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Zalvema, The Ringmistress, from Cirque de la Lune, a roleplay on RPG
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Zalvema, The Ringmistress

Don't look her directly in the eye, or you'll feel the entire left side of your body completely paralized... Well, that's the rumor at least.

0 · 197 views · located in Modern France

a character in “Cirque de la Lune”, as played by DumbDora

Description

Image
Zero | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve(Sometime in the 1930s) | Thirteen


Zalvema, or Zuzu, is an enigma of such mystery that you simply cannot be sure you know her entirely. She stands at a regal height of 6'0, not counting on the height she puts on when she's in her regular stilettos. But she's thin, very thin, a willow-like frame that she possesses has been a mysterious trait, for the woman is extremely strong, and has an immense appetite. Slender limbs, long fingers, an idealistic face- pale as winter, matching the intense white of her hair. Her eyes of a surreal blue, and though at times those eyes hold no sign of emotion, they have the capability to stop people in their tracks with the intensity of sudden and unforgivable anger. More often than not, her eyes are heavy-lidded, a bedroom stare that those who've known her for a long time know it's disinterest.

Zuzu wears things that accentuate her thin frame, like black. She adores anything lace and vintage, and has a thing for large head-pieces. Feathers and fur, leather and lace, you'll see her in outrageous outfits from time to time, especially for a show. All the animals under the circus' care tend to view her as an Alpha, and you'll often see her cuddling up with a leopard as if that wasn't a dangerous beast. Likewise, the members of the circus, view her as a leader, their mistress. And although most tend to avoid her when she's in one of her moods, they're absolutely oblivious to her manipulating ways, instead, adapting to it as a routine. Whatever Zuzu says goes.

That was until this runaway girl showed up, all know that Zuzu doesn't enjoy new people. They're another bunch to tame.

Personality

Zuzu is an extreme case of a sociopath, it would explain the total disregards for the rights of others. Physical aggression is a common thing that ails her, and were it not for her circus, she would have a hard time sustaining relationships, showing a lack of regret in her actions. Although there is an abundance of charm and wit, and she may appear friendly and considerate, but these attributes are superficial, and are often used as a way of blinding the other person to the personal agenda behind her behavior. She frequently indulges in alcohol, but rarely shows her face outside her RV when she's intoxicated. According to Zuzu, she is the center of the world, and life revolves around her. She feels a great necessity to these people, and although she'd like to think of them as marionettes, it isn't exactly that way. If it weren't for the family of the Cirque, the woman would be nothing, and she'd wallow in her own lonely sorrow, dying of a broken heart.

Believe it or not, there is a positive to Zuzu. Her smile is intoxicating, and she made this family on her own accord, granting them the gift of immortality, so long as the circus continues to travel. She gave these people homes, and although for different intentions (mostly to quench her loneliness), it is still an act of kindness, even if she doesn't see it that way. Dare call Zuzu kind, she'll throw you to the snakes. After all, she does need to keep up her reputation.

So begins...

Zalvema, The Ringmistress's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Zalvema, The Ringmistress Character Portrait: Fellini, the Bizarrist

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Zalvema and Fellini
The Ringmistress and The Bizarrist


Departing on unsteady feet, he walked aimlessly. Had any of the others taken heed of the abrupt shift in the air? Fellini shook his head as if to answer himself, slowly removing his hat and any trace of doubt that still plagued his features. Color returned to his skin, spring to his step. Dark eyes were set ahead, authoritative. What had occurred would not be acknowledged in vain, and for now would remain a discourse between the two of them, he and the Storyteller. And if the time came when their curiosity was piqued...

Darkness and light. Archetypes to the end. He shrugged it away. His head needed to be at its clearest, for whom he must speak to had little tolerance for folly. Performances had ended for the night, reality taking helm. Little was more frightening.

It was not as if there were no opportunities to evade the Ringmistress: the gattino was about, as were the deranged boys and Signora Arachnid, who seemed to want nothing more than the company of her spider. In the direst case, the magician would make a decent drinking cohort. But, no—if he did not confront her about his recent decline, then she surely would eventually, and she would be merciless.

Her tent was the grandest. Inferiority claimed him once again as it had done before Rune. He rid the ethereal woman from his thoughts and spoke with utmost respect, daring not to tread inside without her permission. His voice was leveled, but strong: "Buona sera, Zalvema, e come sta? Are you there? I know we've some matters to discuss—might as well get on with it now." Despite the echoing sounds of the jolly crew in the distance, it was silent in Zalvema's tent, and after a long moment, she spoke.

