♥ Le Moulin Rouge! {the red windmill} ♥

[Cirque du Coeur Torve]

Welcome welcome one and all to the fabulous, the magnanimous, the Moulin Rouge!
We have a fantastic show for you tonight esteemed patrons!
Please welcome the exotic, the rare, Cirque du Coeur Torve!

Ready to perform? Well cool those jets! It's not showtime just yet ;D!
Mandatory shows are worth .5 a performance each, so enjoy!
Only performers may post in this thread, and only with the Cirque mule's permission <333.

 

[Uennie]

Gentlemen and comrades, we present to you ...
LILY ROBINSON; the Lady Death!

 

[Keppit]

Lily paced back and forth, back and forth backstage, just out of sight of the audience. The tips of her fingers were lodged in her mouth unproductively as she gnawed at non-existant fingernails. The poor woman was nervous as all get out... not only was this her first performance, but somehow she'd also managed to pull the opening slot in this first performance. As she waited she tried to run through her act in her head, but she was just a bundle of nerves... and this bodice! She grabbed the top of the corset she was wearing in both hands and hauled up on it. Then she thought better of it and shoved it back down where it belonged. She adjusted what little boobage she had and resolved to not touch it again... Wait... there was Zidler out there making an anouncement... Her! He was announcing her. She grabbed the edges of her cloak, checked again for the thousandth time that evening to make sure that she was wearing two pairs of gloves, and she blinked once at the contacts made to obscure her iris' and pupils into white orbs.... She was shaking slightly and she really couldn't think straight, but still she stepped out into the lights.

Lily Robinson walked calmly, and (what she thought) was seductively out to the center stage where she stood for a moment as her sombre music played out a haunting slow drum beat. She pretended to take in the sights of the stage and audience, trying to hit as many people with as blank an haunting a stare as she could. 'lady deathe, lady deathe, lady deathe...' was all that ran through her mind as she heard the drum beat of her music ramp up into something more musical, she heard the low notes of the piano kick in, and somehow she managed to give a hip thrust and fling that side of the cloak open as the cymbols came in. She knew this dance, it was sexy, but slow, practiced, but still fluid in all it's movements. She missed a step or two and almost stumbled through a particularly difficult spin, but she did manage it. As the music drummed down again she unfastened her cloak and held it out at arms length, using the special igniter in the left lapel to set the garment on fire. She held the cloak at arms length with as wicked a grin on her face as she could manage.

Then the music ramped up again, faster this time, almost Can-can style yet still managing to keep it's haunting melody. She flung the still flaming cloak directly behind her and thanked the gods that she hadn't managed to catch herself on fire while doing it. Then she began the fast part of the dance, high kicks here and there, and she didn't let herself think about anything other than 'sexy, lady deathe, sexy, lady deathe.' As she had previously practiced, she threw off little bits and peices of her costume, including her frilly overskirt and the top black glove on each hand, leaving two padded flesh-coloured gloves underneath. This was kind of fun. As the music melody died down so that it was barely audible, and the drums slowed and began to beat much like a heartbeat, Lily stopped her dance, and turned her eyes back to the audience. She stared at them all for a moment, then grinned evily, took up a bracing stance... and crossed her arms holding each elbow in a hand.... then she quickly ran her arms out, hands going from elbows to wrists, her fingertips touching each other last. That triggered the igniters in both her flesh-coloured gloves, making it seem like the woman had set her hands on fire...

She stood there grinning evily at the audience, as the gloves burned, flaked and dripped away from her skeletal arms. Then as the last flaming bits of glove dropped to the floor of the stage she pulled in one arm and regarded it quizzically with her blank stare. Then she pulled in the other one and looked at it... the drum heartbeat still going in the background. As she flexed the bone fingers in her left hand she turned to the audience, flexed all her fingers and laughed.... Threw her head back and laughed and laughed as evily and as heartfelt as she possibly could manage.

The drums picked up again, the melody came crashing back in, and her dance started again... only this time she took it out into the audience. Not quite touching anyone with her hands, but coming oh-so-close on many an occasion. She wanted to give the impression that once touched the men and women would die... she tried desperately to convey a feeling of sheer pleasure at the thought in her face. And surpisingly enough, now that she was nearing the end of her act she was finding that she was getting a pleasure high at the prospect of the idea... somthing in her really did want to do harm to... to who? ...

