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Clayton Sullivan

"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."

0 · 1,068 views · located in Cirque Regalis

a character in “Cirque Regalis”, as played by Scarlet Loup

Description

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[ There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds ]




The Basics




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Full Name:
Clayton Amory Sullivan

Nicknames and Aliases:
Clay, The Human Pin Cushion

Gender:
Male

Age:
Thirty-three

Ethnicity/Race:
Caucasian (mostly German, slightly British)

Sexual Orientation:
Pansexual

Occupation or Act:
Clayton has CIPA, a medical condition that will not be identified for years. It prevents him from feeling pain or heat, so he makes his living prodding, piercing, and mutilating his flesh. He's best known for driving metal skewers through the flesh of his arms and legs.




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color: Dark russet brown

Eye Color: Gray

Height: Six feet, three inches

Weight: One hundred eighty pounds

Tattoos: His most noticeable tattoos are the ones on his chin and neck. Besides a small arrow he tattooed on his right wrist, he has no other tattoos. They're too difficult to maintain since he can't tell if they become infected.

Piercings: He doesn't keep any piercings in, but Clayton does have a few holes on his body that he uses repetitively for performances.

Scars: Clay's body is covered in small and large scars. Prick marks, slices, burns, and more cover mostly his arms and legs.

Description: Standing at a grand six feet, three inches, Clayton stands taller than most. He weighs roughly one hundred and eighty, but this comes from muscle he's built up. His hair is dark brown and is usually kept shaved close to his head. He tends to keep a light stubble of beard on his chin and cheeks. His jaw is strong and his gray eyes tend to be harsh and steely. The stress he has endured in life aged him prematurely, so he shows this in the few wrinkles on his face. Clay has few tattoos. They're placed so that he can easily check, again, for redness.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:

{ Stubborn || Naive || Protective || Well-intentioned || Insecure || Blunt }

Clay is a complex fellow. He has a rough exterior and acts tougher than he truly is. Clayton will refuse companionship initially and pretends he can do any task himself better than anyone else. Throughout most of his life, he's been unable to rely on others, so he assumes he just can no longer rely on anyone. Clayton has control issues which stem from his inability to control if he feels pain. Clay likes controlling as much of his life as he can. He's protective and stubborn as hell when it comes to those he cares about. When he opens up, Clayton becomes much softer. He hates being alone at any time because of his mother's abandonment when he was a young boy. Many would classify him as a bit of a rebel, like his mother, because of the tattoos and his rough exterior, but he doesn't usually stray from the public opinion because he fears disagreeing will cause others to turn on him and leave him. He's emotionally insecure as hell. Clay is blunt and, sometimes, brutally honest because he hates the idea of lying or leading someone on and then betraying them. His thoughts are quite morbid and cynical, but he acts quite the opposite around friends because, again, he doesn't want to frighten someone away. In relationships, he craves control of some sort, but he's really more of a teddy bear who needs a mentally stronger significant other. Clay likes normality. In all honesty, most of the freaks are his friends and are the closest thing he has to a family. Though socially awkward around many of them, he treasures their presences. His naivety prevents him from realizing how corrupt Dmitri is, but he knows his fellow freaks dislike the old Russian. Therefore, he doesn't know whether or not to trust the management team.


Hobbies:
  • Wandering the circus grounds with Argos
  • Whittling or carving
  • Reading (mostly classics or historical fiction)
  • Plays a few songs on the guitar
Habits:
  • Taps his fingers on surfaces when anxious
  • Absentmindedly pets Argos or winds his fingers in the dog's fur when the dog is around, much like a small, nervous boy
  • Brow furrows when thinking
Oddities:
  • Allergic to (house) cat dander
  • Can't feel pain
  • Can't feel heat
Likes/Loves:
  • Beer
  • Animals, especially large ones
  • Control
  • Coffee
  • Old literature
  • Applause
  • Folk Music
  • Belonging
  • His dog, Argos
Dislikes/Hates:
  • Prolonged silence
  • Looks of pity
  • Blackberries
  • Being lied to
  • Wearing shoes
  • Receiving orders
  • Losing
  • Rodents
  • Wine




What's Done Is Done




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Biography

Place Of Origin: Charleston, South Carolina, USA

Birth Date: January 14th, 1915

History
Clay's always hated sob stories, but his past certainly seems to qualify as one. His mother, Jane Sullivan, came from a wealthy Southern family. Though her family wanted her to marry a well-to-do businessman, she found herself attracted to a young man, Clay Kappel. The two fell in love, a passionate, wild love. Alas, it could not last. The elder Clayton had little sense of commitment and wished to achieve "bigger and better things". Clay Sr. skipped town one night, the same night Jane Sullivan found out she was pregnant. The younger Clayton was destined to be born out of wedlock. Some might have been willing to overlook the scandal, but Jane's family was a devout, Christian family. Clayton's grandfather, unwilling to make his daughter abort the child, decided they would have to put him up for adoption. Jane, unable to cope with the idea of parting with her unborn child, gathered her belongings and ran away from her home.

Soon after, Jane Sullivan prematurely gave birth to her son in the home of a woman who took them both in. Jane named the boy after the father he would never meet as some cruel joke. With the assistance of woman, Jane was able to find a job at a department store and moved out with her son. She read to him the books that she had grown up on, classics, epics, poetry, and tried to teach him basic German phrases. It seemed that they might have been able to make it themselves...and then she found out she got more than she bargained for.

Clay's first "incident", as Jane called them, involved falling down and hitting his jaw sharply on a coffee table only to get back up and continue walking. Stunned, Jane raced her son to the hospital and found out the boy had knocked out two of his front baby teeth without even shedding a tear. For the first six years of his life, smaller "incidents" occurred quite often. On the playground at school, he was bullied and beaten for his naivety and inability to fit in, but Clayton could not feel the physical pain, despite the sharp blows to his gut. The mental pain, however, he could feel. Clay was never academically "smart", for he believed school was tedious, but his street smarts convinced him that he could scare the bullies away by mutilating himself without flinching. It was, in his eyes, the only thing he could do. It worked, but it brought about rounds of behavior notices that arrived in his mother's mailbox. He was what teachers would dub a "bad kid" by the time he was ten. Even his mother began to feel less love for him as the stress of raising a child alone overwhelmed her. Jane had never been a strong-willed woman. She was the type to go out seeking adventure but only if home wasn't too far away. As her life fell apart, her hatred for her bastard son grew. When Jane's father finally called and asked her to come home, she was far too willing to abandon her son and return to a "normal life".

For years, he grew up in an orphanage. Never receiving a diagnosis, Clayton felt more and more distant from his peers, who gawked at him and made way for him in the halls of the orphanage. Alone in the schoolyard, he would experiment with the limits of his body, for he wanted to know what physical pain was. At the time, infection was the least of his concerns, but he suddenly realized his own mortality when he nearly died from a nasty fever brought on by infection. By sixteen, Clayton grew tired of the orphanage. In the dark of the night, he gathered up his belongings and wandered down to the nearby train station. With his minimal pocket money, he traveled to New York. The Depression, unfortunately, was taking its toll on the once-glamorous city. Work was difficult to find especially with the minimal education Clay had acquired.

Unable to find a solution to his problems, he ended up wandering into a show of Dmitri Petrov's circus. After watching a performance, Clay knew that he belonged at the circus. These freaks, like him, evoked applause and cheers from the crowd. Finally, he might be accepted. He tracked down Dmitri in the man's train car after the show and showed off his skills by tattooing a small arrow on his wrist and carrying on casual conversation. Dmitri, fascinated instead of disgusted, signed him on as a temporary performer, but Clay never left. For seventeen years now, he's worked there. When World War II broke out, he rushed to enlist. For a while, he served over in Europe. After one battle, however, he found his right arm was growing numb. Upon further inspection, he realized he'd been shot.The doctors were, of course, astounded when he casually strolled into the tent and asked for the bullet to be removed. Quickly, he was sent home and returned to his life in Dmitri's circus. Clayton does not know whether or not he wishes to leave. He knows Dmitri is a conman, but he's never felt more at home.

Happiest Memory: His first performance in the show and hearing the crowd's approval. However, it might be when he found Argos, his St. Bernard, trailing after the circus train years ago.
Saddest Memory: When his mother initially abandoned him at the orphanage.




Face Claim: Michael Fassbender (esp. in "Jonah Hex")

So begins...

Clayton Sullivan's Story

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We find our callings in the most unlikely places. Clayton never wanted to work at the circus as a boy. Sure, the circus was enjoyable to watch as a child. The acrobats twirled above, and the elephants stomped below. Like most boys his age, he wanted to be a soldier or a sports star. As he got older, he wanted to a lawyer or a doctor. And then she left him. Of course he also never thought his mother, his guardian, his protector, would leave him, but she left him in the orphanage like an unwanted piece of furniture. Nevermind. The circus was still wonderful. It was here that he could make use of the "skill" his mother had found disgusting. The hours teaching himself to cry "ow" instinctively were of little use now that he didn't have to worry about her.

Still, he missed her.

His car was further down the train. It had once been shared with a few workers, then a pair of conjoined twins, then an old accountant, and finally, and currently, a boy who fed the animals. He was usually gone however, so when Clayton opened the door, he was greeted only by Argos, who threw himself at the bleeding man. A broad smile lit up his features as Clay knelt to embrace the dog. He stood slowly and reluctantly as the blood coming from his wounds began to show on the dog's white fur. Every night, Clayton told himself he'd remember to clean up first, and every night, the excitement of finishing a show and returning to Argos overwhelmed him like a child.

