyed every measly second of foreign contact, interacting with as many guest of the Cirque as she could. Basking in even the smallest of attention, for after it was all done they were forced to retreat once again. It was as if the Ringmaster had turned evil stepfather, grounding all his children with no reason.

The once colorful cast was looking rather bland. Flynn the poor dear seemed to loose his shine from time to time, like her desperately wishing the alcohol supply was not growing so scarce. Lovely Maiya, though beautiful as always, Aloise could easily tell her friend walked around with a grey cloud over her head. Even poor Ava seemed odd, not that it lasted, Aloise noticed that little curl to her lip when August was around. It was fairly obvious what was happening there, especially since Aloise had the pleasure of working with both Ava and him, poor children needed some practice in hiding their feelings. Still, it pained her to see how the new restrictions seemed to have forced everyone into a down, well it pained her only for certain people. The acrobat had moaned and b***h most nights, draping herself in dramatic sense over the couch, and sometimes over some of the other members. The woman was sure some of the other members were already tired of her. Not to mention the addition to their team of acrobats, Aloise was still unsure if she liked or not the newest female. Seemed quiet enough, though quiet bored her, and this lovely song of hers was something Aloise could not stand, though everyone knows Aloise is simply envious of the particular power.

When Morgan offered, no ordered for her presence at this job Aloise was more than thrilled to obliged. It meant people, mingling, and most importantly, something other than her prison of a train. From what he explained it was something not only a bit of fun, but something she was very accustomed to. The family she was raised with often attended these sort of parties, it was were she met all the gullible men she liked to play with. It was a bit nice to get to do something she enjoyed, even if it was another job.

♚♚➟ The anticipated day had finally come upon her, unintentionally waking up extremely early from the excitement. Aloise had taken careful precautions just to make everything perfect, from choosing her dress to the smallest detail in her hair. Not only were they representing the cirque but she was still Aloise Genevive Le Feuvre, a name she proudly wore even if she was far from her family. The task given to the acrobat was more than easy, it was something she would do in any moment without being told. Entertaining, mingling, and captivating the eyes of those who's gaze was not fixated on the performance. After all the woman adored attention, especially that of rich men.

Emerald eyes shimmered as they gazed upon the grand manor. For a moment the woman yearned to reside within these walls instead of the recent days of imprisonment at the Cirque. A delicate finger grazed her face as she took a loose strand of her pink locks back into her up-do. Lips were curled into a charming devious smile as they entered, closely behind their ringmaster. As soon as they were in the gaze of others Aloise began her act, the sway of her hips changed, the glimmer in those emerald orbs shifted to a much sensual deep enchantment. But her gaze never lasted long on anyone, still fixated on her ringmaster. It was not till he gave that particular nod that she drifted away. Surely her first act was to obtain a glass of wine for herself, eyeing Morgan just in case before she bothered a servant. After the sweet lips passed her lips she was ready, quickly interrupted from her drink as a few gentlemen offered their attention. Through idle conversation waltzing from one gentlemen to another, it was rather disappointing, in her older days before the Cirque she could gain a lot from this.

Sipping from perhaps her fourth glass, ignoring the idle chatter the two gentlemen before her were providing, her eyes gazed around the crowd. Falling upon their darling ringmaster she arched an eyebrow curiously, whoever he was speaking to seemed of importance, especially since shockingly he let the man hug him. Aloise eye's widen in surprise, now completely curious, "Would you excuse me a moment..." She spoke softly as she walked away from the two. Sure Morgan would probably not enjoy being interrupted but given the way he treated them lately Aloise did not care. As she approached them she only caught the last of their toast, allowing herself to laughing lightly to make herself known. Daring enough a hand slid down the strange man's arm, batting her eyes. "Oh surely it is you men who drive us mad, is it not dear Ringmaster?" Aloise let her eyes meet her ringmaster, challenging him slightly, she only said a truth, he was driving them mad lately. But just as she came she bowed her head, sauntering away to tend to other guest before turning to prepare for her own act.

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✦ σσc: Tell me if anything needs fixing! Oh and yes Aloise is mad at Morgan in a way. :p




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Amazing Layout but the Amazing One and Only - Cynosural Cataclysm ! <3

[Promise of Bliss]

xxx┣▇▇▇═─ Tʜaт ɴɪɢʜт ʜε caɢεd ʜεr
xBruised and broke her, he struggled closer.
tab tab tab tab tab tab tab xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTHEN HE STOLE HER
xViolet wrists and then her ankles. I will hear their voices
xI'M A GLASS CHILD. x I'M A GLASS CHILD. xI'M A GLASS CHILD. x I'M A GLASS CHILD.x I'M A GLASS CHILD.
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The restrictions hadn't really been all so bad for Damuron. For all intents and purposes, Damuron was a boring individual. He didn't thrive on going into town, on drinking (lord knows after his misadventures with Taubryn he hadn't exactly been keen on hitting the bottle again), on adventure really. But... but he did enjoy the outside, the breeze on his face, watching the birds, practicing his archery... needless to say he had been missing that for the last couple of weeks. Not too many birds fluttered around near the train, given that it was horrendously loud and more than a bit intimidating to the natural fauna. To a human trains were already frightening in concept, even considering a basic understanding. He couldn't imagine the terror they could incite into something that couldn't cognitively grasp the purpose and structure of a train. Regardless, though, not being able to step off, to wander aimlessly into the woods for a bit of archery practice and some demographically appropriate aviators was disappointing to say the least. On a few of the clearer days, the doctor would be able to open his window, poking half of his torso out and leaning on a pillow in an attempt to get fresh air or a small glimpse of his fine feathered friends. Alas, most days were not that way, and he was assuredly not going to pop his head out while the train was in motion... decapitation did not seem like something he could simply wish onto someone else, unfortunately (though a small, dark part of his mind had always been curious about the extent of his powers....)

