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 Posted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 9:24 am
The night air was crisp this time of year, making it easy to hide himself under a coat, scarf, and weatherbeaten three cornered hat. He pulled the scarf up higher and tugged his napsack up on his shoulder as he wove his way through the disarray of the Cirque at night.
Phillipe glanced down at the scrap of paper in his hand for the umpteenth time. It said to see their New Preformers manager but the question was...where on earth was her trailer?
He wasn't quite sure how to feel about the 'preformer' part but a job was a job...and a traveling job was even better.
Finally, after wandering around for nearly half an hour he spots a trailer with a sign on it. Ah, yes. This must be it...
He knocked firmly and waited for a response.
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 5:43 am
A knock. A new performer, another hour of signing paper work and trying to chit chat. Scarlett sighed, she wanted to rest, do bills, and possibly have a drink or two…not deal with the breathing, talking masses of flesh that were appearing more frequently now. She glided over to the door. Her full-face make-up was smudged while her hair was down, framing her round face with blonde ringlets. “Bonjour.” Fingers wrapped around the knob, she was opening the door for a change. “Come on in.” A cold chill nipped at her ankles as her crimson robe billowed at her knees. Without even taking a second to soak in the visitor’s appearance, she bounded back to the desk. Scarlett's usual smile was replaced with a crinkled brow and a snarl.
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 8:55 am
Phillipe's chin went up slightly at the disheveled young woman's abrupt and not to friendly greeting. Hesitantly he pushed the door open, the warmth from the trailer gusting over his face.
Respectfully he removed his hat before speaking, his french thickly accented "Bonjou mamzel-" He had already taken a step into the trailer before he noticed she was only in her dressing gown. It stopped him in his tracks for a few moments before he retraced his step.
"...ah....t'is a bad time? Mo chagren, I'll com back, non?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 6:44 am
“Nono, come in...s'il vous plait.” Scarlett flicked her hand in the air, summoning him over. “comment vas-tu? Please, sit down.” Being french herself, Scarlett took notice to his French like accent. However, his words weren’t exactly the French she knew. Maybe he had a speech impairment? Scarlett could only wonder. “vous parlez français?” She gradually turned herself around with a quill at hand.
(ha, i'm totally not the master of french.)
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 11:05 am
"Ah, Mersi." Phillipe nodded and slipped into the trailer after her, pulling his scarf off as he closed the door. "Non, mo pale kreyol." He shook his head in apology, "Mo chagren, my apologeez mamzel, my franswa...it is tre terrible."
He stood, unwilling to sit down at first, the paper with his directions still clutched in his hand. "Ah...I'm Pillipe LaBauve. Et Mamzel..? Mo chagren, comment tu t'appelles" This time he attempted something that sounded much more French than creole. He was very much unsure of how to address this woman, or ANY woman of this 'sort.'
((haha, you're not the only one. X) ::pulls creole out of butt:: ))
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Posted: Mon Nov 20, 2006 5:15 pm
The candlelight coming from her desk was dim but emitted shadows upon Scarlett’s white face, making her appear ghostly. “I can see that...” She muttered esoterically with a bitter tang. “Scarlett. Shall we stick to English then? “ The girl asked, hoping he knew at least that language well. “We’ll just be signing a few papers...” Scarlett continued, waving the quill that rested between her fingers a bit. Her mood had yet to lift, not even an occasional smile for the new comer.
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2006 1:52 pm
Phillipe's pale eyes narrowed and he regarded her quietly for a moment before replying in thickly accented English, "Englis' is fine, Miss Scarlett." He sat stiffly, unbuttoning his old coat but his face showed no hint of relaxing.
"What are t'ese papers I need t' sign." The dim yellow light turned his skin sallow.
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2006 7:14 pm
“A contract of sorts.” Scarlett’s fingers chocked the neck of an ink bottle, its blood red contents splashed at the sides as she laid it to rest. “Just your signature is all I need...” She readied the quill, dipped it into the liquid and held it out to Phillippe.
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2006 8:07 pm
"A contract?" Phillipe's eyes focus on the woman, eying the protrusions angling from her head, the look on his face going hard. He took the paper in his hand, holding it as though it would bite him.
He scanned the paper quickly, before looking up again. "Miz Scarlett....you know a man 'as ta be crazy...to sign a contract, in blood red ink....that was 'anded to 'em by a 'devil of a lady.'"
One white brow rose quirked, questioningly. "Pardonez mwa, but....w'at is t'is for, extac'ly?"