The St. Bernard wound around Clay's legs as he walked over to the tin bucket of soapy water. Bubbles popped and parted as Clay thrust a nearby rag into the depths of the bucket, soaking the fabric before he started to work on the punctures. They were mostly on his arms and abdomen and left by his various skewers. His right hand twitched slightly, an odd quirk that had begun when he'd sliced his palm open in an act. The doctor said nerves were most likely severed, but Clayton didn't seem to feel a difference. He just found it a bit harder to grip things, sure, but it still worked. The blood rinsed off easily, mixing with the water the cloth carried. He finished by tending to the two punctures on his cheeks, left by a skewer that evoked a cry of shock from the audience and loud applause. He liked that one the most.

The water tinted a soft red now, Clay pulled an under shirt over his head, grabbed a bottle of beer, and walked out of the train car with the bucket under his arm. Argos followed closely, snuffling at the ground for leftover cotton candy or popcorn. Occasionally, a soft slurp would signify the dog's success. Clayton casually tossed the water on to the grass nearby. A bonfire was already burning a few hundred feet from the tent, and he decided to move toward it. A few other figures sat around it, but most were obscured from his vision because of the flames. He turned the bucket upside down and perched on it, following a routine he had created for himself since he was discharged from the war. Argos settled by his feet as he popped the bottle open and sipped from it. Life was pleasant, to say the least, for he was able to unwind easily. There was a feeling of normalcy that came with having a place in the circus. Life was secure and relatively happy, yet he could sense the tensions rising throughout the circus grounds. He knew things were changing; he just didn't want to acknowledge them.

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Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn
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As the girl continued towards her car she spotted a familiar face walking in her direction, a feeling of safety returning to her body at the sight of Clay. She looked up to him as a brother, she instantly fell safer whenever he was near, mostly because he wasn't a major playboy like many of the others around the circus. It's not like she didn't trust the others, she did, and she felt very safe around them too, but Clay always felt like a different kind of safety. Evelyn continued on her way towards the car, she would definitely join Clayton wherever he was going, but she had to check on her baby boy first. She smiled as she sped up, running on her tiptoes to her car and hopping in, greeted with a "Hello" in her own voice.

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A grin spread across the albino's face as she leaned down, stroking Vladimir's body gently and sighing happily as he hopped closer to her. "Hello there.." She cooed, letting the Raven clutch onto her forearm and nip at her ears gently, causing a soft giggle to ring through the cart, sounding like wind chimes. Normally Evelyn wouldn't come back to check on Vladimir first but she felt like Dmitri was acting more hostile towards him than usual. Gently she kissed his head, placing him back on his perch and stroking his feathers before exiting her car again.

She probably should have changed into something that wouldn't make her look as bright, but she didn't really mind tonight. Easily spotting Clay, she hurried over and bit her lip nervously, noticing there were no free spots. Not wanting to be any trouble, she sat down silently beside Clayton, giving him a small smile and murmuring a quiet "Hello." so not to disturb anyone.

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Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Jack Connolly
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#, as written by Cloud


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Jack Connolly led his small troupe of horses back to the stables. One hand held the reins to the three horses, while the other hand moved from the lip of his trousers to the cigarette in his mouth. He took the back way, knowing that if he took his horses through the circus crowds people would stop him and ask to pat the horses, or one would step on the foot of a small child. He passed over acts and circus folk, either returning to their train cars or heading to the bonfire for an end of day drink. Those that Jack knew received a nod, no calling out a greeting or stopping for a chat. Jack wasn't one to let his mouth run away with him.

The horse trained reached the horses' stall and quickly got to work with the beasts. He took off and stored costumes, rubbed them down, and fed them. All the horses were used to his quiet, confident presence. He made them feel secure. His knowledge of each individual horse was without a doubt the best of the circus. He knew each horse's strengths and weakness. He could tell when one was developing an injury, and when another was growing angry. As he set up the horses for the night he hummed to himself, a quiet little tune that he had picked up in the army. Finally, with everyone settled, Jack took his leave.

His car was close to the horses. He shared it with a young man, Joshua, who helped around the circus, running errands and working maintenance when needed. As Jack entered the car shocked squeals drew his attention to his roommate's bed. Three heads emerged from beneath the covers. Joshua, sandwiched between the two ladies, ran a hand through his hair.
"Jack, man. You mind giving us a minute?" He said, nodding to his companions.
The red-head on his right giggled and cast a seductive look Jack's way, "Or he could always join us?" Neither Joshua nor his other bed mate rejected the suggestion, the trio merely looked at Jake expectantly.

Without a word Jake grabbed a bottle of whiskey, his jacket, and a book. "Next time leave a sock on the door." He replied as he turned and took his leave. Joshua was alright, as roommates went. He gave Jake his privacy, and didn't seem to grudge him his silence. On the occasion that Jack had gone to the local bar with the other man he'd always enjoyed himself, although he'd never taken Joshua up on any of his 'intimate offers'.

Outside again and with time to burn before he could hit the hay, Jack planned on sitting somewhere quietly and reading. He spotted a bonfire not too far off and made his way towards the flames. Around the fire other performers had gathered. Some were merely enjoying the warmth and company, while others were quietly relaxing with a bottle of spirits. He spotted Clayton and the albino girl Evelyn seated around the flames and gave them a nod in greeting before taking his own seat not too far around. Without a word to anyone Jack took a swig from his bottle before leafing through his book.

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Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Jack Connolly
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The Pin Cushion sat not too far away from the fire. Any other person would have felt the heat of the flames intensely, but this was Clay, and he'd learned the hard way that he could not feel heat either. He'd been young, still living with his mom, and water was boiling on the stove. Long story short, Jane Sullivan had been shocked to find her water on the floor and her son covered in second degree burns. He shifted his bucket back as the memory returned to him. Argos continued to snuffle around and pester various members of the circus for food. Modestly successful, he finally returned to Clayton as Evelyn approached.

"Hello." Lips tight around the mouth of the beer bottle, Clay turned quickly to look at the young albino and smiled around the glass in his mouth. As Clayton swallowed the alcohol, Argos pushed past his owner in a gentle manner and nudged Evelyn's hand with his snout, silently asking for her attention.

"Hey there, Evelyn," he greeted, Southern twang flavoring his words so that the second "e" in her name was forgotten. Seventeen years here and he still retained the dialect of the hick his father must have been. He held the bottle in his left hand, his reliable hand, and swirled the contents around lazily. "Your performance was really something." He made sure to use the word "performance", for he too knew that it was more of a parade than an actual act. That was how it was, at least, before he learned to juggle the skewers. That was irrelevant. He started to take a sip from the bottle and then stopped, gesturing quickly toward the bucket below him. "D'you want to sit here?" Meanwhile, he all but finished the bottle before offering it to her. "You seem distant tonight." She seemed distant quite often actually but tried not to comment on it too often. He merely could not think of another topic to broach.

Movement to his side caught his eye and Clay looked up, beer bottle dangling by Evelyn still. Jack nodded to Clayton and Evelyn as he walked by, taking a seat among the performers by the flames. Clay raised a hand, ducked his head a bit, and flashed a bit of a smile. "How are you, Jack?" he inquired, turning slightly to face Jack while making sure not to cut Evelyn off.

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Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Jack Connolly
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((An unfortunate repost-- my apology))

Setting

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Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Jack Connolly
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Evelyn, still smiling up at Clayton, giggled quietly as she cuddled into Argos happily, scratching his head affectionately. She was almost tempted to ask if he was alright, but caught herself before she opened her mouth. It embarrassed her to admit it took her almost half a year to finally get out of the habit and some nights when she was... distant, like Clay noticed, she would forget. She muttered a shy "Thank you.." in response, smiling up at him again.


"I'm fine here.." She cooed, leaning into Argos as she continued to stroke his fur, looking to the fire nervously as she mulled over Clayton's statement.

"You seem distant tonight."

She scanned the fire slowly, "It's nothing... Nothing aside from the usual.." She whispered, chewing her lip as more performers started to wander around the fire. It didn't seem necessary to bring up her suspicions about Dmitri since she didn't know what she was even suspicious of, she just thought he was acting different. Suddenly the girl fell silent, smiling up and waving to Jack when he walked over. She wasn't good at conversation, and the only other thing she could think of speaking about the deteriorating state of the circus.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Evee Howell Character Portrait: Jack Connolly
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#, as written by Cloud


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Jack's arrival at the bonfire did not go unnoticed. Both Evelyn and Clayton greeted him in return, and one of the circus' youngest members ran by with a shouted 'Hi Jack!'. Jack wasn't one to frequent the social gatherings after performances, he generally preferred sitting quietly with a book or heading down to the pub alone. It's not that he disliked any of the other acts, he merely preferred his own company and the peace that went with it. He wasn't someone who needed to interact with people. He'd honestly be perfectly happy to spend the whole day out riding a horse, or reading in the shade of a tree. Yet here he was, waiting for his roommate to finish up with his two conquests of the night. He hoped Joshua wouldn't be long, but if worst came to worst Jack could bunker down in the stables for the night, it wouldn't be the first time. Even so, the company here wasn't all that bad and the fire was pleasantly warm.

"How are you, Jack?" Clayton's voice pulled Jack out of his thoughts. The horseman glanced up from his book towards the other man. Jack wasn't much of a talker, but his mother had taught him to be polite around decent people. He may not have been best friends with the Human pin-cushion, or Evelyn, but he hardly disliked either of them. Therefore a reply was in order and, as was customary with Jack the reply was short and simple.
"Alright. Yourself?"