At present, Damuron was lounging in his room, much like he had been two weeks prior. The room was still immaculate, though a tick less so considering how much more common it was for the man to actually be found there. Illnesses were luckily few and far between, and given all of the restrictions being so vehemently enforced, he had encountered next to zero actual injuries (there had been a mishap in the kitchen while cutting onions, but honestly that had been no big deal, and in fact Damuron had only been made aware of it a few days after the fact). He had, in essence, been utterly useless and, frankly, bored out of his mind. He had reread a few of his textbooks (you can imagine that he didn't really learn much) and spent plenty of time resting his leg. As it were, his ankle was almost entirely healed, now only giving him minor trouble particularly running up stairs or slamming weight onto it without bracing. But for all intents and purposes (after all, how much running would he ever need to do on the train....?), he was mended and ready to go. To go do what, he had no idea. He sat now on his bed, his pajamas yet unchanged. The small stress ball launched up into the air before falling back into his awaiting hand. He'd been like this for about an hour- make your own fun, he supposed. He repeated this motion seemingly endlessly. But there was only so long that he could stand playing catch with gravity. As the ball thumped quietly into his hands, he growled at the air, forcing himself to sit up. There was no way he was changing. His pajama pants and the soft heathered grey shirt were far too comfortable for him to even entertain the idea of changing clothes... besides, he was only likely to see various members of the circus; what did he care what he was wearing around any of them, right? He scratched his cheek as he stood from his bed, the stubble stabbing his fingertips back. He hadn't bothered to shave the last few days, but it was starting to irritate him.... he'd do it later. For now, his bare feet slapped the wooden floor of his room. Anything, literally anything, was better than just sitting in his room waiting for the world to come to him. What was it Alaizabel had told him? "The plot won't come to you- you have to seek it out"? Something like that...

He stood. He could feel his joints groaning in discontent; he'd been stationary for far too long, and his body was rebelling now that he had decided to actually function as a normal person. He sighed, leaning over to touch the floor, then leaning back and pushing his palms into the back of his hips. The loud cracks were relieving comforts to him, and he shifted his torso now, feeling the same strange explosive relief up his stiff spine. Ah yes, he'd been lying there for far too long. His stomach growled aggressively as he stopped stretching. It was convenient, he supposed. He needed to get up and move right- no reason not to just trot down (up?) to the kitchen and make himself a bite. He could honestly probably cook for the entire train tonight, as it were; most people were off on the job with Morgan, leaving him and various other cirque members behind on the train. He slipped on his shoes now, carefully positioning his sheathed knife in his sock as per usual (couldn't be too careful, right?). He couldn't be upset about being left behind. Damuron wasn't exactly built for espionage. At the very least, he was aware of this lacking in his capabilities for the cirque. All he could really do right now was be worried about later in the night when the members returned. Would they all be well? He certainly hoped they would be. He was a doctor, and his job was to treat them, but the less he was used, the better in his honest opinion. He did not mind sitting on his hands for days, weeks, months on end if that meant that the people around him were safe from harm. But on jobs, someone always seemed to come back injured. It probably wouldn't be anything concerning, or really anything that would require his attention at all, but there was always the lingering worry itching at the back of his mind, persistently scratching his attention and dividing it between the current moment and the subject of his concern. These days, his primary worry was focused on Morgan. It didn't take a rocket scientist to recognize that something was very wrong with the man. In fact, he was pretty certain even the slowest members of the circus were privy to this fact. The part that was most striking, though, is that this issue was not manifesting in a way Damuron was certain he was qualified to deal with. He was isolating himself, clearly jumpy and not sleeping. His increasingly stringent rules and increasingly aggressive attitude toward let alone the troupe but the people that were typically the closest to him were all warning signs as well. He was pushing people away and that could only make things worse. A dark cloud had settled over the circus, seeming to manifest strongest around their esteemed Ringmaster. Whatever he was hiding, there was no way it was a centralized problem. The longer the man hid the issue from them, the worse it would be when it eventually came to light.... but this was Damuron. The man had absolutely no reason to believe that reaching out the the man, no matter how distressed or obviously in need to help he was, would listen to him. Besides, no one else was talking about it, instead seeming to favor complaining about his behavior as inconvenient and irritating rather than worrisome. The doctor was not exactly a friend to Morgan, unfortunately. He could never imagine approaching the man in such with intimate gesture as offering confidence... While the others could be impulsive, aggressive, and sometimes a bit self-endangering, Morgan was already unapproachable enough that he sometimes wondered if he knew how to ask for help, how to accept help, even in similar situations to what the more emotionally liberal people in the cirque encountered. So of course, putting himself alongside specific circus members (such as Ava and Maiya, for instance) in such a high-anxiety and tantamount situation could only endanger him more, be it mentally or otherwise...