She spotted one woman in the audience and danced over to her slowly. She leaned over and stared the woman in the face, then she raised her hands and moved a lock of hair out of the lady's face, tucking it back up over her ear. Then she grinned as the music stopped for a split second, long enough for her to say one thing... "Time." And then she grasped the woman's face in her skeletal hands, and laughed... she kissed the woman on the forehead lovingly and then danced back up onto the stage, over to the center and hit her last mark just in time for the music to crash into it's final notes. The can lights hit her, bathing her in a dark red light, almost deep as blood and she turned into it beautifully... then the lights went out and she bolted for the wings, heart pounding in her chest from both nerves and a performance high...

When the red light faded back in a second later... she wasn't there. And the lights faded back up into something similar to what Zidler had used in his introduction.

Lily grasped the side curtain in both hands and giggled to herself as she scanned the audience. She'd done it... she'd finished her first performance and she had lived through it. It could only get better from here.  

[Uennie]

Gentlemen and comrades, we present to you ...
AEMILIA SAINT SINCLAIR; the Prestige!

 

[tuesdayscat]

When the lights dimmed for Lily's performance and she slid off in the darkness, stagehands dressed in black carried out long stemmed candlesticks and candlebras. They would need no artifical light in this next act. With her ringlet dark curls falling in like churning water over her shoulders, the contrast between her hair and pale costume could be seen even in the dim light. She waited patiently at the back, just out of sight but still faintly visible in the dull lamplight and through the fuzzy smoke. Her breasts were encased in a bra-fashioned corset of the palest blue, though it would change throughout the act to various hues, that matched the skirt which kept the garter straps taught. The stockings would, undoubtedly, remain in place without assistance, but it was a pretty effect. The lacy skirt with bow detail hid the black boy short underwear beneath, though led into white floral pearl thigh highs. She was exquisite to some tastes, and luckily for her, she felt no shame at being so scantily clad. Even the corset left a good third of her torso revealed with its bottom stopping just too short and the underwear starting just too low. Nevertheless, she felt dangerously alluring and the lace up white and robin's egg blue gloves that ended just above her elbow only sealed the deal. As for the act itself...

Aemilia had, from the start, seriously doubted the idea of singing the song herself. She had considered pleading with a regular performer at the Moulin Rogue for assistance, or even simply allowing it to be an instrumental piece and letting her light show do all the talking. Luckily for her, however, stage fright was no problem and she let her rich alto tones carry out over the audience. There had been an instant, a little thrill in the bottom of her stomach just before the first note rang out that she supposed was, in fact, that mysterious ailment that Aiden had once described to her. Very briefly, thoughts and concerns that she was on the wrong note or her costume wasn't on properly or who knew what other doubts had ran through her head, but as she stepped onto the stage and bent light from the candles that had been left burning, she felt at peace once again. She was doing something she knew how to do, was confident in doing, and would blow away her audience in the few minutes that she had to captivate their attention. Determination was definitely something she had going for her.

Her heart was, nevertheless, pounding in her chest. Fluttering like a caged bird, excitement causing every nerve in her body to be tingling as she began her first performance. It was a thrill, not a fear. She wanted to please them, to drive them all mad with a want to touch her (given the nature of a burlesque act) - to throw flowers at her, to buy her gems, or to at least applaud. Perhaps even a standing ovation - that would be nice. This was brilliance, all of it. Moving the false gem so that it rested on the back of one outstretched hand, she marveled at it for the moments before it disappeared. They had done well with finding it. It was roughly the size of a soccer ball - if she knew what one was - though just a tad smaller (and obviously not rounded, but brilliant cut so that she had more angles to work the light through). Even without her help, it was catching the light from the candles and tossing patterns over her black glove. It was a pretty sight, but such paltry offerings would not do well with any audience, so the diamond was bent out of sight as she heard the first introductory notes of the song. Bending the dim candlelight into a fetching spotlight that was soft instead of the harsh edges that came with artificial light, Aemilia stepped into view with one hand resting on her hip (precariously balancing the invisible gem there) and the other pressed with the back of her fingers against her downturned cheek. With her knees together and slightly bent, she made a pretty picture that moved slowly with the soft lines of the introduction.