Jack took a swig from his bottle before holding it up by the neck towards the other two performers. It was a clear invitation for either to have a sip if they so desired. The whiskey wasn't a particularly decent brand, but it sent a warm shiver down his spine. He didn't plan on getting drunk tonight, but a few sips never hurt anyone.




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Evee made her way through the collection of circus folk and visitors, feeling herself lucky to have escaped her mother's questioning. She would have to warn Jack not to tell her mother the card trick he was teaching her, or the fact that he was also teaching her how to cheat in poker. Both of which were not things Ana Howell deemed appropriate for her 16 year old daughter to know. Evee liked to keep her mother happy and lived by the saying 'What she doesn't know, can't hurt her'. Of course, she'd never do anything seriously harmful. The card tricks were just a little fun, no harm ever came out of them.

When Evee reached the stables (She had decided to warn Jack then and there), she found them disappointingly empty. Jack had obviously already finished with the horses. Evee stayed long enough to pat some of them on the noses before heading off again. She could have tried his car, but knew from past experiences that his roommate tended to bring home partners most nights. Evee may have been an innocent naive girl in her mother's eyes, but she knew how sex worked. She was 16 after all. So, having no wish to walk in on Joshua and his night's partner, Evee set her feet towards the big tent.

Her path took her through many of the circus' cars, and around groups of other performers relaxing for the night. She passed Conner and Kieran with little Sugar. Evee felt her cheeks flush and, ducking her head, she quickly rushed by. The girl was quite taken with the twins, both for their looks and their constant humour. They were some of the few people that she didn't badger with questions, mainly because she grew uncommonly shy and flustered around them. Making a quick exit Evee ducked under a tent rope and into the big top.

Much to her surprise the large tent was still occupied, not with cleaners but with one of the newer members of the circus, Belle. "How do you do that?" Evee asked, voice hushed in awe. She had seen Belle's act before, but never this close up. Evee could do amazing acrobatic tricks, but this type of movement was beyond her.

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Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Evee Howell Character Portrait: Hazel Middleton
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#, as written by Felilla
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With her typical smile plastered on her face, Hazel made her way over to the bonfire. She had stripped off her flamboyant costume of silk and mesh, trading it for a more conservative dress. There was a slight bounce in her step as she wandered over. Evelyn was as close to Clay as possible. They were all acting like normal people instead of circus freaks. That was something Hazel still found interesting. When the curtains fell, everyone became just like everyone else. Even Hazel became a new person. If she had been walking down the street at that moment, no one would've given her a second glance. With a small content sigh, Hazel continued to the bonfire.
She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, offering Evelyn and Clay a small smile and scratching behind Argos' ear. Then, she made her way over to the big tent. Inside were Evee and Belle, talking. Hazel walked up to them. "Hello, Belle," she paused here.
Like everyone else at the circus, she knew that it was not her real name. The only thing Hazel could really figure out about her was that she was Arabian. The fire eater couldn't help but be curious about the exotic dancer. She was new, not well acquainted with the acts. It made her interesting and Hazel wasn't really sure what to think of her. So, she decided that tonight she'd drag "Belle" out of the circus grounds to see how she did around other people, whether the Arabian dancer wanted it or not. However, Hazel was not one to push things on people, so she acted as if her greeting was just that. A simple greeting. Hazel turned to Evee, "What have you been up to?"
It was one of Hazel's favorite pastimes to tease the younger girl. She was just so naive. Hazel briefly wondered what her mother was doing. She loved watching Ana's act. She could do simple things on the floor, but nothing like what the Parisian Princess could accomplish. At the last moment, Hazel ruffled Evee's hair. She turned towards where the bonfire was, a distant and thoughtful look on her face. She thought back to when her stepfather had first taught her fire breathing. Who knew she would end up doing it for a living? With a small chuckle, she turned back to Belle, "How about a night on the town? Just us?" she questioned, leaning forward slightly. "I'm dying for some better vodka and I need to get some stuff for my act. I could use the company."
Hazel smiled widely as if to show that she was friendly. Curiosity destroyed the cat's social life, she thought as she waited anxiously for Belle's answer. The Arabian continued to move, her skin glowing in the firelight. With her smile still on her face, Hazel ran a hand through her long blonde hair. This was the make or break it moment.

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Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Evee Howell Character Portrait: Jack Connolly
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#, as written by Vix
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{In collaboration with Cloud}




Evee nodded quickly as Belle offered to teach her. Evee was always curious to know everything there was to know. She would love to add belly-dancing and contortion to her growing list of little talents.

"Oui s'il vous plaît" She replied in French, giggling simply because Belle had been too. As Sebastian appeared, calling Evee a child, the girl crossed her arms and jutted out a hip, the spitting image of a obstinate young woman.

"I am 16, Sebastian, I'm not a child. And of course I'm not frightened." She replied. She'd been telling her mother as much for the past three years. In Evee's mind 16 was more than old enough to perform with the other acts, yet in the mind of those older than her she really was little more than a child.

Sebastian did his best to contain himself, keeping his usual amused smile on his face as he looked at Evee. He cleared his throat and moved from the Arabian to the Frenchwoman, taking one of Evee's petite hands into his own and bringing it to his lips to kiss it softly. “Ah, I did not mean to offend. Couldn't you ever forgive me?” He flashed his best smile, the one that won hearts and minds all over. Belle rolled her eyes slightly but smiled all the same. Evee was a very sweet girl and rather headstrong, as most young women tended to be at that age. “Very well. You may practice with myself and the Silver Sisters. But tell no one. It would ruin the surprise, yes?”

This was probably the most conversation she'd had with any of the other performers. She normally saved conversation that wasn't cryptic in nature for business discussions with one of the managers or instruction with the other performers wanting to join her act. While she knew that being a solo act performing in ways others couldn't was what kept her audience wanting more, she also knew that adding others would be a surprise and allow for more possibilities.

Evee's face remained firm for a moment, but finally as Sebastian tickled the back of her hand with his lips a smile illuminated the girl's face and she broke into a giggle. A moment later her face lost the smile as she became mock serious, although the usual playfulness in her eyes remained.
"Fine. You are forgiven." She says to the man.

Then, turning to Belle, the smile returns. "Thank you! I'm sure it will help my acrobatic act too."

In response to Belle's order not to tell anyone, Evee nods eagerly. She can keep a secret when needed, although it's no secret that she can be a bit of a chatterbox too. However, the surprise that she knows she'll see on her mother's face when she reveals her new skill is incentive enough to keep quiet.

Thinking of secrets to keep from her mother Evee remembers that she was going to warn Jack about the card tricks. Evee had had no luck looking for him at the stables, and had been pleasantly distracted by Belle and Sebastian. However, the though occurred to her that one of these two might have seen him, "I don't suppose either of you have seen Jack Connolly around." She asked hopefully. She hoped the horseman hadn't gone down the road to a bar.

Oh, this was turning out just perfectly. Belle flashed Evee another dazzling smile as Sebastian turned, leading the two out of the big tent. Just in time, because the cleaners were on their way in. There was a whistle on his lips as he swung his arms in a carefree manner, waving to those that they passed by. Belle walked on by him, taking the lead and approaching the fire first. She didn't bother speaking a greeting to those present, giving her trademark mysterious smile instead. She watched them all for a few moments before popping her left hip and settling her hand there. “Not interrupting, are we? ...I don't suppose you would mind too much if we joined.”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Evee Howell Character Portrait: Hazel Middleton Character Portrait: Jack Connolly Character Portrait: Sugar
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Her giggle came as a surprise to the Pin Cushion not because he hadn't heard her laugh, but because it was so light and childlike. He'd almost forgotten Evelyn was only seventeen. He looked down at the girl, nuzzling into the fluffy dog. How many times had he also turned to the large dog for comfort? Clayton looked back to the fire and squinted slightly as he tried to discern the faces of the others to no avail. Evelyn's response might have missed him, but he managed to hear the whispered "thank you" as he focused back on the two figures to his side. Clay matched her smile with one of his own, causing the tattoos higher on his cheeks to dance.

"If you say so," he replied, adding a nod of the head and a shrug of his shoulders as he settled back on to the overturned bucket. He was never skilled at reading emotions, but even a man as dense as he could tell that it was more than that bugging the young woman. Clay shifted on the bucket and turned slightly so that he faced her while she looked into the fire. "You can tell me if you want, kid. I won't bite." When Evelyn didn't take the beer bottle, he finished off the rest of it and set it by the bucket.

Looking to Jack now, he crossed his arms on his lap to support himself more, for he was leaning over quite awkwardly. When Jack looked up, he waved again, smile still broad on his lips. It wasn't a mocking wave; it was simply overly-enthusiastic. That was typical for Clayton though. Clay looked at the out-stretched arm of Jack's that held the bottle and took it carefully. After downing a sip of the austere liquor.

"I'm good," Clay said, holding the bottle out to Evelyn for her so take a sip before he passed it to Jack again. "Thanks, by the way...d'you want me to grab you a beer?" Before Jack replied, he heard a high pitched voice call out to the assembled carnies. Pivoting on the bucket, Clay turned and noticed Sugar, to whom he offered a quick child-like wave by opening and closing his hand. He was, perhaps, overwhelmingly cheerful right then, but he could not have cared less, for he enjoyed being cheerful. The cheerfulness was his way of pushing down other emotions or dark thoughts. It was an alcoholic's alcohol to him-- necessary for survival, necessary to keep the darkness away.