But there wasn't exactly much that Damuron could do from here on the train. After all, he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to approach the imposing man under normal circumstances; what did he expect to accomplish from such a great distance? Rhine was a large place, and he was an impressive distance from any of those in attendance of the party. As he took to the halls of the train, he smiled. He didn't have to wear formal wear and, to be honest, that was enough of a trade off for being left out of the mission. It didn't take him long to cross the train car and ascending the stairs to the kitchen. No one was there quite yet, so he had the room to himself. He crossed the room. What exactly did people like to eat that were left...? He wasn't entirely sure, so for the moment, he simply stood there, looking around and contemplating what to prepare.


✂⋯ ʟocaтɪoɴ: Dam's room --> Kitchen ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ ϻσσɗ: I burn water why am I here... ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ ωɪтʜ: Alone⋯

[Promise of Bliss]

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"Ladies and Gentlemen of the evening, I present to you the infamous and delightful Tromperie!"

Alaizabel supposed she should have been honored to be taken along on this job, in light of the last couple weeks. She knew that certain members of the group surrounding her at the moment were positively elated to evacuate their recent incarceration, the train suddenly doubling as a maximum security prison in place of simple circus transportation. But the various oohs and ahhs of the crowd were somehow unfulfilling, the escape feeling faulty, forced, in some way confining in their own right. Her surroundings screamed with a nerve-wracking familiarity. Wealth stained the ballroom around her in the form of dark woods and crystalline chandeliers. It took a particularly powerful and affluential person to boast checkered marble flooring, and no expense seemed to have been spared in leave be the construction of the building, but the fine ornaments that varnished the colossal walls. The ceiling loomed outstandingly high above them, coffered arches cutting across it evenly and with a tasteful flair. The stairs to the back of the expanse were just as impressive as the room around them; each built up to the mezzanine above. Even the steps and railings were made of the same stark marble of the floor, giving the illusion that the floor simply did not end. The vines of dusty gray weaved through the marble like spiderwebs, entrapping each who stepped on them. The entire affair was lit by intricate, delicate sconces; blazing white candles sat within them. All in all, it was quite beautiful. As were the people around her. Her chest tightened as she peered over the crowd. Women stood gathered in tight knit groups, gossiping in hushed tones from behind their fans and elegantly manicured hands. She supposed this was the point that many women gave their "opposition" quick once overs, deciding that they were clearly the superiorly dressed female in the crowd. None of that mattered to Alaizabel, though. Her dress was suited to her purposes. It was intricate enough, the sleeves hanging tastefully on her shoulder, the bodice reaching to just the appropriate depth on her chest. The veil that overlaid the dress itself was semi-sheer, the blues and purples dyed together in an impressive and serene pattern that reminded Alaizabel of the moon shimmering over the lake she so loved. Perhaps that had been her initial draw to the cloth all those years ago when it had first been fashioned for her. The appeal of the dress on this night, though, was that the dress was also adequately subdued. Though it was a fine and becoming article, it did not garner attention in nearly the way that many of the ladies around her did. There were no flashy jewels, no impressive shine or sparkle. It was just plain enough, but just dramatic enough to command the attention a woman of her station- erhm, of her projected station- should. Her hair was tied up behind her head in a tasteful but purposefully messy bun, small blue flowers weaved into the hair carefully. Her bangs fell around her face, framing it; the hair that was usually tied back in her trademark ribbons was now down, shielding her forehead and falling dangerously near her eyes, which now scanned over the room more. Everyone seemed engrossed in conversation, in the exquisite feast that had been laid out for them, in the music that the exemplary orchestra was performing for them. Her own ballroom had been very similar to this one, though the color scheme had been decidedly different and the company had never been quite so plentiful, especially as her father grew older, more frail, more maddened. All in all, Alaizabel felt nearly like she was back home.

She hated it.