The French are glad to die for love,
they excite in fighting duels.

Running her fingertips up the side of her face, she slowly lifted her head so that it was soon inclined in the other direction as she reached the end of the first line. Her mixmatched eyes were hooded as she observed what she could see of the audience through the light. She was not blinded, but the way it hit her definitely made things difficult. They were enraptured, or so she hoped. That was one of the many things she wasn't quite a master at yet - reading other's expressions. The show must go on, and with a small smile, she punctuated the next line with a slight emphasis on 'fighting' as her raised hand fell and 'shot' a bullet of light out into the audience from her fingers, positioned like a gun. The bullet was harmless, disappearing as it reached the first man.

But I prefer a man who lives
And gives expensive ... jewels.

She blew away the 'smoke' from her pointer finger after 'lives', shooting a soft grin at the man the 'bullet' had hit as she drew out the note. It was pretty, but had to be left as she moved into the next few words. Here came the fun, and the true heart of the show. This was what she'd been training for since she joined the Cirque - a true light show. No more foreplay. There was one pause, the music dying out for a few seconds until at last she whispered the final word of the introduction that would let lose a frightening crescendo from the band. As she released the word, "jewels", her hips swayed so that the opposite was cocked and the hand that balanced the precious gem was swung upwards just enough so that the gem would swivel to face the audience as it, quite abruptly, materialized with the sudden sound of the percussion picking up the pace of the song.

There was an eruption from the crowd. A small one, more of a collective gasp but it was enough to make her smile as she swung into the performance. Popping her wrist slightly, the diamond was expelled into the air where it caught rays of light she bent to flow through its clear matter at the right angles. Flashes of blue, purple and white splashed across the upturned faces of the audience to their delight before the false gem landed, cleanly on one side, on opposite hand. She had since turned around so she caught it with her hand behind her back as she reached for a top hat just off stage. It was beautifully done, though she nearly dropped the damn fake rock when she turned back around. Though it wobbled dangerously, she was able to keep it positioned well enough so that she could continue on with the performance even through a momentarily strained smile.

Striding forward on clicking heels, her mix-matched eyes were wide and bemused as she looked over the crowd, breaking into the verse with a refound confidence;

A kiss on the hand may be quite continental
But diamonds are a girl's best friend
A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental
On your humble flat, or help you feed your pussycat
Men grow cold as girls grow old
And we all lose our charms in the end
But square cut or pear shaped
These rocks don't lose their shape
Diamonds are a girl's best friend

Her movements now were fluid, lifting her hand to kiss the diamond and offer the audience an exaggerated wink as she continued. Holding the gem, still perched on the back of her fingers, out away from her, Aemilia lifted her other hand to press into her dark curls. Her hips swaying with the beat as she sang, "A kiss may be grand.. and the diamond bounced into the air a few inches to catch more beams of light at the same rhythm. Whether the audience was enjoying the show or not, Aemilia was most assuredly having a blast. Oh, heaven help her if they were bored. They were men! They should at least be entertained by her bared flesh and movements, if nothing else. To punctuate 'pussycat', she thrust her hips to one side suggestively with a little purr on the beat before. It was tastefully done, if suggestive. But on the song went.

It was going well until she felt the diamond wobble during her movements for 'these rocks don't lose their shape' - a particularly 'jabby' part of the song where her steps were quite stocatto. The false gem slipped from her fingers as if it truly belong to a ring, sliding off the tips and into the air. She had to retrieve it, gracefully or no, or else her prop would shatter on the stagefloor and there was no saving her then. It was pure luck and genius that she lunged forward on one foot (she was quite nearly doing the splits) to catch the gem with one hand. She was a beat earlier than the music, but she only appeared as if she were a bit off in rhythm rather than that she had nearly botched the whole performance. Her heart thundered in her ears so loud that she nearly missed her next cue.