He didn't see when Belle first appeared, but he heard her accented voice clear as day and turned to face her. "Nah, you ain't interrupting," he replied, taking charge of the situation. "The more, the merrier, right?"

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Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Evelyn
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(sorry dumb post)

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dmitri Petrov Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Ana Howell Character Portrait: Evelyn Character Portrait: Evee Howell Character Portrait: Sugar
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#, as written by Vix
{In partial collaboration with Scarlet Loup}

{Outfits}


While quite a few of the performers were grumbling through the entire week about the upcoming changes, Belle had absolutely no problem with switching up her routine. She had promised Robert and Dmitri to deliver performances that would have the audience begging for more even more than they already were. Over the course of the next seven days, The Desert Rose had devoted every ounce of her time when she wasn't sleeping to training and practicing. Sebastian and Svetlana were getting better and Evee was off to a good start. Zenobia and Rozella were also fairing well and their darling creatures were working well with Belle's cues. She enjoyed working with Orion and had even gotten him to prance around while she bent herself into strange positions and balanced upon his back all the while. He truly was a magnificent creature. His mate didn't care too much for her but that was alright. She hadn't had much time to herself but that was alright as well – The better her performance went the more money she was paid.

Rides on the train were never boring. Sugar regaled her with stories of her trouble making days in Lynchburg – But then she'd ask for one of them to escort her to the car where the twins were so she could ask for another balloon animal. When the twins said they'd make her a whole zoo, they certainly seemed to mean it. Svetlana and Belle both thought that it was simply adorable the way she was so infatuated with the two boys. Of course, Sebastian wasn't quite sure what to say on the matter so he'd often chuckle and nod nervously when Sugar got to chatting about them. Svetlana had been pining something awful, Belle had noticed had been going on for at least a month when they hit the road. She knew that Svetlana would sometimes make trips to Dmitri's car and stay for an hour, sometimes three or four, but she never showed signs of knowing anything. The poor girl seemed to be going through withdrawals though it didn't show much to those who weren't so observant. She didn't talk and always looked timid and frightened either way. Besides being away from Dmitri, she hadn't yet had to chance to play her game of blackmail and charades with Robert. She actually hadn't seen him since he made the announcement of changing up the performances. Everyone seemed to swarm him with questions and protests and ideas after - The poor girl couldn't make it through the crowd of folk.

Sebastian, however, was having far more luck in bedding others than his sister – As was Belle. The two were often absent from the train car through the ride as they found their way towards their usual partners. Belle, taking her turn with the Silver Sisters, Sebastian having his fun with a particularly talented Sword Swallower named Marissa. Svetlana had the pleasure of being Sugar's human doll while the small, dark skinned girl practiced putting makeup on her and doing her hair. They were all ever so pleased to get off of the train and get some fresh air though. Sugar was the first to burst forth, barreling out as though she'd been launched from the cannon as she shot off to search for the twins, calling out their names. “Kieran! Connuh!” She felt extra pretty since Belle and Lana had straightened her hair, bearing the fading burn marks on her ears from the bumps and shakes encountered while riding. She had no shoes on, mud squishing under her small feet, her little red dress and ribbons fluttering behind her.

Belle slunk out of the train car next, wearing (as usual) next to nothing. Pittsburgh was so dirty and ugly. The connoisseur of all things beautiful let her nose wrinkle before heaving a sigh and stepping onto the ground, letting her toes curl into the bit of grass that was there. She let her gaze flicker, watching everyone else as they filed out, stretching and basking in the sun. She stretched out as well, arms extending to the sun. That stretch became a bend as her feet came together and her head slowly went behind her back until her hands were against the ground. Oh. That felt great. Smiling and well stretched, she took off at an easy pace, giving her fingers a little waggle as a wave to those in passing. A few winks were thrown her way and returned with a brow lift that implied a “maybe later”. She had no time for any dillying or dallying at the moment. She had set out to find Evee though she could see that the young girl's mother was watching her like a hawk. As much as she'd love to have the teen as part of her act, how was she supposed to do that when she knew for a fact that Ana would outright say no? It was absolutely tragic. She sighed wistfully and headed away from the acrobats to find someone else to bother.

Clay.

Now there was a decent target.

The man was always so happy and Belle found his talent quite interesting, to say the least. She looked about for him, wondering whether or not he had exited the train yet. ... Oh, there he was. She spotted Clay sitting on a barrel nearby, sliding safety pins into his forearms. With a sway in her walk, Belle didn't take too long to reach his side, standing as close as she usually stood to people, just close enough that the slightest movement might cause them to brush against one another. “I've had a question I've been meaning to ask. You wouldn't mind if I bothered you a moment, hm?” She gave him her best smile, a gleam of mischief in her dark brown eyes as she pushed her blonde locks over her shoulders. Clay studied his arm as he wove a safety pin in and out of the soft skin of his underarm. Argos, curled at his feet, was the first to notice Belle's arrival. Still, he did not look up until she came to a stop and hovered beside him. With a quick movement, Clayton's head turned upward and the pin he currently held ripped through the skin.

"Hey," he greeted, nodding his head toward her. He met her smile with one of his own. It was a familiar smile, one that always appeared in the company of others. He turned on the bench, holding his thumb over the wound. "I don't mind. Whaddya need?" Belle took a moment to appear deep in thought, as though searching her mind for the question she meant to ask. “You do not feel pain. At first I thought it might be certain points of your body that you use to avoid it. Like the acupuncture they do in India. But I watch you and there is no precision...Technique. You simply jam things into your body without a care and without flinching. If you do not feel pain, do you feel other things?” Whether she meant physically or emotionally, she didn't let on. She simply smiled, bending down so that she was at his feet with Argos, petting the large dog's back and looking to Clay for an answer.

Clayton's brow knit, and he leaned forward slightly to wind his fingers in Argos's thick coat. Everyone knew what he did for his act, yet it was different when he tried to explain it. It was as if he were disclosing something personal. Then again, it didn't matter. He wasn't the kind of person to keep secrets. "Well, I can't feel heat..." he started. He knew what she meant, though. He was naive, but he wasn't stupid. He looked up and met her gaze which was almost level with his as he leaned further down. "I can feel things, of course...and I can feel...pleasure." She remained calm as she spoke, but Clayton' face turned a soft, pinkish color as he spoke. The flirting thing really had never been his strong suit. There was a strong possibility that Belle was taking quite a bit of pleasure out of this conversation, feeling rather satisfied as Clay's face began to flush with pink. It was so cute to see a tattooed man blush. She retained her nonchalant position and tone, tilting her head some. “I hadn't meant that, per se.” She gave a light giggle and shook her head, looking down before looking back at him, placing a hand on his thigh.

“But... Thank you. For letting me know that. I'll have to keep it in mind.” There was a playful tone in her voice now as she toyed with him though it was obvious she held no malicious intent.

Well, shit." Don't assume. It makes an ass out of you and me. That saying came back to him just as quickly as the blush spread and darkened. She wasn't angry at him at all, of course, yet he could not ignore the embarrassment. His jaw moved soundlessly as if he meant to speak but couldn't formulate words. The tattoos on his chin danced up and down slowly, pointlessly. "S-sorry," he said finally and opened his mouth to speak again. He cut himself off as she rested a hand on his upper thigh. Oh yes, he could certainly feel that. "Right...you're welcome."

The smile appeared again, for it had wavered at the thought of that blunder. Clay tried to look at her hand as nonchalantly as possible, and he looked down at the dog quickly before meeting her gaze again. What the hell was he supposed to say now, damn it? “For a man so handsome, I assumed that you might be a bit more...smooth,” she teased, giving him a wink and giving his thigh a squeeze. “You act as though you aren't so used to female attention -” She leaned closer so that she was quite directly in his face, the tip of her nose against his. “- or affection.” His breath caught instinctively as she squeezed his leg, and Clay hardly had time to react before she was closer than before, his nose touching hers as he wavered slightly with an exhale. "Well - ah -," he murmured, fighting to make his voice quieter because she was so close. "Driving a skewer through your cheek doesn't really turn people on." He tried to give a soft laugh but stopped as he remembered how close they were. He might have reciprocated the touch, but he still wasn't sure if this was merely Belle being Belle or...something more.

“On the contrary -” The Arabian's features softened as there was a sort of feeling of pity for the man. Clay was indeed handsome and quite friendly. It was a shame that he didn't receive more attention from women. Belle thought that he was quite charming, basing from the relatively few conversations they'd had. Again, not the smoothest pebble in the river, but he was a good man. She would have to remedy his ailment. “I find you quite attractive.” Her hand moved to his cheek, his skin just as warm as it was red. “I think those other women don't know what they're missing out on. Don't you agree, Clayton?” He pushed his cheek into her hand without thinking, savoring the feeling of her palm. "I...guess," he said softly, thoughtfully, as if he hadn't thought so before. Hell, he really hadn't even thought of it before. "I find you attractive, too. You're real gorgeous." Clayton bit his lip softly as his gray eyes met her brown ones again. From closer up, it was probably quite easy to see the numerous puncture wounds on his cheeks, but now he certainly didn't care about them, for she had told him she didn't care. Hesitantly, he reached upward and rested a hand just barely on her cheek. Rather, it hovered just above her cheek as if he were afraid to touch her.