Her countenance was in no way forced, but it was not what most would describe as warm, she supposed. It was resting, pleasant, with a small and dignified smile but with a pointed don't talk to me. No, Icarus was the one who would invite conversation, not she. Her primary goal was to blend, evaporate into the crowd. She would play her part; she would please the crowd that approached her, continue polite conversation, entrance the men and women around her with her grace and charm that had been viciously drilled into her from before she could recall. Parties such as these were the purpose that she was quite literally bred for. This was her atmosphere, the place where she thrived. Her grip on Icarus's arm tightened now. She peered over to the man. She had no idea who had let him dress himself, but she had seldom seen rabbits as fluffy as his cravat was. At least everything matched; he even went so far as to match her outfit. That was good. The two of them needed to seem like an item, apparently. Something about making the two of them vanishing more convincing. She supposed it was true that people who arrived to these events together tended to make themselves scarce after a couple hours and a few flutes of champagne... a romantic partner was the perfect cover to make a subtle and inconspicuous escape. Her eyes flicked back to Icarus. His eyes were brighter than she had seen in a long time. The acrobat had always been bright eyed, easily excited, and chipper all to be damned, but this was positively ridiculous. For lack of a better metaphor, he looked like a kid at a carnival. Alaizabel never really thought about the idea that all of this could be seen as exciting to anyone. She remembered attending these fancy soirees when she was much, much younger; even as a child she had approached the party with a cold distance, a carefully monitored demeanor. She'd never really enjoyed the falsities and pretenses. It had always been off-putting, but it had been the only thing she'd ever known. She'd been trapped into it, never full comprehending that she was truly unhappy with her situation until she was out of it... coming back, well... her anxiety was less to do with performance and more to do with the attendees. Getting recognized was the greatest nightmare she could imagine, so she kept close to Icarus, half burying her face into his arm. It was nearly bar none that the acrobat was her best friend, in closest competition with August of course, and she had been close to him countless times. Hell, she couldn't imagine someone that she could have been more comfortable with in this situation. But even being with Icarus, even clinging to the exceptionally excited boy for dear life, her worry simply would not ebb. Her head was swimming with the plans- get in, vanish, get upstairs, find the lamp, get the lamp, hide said lamp, evacuate with a dazzling bang, and then escape the whole fiasco with hopefully no one following behind. So many variables, so many things that could go wrong, so many horrifying contingency plans.... She sighed. Alaizabel was hoping that it would never come to any of those. Everything could go off without a hook, she knew, but when did that ever happen? For now, the idea was to stand beside Icarus, project a convincing lovingness, and blend.

She squeezed her dates arm, shooting him a warm and vibrant smile. "Alright, Icarus, this is your night." she whispered, peering up to him with bright eyes. She knew that this party held no significance for her, but for him this was impressive, astounding. The least she could do was show him what she supposed would be seen as a good time. "Anything in particular strike your fancy? Remember, I am just here to be your accessory tonight, that is where women are meant to stay at such galas." She looked him once over, quirking a brow and smirking. "So take charge, fair? I unfortunately cannot lead this without drawing attention. Just relax, blend... and attempt not to look too star-struck, darling." She gave a short, dainty laugh and patted his arm affectionately. She had faith in him- he was capable and intelligent. But she was completely serious; she needed him to take point. A woman leading a man would be noted, remembered. And while she would absolutely abhor bowing to his wills and whims, she did understand the necessity and would do what she must to be successful. The biggest success would be for him to remember her "name"...


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✿ ʟocaтɪoɴ: Party....? xxxxxxxx❀ ϻσσɗ: Nervous, but steeled xxxxxxxx✿ ωɪтʜ: Icarus xxxxxxxx❀ σσc: Let me know if this is alright! :]

WhatTact

[happydog911]

So long ago, I don't remember when.
That's when they say I lost my only friend.
Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease,
As I listened through the cemetery trees

I seen the sun comin' up at the funeral at dawn, the long broken arm of human law.
Now it always seemed such a waste, she always had a pretty face.
So I wondered how she hung around this place.

August didn't have much trouble with the restrictions. The only issue was being cooped up in the metal hell-hole at night. There was something left to be desired about the rooms on the train, especially considering their size. If that wasn't enough, having everyone stuck in there was just about mayhem. Some took it better than others, but August found himself frustrated at the lack of fresh air and time to himself. Even if he escaped to his room, the constant movement of troupe members around the train would keep him up and remind him that he was never actually alone. The best he could do was open his window, curl up in his blankets and let the fresh air surround him at night. During the day, business seemed to go as usual. Performances continued, travelling continued.

Tensions had been high during the restrictions, and August was well aware as to why. He had been sitting at the camp fire when it all happened. When Ava returned with Nova, Ava slapping Morgan. The contract. Then the accident with Mimi, which was still a little unclear. It had been a rough day, and Ava seemed to be taking it the hardest. Gus hardly saw her, and when he did she would vanish a few seconds later. Once in awhile he'd try to follow her, and a few times he actually succeeded in having a conversation. It was awkward at best, but he didn't see it as a reason to leave the feline tamer on her own. After a few days, he figured out she was hiding in the train car with all the cats, which shouldn't have surprised him. There were newborn kittens and a mother who needed tending to. After all, what better excuse to escape?

