You're not quite sure how you got here; maybe you got shuffled along with the crowd, maybe you came up here willingly, but regardless, you are here and you are now trapped.
You know who you are. You know you are a senshi, or a Negaverse agent, or a civilian. But you also know you are someone - something else.
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IN YOUR VERY FIRST POST PLEASE ROLL 1D6:
1 -You are a trapeze artist. You remember distinctly the thrill of letting go of the bars, of knowing your partner will catch you as you fall. You remember the rush of air and the slap of your palms against your partner's and the weight of their body as you tumble through the air. And you can see the circus spread out in front of you, as vivid as a sunset. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
2 - You are a lion tamer. Unlike most circuses, you are kind to your animals. You treat them well. You know how to handle them, and they trust you. You have done this for years and years. It is familiar to you, the scent of their fur and the heat of their pelts and the roar of their kind. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
3 -You are a tightrope walker. You have trained for years for this and all of the callouses and the bruises on your feet just show that you have spent your life dedicated to this art. You thrill at the height and the adrenaline rush of being so high up, and you can see the wire stretched out in front of you. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
4 -You are a clown. You find joy in being ridiculous, in being an entertainer to the masses. You have the routine down to a T, so that you're always aware of your audience, and they adore you. You live for the applause, and you can hear it, see the excitement on their faces as you perform. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
5 - You are a knife thrower. You have trained for years for this as well, and you are very good at what you do. You can feel the pulse of adrenaline that stems from just missing something - or someone - by inches. In fact, you're ready to show your stuff right now. You can see your target board in front of you. Whatever is in your hand is your knife, and you are ready to throw. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
6 - You are a ringmaster. You are the star of the show, the leader of the pack. It is up to you to decide how things go; you direct everyone, you provide for everyone, and you perform for everyone. You would do anything for your troupe, and you can see how hard they have worked over the years. You have made dozens of connections, and you thrive on the limitless joy of being the center of attention at the front of the crowd that you can see all cheering you on. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
Something is wrong.
You can sense this, even with the haze of confusion, the noise, the chaos. Your surroundings fluctuate along with your memories; it's hard to tell what's real and what is an illusion, but in the most lucid of moments, you can tell that this is an illusion, even if the memories feel very real - but there is something unstable about them, something not quite grounded. You know you need to figure out how to break free of these illusions, but you're not sure how.
There has to be something in the room that can help you.
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PLEASE ROLL 1D100 IN EVERY POST FOLLOWING THE FIRST:
1-10 - You have found...something. Please quote kuropeco.
11-20 - While you are trying to figure out what is happening, you have a memory of someone that you know, but not in your current life; it is a circus memory, but it feels very real, even if it's not.
21-30 - You have a vision of yourself doing something not quite right in the circus. It fades in and out, but it is a slightly unpleasant memory.
31-40 - You are reminded of something terrible that has happened in the circus while you were performing. It feels very real.
41-50 - You see an illusion of something joyful that has happened to you in the circus.
51-60- You stumble across someone with whom you have a connection with in the circus, but not in real life.
61-70- You feel a strange sense of sadness for a memory that you would swear didn't happen to you in real life, but in the circus.
71-80- You have a vision of a time in the circus that made you very angry at someone, but it's not someone you would normally be angry at in real life.
81-90- A peaceful memory of a gentle time in the circus overtakes you. Your heart feels very comforted in the memory, but it's not real - or is it?
91-100- You have found...something. Please quote kuropeco.
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OOC NOTES:
You are free to power up here. The illusions are distorting everything, and while you should definitely still not be obvious about it, you can still do so without too much issue. The fluctuating visions keep identities from being discovered easily.
Your character is essentially trapped between two lives - the real one and the illusion of their circus persona. They know who they are, but the circus lives feel so real and have a very real impact on them in spite of this. Everything is confusing and overwhelming.
You are free to make connections with other people for the memories, but make sure that you have OOC permission from people before you write something about their character.
Friendly fire is allowed! Fight, don't fight, whatever you want to do.
If you have any questions or concerns or would like something specific to your character, please let me know!