He was so shy and that was something that Belle had yet to encounter in a man. All the men who dared to approach her were very bold and confident in themselves and their ability to woo a woman. Clay seemed so hesitant, almost as though he were frightened he may say something to anger her or make her run away. Such a sweet southern man. Being around him might make one fear that he'd give you a cavity with his personality alone. She let her eyes wander over his features, taking them in. There were a lifetime's worth of scars from various things he put under his flesh but it didn't mar the beauty of him. It only added intrigue and gave an air of danger. Belle thought it was quite a turn on - the scars, not his habit of poking himself with sharp things - and knowing how sweet he was and his poor luck with women only made her feel a bit more pity. But perhaps pity wasn't the right word. Empathy. Ah, there was the word. Her head turned a little more to the side, resting firmly against his rough hand as her own hand moved to brush some hair blown into his face by the wind. “You are quite kind, Clayton. Maybe you should come spend time with me more often.” She leaned in closer than she already was, pressing a soft kiss against his lips before pulling away. “I'm good company to keep. Or so I've been told.”

He looked up at her, dumbfounded, as she pulled away. The blush still colored his cheeks, but the smile had fallen into a look of pure child-like confusion. "T-thank you," he replied, still whispering as if she were close. Clayton cleared his throat to raise his volume as he continued. "I - ah - might have to take you up on that offer." He pushed a hand through the messy, dark hair on his head. "Nice talking to you, Belle." Clayton nodded at her again and forced the smile back across his lips. It wasn't that he was upset, he was merely too overwhelmed. The smile came quite naturally afterwards.

Belle stroked his cheek gently with her thumb before rising up and moving away. An interesting man, indeed.

Svetlana was sore from head to toe but at the same time she had never felt so great in her life. Belle had talked her and the other two into doing yoga with her, assuring them that it was great practice for easing into contortion. And it was true – She found her flexibility and ability to hold poses for extended amounts of time greatly increasing, something she was sure would please Dmitri. She watched Belle stretching for a moment, again wondering (as she had many times) if Belle did such things to show off or she just simply did everything she did because it pleased herself. She wished she was more like Belle. Well, there weren't many women that she'd met so far that she didn't wish she was more like. Ana was so smart and caring, even though Evee often said her mother was overbearing. She could relate – Sebastian was the same way. Frances was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it and she knew how to bend people to her will. Evelyn was so pretty and exotic. They were about the same age but Lana never could find much time to approach her and when she did she never really knew what to do but stand there and feel awkward. That tended to happen when you tried to get a shy girl and a mute girl to communicate with one another.

She adjusted the green silk dress that Belle insisted that she wear. They had bought it before leaving New York City and her dear friend insisted that the tailor make sure it hugged what little form that Lana did have. She had a jacket that went with it because she didn't like the idea of the top of her breasts being flashed to every passing Tom, Dick, and Harry. Belle told her that she was being silly and far too self-conscious when she noticed while Lana had been trying it on she was trying to shield her clevage from exposure. There was a moment when Lana wanted to ask Belle if she knew what it meant to be faithful to someone that you loved. But she never did ask. Because Belle didn't speak Ukrainian and Lana didn't speak. Much.

Sebastian walked on by her, sporting his new outfit as well. No doubt he was off to see what Sugar was up to. Lana smiled to herself as her elder brother took long strides, following the sound his daughter's voice. It was cute, to see him unsure of how to deal with Sugar's infatuations. He knew that he wouldn't find her smooching up to any of the boys she gushed about any time soon - she was eight - But he still wasn't quite sure how to quite deal with it. He didn't want to encourage it. She was so young and didn't fully understand such things. But he couldn't tell her that it would never be. It would crush her. He was very much like a lost puppy. Lana shook her head and went on her way, clutching, as always, her violin to her chest. She wanted to find Dmitri. She knew she'd need to communicate with Robert eventually. As far as she could tell, the other man hadn't said anything to anyone about what he saw. Which was a good thing.

Playing softly, she offered a smile to those passing by, pausing every now and then to play a request before both parties moved along with their previous objective. Moonlight Sonata. There was a beautiful piece of music that she could simply never tire of hearing. Chin well placed, her right hand moved fluidly with the bow, the fingers of her left caressing the strings as she brought forth the haunting, yet beautiful and soothing melody. She did so absent of mind, zoning out as she heard other melodies in her head. She could almost see the music notes floating out in front of her. She had yet to take pen to paper for such melodies, unsure of how the audience would react to the new music. Sure, new styles were coming out every other day. But she didn't want to face criticism or rejection.

There was a light sigh that left her as she zoned in and out of her mind, doing her best not to bump into those bustling about to set up and practice and talk with the managers. She hadn't even noticed that Belle, who had left Clayton to silently pursue the mute from afar, was watching her with a curious smile. She did notice Dmitri though. It wasn't just Dmitri she had noticed, but Dmitri offering a blushing and smiling Evelyn a cigar. Her music hit a wrong chord as her arm jerked in light surprise and a bit of frustration. It seemed almost immediately that her stomach clenched into a knot and her breath caught in her throat. Was he flirting with her? Why wouldn't he? She was young and pretty and exotic. She was certainly more gorgeous than the plain violinist. A small pout formed on her lips as the foreign emotion of jealousy confused her. She certainly wouldn't wish harm to Evelyn but she didn't understand what was going on.

It wasn't as though she could march over and ask. Nor would she dare to ask Dmitri later in private. Dmitri told her many times before that he loved her and she had told him that she loved him. There couldn't be anything going on. Besides. Evelyn didn't even like Dmitri. Right? Lana had never seen the two interact amicably before so she wouldn't know. Then again, she and Dmitri didn't act quite like lovers in public either. Her head was starting to hurt as much as her heart the more she thought about it. She eventually concluded that she was being foolish and delusional. She chided herself mentally for doubting Dmitri. How dare she question him after all he had done for her? Still pouting, mostly upset with herself at this point, she made herself scarce and attempted to disappear into the crowd, careful not to drag her feet and dirty her green shoes.

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Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan
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The spotlight transitioned cleanly to Clayton. He sat in the middle of the ring on a quite rickety wooden chair with his feet propped up on an ottoman. Argos curled by his feet, creating an image that looked much like a normal man relaxing in the comfort of his home. Obviously, this wasn't really the case. He wore a black vest of some faux leather and a pair of blue jeans, worn with age and wear. He held open one side of the vest, revealing a collection of knives, pins, and skewers to the audience. A few of the closer ones murmured softly to each other. Clayton, however, had his eyes set on a box of cigarettes and a Zippo. Holding both between his index and middle fingers, Clay lit them and stowed the lighter within his vest.

Unlike most performers, Clay's act did not center in the ring and it was over quite quickly. His act would not be as exciting if he did not wander about the crowds, showing them up close just how far his body could go. He stopped just before the seats in front of a woman roughly his age. "Wonderful evening, no?" he asked while taking a cigarette in each hand. It took a little finagling, but Clayton managed to ease them through the holes in his cheeks he'd been stretching for the last week. Mouth closed, he sucked in through the lit cigarettes. A gasp raced through the crowd as he opened his mouth to release a few puffs of smoke.

He climbed into the stands, casually puffing on the cigarettes as he walked through the crowds. Meeting the gaze of one man, he finally pulled the cigarettes out of his mouth and crushed them in a fist before tossing them on to the ground and stepping on them with his bare feet. "Sir!" he greeted the man staring back at him in bewilderment. "Would you help me with something?" Clay opened his vest again and removed a small bag of safety pins. "Would you mind placing one of these right here?" The bewildered circus-goer looked at the pin as if he'd never seen one before. Clayton extended his forearm with the tanned side showing. Couldn't risk someone driving the pin into one of the soft, blue veins on his underarm. The man moved hesitantly and just balanced the pin on Clayton's arm. "No, no, not like that. Like this." In a quick movement, the Pin Cushion flipped it open. "You ain't afraid of blood, right?" The man shook his head as Clay wove the pin through the flesh of his arm with ease.

He truly loved how the responses varied throughout the crowd as he weaved between them offering safety pins to those that wanted to try it themselves. Cries of shock mixed with gaps of awe and mutters of distaste. It created a pleasing atmosphere that added to the mystery of the act itself. By the time he finished his round, safety pins stuck out of his arms, legs, and even his chest. He had allowed one brave child to put a pin through the flesh of his nose and another in his lip. Clayton also knew, in the back of his mind, that it was risky asking these strangers to touch the sterilized pins. Screw it. He had to keep them entertained and excited. The circus was his home. If his act failed to impress, he'd certainly be kicked out.

Hardly caring if a pin ripped out, he hopped the barrier into the ring again and pulled out two skewers which were eased into the lobes of his ears with ease. Finally, he pulled out an old razor blade and made a shallow set of cuts in his stomach in the shape of a "C" and then an R. He emitted a quick whistle and Argos bounded over into his arms. With a soft grunt, he lifted the dog in his pin-dotted arms and carried him off, waving a bloody hand to the audience. As he disappeared into the smaller tent following his performance, Clay set the dog down and made his way to the the chair from onstage that a few boys had run out to grab. Lionel, his young car-mate, watched Clayton sit and turn his attention to the pins. Some had shifted and ripped the skin as Argos leapt into his arms, and others were completely lost, scattered after him in a small trail. As he looked down at the blood welling, he made an expression of concern, and the pin in his lip got caught tearing the skin there too. "Go find some alcohol, Lionel. And some water and soap." Though his voice was urgent, he spoke kindly to the boy who only nodded before running off to gather the requested supplies. His hand, most likely dirtied by now, clamped over the wounds on his stomach instinctively as he waited. It was a good performance though. The crowd certainly enjoyed it, and therefore Clayton enjoyed it.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dmitri Petrov Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Svetlana Kolmykova Character Portrait: Sebastian Kolmykov Character Portrait: Sugar
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#, as written by Vix






“And now, Cirque Regalis presents.... Sugar the Wünderkind! An eight year old with talents hand given by God himself!”