Just the other day, he had gone to see her and things had been a little... different. She had spoken to Morgan and from Gus had gathered, it had been an overly stressful conversation. When August finally found her on the second floor of the cat car that evening she had broken down into a sob. He thought for a moment that she'd like to be alone, but his better judgement took over. Silently, he sat next to her and pulled the tiny girl into his arms, stroking her hair, providing what little comfort he could. August was sure she could have heard his heart beating a million miles a minute had she been paying enough attention. Then suddenly she was looking at him. He was overcome by a feeling he wanted to give into oh so badly. They got closer, he could feel her breath graze his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Yet, the moment was cut short. The sound of foot steps nearby broke the silence. Before he knew it, Ava pulled away and then she was gone.

~~~

Today things were proceeding differently, there was a job to be done. The majority of the troupe would be going, though others had to stay behind. As much as August would have rather been on that job and out of the train, the lack of people was a change that he appreciated. The afternoon had been quiet and he spent the entire time in bed, curled between the sheets, falling in and out of sleep. His thoughts were filled with Ava, and the awkward situation the other day. He hadn't seen much of her since, at least not enough to hold a proper conversation. Why did he always find himself floundering like this?

As dinner rolled around, August stumbled out of bed, eventually making his way to the kitchen. Perhaps someone would be around, someone who would know how to cook if he was lucky. "Damuron~" he greeted the doctor before sitting on one of the stools and sluggishly laying over the counter, "Is there anything to eat?" he groaned, hoping someone had already preprepared a meal or left something for the shut-ins to eat. August wasn't sure anything could keep him from a meal, not even the uneasiness he felt after the other day.

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With: No one >> Dam
Location: Bedroom >> Kitchen
Thoughts: What is love? (Baby don't hurt me)

Hey, come on try a little, nothing is forever.
There's got to be something better than in the middle.
But me & Cinderella, we put it all together.
We can drive it home, with one headlight.

[fangbanger18]

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☠Location}- Her Room?--- Kitchen x x☠ Company}- Alone --- the doctor and one of the flying guys?x x ☠Thoughts:Feelings}- Ugh I need some fresh air. : Hungry x x ☠OOC}-
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x Clothes hidden under this coat xxxxxxOutfit


Imprisonment, that was how she felt...from a life of no home to a life of a forced home. The woman could not really say how she felt, angry, sad, happy? None of it was the correct term, though she was not sure she felt anything at all. After all her body was built to adapt and thus was her mind. Of course taking orders was something not taken lightly and even less having some crazy grim reaper looking dude take your soul right out ya. The whole thing was a mess in her head that she really did not care to go through. All she knew was know she was stuck here in a train filled with fruity fruit happy people. But that was what she thought at first, as the weeks passed she realized the circus business was nothing like prissy ***** clowns and damsels. For one it was not a group of freakishly happy people, actually Rylee was surprised to see these people seemed more miserable than her. Suppose through the whole mess her relief was at least there were really no clowns, just talented group of artist.

Most of days she remained in her room, sleeping the day and coming out to eat only the dead at night. How she felt so sorry for her pets, now knowing what it felt like to be a caged snake. There was no one she had yet to truly speak to, expect for passing hellos and such. A few already she could not stand, like the pink princess that just gave Rylee a headache, she always had a mess of perfume and shampoos that it just messed with the snake sense. Everyone else still had yet to be judge, there was the pretty boy from the bar, still nice as ever, though his friend didn't like her much not that Rylee cared. But there was one person who had sparked her interest in the acts, well two, fire boy and lion girl, Rylee adored watching their acts. It was the only thing she found truly dangerous and beautiful, though she kept her distance from the cats, claws and snakes just did not hit it off.

The bed was still a bid odd, not accustomed to it yet. Even her dear friends all remained in her cages, not even her preferred snake had taken even a night to sleep beside her in the odd room. Windows were shut tightly along with the shades, mountains a pillows and a heavy comforter, fairly obvious that she enjoyed her warmth. The woman had shifted so much in her sleep she was partly uncovered, and an odd breeze of cold caused her skin to shiver. Waking with a hiss her tongue danced along her lips angrily, the soft brown of her eyes shifting to a bright shinning yellow. It took her a moment to remember where she was, but soon enough the passing weeks rushed to her mind. Sitting up she buried her face into her hands, whatever her dream was it certainly had her feeling uneasy. Looking over all her little friends she was able to bring along still slumbered, leaving her awake alone. With the dim light that tried to sip through the shades she could tell the sun was soon setting, meaning it was late. The grumble in her stomach also meant she was in desperate need for some food. Usually she waited till later but since most of everyone went away for something she was sure those left would not be too odd if she rant into them.

