3000/Beasts and Clowns At The Opera

Beasts and Clowns At The Opera
Date of Scene:	29 October 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Miss Moreau, wanting to heighten her profile amongst the criminal underworld of Gotham seeks the favor of the Clown Prince of Crime through a grisly performance. A partnership made in hell is formed.
Cast of Characters:	Miss Moreau, Joker

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Miss Moreau has posed:
When one wants a Bat? They drag out a shining symbol in the sky.

But what does one do when they want an audience with the Clown Prince of Crime? One has to put on a show.

It's a minute to midnight in the Narrows, and the darkness is only cut at first by the few blinking, barely functioning street lights. Anyone of actual sense is long behind locked doors. The thrumm of criminal activity is in full swing, of course, but something else makes itself known tonight. Eerie light sways through the little island-sky of this part of Gotham, and as it passes over one of the few parks in the Narrows, makes itself known. Glowing creatures dance in the sky, in intricate shifting patterns of greens, purples, and whites. It's an eyecatching thing to see over a place so seemingly full of death and despair. They flutter on, heedless, towards an old abandoned musichouse that's barely still standing after decades of disrepair.

Tonight, however, that fluttering mass in the sky comes to fly in a circle about the building. Two white sedans sit parked, currently empty, outside. The doors are open. Light is on, but dim enough that the lightshow in the sky just above the old place of music can be seen for anyone who peers.

Butterflies. Thousands upon thousands of butterflies take formation as if possessed, forming a white-purple-and-green image of a smiley face with a stretched, horrific grin. They loop in, and around each other for over an hour.

And then the strange creatures begin to filter into the music house itself, taking their place in the rotted seats within the building. The dim light within only illuminates two figures on stage. One, a tall man in a charcoal suit with a white rose on his chest. He's tan skinned, bald, and has the look of a veteran gang tough, without any of the usual stupidity etched into his face. Loosely held on his belt is an automatic. In his hands is a violin, which he plays with dextrous hands.

A white table sits on stage, wrought iron with similar seats. There's three seats laid out, with a cushion atop. A bottle of whiskey, a tea set, and the ruffle-dressed figure of Miss Moreau sits primly. Her cane leaned against her shoulder, one hand on a red book marked in braille, she sips her drink as she waits. Haunting violin invites the curious in. Shadows, the din of light and glowing insect onlookers are all that can be seen.

Joker has posed:
There are many ways to take to the stage. Usually something slipping from the sublime to the ridiculous, sharply securing the maximum amount of attention, certainly leaving most behind as the many things said and done make progressively less sense. Sometimes to annoy others keep the crowd off balance... always to see if he can get a laugh. After all... what more could one really expect? This, however... is different. It may have been across town. It may have been after he took one face off in lieu of the one he's better known for. It may have been he was going to hit the town to keep up appearances... but then he seen. That... is different.

Different but entirely the best way to go about it, he couldn't have done better himself. The performance was impressive, speaking to him in many ways, from one professional to another, he couldn't fault it. He definitely was flattered by it. It's a weakness, perhaps, but nothing is valued greater by the Crown Prince of Crime... recognition, positive critique, an admirer, a fan, a yet to be known flatterer... a laugh from the crowd. One of the last few things that still makes sense.

So, as he arrives, no big song and dance, no gimmick or routine to distract from something else. Just walking in the front door, clapping somehow unmuted despite the soft impact of white cloth glove on white cloth glove, timed with his step. "That was a opener worthy of a master. Although I'll look like a real fool if you'd dialled up for the Riddler and let my ego make it all about little ol' me..." Joker says with the startings of a grin. Let the fun and games begin!

Miss Moreau has posed:
And so, the Joker signals the opening act. Miss Moreau stands, closes her books, and dips into a low, flowing curtsey that any medieval princess would envious of! Her smile is large, very much the picture of a fan, or perhaps admirer of the Clown Prince's work!

Then, her hands clap once. The thug's music stops, and she's standing straight. "Oh, dear me, no! I happen to find riddles obtuse and frankly, boring! But no matter! Oh Prince of Crime, I humbly thank you for joining myself and my little band of Roses and pets for tonight's performance! My name is Miss Moreau, and I invite you today...to witness a sacrifice!" The last words have a snarl to her voice, as animalistic as her name would suggest.