Strickenized
Ayesha cannot remember who she is. She is entirely immersed in her illusion and cannot seem to recall anything about her current life. She can see the circus around her; she can also see that the nearest person is someone who is trying to attack her because of what she does in the circus.
Ciaran was pretty sure something was in the punch. The punch she hadn't had. Or maybe it was the shrimp. The popcorn shirmp? She didn't know. Her outfit changed, it felt like. She wore a tight bodysuit, a small whip at her side. It wasn't for the animals, she could never hurt them like that.
But then she was back in her dress, looking at curls and hearing the sounds of growls.
"Hey Mags?" She looked around, putting her hand on her head. "Uhm....Where...." She sighed, as colorful lights and things exchanged with the celebration of arts.
"What makes you think a clueless b***h like you can do my job? Huh?" Ayesha threw her arm out, catching swaths of ribbon and sending them tumbling to the ground. She stepped over the mess, each step purposeful, each step murderously swift, to close the gap on this inbred lion-taming space case and her baseless accusations. As she drew closer, she threw one of the low-hanging equipment rods out of her way. "You think you have what it takes to lead when you're already looking to other people for help?
"No offense," she muttered sideways at the person under the mop of ringlets, "but the elevator doesn't go to the top floor in that one.
"So." Ayesha clasped her gloved hands together, her outfit prim and golden gilt under the loud, unforgiving circus lights. "Let's settle this like adults." Ayesha wound her fist tight, half-wishing for a weight against her palm, and aimed for the tamer's balked lips.
Accidents always raised circus revenue, gave spectators something to gawk at. This b***h might be their ticket to record profits if she accidentally hung herself from the trapeze swings.
pixie nyxie
third person limited so the reality of this sitch is up to you <3
He was fairly sure he might've smoked something bad again. Right? - what other explanation was there for this? Sure, he didn't remember smoking anything too suspect before he'd come to the party, but this didn't really make sense without some kind of chemical use involved. Like that time with the bottles.
Yes, the bottles. The clowns had broken a few during their last show. Always dropping them while juggling, silly things - but the show had to go on and all, and at least 'showtime' was a concept Malaise could relate to.
Alright. Some s**t had gone down and now he was in some new space.
Magically.
Cool. Cool. The inclusion of magic teleporation had exponentially increased the likelyhood of Colin having been correct about this event being some sort of crazy-a** trap, buuuut there was something about the air-- or the music-- or something-- that didn't let Felix dwell on it for too long.
Instead, he found himself looking down at gloved hands. But not the sort of gloves he was used to seeing, not the smart white of his marching gloves, nor the eye-searing aquamint of Suttungr's fuku. No, these were buttercup yellow. Felix shook his head a bit, he knew he hadn't been wearing gloves when he arrived - oh, but of course he'd been wearing gloves! He was getting ready for the Show!
s**t, was he even ready? His pants were too tight to be the properly oversized comedy tear-away ones, so he hadn't put those on yet-- Damn, he was going to be Late. Both hands flew up to touch gingerly at the upsettingly naked skin of his face, panic setting in. Just how far behind was he!?!?! But something tickled at his nose - maybe a piece of glitter or some girl's perfume or something - and he sneezed twice in a row and shook off the weird spell that had woven it's way into his brain.
"I'm not a clown."
'I'm a clown with this circus.'
Seriously, had someone spiked his drink? A headache was starting behind his eyes, drilling into his brain. He could just tell.
Quote:
4 - You are a clown. You find joy in being ridiculous, in being an entertainer to the masses. You have the routine down to a T, so that you're always aware of your audience, and they adore you. You live for the applause, and you can hear it, see the excitement on their faces as you perform. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
staripop rolled 1 6-sided dice:
1Total: 1 (1-6)
Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2019 12:40 pm
Emilia Asher
The first thing she saw when the lights came back up enough was the trapeze.
Her trapeze. And it was in quite a state, hung up flimsily. She was going to have to get someone from maintenance on that if she wanted to be able to practice tonight. She walked over to get a closer look and found that the tower up to the top was completely covered in cupcakes. Cupcakes.
