<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Character Sheets: Part Three</strong></span></span></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Erin</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(http://i973.photobucket.com/albums/ae219/LimitlessNIkkie/girls%20for%20rp/3517224298_57d2347dcb.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Erin Jackson<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 24<br/><strong>Home State:</strong> Nevada<br/><strong>Desired Role:</strong> Act: Weapons Master<br/><strong>Place of Hierarchy:</strong> Elizabeth's talent<br/><br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> White blonde<br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Blue<br/><strong>Height:</strong> 5'7<br/><strong>Weight:</strong> 113lbs<br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong> Tall and extremely slender. She is very pale looking as if the sun had never touched her skin. There are faint scars on her hands and forearms though they are only visible if one looks closely. <br/><br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> Erin is cocky and confident. She is prickly using wit, sass, and sarcasm to keep people at arms length. She is friendly enough and willing to talk to anyone though there is a sense of danger she always carries with her. It is clear she only lets people close to her that she likes. She is fearless and it shows in the way she talks to people, how she conducts herself and her act where she risks her life on a regular basis. She exploits her innocent looks to hide the hard edged girl under a soft look and sweet smile. She is intense especially when preforming, but she carries a hint of that every moment of her life. When you gamble your life constantly every moment counts.<br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> Erin was born in vegas, a child born of love and desire between two fetish performers who were dedicated lovers. Erin was unfortunate in the fact that she never got to know her mother a sensual soft exotic woman with more self confidence then anyone else. Her father loved her mother dearly and when she died a week after Erin's birth it changed him. He was lost after that. It was hard to believe such an overtly dominate male could have depended so much on the ethereal  pale beauty that was Erin's mother but he did.<br/><br/>Erin's father had no idea to be a dad in and many ways had no desire to be without his wife at his side. He did his best by Erin but often his best was dragging her along to his performances where he hung his body from hooks for the exhilaration and excitement of himself and others. Erin was exposed to sex and lust, desire and passion from a indecently young age and it made her grow up fast. <br/><br/>She was back stage bored as young girls of 5 often is. Her father was swinging from the ceiling and a woman dressed in fishnets and a corset who was supposed to be watching her was missing the sound of harsh breathing from the dressing room the only clue that the young girl wasn't alone. She had no dolls or toys to distract her from wondering around picking up things at random. As a fetish show often had Erin found toys in a chest. Most of them held no interest to her a young girl had no interest in paddles of cuffs, vibrators or clamps. <br/><br/>The one thing that did interest her was a long coiled length of leather. With small chubby hands she pulled it out and flicked it around her short slender legs just about tripping herself with it. A man walked by. He wore nothing but a pair of low slung jeans and a dark brooding look. It was he who taught her how to wield the whip replacing her fishnet clad babysitter while her father preformed.<br/><br/>She took to the discipline of the art as a fish would to water. From there her interest only grew. She learned knives and swords, stars a bow and arrow even a gun though she cared for it not. She loved working with weapons. She felt strong and independent able to use weapons as she did. She grew close to Ben her whip instructor and her father who'd finally managed to take an interest in her was jealous and worried over her. <br/><br/>At sixteen he enrolled her in school thinking that a normal environment would help normalize the girl who knew too much, had seen too much and was far too cocky for her own good. School didn't help it only made the girl bitter. Being called a freak will do that to you. Erin was criticized for everything from her hair and clothing not of the main stream style to her hobbies that were seen as scary and dangerous. She was already a snarky, rude sarcastic school, the weapons skills now made her a bad kid in the eyes of authority figures too.<br/><br/>At seventeen Erin quiet school and unable to stand her fathers overprotective and pushy nature took off from home too. Living in Vegas had it's perks. She started street preforming on the street wielding swords most of the time since often her skills with a whip were seen as more sexual then she wanted to appear. She was still a freak here but one others were drawn to. Little kids looked at her with awe and adults with a mixture of envy and distaste. It was comfortable.<br/><br/>Elizabeth found her there juggling swords tossing them high into the air doing flips before catching them before they could impale her making the crowd gasp in amazement and wonder as the frail blond girl did things many thought of as skills belonging to big burly men.