Tiffany's, Cartier
Talk to me, Harry, Winston, tell me all about it
There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer
But diamonds are a girl's best friend

There may come a time when a hard boiled employer
Thinks your awful nice
But get that ice or else no dice
He's your guy when stocks are high
But beware when the start to descend
It's then that those louses go back to their spouses
Diamonds are a girl's best friend
I've heard of affairs that are strictly platonic
But diamonds are a girl's best friend
And I think affairs that you must keep liaisonic
Are better bets if little pets get big baggettes
Time rolls on and youth is gone
And you can't straighten up when you bend
But stiff back or stiff knees
You stand straight at Tiffany's

Diamonds
Diamonds
Square cut or pear shaped
these rocks won't lose their shape.
Diamonds are a girl's best...
...friend...

The rest of the act passed as uneventfully as she could manage. With the appropriate hip rolls, bust thrusts, hand movements and steps in place, she would have put on a decent show on her own when matched with the bemusing and entertaining facial expressions that accompanied the gimic. The contact juggling was nearly perfect were it not for the occasional stumble that, luckily, was easily hidden by distractions. She even managed to roll the hat from one hand to the other (without dropping the diamond!) and off the stage into the wing. It was her light bending that really took the cake, however, and made the act really worth anything past trivial entertainment. The bodice and skirt were constantly changing colours at an even pace throughout the entire performance from blue, to pink, to purple, to red, to black, to white. All the while, light refracted, infracted, defracted and the whole shebang out of the various plates that made up the fake diamond so that the beams of colours bounced off walls, curtains and human beings alike. The spotlight on her face never moved, never dimmed, and the whole while she could feel it taxing on her mind and body. It was ridiculous! Only a few minutes at best and she had practiced for hours, but she had practiced for hours only an hour or so before and hadn't completely rested - besides the fact that this was a complete and unexpected abuse of her abilities that was no body's fault but her own. She was winging half of the effects and though they were dazzling and definitely doing a damn good job, she should have pulled them back for her own sake.

She had had every intention of ending the song with a spectacular finale, but, as if on cue with the rest of the act, she felt that familiar sensation of blood at her nostrils and her limbs beginning to give way. It wasn't sudden, but the adrenaline was abating near the end of the song and very soon she knew she would be unable to stand on her own feet. Her voice lilted out the powerful final lines nevertheless, drawing out each note just as it had been written and just as she had planned. It was on 'friend' that she had intended on blowing up her finale, she had planned on pulling someone on stage and smothering them with a kiss (maybe not, but something equally surprising). Instead she felt a very unsexy trickle of crimson threatening to pour down her face and so at the last possible moment, as she cut off the 't' so abruptly she nearly spit all over the floor, she simply... disappeared. Not to leave the song unfinished, she managed to stay in place, silently, to sing the final word. It was only when the band round it all off with the spectacular climatic ending (that had been meant to accompany the light show), that Aemilia was able to get off stage. Rushing through the stage hands that were hurrying to prepare for the next set, she pushed unseen at anyone who got in her way. She reappeared just inside the curtains, stumbling forward a few more steps before she collasped against one wall. Everything went black for a moment, though she came to a few seconds later.

With blood dripping from her nose, Aemi turned her face upward to stop the bleeding almost instinctively. Blood or no, whether her act went as planned or not, she found herself smiling. It was over. She could at least say that much. Sure, she hadn't been able to make her gloves or skirt disappear to react to for more comic appeal; sure, she hadn't gotten to do her fantastic, climatic finale, but at least she could say she had survived. If barely.  

[Uennie]

Gentlemen and comrades, we present to you ...
HAZINA; the Rastafari Sword-Swallower!