The lights went dim, moving in sporadic patterns as if searching for the next act. Sugar, carrying her little stool, made her way in silence to the center of the ring, ignoring the completely expected symphony of boos, hisses, laughter, and scoffs. A piano was pushed in behind her by one of the circus' equipment handlers quickly attempted to escape the spotlight. Sporting her dress from earlier, the young African-American took her place as the spotlight hit her. Silence befell the crowd as her small fingers began to dance across the keys, producing a beautiful and foreign melody. Her eyes closed as she allowed herself to get lost in the music that Svetlana had given to her for the performance. With her talent it hadn't taken Sugar long to master the song. Actually, it had only taken a few hours, if that. The song went on for five and a half minutes before it died down and she began a new melody.

“Allow your ears to be delighted in ways you've never before imagined. Feast your eyes on these almost fey musicians! The Sensual Melody and The Silent Melody!”

There were gasps of surprise and soft claps when duel violins joined in and the spotlights focused on two faces in the crowd.

Sebastian had taken a seat among the crowd on the north side of the tent, having hidden his violin within the seats prior to the audience's arrival and remaining there. He now stood tall and proud, his face pulled into an expression conveying sensual desires. As the women swooned at his exposed chest, baring his carefully chiseled torso and all the tattoos he possessed, a few that weren't too busy swooning were so bold as to reach out for him. He responded by moving his body in the directions needed, allowing their hands to press firmly against him. His hands moved in precise and delicate motions, movements that seemed to defy his large hands and muscular build.

The man enjoyed this. Every moment of it. Women swooned for him; For his body, his music, his talent. Men too, though they were few and fewer brave enough to say so. People adored him, chanting for an encore and begging to see him after his performances. Sebastian had come so far in life and while the circus life might not have been the dream life for most, it was his life. He had money (though not much) and friends, always traveling to see new people and places, and plenty of fans (many of them who were willing to bed him) so he couldn't find a reason to want any other life. Of course it was preferred that he hadn't lost the majority of his family and friends and he could have gone without killing people. But life was life. Nashti zhas vorta po drom o bango. - You cannot walk straight where the road is bent.

The ruggedly handsome man moved through the audience, speaking loudly through his eyes to the women, biting down on his bottom lip to draw more reaction.

Svetlana had done the same as her brother, taking to the south side. While her brother drew mostly looks of lust from women, Svetlana drew the attention of most everyone, indeed appearing as fey-like as advertised. Her brown hair was pulled back into an intricate flow of curls, waves, and braids adorned with small flowers here and there. While usually a klutz, she always used every ounce of focus she possessed to amaze the crowd with her grace and talents. Barefooted, she walked through the crowd with partially closed eyes, swaying so that her dress swished around her legs. A few spins here and there, every now and again dipping or bending backwards for extra applause. She got a few extra whistles as she took a seat in the lap of a rather dapper young man, leaning against him while she played. She didn't stay too long before she was gone.

Her moves with her brother were coordinated and they drew closer and closer to the middle until three spotlights became one, all three Kolmykovas standing in the center of the big top. As quickly as their song drew to a close and the applause thundered, they began anew. More foreign melodies filled the air as they started playing a new song. A few moments passed before a spotlight moved east, highlighting a woman sashaying into the ring. She helped herself to stepping on top of the piano. “Behold... The Desert Rose!” Truly no introduction was needed for this sultry vixen dressed in white and black, allowing her curves to be seen to the world.

As the drums began, slow and steady, her arms lifted until they were parallel to the piano. Tracing her hips in a figure "8", her arms moved in a wave motion as though there were no bones within them. Belle could feel the vibrations of the piano being played tickling her feet and making her want to smile wide though she kept her usual sultry expression as the drums began and she began to move her body in ways she knew best. First, her chest. The buxom woman moved her chest side to side before popping it in a forward and then backward motion in a way that forced her bountiful bosom to bounce. Her hips were next, moving in snake-like and rolling motions before she switched it up into a shimmy, her arms still moving as the coins and beads strung onto her outfit jingled and jangled.

Assorted gasps and claps floated through the audience as the drums came to a halt later and Belle paused. There were some shrieks of fear as King Orion rushed through the tent, roaring. There was her big boy! She smirked as she drew attention back to her by unclasping her skirt and letting it fall onto the piano, wearing now only what appeared to be embellished bra and panties. She jumped down from the piano and held her hand up in signal of stop, the white lion skidding to a halt and sitting in front of her. As the crowd held their breaths, the Kolmykova's creating a perfect atmosphere of tension and mystery with their music, Belle knelt before the King of the savannah and touched his nose gently with her hand. She maintained eye contact with him as he opened his maw wide. She placed her hand in while many looked away in terror, fearing that he would eat her alive.

He didn't.

She removed her hand and smiled as he appeared to kiss her forehead. She petted him gently and stood as he stood, moving to his side. In a single swift motion, she placed her hands onto his back and hoisted herself up. Palms firmly against his fur, letting her fingers curl a bit for grip, her legs went straight into the air. She had promised the managers a show that would bring them money and more patrons, and she was going to deliver that. Orion padded about slowly as she switched between positions, letting her chest down against his back and curling her legs to place her feet against her head, using only one hand to support herself, even standing on one foot while holding the other against her shoulder from behind. The crowd cheered, filled with delight as Orion trotted back to the center. Sugar and her piano had been removed, allowing all to see.

While Orion moved to sit on his haunches, Belle carefully and quickly walked up his back, balancing herself until she had made it to his shoulders. She bent down and placed her hands on her feet before moving her feet back and letting her hands grab onto Orion's “shoulders”. Again, everyone held their breath. Her hair tumbled down as she stood upside down, feet straight up, Orion moving to stand completely on his hind legs. There was a standing ovation as Sebastian and Svetlana ended their music and finally left the ring. Rasala, Nevara, Mikala, and Rigel all trotted in, forming a line as they took stances on either side of Orion with Belle standing before them.

A hoop was lowered from above and everyone waited to see what would happen. She was joined in the ring by Joshua Stokes baring many a “gift” for she and her feline companions. The first she took from him was a book of matches. Holding it up for all to see, she struck the match and touched it to the hoop that was soon set ablaze, becoming a ring of fire. Orion and his lovely ladies were quick to jump back and forth through the hoop as it turned while Rigel watched quietly. Belle wanted to get him used to having a loud crowd about rather than training him in silence. She knew Rasala would keep him in check.

Their show carried on, twenty more minutes of the crowd enjoying the sight of Belle wrestling with the felines, the silver cats forming a tower, and even the children and those adults brave enough coming forth to pet the adult cats. She and her fur babies took bows (a few of them giving a roar or two) before Belle mounted Orion like a horse and lead them all out of the tent. Riding by the managers, she gave a light smirk and soon passed off her beloveds to her helpers to be put back into their cages for the night. She was headed for her train car but saw Lionel rushing past with things in his hand, quickly stopping him. “Oh! Heya, Belle! I'd love to talk but Mister Sullivan needs these.” He rose his hands some to show her what he was holding. Smiling, Belle took them from him.

“I'll take care of him, actually. Why don't you go find Sugar and you two can tell the Silvers that I said you can play with Mikala?” The boy seemed quite excited and eagerly rushed off to find the other circus child. It didn't take Belle too long to find Clayton, a smirk working its way to her face. “Why don't you come to my car? It'll be more comfortable there.” She showed him the items she had taken from Lionel, her voice soft and kind as she canted her head in the direction of the train.

She didn't worry about Sebastian, the man having snagged a woman from the crowd and disappeared into the darkness of the nearby woods with her. Svetlana, however, was headed elsewhere. Clutching her violin, she gave a nod and smile to her fellow performers as they smiled and told her “Good job”, something she actually did understand. She was startled, jumping a bit when a hand grabbed her shoulder from behind. She spun around to face the young man from earlier, a smile on his face. “Hey! I don't know if you remember me. You sat in my lap. And I'm kind of a big fan... I saw your show in New York. But you probably don't understand a word I'm saying. Everyone says you're mute and don't speak English, but you don't need to to understand this.”

He produced a bouquet of red roses and handed them to her. She took them, her face as red as the flowers he gave her. The young man took her free hand, as she was holding everything in her left, and placed a gentle kiss against her soft flesh before meandering back off into the big top, flashing his ticket to get by. Flustered, Svetlana quickly and quietly made her way away from everyone else and directly to the place nobody (except one) would search for her: Dmitri's car. She simply sat there, unsure of what quite to do. She had acted on a whim, sitting in that man's lap. Dmitri wouldn't be pleased, though it did garner audience support. Still, she had to smile. All songs played that night for their performance were her compositions. Sebastian had talked her into doing them. Sugar could learn them in a heartbeat, Belle never choreographed anything and could simply "go with it" and Sebastian already knew them. And the crowd loved her music...