<br/> <br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Elizabeth</div><div class="spoiler_body">It’d been the farthest west that the troupe had went in quite some many years.  Many more years than Elizabeth and Lawrence had been with the circus.  They had done it for the Family, with everything that had gone on in recent history she figured that they deserved one last night in the sin of the modern world.  She knew that after this they would only see cities that more resembled the 70s then the modern world.  Elizabeth had decided not to join the rest of the family, she didn’t care to see how they enjoyed the city that never slept.  She herself had simply taken to one of the areas that had far less tourist then the main strip.  Honestly, she was only even there because the area had quite a…tasteful sense of fashion.  More or less, she was going to the sex shops that seemed to cater to fetishist.  They had the best outfits.<br/><br/>She hadn’t actually seen the girl.  She only saw the swords flying high into the air.  She realized that either someone was being very creative in their suicide attempt with playing catch with swords, or there was a possible prospect.  Juggling sharp objects really wasn’t anything special enough to catch her attention…But it was the rate and height that they went up with, whoever it was was a natural.  Elizabeth made her way through the crowd.  She stopped just at the circles edge.  It was amusing how far away people stood from the juggling swords.  Anyone in her line of work knew that the girl wouldn’t attempt something this deadly if they were not a master.  So she broke the invisible barrier and walked towards the girl.  She didn’t stop until she was close enough that one slip up could leave Elizabeth impaled…She felt a twinge of fear, and it excited her.  Give her an inferno and she was safe, give her something out of her comfort zone and even she felt fear.<br/><br/>“You’re working for spare change and casino chips to a group of people that look at you as a freak.” Her words came with an appreciative smile.  It wasn’t too long ago that Elizabeth was doing the same thing.  She still had a few flyers in her bag that she hadn’t passed out, so she took one out and laid it in front of the girl.  It was a flyer for the circus, with the address plainly printed. “The circus is over.  But come visit me tonight, and I will give you a chance to be looked at as a marvel instead of a freak.” Elizabeth said nothing more.  Her parting gesture was a hundred dollar bill left in the case that Erin used to carry her swords.<br/></div></div><br/>It was her normal show. Nothing too hard to accomplish. These people so hopped up on the vibrancy of the city were easy to impress. Even so near the middle of her show she started showing off. It was out of boredom more then anything.  The people gasped and a few even lifted there hands over there heads as if afraid the swords would fall on them. Erin rolled her eyes not that anyone noticed. Morons.<br/><br/>It was then that someone walked up to her breaching that invisible barrier between her and the crowd of people around her. Erin gave her a distant quizzical look her head tilting just a touch. As she drew closer, close enough Erin could kill her with a wrong move, a single slip of her hand Erin smiled. The woman impressed her already.<br/><br/>Her words were met with nothing more the a slow blink and a dead pan look the implied the woman had better make her point and make it fast. She tossed the slender rapier high into the air so the blade caught the flashing lights of the shop signs and took the flier looking at it briefly before shoving it in her pocket with a nod. She stuck out her hand and with perfect precision gripped the hilt and twirled it through her fingertips.<br/><br/>The woman left her a tip larger then anything she's made in the last two weeks and walked away with a kind of confidence that made Erin smirk. They'd either end up friends or at each others throats only time would tell. Erin had nothing tying her to this place besides a father who would be happy with anything she chose. She went to her tiny apartment and changed from her street performer get of of tight clothes to a baggy pair of jeans a tight tank top and a leather jacket her father once owned.<br/><br/>She took her time she didn't want to seem to eager, the woman seemed like the type who'd use anything she could to get what she wanted and for whatever reason she wanted Erin. Erin would be lying if she said she wasn't interested but it wasn't her only option. Locking her door and slinging the multi sword case across her back she caught the bus and went out to meet the mystery woman.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Elizabeth</div><div class="spoiler_body">Elizabeth sat in the only remaining tent that was left up.  It wasn’t the big tent, instead it was one of the smaller ones used for the new Burlesque show.  The chairs all still remained, as did the stage.  Elizabeth sat upon the edge of that stage with a bucket beside her.  She held a knife in her hand, and her thumb ran up and down the sharp edge of the blade.  