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Giggles the Clown

0 · 2,287 views · located in Jupiter, Florida

a character in “The Cabinet of Curiosities”, originally authored by Alliqua_Dark, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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Ring. . . Around the rosie. . . Pockets full of posies. . . Ashes. . . Ashes. . .We all fall down.


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Full Name
Long since forgotten, even by himself.

Height&Weight
6'3" & 202lbs

Alias
Giggles the Clown

Age
32

Date of birth
December 24th

So begins...

Giggles the Clown's Story

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Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown
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Pop Goes The Weasel



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Walking in an odd shuffling manner, Giggles saw the new circus. Freakshow. . . He thought as he rubbed his hands together, dried blood falling from them in flakes. He stumbled in the back, hearing the deputy asking around, Giggles pulled out his juggling pins and juggled them as he walked around, better to hide his face that way. There was no way he was allowing this new attraction in town without a proper look-see.

It seemed to the clown that this was a serious deal. Might even be entertaining, oh yes. Brushing past performers, bumping into a crew member here and there, Giggles wasn't certain of how well they did their thing. He was deep in thought and because of that he didn't see the other clown in front of him. Thud, colliding with the shorter clown Giggles held up his bloodied hands as a form of apology. The other clown's eyes widened and he started stammering. Giggles tilted his head, putting a finger to his lips to shush the other clown.

"You never saw me." Giggles then winked slowly at the clown. Turning away from him he twirled his pin around and sang in a low voice.
"I've. . . No time to plead and pine,
I've no time. . . To wheedle,
Kiss me. . . Quick and then. . . I'm gone
Pop. Goes. . . The weasel."


Maneuvering slowly about the tents, Giggles breathed slowly, coming out raspy and strange through the mask. The setup seemed nice to him, all the ladies in a row. Set them up and knock them down. Little ladies in a row. . . His entire form seemed tilted to the right, a haunting visage of a bloodied clown with a freaky smile. He was looking around for some sort of sign, maybe a little friend for him. He was lonely, he was lonely. . . So lonely. Giggles peered into a tent, but sadly nothing was there. Maybe if he waited long enough someone might entertain him. Humming a song and juggling he waited.

Waiting around did pay off, just negatively. A man strolled up to Giggles, looking him up and down, judging him.

"Wait a second. . . I don't know you. You don't work here at all do you. . ." The man asked, trying to assert some sort of authority. Giggles just kept juggling, staring the man directly in the eyes. The man crinkled his brow.

"I'm gonna get the deputy-" Before he could finish, Giggles brought his juggling pin down onto the man's head with a satisfying crack. Blood trickled down the man's face, his eyes lolled back.

"Uh-oh, Mr. Whiny is broken. . ." With a chuckle, Giggles set his pins down and grabbed the man under the arms and drug him into the empty tent. Wiping his brow Giggles exhaled shakily, then he went back to his post. Now with one less pin.

Too bad, juggling with two pins isn't as cool.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown Character Portrait: Matthaus Ivano Character Portrait: The Circus Peanut
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All along the winding road and on the straights and the narrows, the carts and trailers, the people and the horses traveled their way through space. Their elaborate carts and decorated vehicles made their way through the country and the wide landscapes and they passed by forests, fields of grass, plains and deserts. The rolled on by like they have done all along, and sitting in one of the train carts that bumped and jiggled, the contortionists dangled his legs off of the ledge, a sketchbook in his lap. With his fingertips as black as charcoal, lines ran along the page and dots were speckled on top in layers. In a brief pause, his thumb wiped under his eye, smearing the dark grey before going on. But there was a bump in the track, and the cart swayed, leaving a long, black streak Imageacross the area he just drew. An irritable moan vibrated in his long, slim throat, leaning his face away from the picture, which was far too close in the first place.

The train jumped again, and with a loud holler from the familiar German accented voice, Matthaus grinned. He leaned forward out of the cart, smiling to the front of the vehicle before standing up and setting his book down. Grabbing the frame of the box, Matthaus leaned outside of the cart, passing the message on, knowing perfectly well that sound does not travel well on trains. "Almost there ladies and gents!" He pulled himself back and twirled around to his supplies,"So let the fun begin."