 

[Uennie]

___Hazina breathed heavily, she had gotten so wrapped up in watching her friend's act, look what had happened. She was very very close to being late, and she shook her head slowly. The Masai had never been late for a performance, true, it was mostly because if she was she'd be beaten, but still ... Hazina reached to her left side and touched her metal arm, Zidler had been absolutely insistent on covering it up. For the first time in a long while, she felt ashamed of it. Sighing softly, she moved her mechanical fingers inside the long opera gloves. When they had realized her shoulder was still uncovered, they took one of the sleeves and fastened it to the metal plating. What a lucky fix that had been. All in all, she had to say she didn't really dislike the colour scheme of her outfit. All the cloth was a passionate scarlet, from the jewel-drop headwrap to the extended loincloth. Her gloves and bodice were a creamy champagne, with gold silk brocade upon the torso. In the back red cloth crisscrossed to cinch her waist tighter and tighter, pressing her breasts up and squeezing her waist thinner than ever. At the lower fringe of the corset gold tassels hung with small jewels to match the strands around her neck. She touched her throat, they'd let her wear pieces of her own, the multibangled choker, bracelets, and anklets. Hazina had outright refused to wear shoes when they tried to stuff her feet into high-heeled boots. There was no way she could do her act in them, at least not without practice first. The redhead had also slapped their hands away when they attempted to cover up her facial birthmarks. They were trying to change everything about her, and they nearly succeeded when they held her down to undo and fix her hair. Obligingly, she held still for the eyeshadow and lip rouge, but relinquish her gauges she would not; they were still expanding her earlobes. As Hazina fingered the beads danging from her neck, she wondered how she looked. Sex appeal had never really troubled her before, but people she knew were going to be out there! What on earth would they think ...



___She looked out, peeking through the intimidating curtains. Everyone out there was having such a good time, thoroughly relaxed from the earlier performance. When Zidler had found out she was from India, he had some ridiculous hair-brained idea to use some set from a play that would be used later on. Something stupid, she remembered, Maja Raja her foot. Hazina had refused angrily, and left the dressing room before anything else could be done. Just because she'd lived there didn't mean it was quite the happy memory. The stage was still completely bare from the previous performance, which was good because that way nothing would get damaged. Well, hopefully the floor would be left unscorched. They were drinking wine, and being very merry with each other. Cigar smoke permeated the air with its very strong very specific smell. Hazina hesitated, Zidler was giving her an annoyed look as she procrastinated going out there. Cancan girls behind her were whispering and telling her to move it. She had never actually performed on a stage before ... Just the street. The young girl took a deep breath, as intense as she looked right now, she was frightened.

___It literally was now or never, the music was starting, Zidler had lost his patience and in all honesty Hazina did not blame him. Throwing open the curtains, she stepped forward into the bright light. She squinted, adjusting, her face turned a little sour as she fought to regain composure. Her cheeks darkened as she listened to what some of the people in the audience were saying.



___"My God, it's a coloured girl."
___"Well what the Hell is she doing on-stage. I thought this was a respectable place."
___"Maybe she's supposed to be some sort of foreign act, maybe they're integrating!"
___"They've been integrated for years, there's just never been someone center stage."
___"Don't be a moron."
___"Boy she is pretty cute though. Look at that hair!"
___"Those eyes look demonic, what's wrong with her face?"
___"You think she has one of those, you know, Hottentot Aprons?"
___"God, don't be sick."

___Hazina held the stick closer to her, almost right underneath her posterior. She stared out at the audience, and the music slowed down, almost stopping completely. Swallowing, she laughed quietly in her head. Oh that's right, they're pigs. No need to act proper if they were going to go back home to their slop anyway. Looking at Zidler fiercely, he started up the music again, and she gripped the staff and slammed it down in front of her. Slowly she sauntered towards the middle of the stage and spun it around. They were going to get their precious show.



___Slowly she tossed the stick from hand to hand, almost toying with their anticipation. She was furious now, and she smiled slowly, her eyes glinting dangerously. Hazina remembered now, she could only relax in peace in Paris when she wasn't around the upper-class ... Or rather the self-righteous thumpers. The flute sounded, the sitar was twanging melodically. Slowly she lowered her eyes and stepped around, spinning slowly while rotating the staff. She noticed Dieter in the audience, and as much as she despised him, he technically was the only available male to her. Quickly she thrust the staff down, making it stand straight up. Placing her fingertips on the top she knelt slowly, before popping back up and swinging around it, keeping eye contact with him. Her arm flexed hard, trying to keep up with the strength of the metal one, balance was all-too vital in this part of the act. She had to make sure she was moving around fast enough, and at different heights to keep the staff from falling. Twisting her torso she gripped the top of the staff and flipped herself over it, slamming it down and facing at the closest male audience member.

