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Post by Mister Fletcher on Aug 10, 2009 17:56:49 GMT
Time of Day: Night, 3am
Oh what delightful little creatures insects were! Mister Fletcher watched them scuttle about his feet with sheer enchantment etched across his pale face. And to think that humans thought these creatures disgusting! The poor things were never given the recognition they deserved for the excessive amount of labour intensive work they did. It was a travesty, an utter travesty, that such creatures of remarkable beauty and stamina could ever be looked upon in such bad light!
Producing a glass jar from his coat pocket, Mister Fletcher leant forward and plucked a dozen or so insects from the ground and placed them lovingly inside the container. Straightening himself up again, he pressed the glass of the jar against his nose in order to inspect his newly obtained collection up close.
"Oh you will do wonderfully, spectaculairement, as a tightrope walker," he sang with unadulterated glee, his black eyes concentrating on one specific insect (a cockroach in fact) scampering around in the far right corner of the jar. "And you..." he continued, now focusing his attention on a dark green beetle, "shall be a dancer!" Upon the utterance of the last word Mister Fletcher's legs did what seemed like an almost involuntary jig on the spot. As if a puppet master were yanking randomly upon invisible strings attached to the heels of his shoes.
"Ahh and what a glückliche dance it shall be!" he sang some more, now twirling the jar of insects in one spindly-fingered hand as he waltzed between the trees.
Mister Fletcher danced like this for a number of minutes before suddenly stopping, mid-step, in a clearing, the corner of his thin lips slowly being pulled downwards by an unknown force into an almost comical frown.
"If only I could join you in that glass kingdom of mirth, mes frères, but alas it seems as if it will never be," he said, letting out a small wail. "For it seems, you see, that I am far too big. Trop grand! Zu groß!"
All of a sudden Mister Fletcher's expression changed once again, from laughably sullen to frighteningly ecstatic. "But it is not all lost!" he resounded, "For you shall all return with me to the Midnight Cabaret where I shall put you to practice upon the unicycles and the corde lisse and oh what fun we will have!"
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Post by Marquise Draca on Aug 20, 2009 23:06:09 GMT
Her heels clicked noisily on the paved sidewalk that was still lit with the glow of street lamps. A well manicured hand, with rings on every finger, snaked out to draw her overcoat closer around her body. Damn this human skin! It was cold out tonight, if she could wear her real form she would have no problem with the weather. She cursed under her breath again, but stopped almost in mid step as she heard the sound of an animated discussion, apparently between only one person.
The voice was instantly recognized due to its shrill pitch and use of various languages, as that belonging to Mr. Fletcher. It seemed as though she was not the only on a break at the moment. She diverted herself from the pavement and toward the voice. She came upon the scene as Mr. Fletcher just finished announcing something and peering into a glass jar.
"Well I wasn't expecting to find you here," she spoke up, "the Cabaret will surely be missing you." She attempted some sort of flattery, after all she did live there and he just so happened to run the place.
"Say, what's that you've got in that jar Mr. Fletcher?" Her silky voice holding just a hint of sarcasm. She was always a little puzzled by his actions, and could guess for herself that it was some sort of insect. Her red coated lips pulled into a grin, revealing pointed fangs. She knew he had a circus of sorts, she just didn't know where he kept getting them all from; the Cabaret she assumed. She moved closer as if to get a better look at the jar, red eyes glowing in the darkness of the early morning.
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Post by Mister Fletcher on Aug 22, 2009 19:15:38 GMT
"Ahh Miss Draca," Mister Fletcher spoke with glee, recognising the young woman who was walking towards him. Of course she appeared a young woman in the same way he himself appeared a man, they were both hiding their true forms from the human world. Miss Draca, or Marquise as she had chosen to call herself (it was yet another aspect they held in common, the fact that they both used titles as their first name), was a fearsome dragon by nature with a bitter hatefulness towards all humankind. Thus Mister Fletcher quite liked the girl, woman, lizard... whatever description would be most suited for Marquise Draca.
"I do feel bad for the Cabaret, sincèrement," he said, placing a hand upon his heart, a most earnest of gestures. "But my großartiger Zirkus der Insekte was severely depleting in number and it was necessary to increase my supply."
With a flourish that could make no one doubt he was indeed a true master of ceremonies, Mister Fletcher brought his jar of insects towards Marquise so as to allow her to inspect it.
"The great misfortune for insects upon Earth, Miss Draca," he whispered, as if telling a great secret that would surely rock the foundations of heaven and hell if it were to be heard out loud. "Is that they live such short lives here." Somehow Mister Fletcher had managed to wriggle his way to Marquise's side so she could see, close up, how severely upset he was as the desperately short longevity of insect life.
"In hell you see," he continued to explain. "For I know you are not as acquainted with hell as I am." At this statement he gave Marquise a sympathetic look as if she was greatly missing out on something splendid in the realms of the eternally damned. "In hell insects live plus longtemps lives. I know this from personal experience." He ended the final sentence with a brisk nod of his head and the largest grin upon his red lips.
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Post by Marquise Draca on Aug 23, 2009 22:05:51 GMT
She registered the recognition on his face as he greeted her. His features seeming to shift unnaturally quickly to the next emotion. There was something about his whole disguise that seemed barely to conceal whatever it was that his real form was. He hand moved to his chest in an earnest gesture as he spoke of the Cabaret, and she wondered suddenly if he had a heart at all.
But then he mentioned his insect circus, causing her to raise a slender eyebrow just as the jar containing his precious performers was whisked, not without proper theatrics, closer to her face. Her nose wrinkled in momentary revulsion of the creatures that currently scampered around in their glass prison. Honestly she had never taken the time to examine such tiny creatures, especially in her real form. But she watched them nonetheless, intrigued by their strange forms and spindly legs.