"Come in." A voice of heavy disinterest. She stood tall at the farthest corner of her makeshift home, pouring herself a glass of fragrant liquor.

Fellini obliged, crossing what felt like an immeasurable length to stand in her presence. He kept a few feet away from Zalvema. A low bow was his greeting, his grip tightening on the brim of his hat. "Ringmistress, I must apologize for my..." The words were forced. "For my subpar showings as of late. I'm sure you were the first to notice. Call it a creative drought, if you will."

"And what do you plan to do about this... creative drought?" the woman asked, turning her willowy frame around to watch him. Her thin fingers entwined about the glass she held in front of her. "Have a drink with me," she purred, curling her lips into a brief smirk.

How he wish he knew. Sharply, he rose, and it took a few intervals for him to accept her offer. Her tone had never put him at ease; this time was no different.

"Si," he replied, smirking in return with a sly arch of his brow. Quivering fingers round the bottle, then glass said otherwise. "Patience, Zalvema. You shall see, and you shall be amazed! A work in progress, we'll call it. Beautiful beyond all belief. But we must wait, you and I."

Sipping at the liquor, he downed it quickly. He never ceased pacing. The brief confidence that found him left as soon as it came, and he immediately regretted his words. The woman's gaze sharped as she was told to be patient, and were she with any other crew member, she would have grown impatient just for the purpose that she was told to be otherwise. This was, however, the bizarrist she was in company with. Taking two long strides towards a cushioned seat, Zalvema made herself comfortable. "Tell me more about this work in progress," she muttered, setting her own glass of intoxicating liquid atop her bony knee.

Yes, tell her more, talk carefully. Fellini tensed as she moved, bracing for an earlier punishment. But, at least for this moment, he was spared. Yet he was still expected to describe a spectacle he had not yet considered. Pouring another glass, he put his stagnant mind to work, widely gesturing as he detailed the impromptu performance: "Well, there is a girl—no, a woman. And she is pure, pure like nothing else in this world. She is young, but timeless, and her power?"

He drank, never shifting his heated gaze from the Ringmistress. "Her power knows no bounds. And I seek this power. I need it to... to become whole. Without it, I am as useless as any passing mortal. But this is all I know. I must continue to learn."

"I don't suppose we're talking about Rune, are we?" The woman knew her members, even Rune, from top to bottom, in and out. However, when Zalvema had taken over the attraction, Rune had already been a part of it, and she was one of the only ones that Zuzu didn't dare dispose and replace. "If she is sparking your creativity, I see no problem here, then."

"Ah, thank you, thank you," he said, exhaling a sigh of relief. With good graces, he decided to tell her: "It is Rune, and I only mention her because she finally spoke to me tonight. I have never been so thrilled. But... you know how she can be. She's cryptic, introverted. As I said, it will take time."

"She spoke to you?" Now Zalvema looked more than interested, maybe a bit jealous at the discovery, though there was the unmistakable pride for Fellini, even if it was drowned by her own selfishness. The woman straightened in her seat, those cold pools displaying something other than indifference for a rare occurrence. "What did she say?" Zuzu inquired, stone gaze locked onto the man.

He ceased his pacing as if the emotive response in her eyes had frozen him in place. The sight struck him like a physical blow, relentless and unexpected. Her curiosity was more than welcome, but what lay behind it and what may come of it had him on edge. There was the sudden urge to keep Rune's advice to himself, even if he barely grasped her wisdom. "Nothing."

That wouldn't suffice.

"Nothing at all," Fellini echoed. "She speaks in riddles I've yet to understand. They would be of no interest to you, Ringmistress, I assure you that."

The woman sat motionless in response to his words. She didn't quite believe him, yet she could hardly believe Rune speaking to him.

"Leave." Zuzu, freshly frustrated, flicked her wrist towards the entrance of the tent.

For an instant, silence was not an option; he must speak. She was fascinating. Defiance wrought his expression—it was the satisfaction of knowing that kept him lively as he set the liquor glass from where it had been. It was the knowledge that he could keep between he and the mythical woman, to discover amongst themselves. But his lips were shut. Once more, he bowed deeply before the lady of the Cirque. Respect was planted on the back of her hand in the form of a kiss.

With that, he spun on his heel and left. She would not see the tenacity draining from his face. Her persistence alone was enough to scare him, and the inevitable grudge quickened his pace. Did I strike a chord, Zalvema?