Not long after, the traveling came to a halt and the ritual of unpacking and setting up the tents began. Matthuas stepped off the train, items and supplies in tow, he previously bare face now adorned with makeup. Instead of wiping away the charcoal under his eye, he added a second smear under his other, then had added cosmetic glitter. And to top it off, almost reflective black lipstick. He was feeling rather lazy about makeup today after all.

With a long pack of poles and fabric in a hefty tarp dragging behind him, he selected a particularly grassy patch and unloaded his gear. First he placed a small block and traced a round circle around it, pulling at grass every few steps for where he would put his stakes. Before continuing, he grabbed a small, blank book, opened it to a fresh page, then slide the blades he grabbed inside. It was a quick process and it only took a second longer before he drove his stakes in, which was the hardest part. He's never enjoyed sledge hammers, nor the blisters they gave him at times. But it had to be done and the stakes were put in their rightful place. He spread the red and white tarp over the circle he had created, taking care to also place the center poles evenly between them. After that, it was almost as if he was on autopilot. Matthaus had done the same routine for over a decade and setting the ropes and pulling the poles up really was just a blur. In a mere 15 minutes, his personal tent was set up, and within another half an hour, his stuff was unpacked.

And now he was hungry.

Pulling out a small bag of peanuts he had saved, the witty man perked his head up like a coyote when he noticed dust clouds raging towards their camp. Plucking a peanut and placing the whole thing in his mouth, he chewed his way to the commotion. Commotion always followed authority, didn't it? Because in some places, people knew that the authorities had no authority at all.

This was one of those places.

Watching the scene as if it was a play held just for them, Matthaus munched his peanuts like popcorn, smiling deviously as FrÀulein tells the men off. He was just about to see fireworks light off too when they gave up, throwing a small tantrum with the bill before they left. FrÀulein had the last word, of course, and made sure there was no worry, but Matthaus knew better to believe otherwise. "More like Baboons." Buffoons was being awfully nice. Matthaus plunged another peanut into his mouth Imageand grimaced. "Yuck." He hated bad peanuts. It always ruined everything. Scraping off the pieces left on his tongue, he flicked the awful nut away and continued on with his snack. Matthaus headed back for his tent, because as Elsa so easily put it, rehearsal should be underway and he had a lot to do to prepare.

Along the path in which he took, he had the misfortune to pass by the clown cult. At least that's what he called it. They were always together like a high school cheer leading squad, talking and giggling at their horns and shoes and flowers as if they had something to hide. It was hard to forget their faces unfortunately, especially for one who made it a point to know his pride and joy like the back of his hand. So when a bloody masked clown was juggling two pins, Matthaus managed to pause briefly. Subconsciously he started to chew obnoxiously loud once he stopped in front of him.

At first he didn't speak a word, his long locks blowing in whatever breeze there was in the bloody heat. But finally after swallowing the last handful of nuts he had thrown into his mouth he nodded towards the pins,"I hope your missing pin isn't anything like your head." What a poor soul. He must be wanting to try out or something. If Matthaus knew anything, it was that it was going to take more than a grotesque face mask and some juggling skills to get in here. "We have enough dumbbells as it is." And that wasn't including the weights for the strongmen. Matthaus plopped another peanut on his tongue then sharply quirked his head with a sarcastic tone,"Good luck with your tryout."He winked, then left the man be.

Hopefully he wouldn't be seeing him again. Gaining another lemming for the cult would just be awful.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown Character Portrait: Hecate Alptraum
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The ever constant rummaging of trunks and the trembling of carts as the train continued to twist down the winding roads towards the miserable little down did nothing to disturb the red headed woman from her peaceful slumber. There she lay in her personal cart, surrounded by the many objects and props she used for her astounding show. Her blood-red, glimmering lips her parted slightly, letting out long gasp and pants, her who body frozen completely still in relaxation. Underneath the locked eyelids, deeply painted with raven paint that swirled off her temple in majestic, 3D effects, her eyes fluttered aimlessly lost in the dream world.

As the train abruptly stopped, The Illusionist (who also went by the name, Hecate) was nearly knocked out of her seat, as she was quickly woken up from the thick German accent calling out to her and the other freaks who called this circus their little makeshift home.