She had expected the girl to arrive earlier in the evening and was about to call it quits, until she saw the linen doors ruffle and the lovely blonde walk in. “Well well, I was beginning to believe you had no intent on showing up.” Elizabeth dipped the blade into the bucket beside of her before she stepped off of the stage and walked toward Erin. “We do not exactly run ma and pa’s circus here.  The name itself, Cirque De Sang Et De Flammes” She spoke the words in perfect French “Circus Of Blood And Fire.  What we do is…Just a bit more dangerous then what I imagine you’re used to seeing.” Elizabeth twirled the knife in her fingers, using it as a slide of hand distraction while she lit a match with the other hand and set the blade on fire. “And we have our tricks.” Elizabeth placed the palm of her hand against the sharp edge of the blade.  She slid it upwards, putting out the fire as blood began to drip from her hand.  Yet there was no scent of burning flesh.<br/><br/>“If you want a home in a place that will appreciate you, then I need to know that you do not just have a knack for juggling.  I need to know that you are a natural.” Elizabeth returned to the stage lifted herself onto it.  She found her own set of swords.  Something that the girl wouldn’t have comfort with, as the weight and balance would be different from her own.  There were four all together.  She walked to the edge of the stage and sat down.  Next she pulled a sponge from the bucket with her unharmed hand, squeezed it, and began to apply it to the swords.  Once each and every one had the liquid applied, she set them down and walked away with the bucket.  The only thing left on the stage was her match book and a blindfold. <br/><br/>She took a seat in the first row, never looking back to Erin.  If she was sane, or not completely confident with her abilities, then she’d likely run.  Otherwise the stage was quite clear. “Give me a show that is worthy of your life and I will give you a taste of something that no one in this city of lust and greed has ever dreamt of having.”<br/></div></div><br/>Erin half wondered if the woman would even still be about. there was only one tent left standing and Erin looking sure of herself walked without hesitation towards the tent flipping back the tent flap and walking in taking a seat and turning to around straddling it as Elizabeth spoke. She listened to the description looking kind of blank until she said this was probably more dangerous then her normal flair. The Erin smirked her eyes bright with dangerous light. <br/><br/>She watched the woman light the blade on fire and slide it through her hand. If she expected Erin to be surprised she was wrong. The girl was raised in sin city, a place where the impossible seemed almost mundane. She did note though that while the flame didn't harm her skin the blade did a fragile drop of blood sliding down that pale skin of hers that was almost a match for her own coloring.<br/><br/>She moved around and talked more but the words were caught only as a generalization as Erin watched her swab the four blades with the clear flammable liquid she'd used in her own demonstration. A touch of fear made her stomach quiver. She'd never used fire in one of her performances before. She simply had never had a draw towards it but she knew swords, the delicate balance the natural feel of it she could do it, a little heat wouldn't make a bit of difference.<br/><br/>She walked up to the stage leaving her bag in the abandon seat. Shrugging off her jacket she tossed it aside and picked up the blind fold a smirk playing on her lips. She tucked it half hanging out of her pocket before picking up the first sword a short bladed scimitar that would reflect a great deal of light and sparkle under normal circumstances. She held the hilt and circled her wrist testing the weight and balance before moving on to the next three repeating the process with each.<br/><br/>Nodding to herself she wore an expression of intense focus and she stuck the swords tip impaled in the wood in front of her and picked up the matches. With brightness flaring to life in those sapphire eyes of hers she set the blades on fire. She tossed the blown out match away and pulled out the blind fold and covered her eyes leaving her lips slightly parted the only part of her small face visible.<br/><br/>Even with her face covered her hand shot out and gripped the hilt of the first sword a light Épée. It took no effort to yank it out of the stage floor. She brought up her whole arm and flicked her wrist as she released it into the air. It twirled up in a lazy spiral flames dancing off the thin blade. As the first sword soared into the air Erin grabbed the hilt of the curve scimitar. She held it close enough to her body she could feel the heat of the flames brushing her skin as she did a fast twirl the blade following the spin of her body led by the hilt. The flames danced and she again tossed the sword into the air in time to catch the falling Épée.<br/><br/>She caught the sword in her left hand and flipped it twirling it like one might a baton. her lips were drawn into a tight line as she grabbed the heaviest of the swords, a thick broad sword that would fall heavy and was harder to manipulate without practice. Jaw tense as tossed up the Épée again and manipulated the broad sword. The muscles in her arms stood out as she twirled the heavy broad sword in a wide circle. <br/><br/>The Scimitar was falling the blade pointing down looking as if it was going to impale the young pale girl. With a tight jaw Erin flexed and through the broad sword into the air. It went strait up without a twirl and she caught the scimitar as she turned into a spin catching the light Épée next. Wielding both she juggled the two before tossing them both into the air the Épée much higher before catching the heavy broad sword. She pulled the long sword from the stage floor wincing just a touch at the heat of the hilt in her hand.