___Drums started pounding, various chiming and instruments exploded into sound. Hazina spun the staff in her hands as she danced around it in rapid, passionate movements. She remembered dancing with her family around the fire, practice fighting with her many brothers. As the blood and adrenaline pumped through her, she began to remember the territorial wars that had ensued at her home. Spins, kicks, punches, blocks, they rushed back into her as her eyes fluttered and she could almost smell the blood and fury. A tambourine started banging, accentuating the pounding her feet was making on the floor, and the whirling her skirt made as it whipped through the air. Performing was always a battle. A battle, a fight, for perfection, for impressions, and for money. She curved her body around the staff, twisting a leg and sliding down as she held the top steady with a hand. Remembering she was supposed to be consorting with the audience, she turned during a spin and blew a kiss until she slid down the staff to end in a perfect split.



___Hazina crawled forward, pulling on the collar of Dieter's shirt and looking at him intensely. She knew he only saw her as a child, but she wanted this anyway. Moving closer until her lips were just barely brushing his, she caught her breath. How long had it been since she'd been with a man? She craved it. Hazina shook back to reality, everyone was watching the moment that had taken an erotic turn for the best. She had to switch gears. Sighing at the lost opportunity, she pulled the staff to the floor with her. Whipping her leg up and around, and standing firmly on flat feet, she dragged the bottom of the stick on the ground. It lit, flaming angrily at her for having taken so long to bring it to life. A quick movement lit the other side, and she began spinning it around and around with great elaboration. The sound of the fire slashing through the air as she moved faster and faster made her smile broadly. Hazina tossed it up, spun it around and then spun with it. She switched hands, blowing another kiss as she let go and jumped over it, kicking the firestaff up to her waiting hand. This portion was mostly all fun and games, at least for her. The fire spun dangerously close to the front row, and she almost wickedly hoped one would catch on fire. Her honeyed laughter boomed through the music, adding to the maniacal performance. This was who she was, she played with danger and made a living off of it. She had sex, she drank, she danced and reveled in storytelling and music. Through this one fire sequence, it almost seemed to convey it all.

___Her mind drifted to Aemilia, Grete, Aiden, the beautiful Scarlett, beloved Ankita. She danced for them, for everything she knew she was and what she truly represented. Dieter and Charlot flashed across her mind. A man who gave her absolute frustration and another that made her feel like she was home. Charlot really was quite handsome in his own right, and she closed her eyes briefly to imagine his playful smile. Hazina fought tears as she smiled for Ankita, for Sarava and her pomegranate. Lucrezia, her determined yet pinpricked fingers. Aemilia! Dear Aemilia. For all these people, Hazina danced and felt the heat of the fire.
___"Natun!" She cried out in bliss, her voice heavy with laughing passion, calling to her friend almost to say, Look at me!



___She smiled grandly, breaking the single staff into three seperate fire sticks. Tilting her head back, she doused each flame, eating the fire as though she had been starved her entire life. The third fire went out, and it plunged the entire Moulin Rouge into frightening darkness for only moments, until a massive cloud of fire appeared just over the audience's heads. Holding the three sticks each between a clenched finger, she relit them with her fiery breath, exhaling with great force. The heat on her lips and eyelids radiated, her lungs were running out of carbon dioxide and already felt scorched and dry. It didn't matter, it was taxing but the same as the old days. Physical pain, sweat, true work to perfect an art that would eventually kill you. Beads of perspiration trickled down the side of her face, she couldn't hold it anymore. Closing her eyes tight she opened her mouth and inhaled, gasping in and swallowing up the great cloud she had just expelled. Drenched in darkness she began to juggle the three lit sticks lazily, allowing the audience to hold their breath for the next great thing, while she caught hers. Hazina had been careless, and had burnt her esophagus once again. It wasn't bad, but it made it harder to breathe. Sucking in vast amounts of cool air in a vain attempt to soothe the innards of her neck, she moved the wands faster, creating intricate designs in the darkness while spinning her body once again to the music.