Rising almost robotically, she lifted her stiff arms high above her head and straightened out her body until her limbs felt loose once again. Her eyes ventured to the window, scanning the field that would become their circus. Many acts had already unloaded, as Hecate would start to do momentarily. Placing both her frail hands on the handle if her trunk, she thrusted upward with all her might, managing to lift the case from the ground slightly, before she stumbled back, dropping the case and hitting her back on the carts wooden doorframe.

The red head growled, mentally cursing her frail build of only 115lb, and began the process once again of attempting to move the seemingly floor bound trunk.

Within half an hour, she was able to drag her trunk off the train, and halfway across the field, briefly stopping to eavesdrop on the conversation between Elsa and the local police officers of Jupiter. Murder, oh what a horrifying and wonderful occurrence. The intense amount of fear, suspense, hatred and dread it invokes in the citizens, the theories and list of countless suspects as people began to lose trust in one another. What a wonderful spree of emotions circling such a quant little area at one time, a person could just cut the tension in the air with a chainsaw. Oh, how Hecate loved it, the fear being her favorite part. Fear, the one emotion that could combine all of them at once, and to feel nothing at the same time. Fear being the emotion that drives a person to the brink of insanity as the growing paranoia continues to build up on their consciousness until they reach a final breaking point. True inspiration that lies within such a horribly overlooked emotion.

Now, nearly an hour later, Hecate finally managed to lug her trunk to a satisfactory area that she would like to set up her tent for the act. As she began the trek back to the train, prepared to begin the whole journey once again, she paused once she saw Matthaus talking to a clown whom she didn't recognize. Being the ever curious girl that she had grown to be, she casually ventured towards them, keeping her shoulder turned as her ears picked up on every word the man spoke. Hecate furrowed her brow, and felt the way he treated the poor clown to be rather rude.

Once Matthaus took his leave, Hecate emerged from her hiding spot, eyes traveling up and down the clown, soaking up ever detail like a sponge. His smile, while some might deem repulsive, intrigued her. Covering his hands were, what she though was fake, flakes of blood that brought his costume together.She smiled politely, deeming the clown as someone she could get along with.

"Don't mind him." she spoke with a casual tone, placing her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels, while simultaneously patting down the lace in her knee-length black and red frilled out skirt. "What a creative costume. Truly flawless."

She pursed her ruby lips, turning her head slightly to glance at the train, where the objects needed for tomorrows show still rested. "Say, you wouldn't mind helping a frail, petit woman like myself carry her stuff to her tent, would you?" She batted her eyelashes innocently, the smirk never leaving her plump lips.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown Character Portrait: Augustus Tenebrae Character Portrait: Hecate Alptraum Character Portrait: Matthaus Ivano Character Portrait: Krista Diane Grande
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#, as written by Fable



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Nocturnal as Augustus was - and had always been - it came as no surprise that by the time morning rolled around that day, he felt an almost unbearable force weighing upon his eyelids, dulling his senses and ridding him of his energy; fatigue was an interested thing, he reflected. Such a stark contrast to the previous night, when he had spent hours on end sat upon his own personal cart. His eyes had been drawn upwards, to the dark abyss that was the night sky, and the stars' pathetic attempts to bring forth light. Augustus was aware, it seemed, that it was not the darkness he loved the most about night, but the moon itself. More beautiful than the sun in many ways, and distinctly peaceful on the whole. Yes. It has to be the moon. He had sat there for longer than he could hope to keep track of, allowing the cacophony of sounds - that were as a direct result of the train trundling along at its usually slow pace - to fade into the buzz of the night, for it was silence that he hated the most. However, when the moon had begun to lower itself, and the sun threatened to rise behind him, he had thrown himself through the open window of his cart, grumbling quietly to himself. He never seemed to have enough time with his precious moon. The sun was always too greedy for his attention, which - of course - he was not willing to provide.