Sighing she slithered her way out of bed, the grey sweat hugged her waist all the way down to her ankles and a sports bra. She looked around the room, wandering were her shoes were but the grumble pushed her to hurry, deciding on a simple pair of socks instead. Grabbing a tooth brush she headed first to the bathroom, finally after getting lost almost everyday knowing where it was. A quick splash of water had her wide awake, the mess of short her brushed easily along with her teeth. Burying the toothbrush in her pocket she made her way to the kitchen, the threatening hunger driving her crazy. At the stairs she could not help but stop, the sound of voices putting her on alert. It seemed they were contemplating on food, maybe she could do something to finally get in touch with these people. With a huge sigh she continued, quietly entering the kitchen giving them a short wave. First she simply passed them, digging her way through the kitchen, reaching obviously first for some meat, steak slices. After that she reached for onions, peppers, and a few different cheeses, laying it all out as she searched for a skillet. Then finally she met the boys gazes not bothering to smile since it usually made her look odd, "Anyone ever tasted cheese steak sandwiches? I can make you guys some if you like....that is if you people are allowed some real food other than fruits and vegetables. Grim reaper dude seems to keep everyone on a leash here, wouldn't be surprising if he forced a diet too." At first her eyes remained on them to see her answer as she offered, but her voice trailed on as she glanced away and began to throw some meat on the skillet. A knife and cutting board next as she began to chop ingredients. Rylee was nothing of a fancy cook, she didn't know dish names and all that but she did know to make what she like, which usually consist of meat and grease.

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happydog911

xXx Fox Trot xXx

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[sunriseparilla]

TA U B R Y N ↺ M E L E A C H L A I N N

"The Illusionist"

✱ ✱ xThe city looks so pretty, do you wanna burn it with me?
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Let's watch this city burn

xxxFrom the skylines on top of the world
'Til there's nothing left of her

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The past two weeks were something he really would have rather done without. Everything had happened too fast and all at once that left him still reeling. His memories of that night with Damuron were still hazy but they were starting to surface. And, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. Every time he caught a glance of his best friend, he’d wince ever so subtly and find something else to do. Preferably something at least two cars away, though with the cramped space of the train that was hard to do most of the time. The entire situation was new and confusing and left him feeling like his feet were inches off the floor. He could brush the ground every now and again and find some sort of composure but then just as suddenly, he found himself slipping, dangling over that unknown grey area like a fish. Though he convinced himself that everything was all right, that he didn’t need to dwell on it, it was Damuron after all, he just couldn’t push it away as easily as he usually did.

To add to his increasingly fluctuating mood, his job with Flynn didn’t go as planned. Though he really wasn’t too surprised. They had argued and he teased, but that was quite a norm for them that he didn’t think twice. Then…something cracked a little. Something was different. They had gone too far (had he…? Had he gone too far?) and thus cost them a bit of time. Seeing as they weren’t the closest of friends, but he still considered them on good terms, “going too far” was certainly saying something. At least for him. But yes, it was another thing to add to the list of confusing and new things happening in his life. Needless to say that once they got back, Morgan had great practice in not breathing for roughly 20 minutes. He’d tuned him out for the most part but made sure to nod and look repentant every so often. As much as he absolutely adored being yelled at, the war inside his head was starting to overflow. Once they had been dismissed, he immediately locked himself up in his room and tried hard not to think about anything.

Little did he realize that this would only be the beginning of, not just his, but everyone’s special brand of grade A bullshit.

It had been a complete backhand to the face the day Pyrrhus’ act went wrong. They had gone through the motions, same old same old, but then chaos. He knew playing with fire was dangerous but he had complete faith in Pyr to keep things well and good. So when his act had nearly endangered a small child, it took him a few seconds to even process it. Thankfully, they had gotten things under control before any real damage could happen. Still…the whole thing didn’t make sense and left all of them, especially Morgan, a little rattled. He wanted to ask, wanted to know what the hell had happened to make him do that, but couldn’t find the chance. After that little incident, Tyrant Morgan had instilled new rules for them all to follow. All of them restricting their movements severely. Just hearing them made his skin itch and made him want to crawl out of himself.

Even though there were countless things wrong, he did find some enjoyment in one of the new girls. Nola? Noya? Something along those lines. She was a new face to their little family and he always welcomed new faces. Even if they didn’t want to be welcomed. She was interesting and was someone to pester for a bit but of course, he grew bored quickly and left her to her own devices. The other one, Rylee, he hadn't had too much time to get to know and welcome yet but he'd get there. Especially since she had the whole snake physiology thing going on. Very intriguing. All the new acts as well, especially Mouse's, was such great fun to watch whenever he had the time and it almost made him forget the shitstorm previously. He should have realized that it was just something of a fluke that things were starting to go well.

Morgan grew even more unbearable with rules and his critiques. With Maiya and Ava specifically, he was incredibly harsh, something that he didn’t think would ever happen. Taubryn was starting to think that he’d gone back to the way he was all those years ago. He seriously hoped not. His memory was faulty and he couldn’t be trusted to remember any little details, but he did remember a few, small important things. The Morgan of then versus the Morgan of now and all he could say was that he much, much preferred the Morgan of now. The one who was more human. The one whose smile lingered and joyous laughter still echoed in his ears.

