"Ladies, gentlemen, and any children with parents ill-advised enough to bring them..." The voice, owner unseen, crawled up on the audience, broken and splintered. The stage lights flickered, and went off one by one. At last, the circus tent's flap was closed, and the ring drowned in darkness. "I give you light." There was a flicker of sparks at the word light, which danced out of existence before they could illuminate anything. "I give you flames." This time, a small flare licked out, its source just visible. It was the mouth crying out the dilapidated showman's pitch, now coming from the stage itself. "And I give you Fire!" The last word was spat out, accompanied by another small firey tongue. The speaker was crouched near the ground, so that the flame he had seemingly spoken into being brushed the edge of the ring. The gasoline there ignited, sweeping around in a circle and leaving a floating purple cut-out shape in the eyes of those who tried to blink out the unexpected glare.

The performer's appearance was no less disconcerting than his strained voice. The flickering light accentuated his sunken, blood-shot eyes, and from wrist to elbow was bound up tightly in bandages. Although it may have been the poor visibility in which he presented himself, his skin seemed sickly, almost grey. He took a quick swig of a pungent substance from a hip flask, and stood for a second, eyes closed and body swaying slightly before continuing his act. "I give you darkness." As soon as his mouth opened, a black cloud of smoke uncoiled itself, pouring out and spilling down languidly. "I give you dust." He tossed the contents of a small pouch into the air, a fine powder, and spat forth flames once more, lighting the powder into a blinding fireball as it hung in the air."And I am the ashes." Before he had finished the sentence, he was striding forward, and stepping straight into the inferno that encompassed him. As he did, it engulfed him, lunging up along his much-stained outfit until he was nothing more than a part of the conflagration. Another step took him through, still alight. The final step was into a slow bow.


The show. There was nothing quite like it. Sometimes that was a good thing.

The thrill, standing in front of the audience. For all the wrong reasons, though. Not because of the applause, not because of brightening somebody's day. Not even because of the money. Because for a little while, the fire could keep the cold and creeping entropy at bay. He was a fire eater.

The words. Every show he did started with them, the syllables painfully dragged out in a rasp almost as agonizing to listen to. A twist on an otherwise all-too-familiar introduction to set the mood, remind everybody that a circus wasn't just clowns and juggling acts. There were the people like him, the "side show." Like anybody would remember the show for anything else.

The act. It all began with a simple, sudden trick. From then, it descended into the implausible and delved into the impossible. He breathed out smoke with every breath and swallowed fire only to spit it back out in sudden gouts or as nimble little sparks heralding each word he spoke. The posters all said he ate fire, but sometimes it was difficult to tell if it wasn't the other way around.

Name: Voror (Latin: I am consumed)
Stage Name: The Ashen Phoenix
Species: Xweetok
Color: Shadow
Gender: Male
Occupation: Circus fire eater
Circus: Changes regularly
Appearance: Ash colored fur, eyes pink and bloodshot from constant irritation, scrawny frame
Condition: Failure of a fire pet to achieve necessary homeostasis for combustion
Symptoms: Raspy voice, coughs up smoke, can manage to spit small licks of flames without use of foreign substance, feverish to the touch, paws leave scorch marks with prolonged contact, constant chill in bones offset by consumption of fire
Prognosis: Unclear how subject is capable of continued metabolic functionallity without proper food, much less normal activity
Character: Bitter, jealous, withdrawn, jaded, good talker, pessimistic
Family: A younger brother who burns unusually bright

Likes}

{Loathes

Fire}
Rust}
Ashes}
Circuses}
Scaring others}
{Fire
{Damp
{Clowns
{His brother
{That he never lit
{The chill in his bones

Art by Tawreh (garinawk)
Durnfall... Durnfall is an enigma. To be fair, I'm sure that I am equally perplexing to him. He says he is a fire spirit. Maybe that was what I was supposed to be. At any rate, we're both well acquainted with fire, but entirely different aspects. What we do seems impossible to the other. Where I bargain and barter with fire, he dictates. I have not yet given up hope- it is a terribly tenacious thing- that I may yet find some answers.

Sisyris is also a puzzle, but in another sense. I have yet to meet a worse liar- the fact that she's hiding something is obvious. What it is, I don't know. What I do know is that she shows definite potential for being an assistant. The thought was formerly laughable, but I had not formerly met anybody fireproof. She's a bit... withdrawn, but it's nice to meet somebody with a compulsion to raze buildings.

I'm consumed from within
As I'm fed from without
That's the mess that I'm in
And what I'm all about
With fire in my veins
And ashes in my heart
I feel the dreadful pains
Brought about by my art
My footprints left with soot
Just smolder in the grass
And where I place each foot
The smoke will linger last
I'm entropy at work
A phoenix gone all wrong
A circus sideshow quirk
An ember all but gone

Consumed from within...

linklinklink
Once upon a time...linkLivin' Loud
linklink




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