Augustus allowed his entire weight to fall onto the bed, fidgeting only to tangle himself in a mess of bed sheets. Thin as they were, they provided him with enough warmth that he might be able to drift into a peaceful slumber. This was made into a rather difficult task as the carts were being dragged over thickets of dry grass and bumpy terrain. There were a few moments where Augustus doubted he was even on his own bed, but instead an inch in the air; this became painfully evident as his face smashed into the equally bumpy mattress, and a revealed spring threatened to pierce his eyeball. Practically hissing at this, he sat himself up on his bed, deciding that he probably wouldn't be able to sleep as well until they arrived. Noticing that the sunlight had begun to spill through the open window, Augustus drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his thick arms around them, burrowing his head into the darkness created by his arms. I hope we settle camp soon, he thought, an audible sigh working its way through the subtle gap between his lips. I need sleep.

It wasn't until Augustus became aware of a familiar voice shouting down to the carts that he finally dragged his heavily-fatigued gaze to the window once again. It was still bright out, but obedient was he in his devotion to Elsa, and so he peeled his eyelids back up and shifted his legs so that his feet were pressed firm against the dirty, wooden floor of his personal cart. "Euf," was the only sound that escaped him then, which was later accompanied by a grunt of effort as he applied pressure to his arms and lifted his behind off the bed. Blinking a few more times, he stretched out his long limbs, mouth parting wide as a drawn-out yawn filled the silence of his own cart, before he turned towards the case that held his clothes. Should probably get dressed, he mused, before snorting his amusement aloud. It wouldn't do to go outside practically naked. Shaking his head with in a few light, subtle movements, he forced his legs to carry his weight forward. His arms reached for the case, popping the hatch and allowing it to swing open. The outfit he chose consisted most notably of a red and grey checked shirt and plain black jeans; the shirt wasn't tucked in and his jeans dragged against the ground as he walked out of his cart, but it did well enough for him so he wasn't too fussed.

Augustus hesitated for a few moments as his eyes scanned the surrounding area, nose crinkling in dissatisfaction, before he turned back to his cart and jumped back inside only to grab the gear he needed for the setting up of his tent. He had it packed neatly within a duffel bag to the right of the entrance, on the opposite site to his clothes case, leaning up against the wall. Next to it sat a chest-like box, in which it held most of the equipment he might need. Mainly, this consisted of a cage (to be set up before the performance) and such. He began setting this up while the others began theirs, but his attention was drawn from his 'building' as the sounds of cars skidding up filled his sensitive ears. Wincing, he turned to face them as they pulled up near to Elsa. His expression changed within a matter of seconds, from relatively passive to wary. He tensed his musculature, but made no real move towards them. It was not his place to be involved in Elsa's affairs, he knew, but he was watching closely enough that he might be able to jump in if things went south. And, luckily for him, nothing did. The police left without much of a fuss, though they had been complaining about a murder or something of the like. Augustus needn't have worried; they'd only just arrived, after all.

He finished setting up his tent rather quickly after that, working his muscles to their absolute best as he hammered posts in to keep the tent in place, and then dragged his cases over to place them within. When he was done, he stepped out and grasped his own hands, flicking dirt away from them in the process, before he allowed himself the chance to look over their setup. Everyone had done a good job, he thought. Or, at least, nothing looked like it might fall and crush his skull as he walked past. That was good enough for him. However, now that all the work seemed to be done - on his end - there came the realisation that he had two options; socialise, or rehearse. The second would most likely earn him some goodie points with Miss Elsa, he reckoned, but the first seemed much more fun. And so, with a crooked grin settling upon his lips and revealing his two over-sized canines, he set off, hoping to find someone with whom he could have a relatively decent conversation. Although, the only two people he had seen wandering about so far were Matthaus and Hecate, and a rather odd looking clown he'd never seen before. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued his walk throughout the camp, allowing his gaze to analyse the structures around him, expression hinting at an almost gentle sense of curiosity.

It had been a long while before he came to a stop, having spotted Krista, or more commonly known as the human pincushion. It was interesting, he thought, that someone could go their entire life without feeling pain. He envied her, in some sense, but pitied her in others. Not having a sense of pain rids a person of their physical awareness, so that they don't know when to stop doing something. Augustus shook his head slightly. No. I don't envy her at all. Painting a smile upon his features, even though he knew it might not be well-received, he took it upon himself to approach her. He kept a reasonable distance away, due to her usually blunt nature. He didn't exactly want to be on the receiving end of a flurry of insults, truth be told. Regardless, he lifted his arm and gestured a hesitant wave. "Hey, Krista," he greeted. "Have a nice journey?" His voice was unusually gentle as he spoke.





Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown Character Portrait: Thalassa Character Portrait: Augustus Tenebrae Character Portrait: Hecate Alptraum Character Portrait: Aletea Applegate Character Portrait: Lottie Velkin
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Atop a bobbing and jumping trunk sat a girl. Surely from how she sat, she couldn’t be more than five feet tall. No older than sixteen. The apples of her cheeks were an innocent flush of pink. Her eyes were dark and circular, soulful with the evercoming curiosity and mystery of a doll’s. On this particular day, the right side of her ample tresses were Prussian blue, while the other side was as dark as her gaze. Coan silk fashioned into a lavender bow was pinned slightly to the left of her head. Her small feet kicked above the floorboards of a train car that progressed on large pin wheels, adorned in matching Coan slippers. Belted, a blouse and skirt accentuated what waist she did have. If not for the slight curve of a womanly figure, she could pass for thirteen easily. A small gap in her front teeth showed behind parted lips. Her expression was nothingness.

Dusky eyelashes batted as all gravity ceased to exist, the queue of luggage and vehicles halting. The tired sound of a poorly tuned accordion drew to a close. It didn’t take much for Aletea’s small frame to go flying from the trunk - it following, and nearly crushing her. She scrabbled for a moment to evade danger, pulling herself toward the extremity of the oversized handcart. When she landed on the dry earth, Jupiter’s dust rose from the ground and enveloped her feet. She could hear Elsa’s vernacular in the distance.

This site was truly a sight. Though the majority of its acres were dictated by dry sand and dirt, it was quite the setting. Elsa would have a field day with it. There was so much space - so much more room for isolated acts. Or would she go for that? Elsa had trouble giving anyone their own act entirely, or letting them run a tent or stand alone. Aletea glanced around. Off to one side there were woods. Cattails hemmed the edge of a sort of reservoir off to the other, whose water was miraculously blue and clear. Arums reached toward the small waves created by a gentle summery breeze. Aletea made a mental note of their location. Fancied making wild bouquets, sometimes sold them if Elsa suggested and endorsed it. After all, the cabinet could use all the revenue they could get. One way or the other.

The petite girl wasted no time after watching the performers disperse. In less than a half hour the big top was up, then Elsa’s regal and delicate tent. Soon the grand entrance was assembled and as daunting yet, inviting as ever. Aletea actually liked the idea of the entryway, masquerading as a giant devil’s head, a portal into an unknown world. She was four steps out and hanging a lantern jar when a brief siren blared, and officers of Jupiter’s quiet little town braked hard and erupted from their cars.

Instinctively Aletea backed away, elfin feet quavering. She hadn’t realized until Elsa barked somehow quietly, that she’d stumbled into the circus owner in a backward fashion. “Go back to the main grounds and press my costume, pĂŒppchen. Do whatever it is you need to, and for crying out loud, stay out of the way. Geh, jetzt!” Aletea learned a few of the German terms over time. 'Go, now. Little doll. Shut up. Get to work. This is terrible. You look terrible. Fix this. Hurry up.' The usual commands, for the most part. The girl scurried and jolted to attention, removing herself from the situation with elective haste.

But, she couldn’t help but pause on her way to Elsa’s tent when she saw a peculiar and sort of lonesome looking clown. His mouth was ragged red, perhaps painted with anxious hands. The harder she looked, the more apparent his disguise became. Though half of his face was painted, the other half was covered with a mask held by a bit of yarn. Kind of ramshackle. He wasn’t one of the performers of Elsa’s cabinet. When she was within a few yards, she realized how colossal he was in comparison to herself. Taken by curiosity the girl went a bit bowlegged. Stared her usual vacant stare, eyes gaping and full of questions her mouth would never solicit.

