grand guignol.

The very notion actually makes him perk up out of genuine shock, and then amusement. What kind of masochistic idiot would want to their mouth anywhere near the blade of his sword? Just to entertain him, even. With a little huff of laughter, he narrows his cutting gaze at the human. No, he wouldn’t dare try anything dumber than that. The most he would do, if he was trying to fool him, is turn his own sword against him. And that’s impossible.

“Hah! Must be pretty confident in your magic.”

Slender fingers wrap around the jagged S-shaped hilt. The long, slightly curved katana blade hisses out of its sheathe, tsuba jingling with a firm grip. It is sharp enough to cut through nearly any surface; after all, it’s not made from human metal.

“Probably some time this week. Does that count?”

          “Well, ‘tis my bread an’ butter, after all. Man’s got to ‘ave a little faith in anything what brings in the bacon, in a manner o’ speaking.” A chipper smile and a flourish of the jeweled baton; Joker wagged his skeletal fingers. “I’d wager even a surly-mannered fellow such as yerself would crack a smile at The Noah’s Ark Circus.”

          The man unsheathed his sword, and a cool, serpentine hiss raised hairs on Joker’s neck.  The cruel curve of the blade gleamed like a waning moon, stark as a night away from home.  It was longer, Joker realized, than it appeared sheathed.  He imagined the thin metal spine slithering down his throat, steel-on-trachea. He imagined the possibility of this stranger wanting to assist.

         “... On second thought, I’ve a brighter idea. So ye’re not mad about rabbits an’ tophats. That’s no trouble -- I’ve got more than one sorry trick up me sleeve.” His sheepish smile was disguised by a nefarious grin, his eyes calculating. Tapping the tip of his baton against his lips, he walked a light-footed circle around the man. “... Hm... aye... yes... ha! Fancy I have just the thing after all! Something a little bit dangerous, mind ye -- but perhaps... a little more yer cup o’ tea.”

          “Gather ye close now... Step right this way, if ye please.  Now, ‘elp me count -- 3... 2... 1...”

           “Ye mustn’t take it too personally, Doll. Ye know ‘ow Peter gets with that ‘ot temper o’ his. But ‘e’d go t’ the wall for ye if it came it, ‘e would.” An exasperated sigh. “But ye can bet I’ll be sittin’ ‘im down proper an’ ‘avin’ a nice long chat.”

            Crooking a long, skeletal finger, Joker smiled.  His lips drew a thin crescent -- gentle and weary -- across his unpainted face.

          “Come fer the show ‘ave ye, miss? T’aint quite time t’ raise the curtain just yet.”  

             As the glow of day receded into the blue-dust of twilight, the Noah’s Ark Circus had begun to hum with the murmurs of milling performers.  The buzz of gas-bulbs and spot lights lent a beetle-like drone to the gathering evening, and the occasional throaty chuff of a caged tiger rumbled like distant thunder. 

             Joker twirled his glass-jeweled baton. “I’d wager ye deserve a prize fer bein’ early.”

          “ -- Oi!”

I really want to expand upon the dark side of the Noah’s Ark Circus. Much as I adored the characters in the circus arc, I was disappointed that the truly dark themes -- the circus’ kidnappings and the subsequent enslavement of abducted children either in the Baron’s twisted private show, or their fate at the hands of the ‘Doctor’ -- which are the most potentially sinister and interesting, were explored with relative brevity, all things considered.  So, if any mutuals want a thread involving that part of the circus’ plot, let me know. I’m all for it.

          “A bit late, aren’t ye? A peck o’ merry-makin’ in the afternoon never ‘urt a body, but we’ve a performance a’ead of us, yet. ‘Aven’t much time to waste!”