The Bizarre Circus Troupe, and Dance hall is the darling of the underworld nightclubs, with acts from all over the world, and the latest music hall hits, sure to get you raising your skirts. A night of decadence and frivolity awaits, and encompasses the Bohemian lifestyle. Lose yourself to the music…free your soul to the night.
As per usual, the Duke of Loxley, was seated off on one of the tables, and practicing reciting his poetry, which no one was terribly fond of, but he was patron for the Theater, so those that came past him, were sure to tell him how well he was reading. The circus troupe, which was a large contingent of the staffing, were all in rehearsals, practicing everything from juggling, to acrobatics, as well as clown acts and animal handlers teaching dogs new tricks.
To many of the normal patrons of the Bizarre Circus Troupe, this was the ripe underbelly of the entertainment giant. Come Saturday, the hall would be elegantly fitted, and the costumes and props would be completed in time for the opening night performance. Question was, who would be the show’s star…and who would sit in the Royal box?
Slinking through the club silently, Isabella watched the dancers with a curious look on her face. She had arrived here only a few minutes ago, and was already entranced by the dancing. After everything that had went down at the ball… she wanted to cut loose a little bit. Now dressed in a knee-length turqoise dress that was a little risque for this age… she moved towards the dancers silently. Isabella watched the dancers, her cat-like amber eyes taking in their movements – everything from the sway of their hips to the flicks of their wrists. Gradually, she began to move her body to the same rhythm. She picked up on the dance easil, and moved with a swift, feline gracefulness.
Although she was dancing with no partner, as most of the women trying out did, she bent backwards easily, her body curving back as each of the ladies was bent back by their male partners. Isabella straightened up just as easily, her body flowing in time with the music, and a grin slowly spread across the shifter’s lips.
“I have not seen you ‘ere before…come, we dance.” The blonde Frenchman snapped his fingers and the lead choreographer started to tap her cane in time to the beat. “And…a one..two..three..four..” Garson would take Isabelle’s right hand, and wrap his arm around her waist, to go through the motions of the traditional waltz. The entire dance he keeps his chin up and eyes straight ahead, his chest out proudly and his pale blue eyes shine with an intensity which is unusual to say the least. Taking the young shifter on a few turns of the ballroom, he then releases her and gives a nod of approval.“Acceptable…alright..next girl.” Garson then moves onto his next charge, and begins again, dancing with each girl to assess their abilities, and if they are suited to join the dance troupe.
A young girl from the office came out and handed Isabella a green card. “Congratulations, Garson approves.” She said with a warm smile. “He is in a bad mood today…you are lucky, Miss.”
“Why, I am dancing, sir.” Isabella grinned at the man who had wandered over to her. By the way everyone’s eyes followed him as he walked to her, he was obvious important. That thought only made the shifter’s lips quirk up more in amusement. Lifting a brow slightly, she waited as he circled her before meeting his eyes. “This is my first time here, after all. How wonderful, I would love to.”
She took his hand, while her other hand moved to his shoulder as they moved. It took only a few moments before Isabella was caught up in the tempo and the dance itself. Moving gracefully with the blonde, she kept her eyes locked on his, amber eyes meeting his pale blue ones in an intense gaze. Her lips curved upwards slightly – giving just the barest hint of a smile as they waltzed around the ballroom. She stepped away as he released her, a grin slowly spreading across her lips. As the girl approached her and handed her a green card, she began laughing. “Oh, how wonderful. I didn’t mean to try out, but I suppose this shall be… interesting. Glad to be a part of this. Oh, I’m glad he liked me then.” Twirling with a laugh, she blew a kiss towards the woman, laughing. “Thank you~” Isabella then turned and waltzed over to the bar, grinning.
Mister Romsfell skipped over towards Isabella, and sized her up. “Yes…just the right height, weight. Very nice hair. You will start this Friday night. The weekend work is long and hard on the feet, but you my dear appear to have what it takes, since you impressed Garson.” Mister Romsfell chortled, reaching around to slap Isabella’s backside.“Wooohooo!…Everything’s going so well! And with that he was off to speak to the costume department for the circus act, as one young girl came out from behind a column. She was known as Nini Legget, or ‘Nini Legs in the Air” the Hall’s premier dancer. She strutted with a cat like grace, her hair done up in an exquisite bun with silver satin ribbon threaded through.
“Fresh face…and by the look of you are new to the underworld dance hall scene. Hope you can keep up.” Nini said, with a curl to her lips. She sashayed off to another group of dancers, whilst at a corner table, the Duke was reciting his poetry to himself.
As a man skipped over to her, Isabella’s eyes lit up with amusement, her lips turning upwards in a grin. “Oh, my, why thank you. I think I’ll be able to manage the hard work. I don’t mind -Oh!” Gasping in surprise as her rear was slapped, the shifter covered her mouth and then watched the man wander away. She shook her head, uncovering her mouth and turning forward once more… only to come face-to-face with another woman. Hair done up in an exquisite bun, dress fitting perfectly to her form… and the confidence with which she walked… Obviously, this woman was someone important.