The wolf, seal, contortionist, pincushion and all the others bustled around. Still hard at work. It shook Aletea from her pondering. She pivoted a bit, circle skirt rising briefly as she turned to see a dwarf cross her path and snap, “What are you looking at?” Again, as almost a rehearsed reaction, Aletea stepped back. Not a friend in sight. She sighed heavily and drudged toward the queenly tent beside the big top.

A short distance away from Elsa’s territory was Paul’s. He appeared to be having some trouble with the stakes. Aletea watched him exhibit his independence as he hopped sort of rabbit-like on one of the tent struts. Briefly she spoke up, a Southern inkling in her soft voice, “Would you like a hand?” She of course wasn’t surprised when her offer was not taken happily, Matthaus coming onto the scene in his arch way. With such grace demonstrated in his walk, so soft for someone who was so strong and pliant like a rubber band. Aletea cleared her throat and tried to stifle her slight embarrassment, maybe to give the notion that when she asked if Paul needed her assistance, that she was really just, coughing, or something. Obviously she knew he didn't need her help. Or didn't prefer it.

Pressed and hangered, a grand striped getup was hung beside a massive Oak armoire. Aletea admired her work, looked up at it, ran her pygmy digits down the fabric to ensure there were no folds, no wrinkles. Perfect. She exited the tent, its coral and violet draperies falling behind her head. Squatted, a blond girl polished an apple keenly betwixt tents. Aletea had never seen this one before. But, given her most recent rejection, she wasn’t going to speak up or try to make friends with someone who more than likely saw her as Elsa’s pet, just like the rest.

In a forsaken sway she swept toward the biggest tent. It’s ‘doorway’ was pinned open, fresh painted wooden chairs lined symmetrically before the stage. Humming, Elsa’s doll padded down the center walkway, studying the props on stage and singing every now and again as she lifted them one by one. Hoops and ribbons for the contortionists. Collars and shackles for the wolf. A classic microphone for Elsa. Various magic boxes and cases. A ladder for anyone who wanted to stand at Lottie's height. A particularly concurrent doll costume...

She heard Hecate in the distance. The mystic. It reminded her, before she had a chance to illicitly slip into the doll costume, that she wanted to ask something. About fortunes, futures, and bad luck. The small girl sidled toward the fluorescent haired performer and peeped, "Hecate? Could I ask you something?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown Character Portrait: Hecate Alptraum Character Portrait: Aletea Applegate
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Pop Goes The Weasel



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As Giggles stood, observing everything with curiosities galore, he was approached by a man. He could tell before the man even spoke, this ladylike man was a snobby spoiled brat. Then the man spoke and low and behold. Rude to boot.

"I hope your missing pin isn't anything like your head. We have enough dumbbells as it is." Then the man strolled away. Muttering under his breath Giggles clutched one of his pins tightly.

"Manners, manners Mr. Prince. . . Your crown seems to be too tight." He set his pins down as a young woman approached him. She smells nice. As she spoke to him Giggles smiled brokenly under his mask. She doesn't get it either. She then asked him if maybe he would help her carry things. Giggles tilted his head, his eyes focusing on the lady.

"I. . . C-can help you carry." His voice was low and raspy as he took the bags from the woman. The stench of rot and blood radiated off of Giggles. He turned to her and made soft breathing sounds.

"Carry miss Red's bags where? C'mon princess tell me." He asked, but before he could receive an answer a girl appeared asking the red one if she could ask something of her. The girl was perfect. A precious doll, a doll. . . A child. . . He dropped the bags and shuffled closer to the girl who just arrived.

"Little doll, little doll. . . May I come over and play? With your fancy gowns and your hollow eyes. . . Let me in, let me see. . ." He whispered just loud enough for her to hear. He grabbed her hand and looked up at her shyly, like some sort of wild animal, yet tame only for one. He became excited and pulled out a stained fabric rose.

"Can you take this flower of mine. . . Say you won't forget me dolly." He bowed his had and held up the blood-stained rose to her. He had this urge, I need to take her from here. My personal princess.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown Character Portrait: Hecate Alptraum Character Portrait: Aletea Applegate
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Before she could advance further into the depth of her inquiry, the lonesome clown appeared again. And it really did seem, as though he simply appeared. With washed out color in his hair, twisted into three vertical pieces, eyes wide with enthrallment, he shuffled away from Hecate briskly. The rhythm of his walk was all off. Something was terribly off. Wrong. Hecate’s luggage and setup was abandoned in the clown’s pithy expedition as he scuttled up to Aletea.