___Hazina spun faster, creating a ball of orange-red light as she moved the lights with her. She felt her bare feet creating friction on the floor, and it was starting to burn. The Masai stopped abruptly, her clothes and hair still moving with the intense spilling momentum as she loosed the batons from her hands, scattering them to three different points around her. They landed, and instantly flared up in a raging circle. Hazina heard people in the crowd shriek as she surrounded herself in fire. She had been referred to as psychotic before. Perhaps they were right, and perhaps it wasn't as bad as others played it up to be.



___Features blurred as she laughed again, the exotic music pounding ominously. She twisted and curled her arms and fingers, performing an Indian dance in the ring of fire. She heard another yell, and then a shriek. So they had finally noticed. Drawing her hands up with force towards her body, she focused attention upon the illusion before everyone. Her flaming sticks had turned into venomous cobras. They hissed and spat, slithering to the edge of the stage before circling back, seeming humanlike in their sadist pleasure to torment the ever-great Man. She danced, drawing the flames higher still, creating a perfect backdrop for the serpentine battle. First the one on the far right attacked the one in the middle. They twisted, little droplets of blood and venom from their fangs dripping beautifully onto the floor. The center snake got its bearing back, and began to rip at its attacker, until its jaws dislocated and the cobra began to swallow the enemy whole. He hissed with pleasure, and turned to face the cobra on the left, who had been biding his time. Onlookers shielded their eyes in fear of being splashed with blood or worse, none of them wanting to be made blind. With a twist of her hand the left cobra convulsed in the fire and then exploded into a massive boa constrictor. It promptly devoured the remaining cobra.

___Holding her arm out the flames lowered, and the constrictor slowly worked its way to her, clearing a path in the firestorm. It wound itself lazily up her arm, flexing its muscles to let her know that it could kill her at any moment if it so chose. It encircled her waist, twisted up her back, and as she lifted her arm it molded itself to that form. Its head playing with her fingers, she held it up triumphantly as she walked around the circle filled with confidence. She knew not a soul took their eyes off of the dangerous animal, and in defiance of their fears she threw her head back and laughed. Unwinding it from her body she lifted it high and tilted herself back, still laughing. Slowly, and almost sickeningly, she lowered the snake into her mouth. Hazina had done this trick many times before, and though it was uncomfortable and sour-tasting at first, it was still only an illusion. Gradually the massive reptile disappeared down her aching throat, until only its head remained. It slid further down and she opened her mouth a final time to show its rearing head, and outraged jaws, before she clamped her mouth down and swallowed. Someone fainted, she knew they did, she could feel it.

___Hazina opened her mouth, and triumphantly, began to extract a scimitar sword. Her head tilted far back, trying hard to keep her body perfectly straight so she would keep from damaging her insides more than they already were. Her metal arm held steady, a small advantage in having such an unorthodox prosthetic. It never ever shook. As she felt the tip of the blade touch her lips, she held it up proudly, spinning it in her hand. Her flesh hand went up and joined them, pulling the sword seemingly in two as they separated. She whirled once more, the blades singing as she performed the final bit, an Indian sword dance. The fiery ring was closing in on her dramatically, more cuts, more slashes, more leaps and more swings.

___It was almost over, only a little bit more and she could collapse into a puddle. She knew her breathing was labored, sweat was beading but thankfully had not yet ruined her makeup. Her throat was burning and convulsing with pain, and her legs were about to give out. True performance art will always leave you half-dead in the end. The flames finally closed in, and with one final swordmaster flourish, she faced the crowd, hair and clothes turning. She puckered her lips, gave a sexual kiss, and she exploded into fire.

___And then ... she was gone ... Only her maniacal laughter was left echoing in the Moulin Rouge.

___Hazina threw herself into the nearest bathroom and began dry heaving, vomiting heavy amounts of blood and black. Sweat poured off her worn body as she knelt, a trickle of blood escaping her smiling mouth. She did it, her first performance and minimal damage. Hazina estimated she would only be vomiting blood for about a week before her lightheadedness forced her to rest her head on her arm. For some reason, she thought of Dieter. That insufferable man ... She chuckled. He would just love to see her now. A girl screamed as she opened the lavatory door and Hazina was pulled out and covered in damp cloths. The Masai waved them away, she just needed to rest. She hoped she would make it in time to see the next performance ...  

