Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round Two: Interplanetary Circus
09-22-2012, 12:00 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Commander Princess Patricia Pastrykisses-Bearonrollerblades took a step out onto the wire. It quivered at the touch of her foot, and she clamped down on it with the space between her first and second toes, willing it to stay still.
Well aware that she was far from the model of martial perfection expected of acrobats, Patricia reminded herself that the deck was stacked in her favor. The gravity field was slightly weaker up here, her earrings were calibrated to enhance her balance, and besides, there was a safety net below. This act was family fare, an illusion that required the audience to be complicit in belief; Étoiles wouldn’t bring out its A-game until later in the artificial night, when the kids were asleep.
She took another step onto the tightrope. Staying in position was more a question of strength than of balance; one had to mirror the rope, stretching every muscles of the legs out, staying absolutely still and refusing to snap in spite of the tension. She raised her arms above her head in a calculated flourish, keeping her eyes on her hands. Staying hidden in plain sight meant staying high above the crowd and refusing to look at them. Not for the first time in the past week, she wondered if the decision to hide amongst the circus folk had been a purely rational one.
Patricia raised her leg out in front of her, leaning backwards to preserve her balance, and pirouetted one hundred eighty degrees on her other foot. Her spine and hamstring both flared up in pain, still unused to this treatment. She put her foot back down gently and straightened out, holding her arms out on either side, taking a deep breath to find her center. Then she began to walk backwards on the rope.
She could feel the energy of the crowd as a palpable thing, a wind from below that might upset her balance or steady it. She didn’t look at them, but listening to the hushed silence felt an egotistical thrill running through her. Patricia could have easily stayed out of the sight of her enemies—she still wasn’t quite sure which of them were alive and which dead—by buying a hat and posing as a tourist. Her choice, instead, to paint her face and hide inside a checkerboard leotard had been an emotional one, stemming from a pathological need for attention she assumed she had been born with.
Trisha squinted up at the high wire, lifting the brim of her hat. There was something familiar about that acrobat. She watched the woman take three steps backward upon the rope, and then lean back, taking the wire in one hand and lift her legs up, supporting herself upside-down. The audience gasped. Trisha tried to get a look at the acrobat’s face but could only see that her eyes were closed behind her domino mask. The woman seemed to her impassive, a hundred feet above her, conveying no sign of pain nor fear.
“Neghigh,” gurgled Hippocrates. Trisha looked back down to meet her horse’s gaze. Being teleported from a fair to a circus (the Amazing had his aesthetic preferences, to be sure) seemed to have made the reconstitution process a bit more difficult for Hippocrates—parts of him were hanging a little loosely, and she was worried that if she tried to ride him she might fall right through. This place, at least, didn’t bat an eyelash at her bringing a horse inside the big top. In fact, though she hadn’t caught eye of any of the promised dragons thus far, the circus seemed to have no preference for human biologies at all. Most of the inhabitants were bipedal and exhibited at least some of the characteristics of mammals, but there was a stunning biodiversity at work, and Trisha had to resist the urge to go around examining people. The downside, she realized, was that the general lack of humans and horses in the area rendered her awfully conspicuous. There were still, by her count, three contestants she hadn’t met, and one of them was apparently “a ghost city.” She couldn’t guarantee that they would all be as friendly as the people she’d met. The hat was a rather poor excuse for a disguise, did nothing to conceal Hippocrates, and was ruining her hair.
On the high wire, the acrobat had landed back on her feet and produced a jump rope from somewhere inside her leotard. Trisha had a notion that this was about to get really impressive, but getting distracted by spectacle had served her poorly in the previous locale. She turned her face away from the ring and began to walk around towards the back, Hippocrates slowly solidifying by her side.
This time around, Trisha was going to get proactive. To start, that meant finding the animals.
Commander Princess Patricia Pastrykisses-Bearonrollerblades took a step out onto the wire. It quivered at the touch of her foot, and she clamped down on it with the space between her first and second toes, willing it to stay still.
Well aware that she was far from the model of martial perfection expected of acrobats, Patricia reminded herself that the deck was stacked in her favor. The gravity field was slightly weaker up here, her earrings were calibrated to enhance her balance, and besides, there was a safety net below. This act was family fare, an illusion that required the audience to be complicit in belief; Étoiles wouldn’t bring out its A-game until later in the artificial night, when the kids were asleep.
She took another step onto the tightrope. Staying in position was more a question of strength than of balance; one had to mirror the rope, stretching every muscles of the legs out, staying absolutely still and refusing to snap in spite of the tension. She raised her arms above her head in a calculated flourish, keeping her eyes on her hands. Staying hidden in plain sight meant staying high above the crowd and refusing to look at them. Not for the first time in the past week, she wondered if the decision to hide amongst the circus folk had been a purely rational one.
Patricia raised her leg out in front of her, leaning backwards to preserve her balance, and pirouetted one hundred eighty degrees on her other foot. Her spine and hamstring both flared up in pain, still unused to this treatment. She put her foot back down gently and straightened out, holding her arms out on either side, taking a deep breath to find her center. Then she began to walk backwards on the rope.
She could feel the energy of the crowd as a palpable thing, a wind from below that might upset her balance or steady it. She didn’t look at them, but listening to the hushed silence felt an egotistical thrill running through her. Patricia could have easily stayed out of the sight of her enemies—she still wasn’t quite sure which of them were alive and which dead—by buying a hat and posing as a tourist. Her choice, instead, to paint her face and hide inside a checkerboard leotard had been an emotional one, stemming from a pathological need for attention she assumed she had been born with.
Trisha squinted up at the high wire, lifting the brim of her hat. There was something familiar about that acrobat. She watched the woman take three steps backward upon the rope, and then lean back, taking the wire in one hand and lift her legs up, supporting herself upside-down. The audience gasped. Trisha tried to get a look at the acrobat’s face but could only see that her eyes were closed behind her domino mask. The woman seemed to her impassive, a hundred feet above her, conveying no sign of pain nor fear.
“Neghigh,” gurgled Hippocrates. Trisha looked back down to meet her horse’s gaze. Being teleported from a fair to a circus (the Amazing had his aesthetic preferences, to be sure) seemed to have made the reconstitution process a bit more difficult for Hippocrates—parts of him were hanging a little loosely, and she was worried that if she tried to ride him she might fall right through. This place, at least, didn’t bat an eyelash at her bringing a horse inside the big top. In fact, though she hadn’t caught eye of any of the promised dragons thus far, the circus seemed to have no preference for human biologies at all. Most of the inhabitants were bipedal and exhibited at least some of the characteristics of mammals, but there was a stunning biodiversity at work, and Trisha had to resist the urge to go around examining people. The downside, she realized, was that the general lack of humans and horses in the area rendered her awfully conspicuous. There were still, by her count, three contestants she hadn’t met, and one of them was apparently “a ghost city.” She couldn’t guarantee that they would all be as friendly as the people she’d met. The hat was a rather poor excuse for a disguise, did nothing to conceal Hippocrates, and was ruining her hair.
On the high wire, the acrobat had landed back on her feet and produced a jump rope from somewhere inside her leotard. Trisha had a notion that this was about to get really impressive, but getting distracted by spectacle had served her poorly in the previous locale. She turned her face away from the ring and began to walk around towards the back, Hippocrates slowly solidifying by her side.
This time around, Trisha was going to get proactive. To start, that meant finding the animals.