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Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan
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{A Sexy Collaboration Between Myself & Scarlet Loup}





Clayton held his hand tighter against the stomach wound, trying to stop as much of the bleeding as possible as he waited for the young boy to return. As the show came to an end, he noticed a blonde-haired figure move closer until she stood before him. A smile crossed his face for a moment, glad he'd found someone he might be able to send after Lionel. His expression slowly changed into one of confusion as she held up the items he'd requested from the boy. "You sure 'bout that?" he asked as he slowly stood up. "I don't want to get blood on your things." Still, he followed her like a loyal hound. As he moved, he removed the vest and held it against his abdomen. "I, ah, didn't see much of your act, but it sounded like the audience enjoyed it a lot." His attempts at small talk were usually quite sporadic and even ill-planned, but they were still attempts. He followed her into the car, but he continued to stand, still afraid of bloodying her belongings or the belongings of her car mates.

The Arabian woman lead the way, offering only waves to those who attempted to garner her attention. She was quite determined to get Clayton into her train car before any of her car mates showed up. Clayton was injured so there wouldn't be too much shenanigans going on, but Belle intended on making it quite clear to him just how much she did fancy him. Besides, she wasn't going to let him sit outside and dress his wound alone. Not when she was there to help him. He truly was a rather sweet man and it brought a more affectionate in a less lustful that usual manner in her.

“No need to worry about the blood - I will clean that up as well. And thank you.” She finally answered him, reaching to close the train car door behind them. “No matter where you are in the world, sex sells. People enjoy things that they know they cannot have and that is what I give.” She had moved some things around and placed a new, thick blanket over her cot, guiding him to it and lying him down. “Your act was quite intriguing. But it usually is.” Her smile was a friendly one as she took his hands and vest, moving them out of the way to see his wound. “This will sting.”

Clay let out a soft laugh at her words, taking them as a joke. Of course he wouldn't feel it sting. He'd never feel it sting. In an almost childish manner, he wiggled his toes slightly and looked up at her.

She bothered to not rape him with her eyes, focusing on taking care of him first. Lathering up the soap with water onto the rag, she moved to clean away the blood, some of it already dried against his flesh. The sting had yet to come, though she hadn't figured that considering his lack of ability to feel pain, he wouldn't feel it. Still, she rinsed off his wound and drizzled the whiskey over his wound. She let it sit there and quickly grabbed one of the white shirts she often wore to bed, ripping it into strips. One of them was wadded up and pressed against the cleaned wound while she eased him up in silence to fashion a better bandage, tying it about his waist. “Ta-da.”

Clayton propped up on her elbows almost as soon as he lay down to watch her move the rag along his stomach and the wounds. He had a gleam in his eyes like a mesmerized child. Had he ever been tended to like this? Certainly he hadn't been since he lived in the orphanage, but that was sixteen years ago. Half a lifetime ago. Had he been able to feel the pain, maybe he would have winced or cursed under his breath. Maybe he wouldn't have. Maybe he would have tried to hold it together to appear tough. It was quite difficult, however, to appear tough when you wiggled your toes about impatiently and hugged your dog like a teddy bear at thirty-three. He seemed to give a subtle frown as she tore up a shirt for dressing his wounds.

"You didn't have to do that," he said, scrunching up his face slightly in a sheepish manner. He obeyed as she guided him up to bandage the wound in a better way. "But, ah, I do appreciate it." Clay felt over the bandages slowly, making sure his hands merely glided over the cloth for fear of disrupting them. "Thank you. A lot. Not many people would, y'know, do this. Shit, Lionel only does it 'cause he ain't really got a choice." He smiled though and moved to grab his vest. "You're lucky I didn't break any bones tonight." It had quite honestly been considered by Clayton earlier in the week, but he knew it wasn't a good idea until, or if, the circus had some sort of doctor nearby.

He stood before her and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it slightly. "Well, I don't want to disturb you or anything. Probably got things to do, people to see, eh? 'Course you do, being such a pretty lady and all." He flashed a toothy smile in more of an awkward manner than a flirty one.

“Clayton...” Belle stood before him with an almost confused expression, blocking his way out. She didn't quite understand it. He was such a sweet man but made it seem as though he had no friends within the circus. She couldn't imagine it to be true, though she had to remember that it was six months before she had begun speaking to him. She wondered why she'd overlooked him before but didn't put much thought into it as she shifted and let herself smile, taking his hand. “Actually, I don't have any plans with anyone. Maybe you could stay and keep me company? A pretty lady like me tends to get lonely..” She took a step closer so that she was lightly pressed against him, aware that she was still practically in her undergarments. Her fingers intertwined with his as she searched his gray eyes for an answer.

He swallowed in what was obviously a nervous manner, Adam's apple bobbing as his gray eyes widened slightly. Clayton might have begun to sweat if it hadn't been for his condition. He's had sex before, of course, so he wasn't terrified. He was merely...surprised, perhaps, that she gave him the time of day. "Y-yeah," he managed to sputter out. "Yeah, I think I could do that...for a pretty lady." A nervous smile broke out, twisting the tattoos on his chin slightly before he swallowed again causing them to pulsate. Clay bit the corner of his lip for a moment as he looked down at her. Hell, he was over a foot taller than her, wasn't he? Hesitantly, he raised a shaky hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, marvelling at the assortment of feathers and beads woven into the mane of golden hair.

“Don't be nervous,” she whispered softly as she released his hand to clasp her hands on the back of his neck. He reminded her quite a bit of a shy child and she really wanted to break him out of that shell. Did she? She really liked how sweet he was and she couldn't quite imagine him any other way though she didn't know him well enough. Despite not knowing him so well she had no problems being so open and forward. In an instant she had pulled herself up to the tips of her toes and pulled him down some so that she could kiss him. It was a gentle kiss, sweet like him. “Tell me what you need...” She broke the kiss to move and lock the train car door, turning to look at him.

Though the kiss intially took him by surprise, Clayton found himself subconsciously moving back toward her to continue kissing even as she broke it. Again, he looked at her like a confused child. He even might have shuffled his feet subtly. He fought with the thoughts inside him, and this showed through his furrowed brow. What did he need, damn it? It wasn't a question he'd bothered to ask himself ever. He'd worked himself into a state of content bliss, remaining ignorant to the fact that he was deprived. Thinking now, there were quite a few things he needed, first and foremost being...

He coughed, clearing his throat as he rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, ah..." he began, using the sounds as fillers as he fought to look at her again. "L-love." He gave a brief sort of laugh, but it sounded more like an odd "chuff", and the smile that came with it fell quickly. Again, he bit his lip and knit his brow slightly, watching her.

Now, that was an answer she wasn't expecting. Usually when she asked that question in such a situation it ended with her going down on someone. There was a light tug at her heart as she moved back towards him and gently guided him to the bed where she straddled him. There was silence as she thought of how to approach the situation. She wouldn't promise him her heart because she wouldn't lead him on. She enjoyed sleeping around and everyone knew that. But she didn't want to break his heart or create an awkwardness between them. She liked him and she wasn't sure if this was his way of saying he might love her.

“Everyone needs love. I can give you the love of friendship but I cannot promise my heart because I don't know you that well... I like to keep my heart guarded because I don't like being hurt. But maybe we can start from scratch?” There. She didn't reject or accept. Maybe she would one day come to give him her heart. For now she hoped that her friendship and her body was enough, moving her face closer to his.

He moved extremely willingly after her and perched on the bed as she sat in his lap. Blood rushed to his face as she replied, and Clay nodded, subconsciously running the backs of his fingers on his right hand against her arm. "Nah...I understand," he replied. "I don't expect you to, y'know...we haven't known each other long enough, right." He backtracked tacticlessly, trying to get out of the hole he dug himself into. "Long day, y'know." With her face so close to his, Clayton managed to shakily take initiative and close the last inch or so of space between them to kiss her. He seemed to forget his blunder as he placed his arms loosely around her back as if still afraid of scaring her off.

Belle was caught by surprise when he was the one to initiate the kiss this time, thinking him to be far too shy to do so. Still, it was a pleasant surprise and she moved her lips along with his, letting her fingers grab at the hairs on the back of his head with a gentle moan. How long had it been since Clay had been intimate with a woman? He handled her so delicately as though he were afraid his slightest caress might hurt or frighten her. She pushed her body against his so that he was on his back before lifting up, breathless from the kiss. “I'm not going anywhere, Clay. And I'm a lot tougher than I look.” She gave a devious grin as she lowered her head to place gentle kisses against his neck.

Clayton hardly noticed she was pressing him back against the bed until their lips parted and she spoke to him. He gave a quick nod in reply, unable to fornmulate a coherent response before she began to pepper his neck with kisses. Beneath her, his chest rose and fell heavily, and he let out a slow, breathy laugh while wrapping his arms just a bit more tightly around her figure. While she explored his neck, Clay moved his hands slowly along her back and sides, taking her buxom body in physically instead of visually, for he looked up at the ceiling to extend his neck for her to kiss. He suddenly sat up again, but not because he was afraid or worried. Instead, he tried to reciprocate the kisses she'd left on his neck by leaning her back as his lips glided along her neck, stopping occasionally to place a kiss.

Belle was taken aback by him sitting up but was soon happy enough to receive his kisses, leaning her head back and letting her hair tumble down against his pants with a soft, airy laugh. “أوه، أنت حبيبي الحلو. وسوف تتمتع صنع الحب لكم عدة مرات من الوقت تكون الشمس عالية في السماء حتى القمر يبارك لنا الليل. ” Belle looked back at him, her bright eyes examining his gray ones with a thoughtful gleam as her hands moved, her thumb tracing over his bottom lip. “I hope to make you happy, Clayton Sullivan. Because you deserve this,” she purred as she moved from his lap to behind him, lying down. She used a single finger to motion him to come to her. Belle was a woman who believed that most everyone (excluding murderers and such) deserved peace, love, happiness, and sex. It was something of a mission to her to make sure those deserving got it.

