Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Vega]

It looked like it had been deserted for years rather than a few weeks.

In the shadow of a few big sycamore trees, a clearing full of various torn tents and posters lingered. Posters that had once been lighted and hung with pride were torn and crinkling. Abandoned concessions were strewn everywhere one could see. Weeds grown up through packed dirt while ivy had already started to cling along the forgotten stands. Occasionally a rat would scurry across and pick up an abandoned piece of decaying popcorn before noticing it was being watched and bolt into the darkness once more.

Rumor was the place was haunted. Every year around the same time the place would be alight with crowds and people. There weren’t many indications of what the true name of the carnival was by now, but there were a few torn ticket stubs around a tipped over stand saying something about a ‘Glass Moon’. Even though all eyes seem to linger on the biggest tent standing. Holes were started to be seen along one side however on the other came a very different sight. Long grooves like some large creature had slashed at the canvas trying to get out. Once in a blue moon it was said that crying could be heard from various places within the carnival grounds.

Today was not one of those blue moons, instead no moon lit the sky that night. The first day of the new moon weighed heavily on the place, making it possibly even eerier than normal. It was only in the darkness of night that the truth was revealed. The truth which sometimes makes the unbelievable, believable. Where one world and another world overlap each other for one night. Where the curse that might taint the land may truly be broken.


There was something different about the air that night that had aroused her from her sleep. Silver, feline eyes peered into the darkness that surrounded the interior of the big tent. She saw nothing amiss but that still something thrummed inside her mind that told her to be on her guard. Carefully sitting up she glanced along her cage. Nothing there either. Reinforced bars that certainly wouldn’t let her get out and stretch like she wanted. Feline tail flicked across the floor as she leaned against the cool metal. The woman certainly wasn’t human. Pale skin stood out against the bars, hair black as midnight, pooled past her breasts as it rested over her shoulders. Her back however was the decoration itself. Black tiger stripes ran perpendicular to her spine, however those weren’t the only markings. Snow leopard spots flickered between the stripes before coming over her hips and moving to pattern along her ribs and over her shoulders. Her tail bore the same pattern, though it took the characteristics of the snow leopard in it’s long, full nature.

The only thing that stood out more than that was the gold collar on her throat. Almost all the others had something similar in contraption on their bodies. Trapped they were to this place until someone could unravel their curses. The others had managed by now except for a small handful. But they were the darker creatures, her eyes narrowed at the thought as she closed her eyes. They didn’t suffer from hunger as once dawn came the place would be as deserted as before. It was only the people that got caught under the spell of the New Moon that would become trapped with them. However she apparently was alone in her desires for freedom. She had been in the circuit much longer than the others and wanted nothing more than to feel the snow beneath her paws again. Paws…when had she been able to last shift? She didn’t remember. She did know sooner or later the Ringmaster would appear as he always did every New Moon offering the same choice he always did.

She wondered if he had given up on her reptilian companion. She frowned at that thought. Not likely. However, she would rather die than become his pet well pet of his freak show. Freedom from the collar only to be shackled to his side for the rest of your very long life was nothing that the woman wanted. Her ears perked waiting to hear the tent flap open and for those ominous boots to move near her cage. How many more years would she have to keep doing this? Every new moon. Unless of course they were lucky enough to have two new moons in the same month. Then the Carnival was actually in full swing. Then she would be forced to perform. She grimaced. Her Carnival trainer was far from kind, at least the bruises had faded by now from the last time he had come. Had it already been that long? The curse kept them from really judging how fast time flew…but once dawn came they would be back on the other side and forced away from their true world. Oh they existed here, that’s why they always came back, they hadn’t sold their souls to the Ringmaster yet. Some of the younger ones had once called him the Shadowman. It wasn’t far from the mark. She was originally from the Himalayas, a guardian to the infamous Shangri-la.

One couldn’t enter without a piece of Shangri-la in their blood. Probably why the Ringmaster wanted her so badly. Shangri-la was one of the few power wells left not tainted by the human interaction. She knew Shangri-la was protected without her there. Her brother guarded it fiercely, and the Ringmaster had only taken her. She vowed never to surrender herself to no man. However the world was about to change. She just no idea how much.

Re: Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Ve

John’s editor told him to go investigate the old rundown carnival grounds. People have been complaining about it, so an article was deemed necessary. Anything to make people by a paper, really. People loved a story about an eyesore that the township wouldn’t do anything about. It wasn’t too important, however, because he was given the job. While an excellent investigator and photojournalist, John lacked the aggressive drive needed to advance in his field. The editors would never give him a high-profile scoop, and when he tried investigating them on his own he was stonewalled by the fact that no one had heard of him, and he didn’t have enough contacts to get around that. So he was stuck with crap stories. Eyesores, research articles on popular topics that were just on their way out of the highlight, and other ‘cat in tree’ kind of things. Small things that appealed to a small demographic. At least someone was interested on what he had to write.