“Oh, worry not, I’ll be able to keep up with the best of you.” With a playful wink, she strutted over towards the bar. As she passed by the duke, though, she heard his poetry, and her face contorted into a look of befuddlement. Stopping next to his table, the woman looked at him for a moment before lifting a brow and speaking. “You know, you should probably steer clear of poetry… If you wrote that, then… you might want to look for another talent, sir.” Isabella looked at him in bemusement, unaware that she was speaking to a duke, and also unaware that she was telling the main benefactor of the circus that his ‘talents’…. were less than talented.
The Duke raised his head, and his monocle fell from where it rested near his eye. He gave the dancer the look up and down, and then set down his book of poems, before clearing his throat.
“Am I ….to understand that you are an authority on poetry, dear?” The Duke was not amused that the young lady had more or less told him in no uncertain terms that his writing sucked, and he needed to look for a new profession. He spoke with a ball in mouth type of tone, that drawled on, as he whistled out of his nose. Picking up a box of snuff, he tapped it and opened it, taking a whiff, before snapping it shut in an aggressive manner. “I have you know…that my poetry has moved the Queen to tears.” He didn’t exactly say WHY she cried, but in his own mind he thought it was because of its true beauty, not that it was on the nose so.
“And you are?” The Duke asked, with a distasteful expression. He was rather proud of his poetry, and could not hide the fact well.
Reginald took off his top hat, and politely escorted Josephine into the grand Bizarre Circus club, where off to one side, fire breathers were practicing swallowing swords, and a young girl in a pink tutu had a brown bear balancing on a ball. To the far side, many dancers were having a break, seated around tables, and enjoying Absentine, a favorite drink of those of the Bohemian revolution. This was a place where class didn’t matter. The underworld dancing diamond dogs, mixed with the affluent and well to do. Reginald beamed to see the bar was open, and offered to get Josephine a drink.
Watching nearby, there was a tall figure, with dark hair, that looked over at Josephine, and smiled. He was one of the main dancers, a star of the troupe, and a total lady killer
Garson was walking past, and the young man asked. “Who is that girl…the one with the Detective?” Johan asked.
“How should I know…why you not ask yourself, Johan? Be a man for once.”
Josephine stepped out of the carriage carefully, placing a dark slipper on the ground. She had never been to the circus before and hoped she looked suitable. Her dress was dark black dress that had blue accents that brought out the blue in her own eyes, and it was laced with just the right amount of ruffles and satin. It was something she had picked up in the shops at Paris, and she hoped it was modest enough for her father. She had tried to put her hair up in a fashionable bun, but her stray blonde curls fell around her sporadically as it was in a messy-like bun. With a sigh, she exhaled slowly as she felt she had no idea what she was in for.
Looping her arm through her father’s she followed him inside and let out a gasp at the spectacles before her. The sword swallowing was something she had never seen before, so she pulled away from her father and leaned in to get a closer look. Wonder and amazement crossed her face as she held her hands before her face “How do they…do that?” Whipping around with a child-like innocence, she was like a girl in a candy shop. “What are they drinking?” Stepping closer to the patrons, she looked at their Abstentine curiously and found herself wanting just that. With a soft sigh, her eyes then flicked to their colorful and not so modest dresses. They were so bold, so uncaring to the proper fashion etiquette of London, and they wore them with such a fervent disregard. It was a freedom Josephine craved.
She was then ripped from her thoughts when her father spoke to her. Turning around, she walked towards Reginald as though she were in a daze and smiled “Yes, of course, Papa.” When he turned towards the bar, Josephine slowly swiveled around to soak in the wonders that was the circus troupe. Though they were all indeed bizarre, they held such an aura of mystery and a desire for life that seemed both intoxicating and dangerous. She so desperately craved to know the secrets she felt these people had hidden down in this underground club. Josephine had to know. As the music whirled around her, she felt her body sway to the rhythm. This was hardly the music she had performed to during any ballet, but it did something to her heart. It made her want to let loose, to break through the rigid training and just move the way her body was meant to. Throwing her hands into the air, she began to laugh as she twirled and shimmied her hips, allowing the music and feel of the club to take her away.
“Well, I’ve heard more than enough poetry in my life to know what is good, and what is… not so good.” Lifting her brows, Isabella watched him curiously. She could tell that he wasn’t amused by her words – not that it bothered her any. She was merely speaking the truth, after all. Her nose scrunched up a little as she made a face at his tone, and then again as he picked up a box of snuff. Amber eyes followed his movements precisely, steady and alert. “Oh, somehow I doubt that. Are you sure she was not crying due to boredom, or desire for you to stop, sir?”
Offering him a sweet – yet also sarcastic – smile, Isabella crossed her arms over her chest. She could tell he was proud of his poetry, and that thought only made her eyes sparkle with unsung laughter. “Isabella. New dancer here.” She couldn’t keep the grin off of her lips as she curtsied to him. His expression only made her want to laugh more, though she managed to keep that in as well. Instead, she merely grinned at him in amusement.