Her laugh was beautiful. It rang through the car like bells chiming, and he absolutely loved it. The Arabic she spoke made no sense to him, of course, but it too sounded beautifully exotic, and it rolled off of her tongue so well that he hardly cared about the fact that he couldn't understand it. His bottom lip had ceased to bleed now, thankfully, and Clay looked back at her with wide eyes as she spoke in a sultry purr. As if transfixed, he watched her lie down. How could he resist her beckoning to him? He tried to draw out the movement as he turned around, afraid of appearing too eager. In a shaky but clean movement, he knelt over her and leaned to kiss her again. Clay placed most of the weight of his body on his hands and the rest on his knees, putting him in a position that looked much like some sort of push up. For a moment, his body pressed against hers, but he pulled back, afraid again of hurting her.

Ah, so sweet. Still afraid that he might hurt her. He didn't need to speak his thoughts nor could she read them. She didn't need to be able to read his – or anyone else's – thoughts to know what was there. She was adept at reading body language and his spoke loud and clear to her. As he pulled away after putting his weight on her, she pulled him back against her and rolled so that they were both on their sides and facing each other. “You don't have to be afraid of hurting me.” She leaned towards him and pressed a kiss against his nose with a playful smile before unhooking her top with ease and discarding it, pulling the blankets over them. Again, she moved closer to him, her nails gently raking down his chest as she kissed him, nibbling at his bottom lip in an attempt to urge him to let himself go and take the initiative.

He nodded in response and started to move his lips as if to speak, but he decided against it after realizing it would probably ruin the moment between them. Clay's nose wrinkled instinctively as she pressed her lips against it. A sigh escaped his lips as her nails trailed down his front. Her urging along seemed to work, for now he pulled her up against him again with one arm as he used his other hand to fumble with his jeans to start easing them down. Clayton allowed himself to kiss her a bit more passionately as their bodies moved together.

There it was! Belle gave a smile of satisfaction as Clay grew more comfortable, using her feet to help push his jeans down before removing the bottom half of her costume. Fully naked now, she allowed him to pull her closer, her hands taking his and pressing them against her breasts, encouraging him to explore her smooth flesh. She took pride in her toned body and always enjoyed when others appreciated it as well. She was surprised at the passion behind his kiss but put forth fervent passion as well, letting her hands move from his to the rest of his body. Her fingertips traced gently over his flesh, pressing gently against his muscles as she paused to trace over his scars. She hadn't realized her eyes were closed, opening them to look at him now, breaking the kiss to gaze upon his scarred visage with a delighted smile.

Clayton let out a soft breath in a mixture of surprise and contentment as his hands pressed against her chest. She was absolutely, amazingly flawless. His face, previously red just from embarrassment, now flushed with a mixture of both that and arousal. For a few heartbeats, Clay felt her breasts before he let his hands wander along her voluptuous curves. Her body was a wonderful mix of toned muscle and curvature beneath his hands, and he emitted a soft moan against her lips before she pulled away. His eyes had been closed for a while now. He knew not when they had closed, but that wasn't even a concern to him. They fluttered open as she broke the kiss, however, but he met her smile with one of his own, tattoos dancing as his lips pulled back. "You're so fuckin' gorgeous," he breathed, scarred chest still rising and falling rapidly. He moved his hands from her body only to remove his boxers so that they both lay naked against each other. "You, ah, you wanna do this, right?"

Belle couldn't help but to toss her head back and issue a laugh at his compliment, grinning at his choice of words. Well, he sure seemed to be enjoying himself and that's all that mattered. With a single graceful movement, she rolled over so that she was on top of him, lying down on him. The way their bodies fit together was a lovely surprise that brought her to purr a bit. “Oh, indeed I do... But of you'd rather not, that's fine.” She feigned disappointment and moved slowly as if to dismount him, a sly gleam in her eyes.

Clay looked back at her, a mixture of lust and adoration shining in his eyes as she moved atop him. If he'd been thinking clearly, he might have just let her get off, afraid to appear to eager. Clayton wasn't thinking clearly though. He placed his hands on her hips suddenly and sat her back on his lap. He was oblivious to the fact that she was trying to convince him to take the initiative, yet her efforts were quite successful it seemed. "No...I really want to." The mixture of the stress on his words and the look of hunger in his eyes confirmed his words.

Belle released a sound that was a mixture caught between a moan and a gasp as Clayton pulled her back, placing her hands on his chest. She threw her head back, giving another laugh, again delighted. “Then let us fuck, my lover.” Whether in the sheets or walking along the streets, Belle had a special talent when it came to people. She had a way about her in the way she talked and treated people. She made them feel like exceptional and special human beings. She made them feel loved, appreciated, wanted, and needed. Provided that they could get past her initial...openness.

Now, with Clayton, she did just that. Her hands explored him as their bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, their noises of pleasure harmonizing into a beautiful symphony of lust. She spoke his name in loud cries, giving him praise in foreign tongue. Even more than that, she gave him a more personal experience of her belly dancing, biting her lip as she danced on top of him. He was far better than she had expected, fully expecting him to be a virgin. He had assured her that he wasn't and proved so by flipping her over, bending her over, and taking the reigns.

Hours went by, Belle refusing to give up. But they both had enough stamina. All good things come to an end, and so did their session. She lay in a sweaty heap on him, her arms, legs, and hair sprawled over his body. Her tan flesh was red and possibly on the verge of bruising in a few spots. What could she say - She liked it rough. Her heart was racing as she closed her eyes and nestled against his chest, holding his hand. “That was... So... Beyond amazing,” she breathed, pressing closer.

With another airy giggle, she rose from the bed and began to get dressed, craning her neck to peer over her shoulder. “Stay here and rest. I will bring you something to eat... But you might want to slip on some pants.” She turned her whole body only to give him one more kiss, sashaying her way out of the train car in a less revealing outfit than usual though it was still just as flattering. She adjusted her hair a bit, squinting at the blinding sun as she looked around some.



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Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan
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Character Portrait: Dmitri Petrov Character Portrait: Belle Character Portrait: Clayton Sullivan Character Portrait: Robert Mason Character Portrait: Svetlana Kolmykova Character Portrait: Sugar
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Svetlana listened as the two men talked, completely ignorant to their words. She heard Belle's name crop up at the end and her interest was garnered. She looked to Dmitri for an explanation, her already alabaster complexion going even more pale than imaginable as he spoke to her. They could no longer perform in America? He mentioned only that they could not perform in the next few cities, but if it were only just a few cities presenting a block he wouldn't be this angry. America was filled with cities and seven or eight of them were no dent in his potential fortune. What did this mean? She feared that he would shut down the circus and send everyone away. Would he send her away? She frowned at the thought and let her hand slide into his as he neared her, giving a light squeeze.

Beyond the pair, Robert watched carefully before giving a nod. “I'll see if I can find Belle and send her over dis way.” He gave a nod of his head and was soon off, leaving the two to their business. He wondered when Dmitri would decide to break the news to everyone and he wondered even more how they would take it. It wasn't the first time that they'd been run out of a town but it certainly was the first time that virtually an entire country had run them out. It wasn't as though they couldn't perform in a single place in America, of course. There were certainly a number of places where they'd be welcome. However, with televisions providing cheaper entertainment at home and a general dislike for Russians since the war... They wouldn't be able to make such profits as they had before.

Robert shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way towards the train car that Belle now shared with Sugar and sometimes the twins, as the boys had taken to keeping the young maven company since the abrupt departure of her adoptive father. He glanced off to see that the boys were with Sugar and Jack, listening to the girl play some Chopin. He gave a smile before approaching the door of the blue train car, knocking a few times. He could hear some moaning from within and couldn't help but to give a light smirk. That woman always seemed to busy with something or someone, almost as bad as he was.

Inside, Belle could hear the knocking but she ignored it as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The knocking came a few more times and she whined, half out of pleasure and half out of irritation. She could still hear Sugar's music so she knew that it wasn't her. When the mystery person finally let out a soft laugh at the sound of her whine, she identified it as Robert and shook her head. Grunting, she shoved the man she was with out of her bed and threw his pants at him while she was getting up. “What the fuck?!” He glared at her angrily while putting on his pants. She offered him a roll of her eyes as she grabbed a blue silk robe and tossed it on loosely, barely tying it around her waist. She opened the door to reveal the smirking Cajun, her brow lifting.

Her male visitor stormed off while buttoning up his shirt, not even having his pants zipped or belt buckled. “Darling, you owe me a climax.” Belle gave a soft giggle and lifted her chin, wordlessly asking why he would disturb her. As a man who appreciated the fine art of sex, she knew he wouldn't interrupt her unless it was important. “We goin' to shift countries soon and Dmitri wants to talk to ya. I reckon it's got somethin' to do wit Lana.” He took her hand gently and gave a wink as he kissed her knuckles with soft lips. “And don' worry; You jus' tell me when an' where.” She giggled and gave a nod before closing the door as he left, moving to the mirror to work on getting ready to head out to see their illustrious ring master. However, she had something else to do first. She moved towards the door and opened it, poking her head out. “Clay, could you come here?” She spotted him sitting near Jack, Sugar, and the twins. She hadn't spoken to him in... Well, what seemed to be far too long for her liking. Days, perhaps. Between shows, Lana, and drama... She just hadn't had the time.

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