Despite the limitations, he tried to keep from getting too down and instead focused on other things. Which would’ve been a great way for anyone to keep their spirits up. But he wasn’t anyone and he probably only managed to make things worse for himself. He’d taken to retreating into his head more often times than not and his grip on reality kept slipping, more so than usual. Once he had even almost stepped off the moving train because he thought he was in a field of blueberries. He caught himself just in time but it didn’t help his frustrations any. At one point he visited Pyrrhus to try to relax but that didn’t work and left both of them bruised and in pain. He wanted to murder someone. But he knew that Damuron would stop him so that left him with little options.

Moving forward a few days found him here. At a grand party, providing distraction so that the others could do their jobs. He didn’t want to go seeing as he was still frazzled and his nerves had seen better days but refusal would certainly lead to more trouble than was worth so he sucked it up and agreed. Working with Ava and Pyr for their joint acts a few days prior was a little comforting. Being with two of the people he didn’t mind spending time with was a great weight off his shoulders. He did get distracted many times during their practice, it was him after all, but he managed to get it together for a truly spectacular time. Finding something to wear was another issue. After several hours of rifling through his closet, he found something actually decent. Not in the ‘I guess this will do’ but actually nice. He was proud of himself for keeping such a useless thing.

Reeling himself back to the present, he looked around the room to all the guests milling about. They all looked elegant and clean and so very, very upper class. It made him want to laugh. Stuffy more like. Thank goodness he wasn’t part of this world. He didn’t know how he’d be able to handle it. Setting up for Ava was literally nothing so that left him with his own performance. He adjusted his tie and breathed out a sigh of relief when the offending object was loosened. Truthfully, he wasn’t too concerned with it. He was just there so that the crowd had something to ooh and ahh over while the real work was being done. People had gathered around Ava as she began her act so he settled back and started preparing for his own. A few patrons had gathered around him already as well and he flashed them a grin. He waved a hand and began his show.


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Let's watch this city burn the world
Let's watch this city burn the world
Let's watch this city burn the WORLD




〈 location 〉 ㄨ Tortari Manorxxx 〈 company 〉 ㄨ no one important xxx 〈 ooc 〉 ㄨ lemme know if i should change anything guys!


o uo

[Scrivener_Lost]

cynosural𝐓c𝐡y𝐞 n 𝐑o𝐢s𝐧u𝐠r𝐦a𝐚c𝐬c𝐭a𝐞t𝐫




"Oh surely it is you men who drive us mad, is it not dear Ringmaster?". Golden eyes snapped to the seductress as she sauntered up to the pair, Morgan's gaze lingered on the playful swaying of her hips. Oh, how he knew her game. He had nearly forgotten that he was not the only thespian in this grand stage of proper breeding and hedonism. He growled inwardly, subduing the desire to snarl at her like a dog whose toy was being taken by another, his hackles raising in warning. There was no denying that the beautiful woman was well versed in her art. She had come and was gone nearly as quickly, just like the wasp that she was. Morgan's eyes watched her as she took to promenading about the room with the flourish and the elegance of a woman of her caliber. Lord Tortari released a low and impressive whistle and Morgan felt an elbow connect to his ribs. "My, my...what a fine specimen of a woman. It sounds to me that your troubles assuredly rest in the beautiful hands of Eve," the small rotund man chuckled heartily. The edges of Morgan's lips twitched and pulled into a sour frown, his eyes watching Aloise carefully until she faded into the crowd. The good man tilted his head slightly, taking a sip of the fine wine of the night. "Though, I daresay that I feel as if I know her. Maybe the daughter of some fine Lord of the Isles?" The Ringmaster reluctantly allowed his careful and sharp gaze to roll from the crowd of party goers back to his current company. A sympathetic yet guarded smile snaked its way onto Morgan's face as he placed a gloved hand upon the Lord's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze to assure that his attention was firmly on the Ringmaster before speaking. "Do not bother yourself with meaningless thoughts, good man. The women of my troupe will are very much like roses. They are beautiful and wonderful to look at, but their thorns will draw blood." The man raised a bushy eyebrow before letting out another healthy laugh. "Bah, hahaha! For a man who surrounds himself with beautiful women, you sure have a complex way of looking at them, dear von Faustus." He reached under Morgan's right elbow and tapped his arm playfully. "Come! Drink my good man! This is a night of frivolity and profligacy. Don't let this fine drink go to waste." Morgan pressed his lips tightly together and a huff of hesitant but playful irritation passed through his nose. The man had always pestered him into doing things. He never took No for an answer. Morgan tipped the flute of wine back slightly, allowing a hint of the bitter liquid to drip into his mouth. Just a sip. Lord forbid he continues to pressure me... Morgan sighed as he tipped the glass back down. It was enough to satisfy Lord Tortari as he nodded in acceptance and drank to Morgan's drink. Everything was always celebrated with another drink. How bothersome...

