beast taming Some of the tents were contained in small, almost cozy environments. Others were in larger spaces to give more room for dazzling displays of man and animal working together. In most shows, the beasts were handled with great care to keep from reacting to outsiders, but in this tent, there was only a line of rope keeping the large black form prowling along the cleared space of grass and the visitors separated. There were other large cats as well in this clearing - two lions with gray on their muzzles, a tiger worrying at a large bone, several sleek forms that could only be leopards. Yet none moved past the panther to the humans past the rope.
And into the space between the panther and the rope stepped a man. Lean with dark hair, all his exposed skin - and there was a lot of it from his waist up - covered in twisted lines of black ink, he leaned on a cane as he walked up to the panther and ran his hand over her head. And in a soft, smooth and impossibly compelling voice, started speaking, "Welcome to my nightmare..." glancing at the visitors he gives a bow "...I think you will like it."
A snap of his fingers and the cats moved. Dancing and swirling around him, pouncing towards him only to miss, weaving between each other in twos and threes as they jumped and leaped. He used neither whip or tools, only his voice calling out in a strange tongue that sound exotic but no one could remember its sound after he spoke. Once and a while the great panther would do a trick that seemed like it was merging with the shadows - sometimes her tail growing spikes, other times looking like she just melted into the ground. But that was impossible really, only just tricks of the shadows cast by the hanging lights and the way the other animals moved, surely. Then the cats stopped their tumbling, forming into a line and bowing even as V turned, the great panther padding out of the shadows to lean against his side and attempt to bite his cane and tugging it away.
"Do forgive us if we startled you; but this is what we are, when the nighttime crawls near."
collecting The appearance of a circus often meant that strange sights will occur on the nearby streets. In this case the strange sight was a rather pale, lanky young man wearing little more than a laced waistcoat, American 'cowboy' trousers and boots, showing off a riot of twisting black lines on his exposed skin. Sitting calming on his shoulder like a rather disgruntled looking scarf was a very large raptor, possibly of some exotic species that most Londoners would never have dreamed of - or if they had, would never admit to the nightmares that would spawn such things. The only thing that looked almost normal about him was the cane he was leaning on as he stood underneath a shop's awning, eyebrows raised as he looked up to the gray and dreary clouds.
"Once upon a midnight dreary..." he murmured and the bird on his shoulder made a snorting sound and poked him in the cheek. He sighed and flicked his fingers against the bird's chest. "Stop being childish. We still have half a dram left before we're done. Do you see any of the others?"
Almost grumbling like a disgruntle man being told to get out of bed, the bird launched himself into the air, wings surely not glowing in the gloom, no. They were just reflecting light from the guttering street lamps. Watching the bird circle then land on a chimney, V shook his head, looked down at the half-filled bottle and sighed.
V : OTA
Some of the tents were contained in small, almost cozy environments. Others were in larger spaces to give more room for dazzling displays of man and animal working together. In most shows, the beasts were handled with great care to keep from reacting to outsiders, but in this tent, there was only a line of rope keeping the large black form prowling along the cleared space of grass and the visitors separated. There were other large cats as well in this clearing - two lions with gray on their muzzles, a tiger worrying at a large bone, several sleek forms that could only be leopards. Yet none moved past the panther to the humans past the rope.
And into the space between the panther and the rope stepped a man. Lean with dark hair, all his exposed skin - and there was a lot of it from his waist up - covered in twisted lines of black ink, he leaned on a cane as he walked up to the panther and ran his hand over her head. And in a soft, smooth and impossibly compelling voice, started speaking, "Welcome to my nightmare..." glancing at the visitors he gives a bow "...I think you will like it."
A snap of his fingers and the cats moved. Dancing and swirling around him, pouncing towards him only to miss, weaving between each other in twos and threes as they jumped and leaped. He used neither whip or tools, only his voice calling out in a strange tongue that sound exotic but no one could remember its sound after he spoke. Once and a while the great panther would do a trick that seemed like it was merging with the shadows - sometimes her tail growing spikes, other times looking like she just melted into the ground. But that was impossible really, only just tricks of the shadows cast by the hanging lights and the way the other animals moved, surely. Then the cats stopped their tumbling, forming into a line and bowing even as V turned, the great panther padding out of the shadows to lean against his side and attempt to bite his cane and tugging it away.
"Do forgive us if we startled you; but this is what we are, when the nighttime crawls near."
collecting
The appearance of a circus often meant that strange sights will occur on the nearby streets. In this case the strange sight was a rather pale, lanky young man wearing little more than a laced waistcoat, American 'cowboy' trousers and boots, showing off a riot of twisting black lines on his exposed skin. Sitting calming on his shoulder like a rather disgruntled looking scarf was a very large raptor, possibly of some exotic species that most Londoners would never have dreamed of - or if they had, would never admit to the nightmares that would spawn such things. The only thing that looked almost normal about him was the cane he was leaning on as he stood underneath a shop's awning, eyebrows raised as he looked up to the gray and dreary clouds.
"Once upon a midnight dreary..." he murmured and the bird on his shoulder made a snorting sound and poked him in the cheek. He sighed and flicked his fingers against the bird's chest. "Stop being childish. We still have half a dram left before we're done. Do you see any of the others?"
Almost grumbling like a disgruntle man being told to get out of bed, the bird launched himself into the air, wings surely not glowing in the gloom, no. They were just reflecting light from the guttering street lamps. Watching the bird circle then land on a chimney, V shook his head, looked down at the half-filled bottle and sighed.