[Uennie]

Gentlemen and comrades, we present to you ...
LUCREZIA; the Skyward Bound!

 

[Lucrezia Falco]

As soon as the announcement was made, the lights on the stage went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. A moment later, a dim red spotlight came on center stage and a pair of long, smooth red ribbons tumbled down from the ceiling, lengthening so their ends rested on the floor. A few strains of violin music were heard, and then…

Silence and darkness again.

Lucrezia adjusted the bra part of her corset one last time and strode onto the darkened performance area. She didn’t trust double-stick tape, but everyone she had asked swore the stuff wouldn’t let her down. She reached the center and found the ribbon, taking it in her hands and beginning her climb. She’d practiced doing this in the dark several times, until she could do it perfectly. When she was about midway up the ribbon, she stopped her climb and cocooned herself in the red fabric.

The red spotlight came back up. To the audience, it would seem nothing had happened, except that the fabric now had a bulge in it. The violins began to play again, and Lu counted the beats as she tensed her arms and moved her arms into place. Her feet were wedged in the folds of the ribbon to keep her at her height, but her hands were free.

Seven… eight… nine… ten.

She fought her arms out of the front seam and bent them around to grab the other edge behind her back. That parted the cocoon and gave the audience a good look at her red-sequin and gold-ribbon covered self, but from here it got tricky. There was the matter of changing from an underhanded hold to an overhanded hold one hand at a time, which meant letting the silks obscure one half of her while she did it.

It was a slow process, and she pulled it off like a vanishing act and fought to keep her arms fluid. With her hands in the proper position, she dropped the ribbons from her feet and swung into an upside-down split. This was the first big test of the double-stick tape, and thankfully it held.

Gracefully, Lucrezia scissor-kicked her legs around the ribbon to brace them and then moved out of the split to begin wrapping herself for a drop. The ribbons encircled her waist, her thighs, and her hips. She blew a kiss to the audience and then plunged ten feet, spinning like a whirling dervish before her last wrap caught her and she bobbed in the ribbons.

She climbed again until she was halfway up the silks and then wedged her feet, straightened her legs, and adjusted her body until she was hanging parallel to the ground. From there, she worked one leg out of the ribbon and hooked it over another section higher up to hang upside down.

One… two… three…

Lu felt like she was counting down to see if the tape would fail her. It held tight. She curved her body to take hold of the ribbon with her hands again and flipped upright, spreading the ribbons so they were on either side of her. She twisted in the air for a moment as the music became slow before straightening, kicking the ribbons off her legs, and climbing higher.

The wrapping for the next drop was slow and methodical from where she was, but from the audience she knew it would look smooth and flowing as she twisted and turned in the ribbon so that it encircled her waist and both legs. She set herself into a spin as she fell fifteen feet. The slack of the ribbon whirled in the air like a banner, glinting with a million shades of red in the spotlight.

Once the spinning slowed to a more manageable pace, Lucrezia climbed again and fell first into a mid-air split, and then flipped to do the same thing upside down. Again, she fretted nervously about the tape, and again it held. She wondered if there were indecent exposure codes here. Probably not.

Focus, Lu she told herself. Muscle memory. You’ve got this. Just stop worrying about the stupid costume.

From the splits, she wrapped for a third drop, one that would take her head over heels from the top of the silks to the bottom and finish the act. She blew another kiss and tumbled into it, the slack ends of the silks streaming from her ankles. The tumbling seemed like it went on forever. Lu knew that the audience was likely to think something was wrong, perhaps even think they’d be seeing some gore today… but they would be happily incorrect. She came out of the fall as her ponytail brushed the ground, performed one last mid-air upside-down spit, righted herself, gracefully extracted herself from thee silks, and bowed.

The red light blinked out.

Lucrezia exited in darkness as the ribbons ascended back into the rigging.
 

[Uennie]

Gentlemen and comrades, we present to you ...
Charlot; the Knife Thrower!