Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

Life and death of Harlequin

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The story of Clarissa Dem'terelle.

Angel and Bird's last flight

Gather 'round ladies and gentlemen, gather and marvel at what yer eyes have never seen! The large elf bearing the ring master's red suit was yelling loud and clear in the hot and humid day. Like a pig he was sweating, wipping over his forhead a kerchief already soaked. The crowd was gathering slowly under the large tent from where a daunting music was rolling out from a small organ operated by a little monkey bearing the same outfit at a scale of the ring master, lifting his little hat each time someone would put in a coin in his plate.

Gather 'round, Gather 'round and marvel. Me daughters be angels. Clarissa the Flame, Charlotte the Wind. A round of applause ladies an' gentlemen! Roaring at each corner of the tent, hands clapping together for the two girls in their fancy outfits, one of red silk and the other blue of sea. Together they twirled and jumped from the hights of the tent's pole, two birds of paradise dancing in the air on their dangerous trapezes. If one was not there to catch the other it would have been catastrophique but together the twin girls were a perfect team. Like a dream the girls worked together, their mind losing themself into the perillous work of art. It was simply beautifull to watch. The sisters were not only acrobats but also clowns and jesters, the beauties appeared in most of the acts. As the silly trainer of a bear in a tu-tu or the devil fiddler coming to take the soul of the naive. There were laughter and there were gasps of fear under the tent, it was like a dream, it felt like it, they felt invincible in their own elements.

An accident waiting to happen.

It happened so quickly that day that even some of the spectators laughed figuring it was part of the show. The heat was intense that day, the whole tent was boilling. Blue angel had let go of her trapeze where Red bird had to catch her, she slipped from her hands. They had done the show a thousand times, it had never happened. Never. Where was the need for a net? Her neck broke, the snap was covered by the screams of the crowd and the artists all gathering around the body of the fallen. Fifty feet in the air, Clarissa watched upside down as her sister had fallen to her death. She dangled there for a good twenty minutes, in the commotion she had been nigh forgoten. They had to litteraly pry her off her bar, she was in shocked. All cried when time came to burry the fallen angel, but bird's eyes remained dry. She would never fly again but one last time, from the highest pole of the tent she stood one morning as the workers were hurrying to remove the tarp over the largest tent. She stood there watching the sky, spirals of mists growing under her feet, slowly snaking their way around her legs, her chest her arms, she fell asleep as the tendril of mists carried her to the realm of the dread, where she could live fully the horror that was growing in her mind.

Its like a dream she thought as she woke up, smilling.

Paul Cezanne, Post Impressionism

Taunting of the shadow moon

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVOeBUraVI4 (ignore the video, just listen as you read.)

Here I lay at night, awake. Beside me rest a man, his constant and peacefull breath lets me know that deep in his reverie, he rest. The pale moon rises in the dark sky of Barovia, never before had I seen a sky so dark, as if the stars feared shinning. Long I remain awake at night, the organ keeps me awake, always turning and turning, the same tune that smells of melted sugar treats and buttery pop corn. It sickens me. In my dreams I can see the ghostly visage of the clowns that cries, thoses who screams, thoses with the pies. I see them dead, I see my hands covered in cream and blood and suddently she is there, facing me. At the end of the well, on the wall. She stands before me, the shadow of my shape on the bed taking a life of its own on the wall. A finger up she scolds me. Angry and screaming, her arms flailling around, suddently I realize, she is laughing! I laugh with her, me the cheery jester, the fool, the masked artist! Cheering for me, looks how well I did Charlotte! All alone, without you.. no wait, you are always with me, arent you? Dancing in the moonbeams as if a puppet without strings she laughs and the music continues, the show must go on.

Who is it that i hear i the dark, is that you Charlotte, is that you Jimmy? Festering around me the shadows gathers and squirms, getting to know me. My scent, my feel, my beauty. All theirs, bending their will to mine was easier than i thought, i could lay in this cocoon forever it feels. Screaming in my ear, screaming in my head is the sound of the crowd, cheering for us, but always this scream turns into shrieks, horror and murder. She slipped from my hand, her fingers barely carressing mine. The pale moon rise outside where i cannot see her. Here i am one with you, here you are mine to control, red bird, red bird, do you not heard the call of the crowd? They cheer for me!

@Full credit for the pictures goes to an excellent Deviant art artist: Rowiel http://rowiel.deviantart.com/


Swallowed by the Shadows

Shadows and fiends of the dark, heed my call, listen to my voice..

   Listen to the music of the night, my plead to you in this darkness..

       I call thee, I beg thee, hear me, love me, take me for your pleasure..

Swirls of darkness, ribbons of black velvet surrounds the dancing elf. Under the pale light of the old moon, a shadow passes and meet the girl with a sly grin, she would be perfect, in a blink he surrounds her, lovingly of his long tendril and together they melt into oblivion... She may come back a moment later, she may come back yesterday.. but for now the music has been muted by a veil of unknow.

Return of the Puppetter

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBDxDkXvm54&mode=related&search= ((Ignore the video, simply listen as  you read))

In the screaming wind of winter, a laugher clear as crystal follows the howling of the wolves. In the deep dark night of Barovia, it was as if something was stirring, slowly from a long sleep. Giggles and bells till a mad scream of victory would roar into the wind. Always she laughed, always she danced, with the wind and the shades, she was free as a disembodied spirit. Something had changed, for the best? For the worst? The masks dropped for a mere blink of an eye and all became clear. The music had to go on, the rusted organ slowly sputtered and coughed, dust flying out of the pipes and the popcorn began popping again. Always the show must go on..

Gather 'round Gather 'round and marvel at what yer eyes have never seen! The shadow laughed and sprung upwards, she desired a body again so she may continue her work, so she may began her tricks. She wished to be whole again, to feel, to control. The splurging on her new found energy had nearly driven her over the edge but she was there, always walking on that thin iron wire, the umbrella was for the show and the tail kept getting in her way.. but always she pretends to fall just to hear the gasp and shout of reaction from the crowd.

Charlotte and Clarissa had made peace and together they smiled as ever before. Their love was binded with silky ribbons and together they agreed. Jimmy serves us both and we need not to fight. He loves us both and will care for us. Now the show.. must go on.


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