Little circus cupcakes, just like the rest of the theme party decorations trying to pass themselves as a formal event. Right. These were just decorative. She didn't have to practice right now, just enjoy the party. The unfortunate reality of that was that she had been shuffled completely away from the bar before she'd gotten a chance for any booze, and she wasn't sure where either Ella or the phone-smashing rockstar had gotten too.
staripop
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Beejoux rolled 1 6-sided dice:
1Total: 1 (1-6)
Beejoux
Wrathful Demigod
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Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2019 2:41 pm
Adel el-Kadar
When the lights had gone out he'd meant to draw Ayesha closer so they wouldn't run the risk of being needlessly separated but from the space of one breath to the next his hands were loosening and falling away as the world around him shifted and changed, and instead of the lavish banquet hall they'd been standing in a moment before Adel now found himself standing off to one side of the large central ring of the circus.
But of course he was, this was where he belonged, his home and his livelihood. This was where his family and friends were, why on earth had he thought for even a second like he belonged anywhere else but this?
A light frown playing over dark features the man smoothed callused palms down the front of the bright costume he was wearing, dark eyes flicking around in search for his partner or the other acrobats they preformed with, but he didn't see anyone.
""What makes you think a clueless b***h like you can do my job? Huh?"
Adel blinked, head shaking as a hand came up to rest fingertips to his temple. Had that been?
Yes, yes it had been. Ayesha was standing face to face with another woman an all out screaming and Adel didn't have a single damn clue what could have been the cause. In fact, had never heard the graceful woman swear once, and for a long moment he just stood there staring at her, shocked.
You have trained for years for this as well, and you are very good at what you do. You can feel the pulse of adrenaline that stems from just missing something - or someone - by inches. In fact, you're ready to show your stuff right now. You can see your target board in front of you. Whatever is in your hand is your knife, and you are ready to throw. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
---------
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, regarding the board in front of him and weighing his knife in his hand, looking for its center of balance. It wasn't his favourite knife, but it was still well-crafted, finely honed, ready to be flung end over end towards the board and land with a satisfying thunk right in the center--
Wait.
Wait a minute.
Loren blinked, looked around. He wasn't a knife thrower. He could hear his grandmothers now at the very idea that he would--
That he would be able to throw dangerous weapons with the kind of precision he had trained himself to have. It was not something he'd learned overnight, but it was a talent--nay, a skill--he was proud to have. Now, if he could just get his aim lined up, he could--
He could hold on a second. He had never thrown a knife. He could barely throw a baseball. He had no idea how he was supposed to throw this knife and not injure himself or someone else--
But, if someone got hurt, he knew first aid, and he was skilled enough that it would, at most, lead to only the barest nick, and even then? Only if they flinched, if they didn't trust him, trust his training, trust--
Trust what? He didn't have any training, did he? It sure felt like he did, but he knew that made no logical sense. The muscle memory he could feel in his arm didn't make any sense, and the fact that he could have sworn that was a circus ring a moment ago and not the walls of the warehouse didn't make any sense.
What didn't make any sense was the fact that he was hesitating. Of course he had that training. He'd worked for years at it. He was renown for it. There was a reason, a damn good reason, why he was the star of this act. He flipped the knife in his hand with practiced ease, shifting his feet on the ground to brace himself for the throw. A shame it was just a target board, really. It always got a better reaction when it was a person--
No, why would he be glad if it were a person? He couldn't throw knives! He would kill someone! That would be bad! Even as he could feel a frustration that he couldn't explain, Loren tried to back away from where he was standing. He wasn't a circus performer. He wasn't!
Of course he was!
He wasn't!
He was going to disappoint the people waiting and watching if he didn't get his literal and metaphorical act together. There was no reason at all for this conflict. He knew what he was doing. He'd spent sleepless nights practicing, and this was what it was for. The thrill, the rush of hearing his knife sail through the air, the whistle of the blade, the sound it made when it hit the board on the other side. The way he could see the person--if there was a co-performer--widen their eyes and take a breath. Even as much as they might trust him, there was still that instinctual fear, and that was as much of a rush as the rest of it. He would never hurt them, especially not on purpose, but there would be that brief second where their brain would wonder if this was going to be one of those tragic circus accidents.