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath she visualized the swords in the air. Her arms flexed and held the blades out the scimitar hit the long sword the flats coming together with the sound of clashing swords. She smiled then catching the hilt with the broad sword. The weight was off but she moved with a type of sureness the suggested she could do this in her sleep. her arms flexed and she flicked her wrists and juggled the scimitar like a demon stick flipping it up into the air just in time to do it again with the Épée. She moved quicker with the Épée using more flair.<br/><br/>She flipped it high into the air as the Scimitar fell and flipped it right back into the air before using some muscle to flip the long sword into the air followed by the broad sword that she grunted hefting into the air. With all four swords in the air flaring brightly the fair dancing she stood still her arms crossed looking at ease. Her arm shooting out at the perfect time to catch first the broad sword turning it to impale it in the stage as her left hand caught the long sword impaling it as her right caught the scimitar the left the Épée. With the Épée impaled into the stage she tore off the blind fold and smirked briefly not noting the soot clinging to her arms where the flames all but burned her, nor the places where they had caught her clothes if only briefly.<br/><br/>Cocking her head slightly to the side Erin regarded the woman who for whatever reason had decided to offer her this chance, a chance she suddenly wanted. Where else could she feel such an intoxicating high as doing something so adrenaline inducing and not be looked at as an escaped mental patient for it. "So impressed?" She asked her voice an urban drawl as she spoke.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Elizabeth</div><div class="spoiler_body">Elizabeth swept her fingertips across the wound on her hand as she watched the girl perform on stage.  Quite frankly the girls unearned arrogance that was shown without words had pissed Elizabeth off.  But she knew it took that type of arrogance to perform the type of show she was performing…Without absolute confidence in yourself, you’d make a mistake.  Set yourself up in an inferno, or impale yourself with a sword you’ve never used and no site at all.  She used the pain from the swipes of her fingers to calm herself down, and thus allow the spirit to work on its own.  She never decided who the spirit went to, it decided on its own.<br/><br/>Had Erin been able to see Elizabeths face she may have been put off.  Yet another reason for the blindfold.  She had a dead pan stare towards the girl as she analyzed every last movement.  The ability to do it was certainly the most important.  But the ability to pull it off in a way that was alluring to the eye was the subtlety that she absolutely demanded in the act.  By the end of the show she couldn’t quite place her finger upon which of the three possibilities it was, but she found herself drawn to the girl.  The Spirit, The show, or the pain.  Perhaps all three, but she did indeed enjoy what she saw.<br/><br/>“It is not me that you needed to impress.  You impressed me on the street, which is the only reason you’re within this tent.  But the spirit is who you needed to prove yourself too.” The girl may think that she was insane.  Spirits were usually associated with ghost stories.  Elizabeth stood up and walked to the stage before she pulled herself onto it.  She walked to the edge of the curtains and pulled a stool out.  She walked back to Erin and set it in front of her. “I’m going to offer you a taste of the spirit.  Once you take it into you, you will forever be bound to it.  Make your decision wisely.” Elizabeth held no bags.  She had on a shirt that stopped at her upper arms, and was too tight to hide anything.  So when her hand waved over the stool, and a puff of light grey smoke appeared with a small vial, it should be clear that it wasn’t some slide of hand.<br/><br/>Elizabeth walked to the edge of the stage and hopped off.  As she walked towards the doors, she spoke back to the girl. “You can think I am insane and deny it, and continue to make pocket change performing in front of a few.  Or you can drink it, and perform in front of thousands who will look at you as a goddess.” Elizabeths words ended just as she found the linen doors.  She walked out without ever looking back.  No one had ever denied the spirit, she doubted that this girl would be the first.<br/></div></div><br/>The encounter with the woman had left her with an odd feeling of desire mixed with unease. She could feel the heaviness of the moment weighing on her slender shoulders as she lifted the vial looking up in time to see Elizabeth disappear. Alone a great deal of Erin's natural arrogance seeped away and she looked like a fragile young girl of 22 with no idea who she would eat the next day or keep a roof over her head. She had her father that much was true but she loathed to lean on him when he him self seemed half lost most of the time.