Straightening her mustard yellow shirt, she tried to fix an expression of confidence. He seemed to approach in halftime as the small thing tugged tiny fingers through the ends of her curls. The apples of her cheeks drained of their usual pinkish hue. Obviously he was a performer, or had been, or wanted to be. He had props on hand, and was in costume. If he was for any reason interested in her, she had to handle it with some sort of grace. Uneasily she shifted. Social poise was something she had lacked lately and, she was in no rush to make a fool out of herself in front of Hecate, too. For a girl, a newcomer with no friends, looked down upon really as a puppet, it felt like maybe some of her reputation was riding on this clown and whatever came out of his mouth once he figured out what he wanted to say.

"Little doll, little doll. . . May I come over and play? With your fancy gowns and your hollow eyes. . . Let me in, let me see. . ."


His void whisper sent chills up her spine. Was this riddle of his something she should be taking into account? Would he maybe make a great children’s addition to the cabinet? Of course it wasn’t up to her, nor would she try to pull strings. But should she have been talking like some professional, a true carnie? It of course occurred to her that he peered into her with this glassy look of fascination. What he was truly thinking or feeling, Aletea didn’t know. She couldn’t see his mouth.

He seized her hand, his digits engulfing hers with ease. She still hadn’t managed to think of a response for this all too perplexing encounter. But steadfast, she maintained eye contact with him, and tried not to flinch or grit her teeth under the pressure of anxiety. Somehow a smooth smile pressed itself into appearance, a tiny glimpse of the gap between her teeth showing as she stammered, “O-oh, what’s this?” Her voice became pint-sized, her eyelashes batting with confusion as he displayed knightly behavior in a grand bow and gift. She tried to conserve the polite look of bliss, but it was hard not to twist her face or vomit. Something smelled terrible. Rotted. Dead.

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The clown’s hands also appeared to be poorly painted, crusted with red debris. He grasped a fake flower, handing it to her. With a bashful wave of her skirt, she murmured, “For me? Thank you, sir.” As calmly as she could manage, she accepted his gift, replying to his request, “I won’t forget you, ‘sides, sure we’ll run into each other again. Look at where we are. Speaking of which, Elsa is gonna' tan my hide if I don't get back to work.” Nervously she laughed, patted the top of his hand, glanced to Hecate with doe-like bewilderment, and scurried away, forgetting all about whatever it was that she thought to ask of the girl.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giggles the Clown Character Portrait: Hecate Alptraum Character Portrait: Aletea Applegate Character Portrait: Lottie Velkin Character Portrait: Matthaus Ivano Character Portrait: Paul Dellinger
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Having pulled the black, stretchy ring from his emaciated wrist, his other hand grasping his hair at its base at a high point on his head, he quickly tied and double tied his now long and golden tail. Florida had always been hot, which was something Matthaus never liked. Don't get it wrong, he liked it much better than the cold, because the cold made it harder on him when he stretched than the heat did, but he didn't have to enjoy the heat itself just because he hated the cold. Everyone got all sweaty in the heat, and although that doesn't bother him directly, the reaction it got is what did. Everyone always moaned and groaned all day and complained about the smell. Maybe not the circus itself, but there is always, and he meant always, is at the very least thirty different customers who complain.

Those who have been around in the Cabinet even half as long as Matthaus has had long gotten used to the stick of the perspiration and the stench of raised arms, for they all sweat even in the cold at times. It just got to the contortionist when those who watched had the gull to bitch about it. Those salty sardines who always packed every show (except maybe a few recent acts) never have seen a hard days work in their lives. And better yet, they pay good money to walk around in the sun all day, which one should get used too anyway since it's good for you, and they sit shoulder to shoulder to watch even warmer performers doing outrageously hot acts, Imagesometimes with fire, and yet they still blame it on global warming and nature's revenge. If they can't even stand to sit in a tent for a few hours without melting, then why would they come in the first place? Things like that boil his water.

As well as strangers on the grounds.