She snaps her fingers, and floodlights hit the stage at four different points. Iron-wrought crosses are each holding a struggling figure with a hood tightly over them. Tied with silk rope, cuffed behind, all in GCPD uniforms.

Moreau grabs her cane, spins it first in a hand, then flips it in the air as she dances over to the first. Flats thud-thud in a tap-dance ending to a pirouette, the skilled Maiden of Animals catching her implement from behind. The first two figures are slightly swarthy men, perhaps older with what peeks of hair can be seen. Muffled cries can be heard.

"All four men here have been rumored to want after your antics, my dear Prince! Quite a heavy crime, to stop the telling of your jokes, your antics, your beautiful spreading of the true nature of Gotham to it's ignorant masses!"

A single hand touches her book, and she whispers.

The audience glows, and with flaps of their wings, gentle sounds of what might be cheering can be heard. Above the first two men? A shadowy shiver of the world as Moreau's magic takes hold. Four golden birds shimmer into existance, ravens once, but larger and with eight eyes. Each one bears a purple brand on the forehead. The large taloned birds land on the two men, and their beaks open. Their cries are like a parot's mimic of human speach, but operatic in nature.

Almost jaunty violin music is produced by the thug to accompany them. From out the birds' beaks, tetacles bearing razor-tipped implements split out, carving into the men's flesh. Screams mix with opera, and a top-hat wearing young White Rose appears at the Joker's side with a smile, and a glass of wine to enjoy the show with.

Joker has posed:
The timing's good, the finger snap's a classic, spotlight work is spot on... the touches arent missed either. The theme and form, those silken ties contrasted with the hard iron, rough and smooth, suitably ambivalent... Then there's the delivery of the line. It may be seven tenths how you sound, two tenths how you look and one tenth what you say but... no doubt... the lady's nailed all three. Or ten.

It doesn't take much to read that her game's the animal to feet-of-Clay's mineral or Red's vegetable... the what is a new one... still. It's not even scratching the surface. The music, the supporting cast, the elegance against the evisceration... Joker takes the glass of wine with a polite nod and a smile...

The thought hits him before the drink does. The lady has style, class, and a take that, even if it's being tailored to marry up to the audience... all the more impressive regardless. It's a charm offensive and a half. It's working far better than he'll be letting on... so when he says, "Lady Moreau, the word, wit and wonders are all very well recieved."... it's a massive understatement, grounds and with options to buy the next few properties over as well. "Also it's been the longest time since someone's put on a show for me..." True, sometimes that happens, even for him... "So it makes me all the more curious. What makes me so worthy of such affection and attention?"

Miss Moreau has posed:
And as the ravishing, the tearing begins, Moreau steps to the music and beat that is operatic death. She's graceful, skilled, and sure of herself. There's no true theme to her dance, dancing with her heart more than any scripted play. Improv, or just showing off her beastly nature? Perhaps a prelude in this classy theater.

As brown hair briefly obscures her face while coming through a twirl, she whispers to the air. 'Feast'. Half of the butterfly audience alights again, soon covering the two dead men. Flesh and bone are being reduced to nothing at rates no simple animal should be able to. Even the metal are shorn away by hungry, glowing, acidic butterflies.

Briefly, both men are a mockery of themselves, in purples and greens.

Then she's over to the other two. Even as she fields her audience's question, not once does she stop her show. She can multi-task, it seems!

"Because, Your Royalty, I believe that you and I have something in common. I'll hardly claim to know you. Hah, I doubt anyone could! But I'm more than a simpering fangirl, I assure you!"

"Everything I've ever read about you has been one masterpiece after another! Criminal brilliance with a theme, but no rhyme or reason behind it to the common eye! You've even fought against those horrid wretches that claim this city on wings of sable!" Her hatred for the Bat family is obvious. She gets to the point, as she spins the remaining two men on their crosses towards center stage.

"Simply put, I think you and I enjoy a measure of chaos. You, with your spread of cheer to this city which just becomes so /dull/ with it's keepers! Myself, with my aching beastly heart, chained such that my claws are like to grow brittle! Ahhh, it /hurts/ to be so chained by this city!"

