Devil's Carnival! [ Court of Fools Open ]

[daemoniumexmachina]

Warning(s): unreality, gaslighting, identity crisis, amnesia



With their master’s machinations on the horizon, Mendel’s Court of Fools takes to the town to prime their audience. They can be found in remote shadows and dark corners, but it’s so important to get the crowd in the right mood for a show, wouldn’t you agree?

-Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss-
[Blanche, the Baroness of Blank]

Sometime nearing or after dark, if you’re still wandering the streets, there are a number of things that can still find you even when you stick to the paths of lit lanterns.

“You’re missing something, aren’t you?” The jolly voice comes from behind you. Should you turn, you’ll see a woman dressed almost entirely in white aside from thin red lips and thin red pinstripes. Her eyes are even white, including her pupils, so that they very nearly blend into the rest of her face if not for her big, white lashes creating a bit of depth. She smiles, revealing perfectly white teeth all in straight rows. She hangs upside down--- from a rafter, a shop sign, a tree branch, or nothing all.

Climbing down and righting herself with acrobatic ease, she continues to wear that cheshire smile. “I can always tell when someone is missing something. Or needs to lose something. Perhaps that sounds more like you. If you’d like, I can find it for you. Or unfind it. Your choice.”

- Damn, that's a really creepy doll-
[Seemingly, the Thane of the Capricious]

There is an alleyway in town, hidden behind the Oak & Iron. It is rarely used except by stray cats. Hidden there, among the garbage, you will find what looks to be a pile of broken gears and metal junk, entwined with bits of fabric. Four masks lay strewn about. But upon inspection, the gears creak to life suddenly, and an automaton begins to build itself quickly with the pleasant clinking of small metal pieces against one another, and in moments, there is a figure before you that tips its hat before placing it on its head. The masks are seated in a circle around what would be its head, and the one in front is an expressionless mask with a large, golden crack down the center.

It whispers to you sharply. “What are you?”

[ Seemingly has four masks that each have their own personalities, voices, and even pronouns. They are as follows:

Hollow - it/its - a white mask with gold flourishes and a golden forehead gem, and a blank expression which speaks in a harsh whisper. Its intent is to be threatening and cut to the heart of you. It was broken once, and now bears a striking crack filled with gold.
Glee - he/him - a white mask with golden clown paint on the eyes and a wicked, twisted grin, along with a prominent nose. He is sinister and jolly and speaks with a masculine falsetto.
Wrath - they/them - a pure gold mask with black flourishes that looks enraged. They speak in a distorted voice, as if through a tube, that sounds androgynous.
Twist - she/her - a half gold, half white mask with a slight smile, which speaks in a deep and sonorous feminine voice. She is patient and scheming. ]

-Some kind of fucking spooksperson-
[Smiling Jack, Mendel’s Infernal Servant]

If you walk past Infernal Arms and Armor at midday, you may hear the clinking of glass on glass at one of the soot-covered windows. A whisper can be heard.

“Hey! Hey, over here!”

There is a bottle of orange goop with a jack-o-lantern face crudely floating in it. Are these… pumpkin guts?

“Hey, c’mere! I just wanna talk. God I’m so lonely. How’s it goin’?”

Comments

[daemoniumexmachina]

Blanche laughs. "The look on your face!"

She's now floating in the air, as if she's laying on her stomach on a cart that's rolling beside him. She kicks her feet in the air playfully. "You're no fun. You think you're too good for this, don't you? That's why you shook hands with the Crawling Chaos."

[xiaoxiuya]

He does think he's too good for this, is the thing, although he's at least too polite to directly say so. Not that what he actually does do is that much better; he snorts, fanning himself slowly, and says, "I 'shook hands', as you put it, because I was hoping to learn something useful. Something I could use to protect the people here from the likes of him and you. If I'd known I was going to walking around with a sectioned off block in my head like this, I'd have refrained." Well, probably. He'd have had second thoughts before doing it, at least.

"I don't want to forget," he mutters to himself, fanning more vigorously in his agitation. "That'd completely defeat the point. I just need to figure out somewhat to wrestle it into a shape I can use, something I can understand..."

[daemoniumexmachina]

"That's exactly what I mean," Blanche points out. "He showed you too much. You need to forget the fluff around it, and remember the meat." She puts an altogether too heavy emphasis on the T of that last word.

[xiaoxiuya]

"And I suppose you think yourself qualified to cut out the fluff --" Shen Qingqiu begins to scoff -- but then he stops. And studies her, with narrowed suspicious eyes.

Because he's heard the cautionary tales. How these demons always follow the letter of their deals. There's always a twist somewhere, a hook to bring them the suffering they seem to crave, but...their petitioners always seem to get exactly what they asked for. Like that creepy spider alien who was apparently desperate to have a kid. He blew up his reputation with the entire town, but...he did get that kid. Hm.

"Hypothetically," Shen Qingqiu says, giving Blanche a severe, teacherly glare. "Hypothetically, what would you want in exchange for removing the...fluff? And only the fluff."

[daemoniumexmachina]

"What could I possibly request of you for that? The memories are enough," Blanche assures him, now floating upside down in a cannonball pose. Her air dangles down in front of him. "You have so many for me to eat! The only real catch is that I can't be held responsible for how your mind connects the information you're left with. Minds are funny like that. But you're smart enough to work through all that nonsense anyway."

[xiaoxiuya]

"Hm. I suppose even the secondhand memories of an elder god would make a fine meal for something like you." Shen Qingqiu taps the wooden guard of his fan against his lips, still glaring at Blanche while he thinks...but he's weakening. Of course he's weakening. It's been awful, trying to get anything done like this! He feels so weak, so...useless.

It's awful.

"...Fine," he says quietly. "I want it, I'll. I'll agree. Do I need to do a ritual or say any special words or something?"