Matthaus knew he had a crown too small for his head. Everyone did, or so he hoped. It helped keep his ego inflated after all. What good is one if it's not huge? As useful as an infected lab rat. But ego didn't mean his lens was any different. Paul thought the clown was strange too. Good. He wasn't the only one this time.

"Making us laugh
And banish that frown,
The simple duties
Of a clown.
" Matthaus glared over his shoulder, not too much unlike his reaction to Paul. He turned to Paul as if this was the first time he's stated the fact. "I don't like clowns."

But the day is still at hand and Paul didn't seem to get his joke. Good thing he didn't like clowns.

"No Paully, not your arms." Matthaus grinned, erasing any hint of a joke from his tone. But knowing Matthaus, he always quickly drew it back,"I was talking about your crap." He laughed, flinching comically at the nudge. The blonde's hand raised and placed over the tingling skin, his lower lip perching out in a bulbous fashion. "Ow. Some thanks." The lost stray look hardly worked on the eyes who has seen is more than it bargained for, but maybe that's what made it funny. And it was the humor in the sarcastic glance that made him laugh yet again, gently shoving the tall glass of nails back.

But back to the task at hand. The faster they all can get practicing the more money they'll make. And the more fun it will be. So Julian followed behind Paul with his head high, his discoloured eyes falling on the manikin girl along the way. The porcelain frame was admirable among any sane mind, it didn't matter what gender you were. If animals were intelligent, then it wouldn't even Imagematter what species either. But since animals didn't have half a brain to admire beauty even if they bit into it, Matthaus had the sight all to himself and to enjoy it. Or so he always thought. She was, in technicality, Elsa's property, but the poor doll was no property at all. She was a magnificent display of personality and life, and he tried desperately to make the most of every moment he had with the walking perfection he could.

She was always quite though. The poor dear wasn't even heard by any pair of ears besides his, and that was only because he was listening. It also helped that he had learned to read lips over the decade plus he's been in this mystery box. Paul apologized for not having noticed her offer, but Matthaus tried to assure the poor figurine by waving with his fingers. They briefly reached his lips in which he blew the light kiss off with a soft breath, and it floated to the air in her direction. She then went off to do good somewhere else. The little do gooder.

"Looks good, Paully." Matthaus smiled at the open space. As Matthaus prepared to get the tent up, his ears tuned in on his instructions, not that he particularly needed it. It was just polite, he guessed. "Alright, let's get this bad boy up then." He lugged the hammer on his shoulder, setting up the first stake. He then started pitching the tent with the seal, hammering the stakes in and getting the tent ready to get the main post up.

In hardly any time at all, the tent was put up and ready for Paul's sleepy eyes. But now that it was, it had to wait until nightfall, because both their eyes were awake in the sun. Set up was usually the time of practice and casual conversation, usually while one practiced. There normally wasn't a whole lot of time between set up and the show, and never nearly enough time as Matthaus would like. But if Paul wanted to do something then he supposed he could spare a few moments. His cornblue eyes flickered around.

The first thing he came across was their gentle and clumsy giant, in which he responded with a smile and downwards chromatic scaled whistle. Next he saw Hecate with the clown he told off, and with the poor Aletea rushing away. "I don't like clowns. " He repeated. "Come, just for a second Paul." He waved a finger as he himself walked nimbly on over to the walking doll.

"Miss Applegate." He called, placing his hand on the furthest shoulder from him. He spoke in his signature, corrective manner that sounded more like satirical sarcasm than anything. "What have I told you about dangerous crowds?" The irony is that he never recalled calling clowns a dangerous crowd at all. He's stated he never liked them, but the general terms of crowds never seemed to come up. But speaking of things he's never spoken of as if he speaks of yesterday was yet another abnormality about him. Which was, indeed, normal.

"Beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return.
Beneath what seems a benevolent disguise
Perhaps is concealed a menacing surprise.
"

He loved it when two poems can come together like that. He's always loved Charles Bukowski, but his poems go so well with others to make a point. But Matthaus gestured to the blood stained rose as he spoke, however, not touching it for the sake that it might, heaven forbid, mean something to her.

Gifts from clowns are hardly gifts at all, but a slapstick waiting to happen.