"Let me introduce you to a few friends..." This was why he was here. There could have very well been a simple group allowed to act for the manor. It was a very simple setup. The troupe would perform separately for the time being while the thieves were able to get away under the guise of searching for a particular room or involved in some other activity that drew them away from the ballroom. Then, once the plan came to fruition, they would simply rejoin and leave. This was the basic idea and hardly required the Ringmaster's supervision; he trusted his chosen team well enough. However, it was during massive galas and affairs like this that Morgan was able to several tasks. Though garnering jobs similar to entertaining at the Tortari party was not at the top of his list, it did bring in extra money and garnered a massive amount of reputation that would help to better spread the extraordinary circus' name. But what Morgan was interested in was playing the game of name dropping and ample gossip. Alcohol loosened lips, even in on affairs of treasures, legacies, and heritages. From one person he could find out a large amount of information if he said the right thing and danced with the right damsels. It was all very tedious, but important work. He would greet each person as if they were an old friend. "Sir and Madame Degroit! How wonderful it is to see you tonight." The more people Lord Tortari introduced him to, the more his name was spread either through the Cirque or blood, the more familiar and comfortable people would become with this charming man. The more people he charmed, the better standing he would be in and with a rise in his popularity, he would be able to squeeze his way into the tightest and most seclusive circles of society where men spoke of their forturne through amber coated glasses of whiskey. There was a rhythm. "Ah, Lady Bellatroix, how are you this evening? A dance? Why, of course, in due time." There was a method. "I saw your steed in the race last month. Quite an impressive stallion. Won blue ribbon, did he not Sir Grey?" There was a plan. "Ha, ha! Why of course! I had no idea you were interested in such works." There were rules to follow in this world of lace and fine china. "Oh, its simple really. You see, I started out as a young entrepreneur..."

It was all very tedious. It was all very tiring. But this was his world. A place in which he had once felt so very comfortable and familiar. Though this was far from the current life of the Ringmaster, it had at one point been very much a part of him. No matter how far he ran or how deeply he hid from it, it was still a part of him. With Lord Tortari at his side, the pair whisked about the room in a flurry of quick conversations, quips, and introductions. There were many family names here that Morgan knew and recognized as ages old, but for many of them, it was the first time meeting someone was as strange and alluring as a Ringmaster, especially one deemed cultured enough to be present at such an esteemed party. "Oh my, what a charming man!" He pressed his lips against the heavily perfumed lace glove of a young woman as she pressed her other hand against her collar, a blush as red as a rose growing on her cheeks. "An upstart man, truly. Look how he holds himself. One arm behind his back, the other holding his glass like a true gentleman. And he addresses each lady with unrequited attention." "And did you see the men and women he came in here with? A circus troupe, sure. But did you get a look at that exotic lad with the scars? And such fine women trailing his tail coat." "You must excuse me Madame Versaint, I am afraid Lord Tortatri wishes me to-," "Sir von Faustus! Tell us of the strange and foreign lands of the Asias!" "Oh! Or of the barbaric tribes of India!" From group to group, family to family, clique to clique the Ringmaster traveled, making sure to flash a confident and charming smile to each member despite the weariness that pulled his features into tired wrinkles and dark rings that surrounded his eyes. One would never assume that the man's mind was unraveling like that of a ball of yarn being pulled along by Ava's kittens. "Now, now. Let's not tire the man out already. The night is young! Now," the Lord of the manor turned to Morgan, patting the taller man on his chest with a broad smile that lifted the finely curved mustache from his lips. "You say that the women in your troupe give you guff. Tell me, do any of those fine ladies have a special place in you heart?"

The easy and pleasant smile that had lingered on Morgan's face for the better part of five minutes or so faded with Lord Tortari's question. Without thinking, Morgan's golden eyes flicked out and above the heads of those gathered as he searched for his troupe members, taking a quick tally of their locations and in which sections of their various performances they were in. When his eyes could not pick out a certain brunette, Morgan's gaze slowly fell back to the man. Anyone special? What sort of nonsense... The man curiously gazed up at Morgan as he waited for an answer, raising a bushy brow in question. Morgan's eyes faded slightly as he was drawn into thoughts of the last two weeks and the lack of conversations he had with Maiya. After the event that had occurred in the bathroom, the Ringmaster shunned and avoided all voluntary contact with the woman. The one time he had asked Maiya if she had been even remotely aware of odd things happening in the Cirque, their conversation had been short and brief with very little affirmation aside that Morgan was indeed going insane. She hadn't noticed anything strange in particular and it struck Morgan with such irritation, he had stormed from her presence like a pouting child. Even throughout the week, Morgan had repeatedly-"Morgan?" The Ringmaster blinked and he drew in a short breath before focusing on Lord Tortari. He gave the Ringmaster a worried look. "Ah, I am terribly sorry. Too much wine." He said lightly, chuckling a bit to ease the look on the Lord's face. Lord Tortari chuckled and nodded before patting Morgan heavily on the back once more. "Well then! I have something that shall ease both of your woes. Come now." The small man pushed Morgan towards the center of the room where a crowd of young ladies gathered, giggling and jabbering on as Morgan and Tortari approached them. "If it is a woman that ails you, then let it be a woman that soothes you. And if it is wine, then dance!" Morgan felt the man shove him forward and the Ringmaster took a few uneasy steps before struggling to slip back into the conducive face of a proper gentleman. The girls giggled lightly and hid their faces for a moment before a young woman approached Morgan boldly. "Good evening sir." Morgan paused before bowing slightly. "And to you as well, my fair lady. A dance then?" He held out his arm and the girl giggled softly before placing her fair hand on his arm. "That would suit me most well."

cynosural† 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Tortari Manor - Ballroom cynosural† 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲: Many members of the troupe and rich. cynosural† 𝐎𝐨𝐂: .....


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