So he got into his Volkswagen and drove out to the old carnival site with his camera and notebook sitting on the passenger seat. He parked along the side of the road by the clearing and walked across the dew covered grass. Autumn was just around the corner, and the mornings were growing cold. He wore a wool coat over his untucked shirt, and the wet grass made his shoes wet, and dampened the hems of his blue jeans. Half-way to the tents and the apparent entrance of the carnival, and brought the camera’s viewfinder up to his eye to take a few shots of the whole thing. Even in the daytime it looked haunting and unsettling. In the shadow of those sycamores it looked like it was it’s only dark place. A little circle of hell on earth. It couldn’t be that bad, he mused and walked forward. When he got to the tipped ticket stand he searched around until he found a ticket stub. It was old, and the rain had made the ink fade considerably, but he could read the words Glass Moon in black ink against the red paper. He wished the other side included the address of the company who made the tickets, but all he found was a blob of purple-blue ink as the water and the paper had pulled the colors of the ink apart. He could have called the company and gotten some information out of them. Maybe, if they bothered to talk to him. Regardless, he set the stub on the ground where he found it and took a picture, taking a few other photos of the entrance before moving on.
He spent two hours canvassing the carnival, taking pictures inside and out of the large tent, of the concession stands, the games, everything. He was very through. He made notes in his book before walking back to his car before backing up and heading back the way he came. At the office he made a few calls
First was the township building in regards to the carnival and what they were planning to do -if anything- about it.

“We’re a small township and we’re currently busy with other projects. We tried hiring third party contractors to tear it down for us, but no one will touch it,” said the voice on the other side of the phone. John wrote it down in the notebook.

“Why’s that?” he asked, head turned, looking to the side like most people do, like the subconscious parts of their brain are telling them to face the person that was talking to them in their ear.

“They said it was haunted. Some bullshit story that I don’t remember. Anyway, I’m very busy Mr. James, so if you don’t have anymore questions I’ll have to end this call.” The female voice at the other end was staring to get annoyed.

“Oh, if you could give me the number of the contractor that told you it was haunted, that would be great.”

The line went dead. Great, another stonewall, he thought before hanging up the phone. He did a search for local contractors and started doing some legwork, calling all of them until he found the one who said the carnival was haunted.

“Can you tell me a bit about the story, please?”

“Who did you say you were again?” asked the rough masculine voice on the other end.

“John James from the Milksburg Lantern,” John said clearly. He knew it was a kind of identity check. Anyone could say they were from the paper, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t forget their cover if asked a second time.

“Right. Well, the carnival comes alive during the new moon. People start flocking to it with no control over what they are doing. And they never come back.” The man seemed very serious, very somber.

John didn’t believe it, but he had tact, so in a respectful voice he said, “Thank you for your time,” and hung up. He turned in his chair to face his computer and powered it on. It took a moment to load but soon he was in the paper’s database, searching for anything about the carnival. There were articles dating back to the late 1800s around the time when the town first started about a Glass Moon carnival. It was pretty standard stuff, talking about the attractions and what not. Though, there were a handful of smaller articles later in the early 1900s about the carnival being in town. He searched the rest of the papers and found a few missing persons notes. He e-mailed everything he found to himself and wrote a few things down in the Moleskin notebook.

He ate lunch at a coffee shop and pulled up his emails on his little netbook. Between sips of his rich black coffee and bites from his sandwich he read through the scans of the papers. He made notes that the two issues that had missing persons reports also stated that both instances the carnival was open on a new moon. He checked his calendar and chills ran down his spine and his body injected a small spike of adrenaline into his blood when he saw a circle and the words ‘New Moon’ on the current day’s square. It would seem that his luck was turning good. Or worse. But more exciting regardless.

Later, after the sun had set and the beautiful new moon shed it silver light on the world, he got back into his Volkswagen and drove back out to the carnival, his mind racing as well as his heart, wondering exactly what he would see.

Re: Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Ve

Often, she wondered how a woman of her percision and power could let herself be a product of this humiliation. Deep footsteps pounded on the concrete as he barged the room, another softer padding could be heard along with the upkeep of the woman's steps. The rather large male shoved her violently, back into the cage beside her friend. The backlash of the gesture draped her waiste-length hair lightly in a rich brown web across her face. She was known for being particularly rebellious and fussy, so her hands were bound by chains. Looking up, she didn't question him this time. She wanted him to just accept her obedience and let her sleep for the night. This time, he didn't speak. He gave her a look of warning that told her if she ever tried to escape again, she wouldn't survive. Then he exited the room as though his silence was enough. It was. He wasn't a pleasant master.

Sybil's serpentine gaze darted up to the glowing moonlight peering into the dark space, a slow sigh escaping her lips as her skin grew cold as marble in the pale light. For her, however, it was extremely dangerous. The chill of the night was rather uncomfortable. The lack of sunlight often left her weak and weary, a sort of deficiancy she was sure the others were blissfully unaware of. She didn't tell anybody on purpose, however. Drawing attention to such a weakness meant it would be used against her. It was only a matter of time before it was irreversable, and she would fall into a deep sleep never to awaken. It may have been completely sadistic to be thinking in such a manner, but the very thought toyed idly with her deep red lips.