<br/><br/>Slender fingers that in no way looked strong enough to wield a broad sword caressed the strange vial as she bit into her plump lower lip. She wanted it. wanted the shimmering chance the vial represented but she sensed more behind the offer that was left unsaid. Unfortunately there were to be no answers, this was a leap of faith. That decided it for her. She'd always trusted her instincts that had led her from one daring thing to the next. She'd never once hesitated before leaping in with both feet without looking down.<br/><br/>Long fingers stronger then they looked plucked the stopper from the vial and pressed the edge to her lips as she tilted it back and let the spirit what ever the hell that was flood into her being. She gasped dropping the vial to shatter against the wooden floor of the stage as the euphoric feeling of the spirit took hold of her. She found herself laughing as she plucked the long sword from the stage and with more ease then she'd ever been able to before turned it in her grasp like someone from a drill teem would a lifeless gun. The edges of the sword that usually cut into her palms only just cut into her skin barely making her bleed. Never in her life had she felt more right then in that one exhilarating moment. <br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> Strawberries, piano music, hard rock music, contrast, the unexpected, arrogance, moonless night, and secrets.<br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> Timidness, apologies, societies rules and limits.<br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Noah</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright"> (http://i627.photobucket.com/albums/tt357/Niferbelle/garretneff3.jpg)<div class="floatright"><strong>Name:</strong> Noah Connelly <br/><strong>Age:</strong> 24 <br/><strong>Home State:</strong> California <br/><strong>Desired Role:</strong> Act -- Cyr wheel<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">What He Does</div><div class="spoiler_body">Ethan Law Cyr Wheel / Roue Cyr act 2011 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Q5ZEEwHadU#ws)<br/>Circonvolution improbable... Alexandre Lane Roue Cyr - Cyr wheel ImproCirque 9 juillet 2011 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBBypvakUdI#ws)</div></div><strong>Place of Hierarchy:</strong> New Talent<br/><br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Brown <br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Blue<br/><strong>Height:</strong> 5'9"<br/><strong>Weight:</strong>  <br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong> Noah is good looking but unassuming in his mannerisms, his demeanor so low-key he is easily lost in a crowd. He is well muscled from years of gymnastics and acrobatics though that's often lost under the baggy, modest clothing he wears when not performing. His brown hair is cut short on the sides but left long on top, causing a wave of bangs to constantly fall over his forehead and give him a boyish look. He wears thick framed glasses most of the time though they're not needed when performing his act. His eyes are blue and set off by thick, almost girlish lashes, and when you talk he looks at you as if he's really listening. He has an easy smile and a terrible poker face.<br/><br/><br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> Noah is a nice guy. Despite this being a lukewarm recommendation most times, it's completely true in his case. Friendly, with an inherent decency that is displayed in nearly everything he does, he is kind and humble and unfortunately sometimes a doormat for the more manipulative and arrogant. He tends to be quiet unless he feels confident his company is wanted and then blossoms with a little attention. her has stamina, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally, with great patience and the ability to endure. <br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> Noah grew up in Southern California, the middle child of three sons born to your typical Type A power couple. Both his parents were lawyers with high expectations for their children to excel in academics and sports and life in general. His brothers fit the mold perfectly, true princes of the upper middle class, but Noah was always the odd boy out, lacking the focus and the competitive nature of the rest of his family. While his brothers played traditional team sports like baseball and football, it took some time for Noah to find his niche which turned out to be gymnastics. He had a natural talent for it and loved training, the sheer art of being in motion, but he found the meets nerve wracking so by the time he reached his mid teens, much to his parents' disgust, he dropped out of competition.