There were no tragic circus accidents on his watch. He was too good for that.
Too good? Too good?! He was going to get someone killed! Thank god there was no one on that board! Was the board even there? It didn't seem to be there right now. Loren whipped his head around, trying to find any indication of what was happening.
White face. Red cheeks. Heart-shaped lips, and a tongue between them making a silly face. Life was too short to be serious, this Ella-bella knew, and it was a lesson she tried to imbue to every member in her audience. Something got you down? Put on a happy face! See, it wasn't so hard. The world can't be as terrible as it seems, not when there's so much whimsy and magic and--
--horseshit.
Ella swayed on her feet, touching her face. No white face paint. She wasn't a--circus performer--was she? That sounded like so much...work...why did she worry so much about if these randos were happy? But it could be so much fun...and maybe, one day she could even make Covey laugh...
...wouldn't that be worth it? She'd never seen him laugh before.
Ella had been talking to someone from the ring--from work--about an upcoming performance? With a musician? "Emmy? Mr. Malice? You still around?" Ella opened her eyes, but it felt like seeing the world through two different VR screens, neither of which seemed to quite line up. If she didn't find Emmy, they were going to be late to the show. Ella-bella couldn't let her fans down, could she?
"I think there was...something in that champagne..." she muttered, unable to suppress a giggle. Was she really going to worry about a few little bubbles? But they were so funny!
Allegra blinked slowly as she processed where she was now. She did not like the feeling of not being sure of how she had gotten here, though part of her found herself thinking that it was better than the rather awful sensation of being swallowed up by a bottle. She took in the details, and found herself thinking this place was rather delightful... All those little platforms, and places to chat with each other, the trapezes set up to make it look like they were in a Circus Tent with a performance about to happen? It was so delightful!
And that was when the other memories hit, and she found herself thinking that it was strange that the circus had chosen to put cupcakes on the platforms she needed to climb to perform tonight. How was she supposed to get a proper start, or finish, if there were cupcakes in the way? She moved towards it, wondering if the show was going to start soon, because obviously she needed to work out how to do her performance tonight. They... did have a show tonight, did they not?
There was a moment of confusion, and reality shifted again, so that now she was dealing with the dueling memories instead of one over powering the other. She knew she was at a party, she knew she had come to dance, have fun, celebrate music and maybe find a friend for the night. She knew that she was a graceful and clever trapeze artist, that the feeling of flying through the air, tumbling foot over head for moments of free fall, was a natural one to her. And neither knowledge felt more real than the other. She began to breath deeply, trying not to hyperventilate as she could not make one reality be dominant.
Instead, she looked around and headed for a spot, trying to find a place to sit... At least that way, hopefully, she could get the sense of spinning dualities out of her brain. For a moment, at least.
Quote:
You are a trapeze artist. You remember distinctly the thrill of letting go of the bars, of knowing your partner will catch you as you fall. You remember the rush of air and the slap of your palms against your partner's and the weight of their body as you tumble through the air. And you can see the circus spread out in front of you, as vivid as a sunset. But you also remember who you are normally. The two different lives collide; you can see both waving in and out like a badly tuned television set; sometimes you can see the circus, and sometimes you can see the warehouse of the Celebration. The visions are confusing and tangled; you can't quite separate reality, because while you know your true identity, you would also swear that the other identity is real too.
Jacques held the ring up, waiting for his favorite lion, Caesar, to jump through it, though the big cat was being a bit picky today. He couldn't help but chuckle at Caesar's laziness. Especially since he just seemed to be an ordinary cat in a large body. The similarities were amazing. He wouldn't mind having a lion as a pet at home if it wasn't able to kill him, which made it impossible. He wasn't going to go through the illegal pet trade just to get a lion for a pet.
Why... was he working with lions then? At home he didn't travel around, and he could have sworn that he had been at a party right before this. And it did not have any lions there, only tiger statues. Something wasn't right about this situation and while he would have thought further upon it, one of the lionesses, Mary decided to rub her head against him, causing him to lose his trail of thought. "Mary it's not your turn!" He said, chuckling, trying to push the lioness away. The lioness had decided that he was her rubbing post for now and he was trapped.
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