Thread: ~ Ğяǝÿsɯıʇɥ }} ḋεṿïαи¢ε υиḋεɾ τhε вïģ τøρ {{  ₮ɐℓıи ~

The energy around the circus lately had been one of deep regret for the past few months, they had lost many of their best performers to new, more up and coming circus troupes, with more money, larger tents and more outrageous performances. So, the company had to fall back on the main money maker in these operations, the freaks. They were always a sure buck to be made, people willing to pay the nickel to see these poor abominations of nature again and again, without thought to how they were mistreated, undernourished and without the proper rights of regular people. But they had nothing else in life, nowhere else to go, they would be begging for pennies on the street if it were not for the circus. Dmitry knew this world all too well. The beautiful, dainty horseback riders and handsome, powerful lion tamers earned top shilling, traveling in their own private caravan while the likes of himself and the other freaks were relegated to simple makeshift tents to be their dwellings while on the road, which they almost exclusively were. He stood in his tent, neck bent forward so as to not graze the top of it with his head, arms extended forward and locked with one of the hunchbacks, his arm flexing forward and pushing the hunchbacks long arm over his head, so that the man let out a cry of pain, holding it there for a few seconds before releasing it, the mans hand went to hold his shoulder instinctively, struggling over the cumbersome weight of his hump to look up at Dmitrys face. Thank you, old friend. That shoulder seems to pop out of place all the more often lately. The hunchback spoke with a fine voice, so juxtaposed with the shape of his body, the malformation of his face, one eye higher than the other, and a nose turned up like that of swine. Not a problem Gustav. Im always happy to help. Dmitry spoke with a thick Russian accent, but his English was without fault. He had come to America many years previous, but had to shake the timbre of his roots. He sat back on a stool, the wood creaked beneath the heft of his weight, pulling out a bottle of amber liquid, and pouring a small amount into two glasses, offering one of them to Gustav. This will help you feel better. He assured the hunchback, both taking the shots at the same time, Dmitry was unfazed by the burn or bitterness of the liquid, instead raising his lips to the bottle and taking another swig. Best be careful with that friend, should the ringmaster see it. You know how he feels about your drinking. Gustav warned, causing Dmitry to scowl somewhat, but stoppering the bottle and putting it away. He had sworn off heavy drinking months ago, ever since the accident He didnt want to think about it. Needless to say, someone his size with his temper should never be allowed to drink more than his fill. They were interrupted then, the ringmaster entering his tent without much introduction. The information he was given at that time however was far more than he would have ever liked to hear. Gustav tipped his bowler hat, stepping out of the tent so that the two could speak in private. Pavla? Are you sure? She seems like such a good girl. But his words were already lost on the man, who was returning down the path that he came. Dmitry stood, pulling his worn coat over broad shoulders. His clothing definitely left something to be desired. Clean, but tattered and threadbare, nothing but a simple pair of black trousers, now almost grey, and a button down white shirt, looking a bit more crme than white, washed so many times with lye soap. But he was not your average man, all of his clothing had to be custom made, for a man that stood on the precipice of 7 feet was not exactly the norm. He exited the tent running a hand through his chestnut hair, it was long, almost past his shoulders, kept that way to go with his act, a giant, and barbarian strongman didnt have a clean cut image. Deep blue eyes scanned before him before catching on the ringmaster, taking a few quick steps to catch up to him. The pair paused outside his tent, where he called for his step daughter. Dmitry looked down at the ground, catching a glimpse of himself in the muddy puddle outside of the ringmasters lavish tent. He was massive, fear was the only thing he seemed to elicit from women, despite having fairly proportional features to that of a regular person. Nose was straight and slightly upturned, His cheekbones where high on his face, a strong chin and all of his teeth was far more than some of the other individuals which who called his circus home. But still, he wasnt. Normal. He looked up again when the tent flaps opened, stepping out the lovely form of Pavla. His chest felt tight when he saw her, partly in shame, the other in anger. Was this her punishment? To be relegated to marrying the likes of him? He scowled at the ringmaster, whose devious grin made it all too clear he wished to make the girls life miserable. Well, Dmitry thought, if this girl was to be punished by marrying him, he would be sure to live up to the title.