<br/><br/>Around this time he first saw someone on the Cyr wheel down at Venice Beach and was instantly enamored. He got a job to buy his first wheel and by the time he graduated high school, he'd given up all thought of going to college which further alienated him from his family. He spent every minute he wasn't working as a waiter perfecting his skills on the wheel and taking acrobatic classes when he could afford them. Never very lucky in love, after the third girlfriend in a row that cleaned him out he found himself restless and decided to hit the road with no particular destination in mind. He bought a beat up truck and threw his wheel in the back and has spent the last couple years just traveling from place to place, stopping to work when he needed the money, earning it from street performances and odd jobs here and there. <br/><br/>As he moved across the country he would occasionally hear stories of this unusual circus that was making the circuit and was intrigued by the description of its old-fashioned atmosphere. He's grown more and more intrigued with every story he hears but as of yet seems to keep missing it. <br/><br/><br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong> (I was thinking Noah would hook up with the circus at the next stop so basically this would be covered in game)<br/><br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> Being in motion, improving, learning new things, cheering people up<br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> Competition, cold weather, being judged, shellfish (he's allergic) <br/><br/><div align="center"> (http://i627.photobucket.com/albums/tt357/Niferbelle/garretneff6-1.jpg)</div></div></div></div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button"> Wayland Peck</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><div class="floatright">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lw7f1erUar1ql0mb8o1_500.jpg)</div><strong>Name: Wayland Peck</strong> <br/><strong>Age:</strong> 24 <br/><strong>Home State:</strong> Texas <br/><strong>Desired Role:</strong> Circus Hand - Musician (Fiddler) / Security part time. <br/><strong>Place of Hierarchy:</strong> New Talent<br/><br/><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Brown <br/><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Hazel<br/><strong>Height:</strong> 6'2"<br/><strong>Weight:</strong> 198 Pounds<br/><strong>Physical Description:</strong> Wayland is a very tall, somewhat muscled fellow. With his Scott background, his skin has a difficult time tanning though will if left out in the sun for long enough. With a build of an athlete, the young man is decently fit, able to hold his own in a bar fight if given the opportunity. It's quite easy to put a smile on his face, and often has one when greeting another of the circus. <br/><br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong> Wayland is a very easy going guy, (almost) never allowing himself to drop off the edge of depression or rage. With a positive outlook on life, it's very rare to see him in another mood than happy. It's very difficult to irritate the young man, though as many in his family do, he does have a fuse which will eventually end... And once it does, well, I hope you have fun. <br/><br/><strong>Brief History:</strong> Wayland grew up in the middle of nowhere Texas, living on a farm and going to a school with less than a hundred people. Living in such a place gave him the perfect chance to learn how to play the fiddle. With nothing but country bars in the small town about five miles from his house, there was always someone willing to listen. In such a small town, word of him spread rather quickly and would bring most of the town in to the bar on Friday and Saturday nights. <br/><br/>From teaching himself how to play, he developed an ability to listen to a song once and play it back almost perfectly. Along with this he can also jump into a song which may not even have the same instrument in it, but make it sound as if it should have been. With these talents under his belt, he was able to make some cash from the bar, putting it away in the box which held the tools of his trade. <br/><br/>Dreams of leaving the small town rose up after a couple of years, the longing to leave what he considered a trapper of dreams driving him to save every cent he made. During one of his regular nights at the bar, he was approached by a man from Dallas, claiming he could get him a number of gigs at local bars and clubs around the metro-plex. Without another thought, Wayland packed up his things, said goodbye to his family, and moved to Dallas. The man didn't lie when he said he could get him the gigs, though they weren't for what he thought. The man had him running around from place to place setting up for different bands, making sure instruments were in tune and such. <br/><br/>Wayland went through this job for over two years, always getting taken by the promise that the man was still looking for the 'right place' for him to start. It didn't take much longer before he started getting tired of hearing the same old shit from the man.<br/> <br/><strong>Introduction Post:</strong>  "No, fuck you Jimmy!" Wayland's voice rose over the hum of his trucks motor, making people in traffic look over at him with a confused look. "Take your fucking gigs and shove them up your ass, you fucking prick!" The curse words flew from his mouth like bats out of a cave, having no end it seemed. It seemed to take forever until the man on the other side of the line decided his pleas were useless, hanging up the phone without saying another word. "Son of a bitch just hung up on me..." An almost crazed look glared at his phone, throwing it over his shoulder into the bench seat of his truck. <br/><br/>Wayland found himself driving on interstate 35 for what seemed forever though it was only a couple of hours, a billboard advertising the Circus popping up as he came out of his mental coma. He still to this day doesn't know why he decided to take the exit off the highway toward the circus, but it doesn't matter much to him now, knowing it was the right decision. After sitting through all of the acts, Wayland found himself almost set in a trance, never having watched something so amazing. <br/><br/>As he exited the tent, he caught sight of the woman which owned the Cirque, staring at her for a moment as he walked back to his truck, a thought burst into his mind and grew like a wildfire. Before he could get halfway to his truck, he found his feet taking him back to Elizabeth, the conversation starting out with, "I don't know if you'd have much use for a fiddle player, ma'am..."