<span style="font-size: 10px">Beauty, power and greed were the three words that spring to mind when one envisioned the mysterious and enchanting Geneviève L'un Sans Visage. Master and ringleader to the infamous Dark Wood circus Geneviève was renowned for her company of ravenous beauties and whimsical freaks, she was a woman one would never double cross. She was a vision of malice and a wicked tormenter of the down trodden, in her lust for beauty Geneviève had sacrificed the only thing she loved in this world and that made her bitter and cold. No one really knew the story behind Geneviève and her wicked ways, but it was common knowledge not to upset her, those who did were never heard of again.<br/>
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Geneviève starred into the mirror upon the wall behind her dressing table, her fingertips tracing the edge of the vortex that was her true face. Turning to a chest by her table she flicked the lid open and very carefully pulled out a delicate porcelain mask. Her head tilted to the side as she felt the cold porcelain of the mask under the palm of her hand. Oh how she longed for it to be made of flesh and life.  Her shoulders heaving a great sigh Geneviève placed the mask over her face and secured it, her fingers tracing over the seem to make sure there were no openings. The glass eyes rolled to the front and Geneviève’s face looked as normal as any other. <br/>
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Leaning forward Geneviève began to paint her lips a dark rouge colour, though her beauty was immaculate without the aid of makeup. A knock sounded at her door, causing Geneviève to flinch, her lipstick brush grazing her perfect cheek. “You think I do not know that already, Elyot?!” Geneviève snapped, slamming the brush on to the table as her free hand pulled a few tissues out of a box and began to rub the mark from her face. Once her face was free of the blemish she rose from her seat and made her way towards the imp “Help me do up my corset, quickly!” Geneviève spoke in a hurried tone, turning her back to him as she insisted on his help.</span>