Both hands go to her chest. Out from her cane, she draws a sword. Then, she lashes. Once, twice, three times. At first skilled, then increasingly bestial as blood flecks and muffled screams fill the air. One hand reaches in, tearing at organs. It's a horrific mess as her voice remains prim, but orgasmic in the act.

"Myself and my Family are /beasts/, oh Clown Prince of Crime! We wish to be set free from our zookeepers! The GCPD, the many vigilanties and sheep that crowd Gotham, a city which should belong to those of us with dark hearts!"

"I wish to hunt and slay and ravish at my own convenience, without chains to bind! And as for you..." Sebastian, stoically, takes a white towel to help dab off blood from his Princess' cheek. The rest of her is now tinged scarlet. She's grinning, sightless eyes wide and breathing heavily with bestial delight.

"I love your work. It stirrs my heart, and I wish to witness it personally. No, rather, I wish to play a part in it's architectre and performing. I want to learn from you, and help you in turn. In a word..."

Never let it not be said she isn't ambitious. "Partners. Teacher and pupil."

Joker has posed:
... sometimes there are times to use that inside voice. The initial gag of 'Partners? You're lucky you didn't get a proposal!' goes entirely unsaid. Again, to the ladys credit... it took a seasoned and, rare, serious effort to hold that back. The physical works for her... he'd be lying to himself if he said the opposite was true for him... but that mind...

That mind. That word, wit, will... passion, performance... and she knows fine well what she says speaks to him... if he were rational and reasonable he'd see the signs. She's too smart, too able, much more powerful from that flawless thinking that from the family or functional things... if he were rationable he'd remember that being out of his depth in every appreciable way was a bad thing.

Fortunately kids, it's been so long ago since he's even been as able as to remember what that was like. Who cares what he should do?! Oh, him, so he can do the opposite. "My Lady... I've found that there is no greater pleasure, no rapture more unconfined than doing something... someone... would really rather you didn't." He advances from the long since unfamiliar setting of the crowd... the walk a dance to his own silent tune, improvisation and adapation over poise and precision, and, in a few steps, strides, rounds, downs and ups... he's at her side.

With a brief aside to the one who's name's unknown to him Joker says, "You can take it easy on the towel down, Uncle Joker's got it from here..." He's got the towel, spotted, smeared and stained with vibrant colour, over one arm and, with the other free hand, goes to take hers. "Many people don't want me to be a solo act. Even more would be so very vexed were we to be a double act..." That's when the hand reaching for hers flexes beneath the glove, guiding the usually present surprise into a sedate and safe state, "... so. I can only say yes. To both. See if we can't elevate your standing to something worthy of your station. At least Queen. Or are Knights worth more?" He says, surprisingly, joking, "I never was good at playing hopscotch... much more of a card myself."

Miss Moreau has posed:
"Being alone in this city, my Family and I...it has been torture. No one to truly appreciate my desires and ambitions, the hunger within we Roses." She states, and then? She lets that hand take hers, and she smiles oh-so-pleasantly. The goon looks distrustful, almost ready to pull his gun when she smiles grimly.

"Have faith, Sebastian. This night marks the blooming of the White Rose, and the shedding of the corrupt zookeepers of Gotham's crimson!"

Her eyes close, and she's smiling just like a japanese fox. "A Queen of beasts!? Oh. Ohhh, I should only reach claws to the sky for such a thing! Mmm."

She ponders the idea, and taps her feet in time, as she draws close. Hand to hand, arm in arm, and she'll let the insane clown Prince gather her forward.

"A face card to a ten? Or the last card in the deck? Either way, I do think a good hop, skip, jump, and a friend upon the wing shall help us both."

The audience flaps their appreciation as the show dies down, and they descend upon the stage. Sebastian steps off it, and the horde of devouring creatures leaves nothing behind. Sirens sound in the distance. Moreau chuckles.

"I look forward to what hunts and japes we accomplish together, good Prince."

Serpentine eyes peer from the darkness, a serpent ready to convey Prince and Princess away with their minions. A slithering end to a tragedy horror play of ambition and bloody joy.