<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Elizabeth had been none to pleased with the arrival of what she simply assumed to be a gawking fan.  Her time spent with Chloe after the show was always one of her favorite.  The two were always so intoxicated with the spirit that they simply rolled with one another, no matter what it was they were doing.  This time they were simply packing Elizabeths fire supplies.  It was a job only entrusted to Chloe and Elizabeth, and now Lawrence.  Though Elizabeth assumed he’d stalked away with that African bitch, so it was just the two girls.  With the mans arrival, she gave him incredibly unwelcoming eyes and interrupted him mid sentence.  Her hands waved his words off as she spoke. “No no no, I’ve no more need for a fiddle player than I do a rabid dog.” French accents were often looked at as beautiful, or sometimes sexy.  But with her tone, it just came out sounding as sharp as a scalpel.<br/><br/>But Chloe had to put her two cents in.  Her voice was as collected as ever. “I think it would be nice to have live music rather than just the phonograph.” Elizabeth stepped back to one of the tables and began to place the gun powder into it’s appropriate container. “Then Chloe my dear, learn how to play an instrument.  He’d just be another mouth to feed.  We don’t need music badly enough to make up for that.” In her mind the conversation was dead.  She never bothered to look back to the door of the tent to see if the man had been humble enough just to walk away.<br/><br/>Never underestimate Chloes stuborness.<br/><br/>Before she knew it the girl was going on again.  Elizabeth didn’t look at her at first. “Elizabeth, we both know I have little time to master an instrument.  Besides the sound of me trying would likely disturb your rest in the morning.  Plus, I hear that live music is beneficial to those who listen.  I would hope the overall happiness and health of the circus outweighs matters of money.”  Elizabeth just looked up to her friend at that moment.  The argument she made was an absolute moot point.  One little secret of Elizabeths was that what Chloe wanted, Chloe received.  Even if it was as ridiculous as a Fiddler. <br/><br/>Elizabeth turned sharply from her table and walked to the man.  She stopped a couple of feet in front of him.  Despite the drastic size difference, Elizabeth still always had a way of seeming intimidating.  Perhaps it was because she played with death every single evening and walked off stage in a state of high. “I suppose that we can find a way to keep you.” Those words were spoken loud enough for Chloe to hear.  What followed was spoken under her breath, just loud enough for Wayland to hear. “But you’re going to be doing more to earn your keeping than playing a bloody fiddle.  I’ll figure out what in the morning, but for now I advice you go and find one of the stage hands and tell them that I said you could come along with us.  Keep your head low until I get a chance to figure out your place, I won’t have my Family believing I’m taking away from their mouths to keep a musician.” Elizabeth turned around and turned a blind ear to anything else he said.  Elizabeth was quite frustrated with having her choice taken from her by Chloe, and she had decided to take it out upon the innocent fiddler. <br/><br/>“Be sure to tell them Elizabeth sent you.  Otherwise you’ll be thrown out.”<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Wayland nodded to her, a slight grin coming to his face before he could realize what was going on, "Thank you Ma'am. If you'd like I could even teach you a thing or two." With a wave of his hand, his feet took him in search of the first stage hand he could find. After explaining how he came to be, the confused look on the guys face wasn't all too surprising to Wayland, having a feeling that he just might be a little bit of an oddity around here by the sounds of things... Surely finding out from working that night that this was far from the case. If his parents could see him now... Well, that wouldn't be a good idea... His Dad would probably shoot him. Before the end of the night, all of his most prized possessions were out of his truck, and the keys sitting in the hands of quite possibly the happiest sixteen year old in the world... Though his parents looked as though they just got a stolen truck for all of three hundred and fifty-six dollars and seventy nine cents.<br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong> Rain, Thunder, Lightning, Humor, Sarcasm, Animals, Playing the Fiddle, Showing off (sometimes), Good Whiskey, Beer, Company, and Women. <br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong> Arrogance, Distrust, Drunks, Hippocrates, Addicts, Lazy Bastards, Sons'a Bitches, and Ignorance. <br/></div></div>