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2006 3:45 am
“It’s a contract that binds you to Cirque as any contract would” Scarlett spat through her teeth. “But don’t worry, it’s not like they could do much to your appearance anyways, I’d say it’s bad enough…. Franke-n-stein.” Her eyes locked upon his sewn up scars, obviously offended. Scarlett’s appearance was a touchy subject for her. She knew with her horns she might as well be good ol' Lucifer with his book. “So either sign or out! We have places for the people who don’t sign.” Scarlett couldn’t look at him; tears were welling up in the corner of her eyes. “De-vvv-il of a woo-ma-n…I wasn't always like this you know!” The words wouldn’t erase from her mind, never would somebody tread on that ground. What did he even mean by it? It must be the horns, or did I come on too harsh? But that’ was beside the point! Scarlett questioned herself becomming unbearably frustrated. She sniffled in her tears, her facade slowly melting away.
Curse you fragile emotions!
(someone’s estrogen is running a bit high today.))
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2006 10:47 am
His face darkened at her words, indignant that she would be so bold in insulting him. Even though he didn't know who these 'Frank and Stein' gentlemen were or what she meant by her words he could tell the comparison hadn't been a flattering one. He stood, shoving the chair back. Half of him wanted to throw the paper in the woman's face and the other terrified of what he had to go back to if he didn't sign.
But the sudden realization that Scarlett was crying hit him like the cold sting of ice water. The anger drained from Phillipe's face and he stared at her, immense guilt following swiftly on the heels of surprise.
"M-Miz Scarlett...." He stammered, "Pardonez mwa, A'am just a stupid common man....Ah apologize..." Reaching into his breast pocket he pulled out a quite clean but old handkerchief and offered it out to her, crouching down closer to her. "Ah should no' have said so to you. 't was crude of mwa."
Angry though he was, he realized he had over reacted. She was just a simple young woman. And her boldness and ill dress had led him to forget how fragile women can be.
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Posted: Wed Nov 22, 2006 12:11 pm
With a small squeak Scarlett hesitantly took the aged handkerchief and began to dab her streaming eyes. “I dib nob knowb ib you bere balking bout my bpparance…” Scarlett blubbered from behind the piece of cloth. She began to unfold like a small child. Her black-rimmed eyes began to resemble ink stains as the white face paint started to dissolve, revealing a pink-ish undertone. “ib nob youb, ib me.” She delicately sniffed, turning slightly away from Phillipe. “jub, everb bince …” Pausing before she continued, Scarlett chose her words wisely . “ I-I-‘mb jub sensitibe.”
Ever since the ‘incident’ Scarlett had been tremendously sensitive, she tried to hide what had become rightfully hers, but found that she could not. She tried to fit into this new appearance, but it just continued to weigh her down. Many thought it was just a costume, Scarlett The Rose, of course it fit. If they only knew the truth of the matter.
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Posted: Sun Nov 26, 2006 9:38 pm
Phillipe had actually thought it was a costume, much like the many others. But her reaction and words made his face change and he regarded her with an intense and unreadable expression.
Finally he nodded and made soft soothing noises at her distress, his hand reaching out and taking hers in a strong grip. It was unlike him to touch a woman so spontaneously but her words struck him.
"Miss Scarlett, I do no' know w'at befell you to make you t'is way...t'ere ah dark t'ings in this world....I know them too. Mein...you are still beautiful...and alive. T'ose are good t'ings, non?"
His head cocked to the side as he regarded her, "Did someone say somet'ing to you? Were t'ey cruel?"
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Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 8:10 pm
Scartlett couldn’t help but sport a grin behind the now slightly dampened piece of cloth. She sort of liked getting this attention, but certainly wasn’t going to turn crying into a daily activity.
“Oh, yyou arr too kind, your words flatter me.” It was the truth, beautiful wasn’t a word she heard very often, but wasn’t like she was going to go fishing for compliments. Sure there were occasional sayings that fell into the ‘hot buns’ category, but never had someone stated the b word aloud.
“Yes, being alive is good.” Scarlett revealed her face from behind the handkerchief; she set her other hand down upon Phillipe’s.
“No one has really said anything, but my appearance is still a touchy subject. I’m sorry if offended you.” She responded sincerely with the red of embarrassment rising in her cheeks. If Scarlett were in a situation like this, she would just throw a bottle of whiskey at them. She now felt incredibly guilty that she had openly insulted him.
"....I guess I’m not used to all of this. It’s as if my costume has been glued on and as hard I as try, it just won’t come off.”
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