"What is so special about these tiny creatures?" She asked, "They do not seem to have any muscles at all, how are they able to... erm... perform in your circus?" She then amused herself over that fact that reptiles normally ate insects for dinner. She unconsciously sniffed the jar, trying to determine if these insects had any sort of scent.
She hadn't noticed that Mr. Fletcher had wriggled his way beside her until he spoke again, voicing his dismay at the short lives of insects on earth. She wasn't sure if she should be repulsed by his closeness, since close up, his features looked even more like a costume than usual. His yellowing teeth and coal black eyes were just slightly unnerving. But he then brought up another subject that interested her, hell.
"Yes this Hell seems quite interesting... If it is anything like the Cabaret, I'm sure I would enjoy it," Although her ideas of hell only amounted to the stories she had heard whispered by humans in the past. "But that is a shame for sure, why do you not bring some up from hell?" At his last statement she paused, a question forming in her mind for only a second until she understood his meaning. So that was his true form was it?
"Well then Mr. Fletcher, I see we are well made companions," an ironic smile flitting across her face.
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Post by Mister Fletcher on Aug 25, 2009 10:09:49 GMT
"Muscles are not necessary for a successful Zirkus Miss Draca," he informed the woman, his tone of voice now scholarly in nature. Almost as if he were a bumbling entomology professor and Miss Draca were a student of his. This pretty picture was obviously destroyed, however, by Mister Fletcher's particularly unscholarly appearance and the fact it was the middle of the night. "It is a common misconception held among those with vertebrae." The back-boned never truly understood the sheer force of those lacking them. A cirque d'insecte would surely change their minds.
Mister Fletcher smile grew wider at Marquise's mention of Hell. "Oh you'll find yourself in Hell eventually," he told her in the manner of an uncle promising to take his niece to the beach for some ice cream in the near future. Wrath was a sin after all, and Mister Fletcher could sense the wrath running through Marquise's reptilian veins. Why, she hated humans almost as much as he did himself. A strange thing for a creature not initially born from the bowels of Hell. Of course having the majority of one's species destroyed by man would have a tendency to leave a bitter mark upon one's soul. Fortunately for him, insects were far too numerous for humans to obliterate as easily. It will be the invertebrates who will thrive to live on past judgement day.
"Your déguisement is much more flattering than mine, I must admit," he said with a slight cackle. He took that moment to begin circling around Marquise, his black eyes roaming up and down her human form in intense inspection. "I have been in my form for so long... veel te lang..." He paused when he had completed the circle and now stood facing Marquise, his eyes staring unflinching into hers. Mister Fletcher could see the red remnants of her reptilian self glittering in her irises, the only part of her that seemed to indicate anything other than human. Such a young and delectable form... very good work indeed.
"You will see, over time, such appearances will get harder to maintain."
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Post by Marquise Draca on Aug 28, 2009 6:42:40 GMT
At Mr. Fletcher's explanation of the inner workings of insects, the woman's head tilted slightly. The man/demon had provided her with heaps of knowledge even during this short conversation. By nature Marquise was a creature of hoarding, as evident from the amount of jewelery she kept on her person at any given time. It was impractical these days to keep a pile of gold and gems in one's home. ( Of course, if someone were to search her underground domain, they would undoubtedly find a fortune hidden through out it.)
But knowledge was another thing she tended to hoard, and knowledge was just as important for one of her kind. Without it, one would surely perish. "Very interesting Mr. Fletcher... I am indeed enjoying this little chat of ours." With a fanged smile, Marquise acknowledged his complement. She was ancient by human standards, but in her species she was only just an adult.
The Master of Ceremonies had begun to circle her and she could feel his black eyes roaming up and down her disguised form. She instinctively tensed, disliking the fact that he had disappeared from her view, only to reappear close to her face for an inspection of her eyes. "It is a necessary form, but it is far from perfect..." with this a forked tongue slithered from between her lips to taste the night air.
His last words held some foreboding for her though, and she studied his features as a comparison to her own. In time, she was sure more of her true form would become evident and when that happened, her disguise would be virtually useless. She adopted an air of carelessness, "Then I should have as much fun with this form while I can, no?" she grinned devilishly. Of course fun, for Miss Draca, could mean many different things. Working at the Cabaret, romance, etc. etc. But she hadn't sold her soul for eternal youth, she had sold it for revenge.
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Post by Mister Fletcher on Sept 2, 2009 10:33:26 GMT
"Well, if you believe it..." Mister Fletcher began, floating over to a nearby bench and lightly placing himself upon it. Het set down his insect jar on the empty space to his left and gently patted the empty space to his right with his spindly-fingered hand, obviously motioning for Marquise to join him. He rarely had a chance to sit down and chat with his employees. Perhaps he should organise some sort of team-building event for them all. Perhaps bowling, or croquet. Mister Fletcher sure did love his croquet.
"This face," he said, pointing to the fleshy mask that was his facial features, "was quite attractive in the day." Mister Fletcher sighed nostalgically as he recalled his past. "Why, but un petite five centuries ago this would have been the face of a film star." He paused and let out a small cackle. "But of course there were no films back then. How very silly of me. Sehr dumm in der Tat."
"I imagine I would have been a wonderful actor," he continued with an almost comically forlorn sigh. "But you my dear," he said, turning to look at Marquise, his black eyes glazed over slightly. "You could be eine berühmte Filmstar!" This time he released a cackle far longer and louder than the one before.
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