The Serpente's supple curves were seductive. Her only clothing was a black material, draping over the areas that were more private. The paleness of her skin was very much revealed through the thin material. So much of her body was revealed, which gave way to some other things he could have done to her. It was no longer sacred, she was his toy. Not to this degree, but she was used to being desired, albeit protected. Another thing she wasn't used to, was the object symbolizing her bounds. Lazily, a hand reached up and draped over the collar around her neck. A small snarl nearly forming on her lips, due to her particular distaste for the thing.

Back in her home town of Aeneid she had been sort of a seductress, sumutaneously a revered prophetess. Not quite royalty, but treated as such. No man wanted to see her complete a task that could very well ruin her ideal image of a woman's body, much less the visions she recieved on a daily basis. One of her guards had decieved her and bargained her to the carnival, possibly faking her death to the rest of the villiage. To them she'd have been more valuable than any sort of currency. She hadn't lost her powers, but she'd been stuck in this negative space for longer than she had intended too. The attempted escapes had gotten her into more trouble than she cared for. But right now, as a prophetess, her head began to pound. It wasn't pounding with information, but it was pounding with some sort of vague warning.

"Something...is awry..." she said, wrapping her arms around her body attempting to keep warm. It was an impossible task at the moment. In her voice, there was a tremble. She was shivering. Unhealthy, even. "It's...something."

Re: Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Ve

Sarantsatsral's eyes never moved from their spot, waiting until the footsteps receeded, her ears following the slow movements, slow to her mind as she finally heard her companion's voice. "I see you felt it too," came the quieter voice, husky perhaps more from ill-use. Her hands reached then, ever gentle as she pulled the woman into her lap. In all honesty the only one whom she generally spoke to was Sybil. They had become close for different reasons over the long years. "You shouldn't try so soon of the moon rise." She whispered as her hands moved over slow, gentle caresses, fingers feather light along the serpente's back and arms. Her feline tail slowly sliding around to wrap around her waist.

"I think that we're about to see something that hasn't happened in quite sometime, Sybil." She looked down at the serpente, "And if we are to witness such a thing it means you must stay awake." Her silver eyes became half lidded as she drew the woman closer to her. She was worried about Sybil, and only acted in a way she knew how. Never to harm, it had taken many times for the two of them to learn to trust the other. However the need to provide her some sort of heat had driven her to this point. It always had. Now it was becoming more frequent as when they crossed into the shadow world the fake light that was provided could only provide so much.

However even Sarantsatsral, normally called Sara, felt lethargic. She had taken longer to fade as the moon was still in the sky, but she needed moonlight. Light and dark, how odd these pair were deep down. "You should at least stay close to me to keep warm. You know me well enough to trust me, and know I'm not going to try anything to harm you." She purred softly, a soothing one rather than one of pleasure. Soft kisses slowly slid across cool skin, soft nips along an artery to follow the trail of pleasure that led along her skin. "Don't think about this, just feel. You need to be warm. I'll be fine," These little exchanges starting to cost Sara what little reservoir of energy she had. However, she would defend Sybil to the death if necessary. While she was the stronger body, she was the faster mind normally. Without the collar she would be able to protect her friend, but that required willing to give her soul to someone. And it wouldn't be the Ringmaster or her trainer if she could help it.

Her hands slid slowly across what could be revealed through the black, finger tips brushing over her nipples before moving lower over toned muscles. Soft purrs mingled in the womans hair as she rested her head in the crook of her neck, warm breath teasing on the surface of the skin that her lips had already trailed before she bit down, letting her feline teeth scrape skin enough to pinch, but not enough to bruise. last thing she needed was the Ringmaster going after her again asking who had done it. Holding the woman close she sighed softly, closing her eyes. "Tonight is the night, Sybil..." She purred out softly. "We have no choice. Unless someone changes our course we have no choice." There was...a third option in their little niche of the Carnival. They could choose someone else to hold their souls. They would have to obey the person of course, but still it could give them an alternative, and for Sarantsatsral peace of mind, keep Shangri-la safe.

Perhaps this was what the Serpente was predicting, taking in her scent she held the woman closer, keeping her warm while she stored energy. She had the feeling something was about to snap within her. She was dangerous when provoked, the question was of course would it be enough for her to force the beast to the surface with the collar tying her down? Her feline ears lowered slowly breathing in and out, not asleep simply resting. However her ear's perked suddenly as she heard the low, quiet rumble of a car. It was distant, but it was getting closer. Her eyes moved into slivers as she nuzzled into Sybil.

"Someone's coming..." She said softly. Not wanting to move away from the growing body heat, her feline tail keeping her bind on the woman to keep her safe, warm. To an outsider, Sara was a statue binding the serpente to her, she wouldn't move, barely even breathe until whoever was coming would make themselves known. Her predatory instinct was taking over, she would let Sybil do the talking, though Sara was wise, and knew when things were 'right', she didn't want to jinx anything for them. Even when his scent became notice able and her body thrummed with a welcome knowledge, an acceptance, something she thought she would never find. Hope. Her ears had kept firm to the sound of any of the others moving around. Sara's need to protect Sybil, if not herself, overruled her desire to hope for herself. Sybil was weaker, and needed to be bound to someone who could give her the sunshine again. Freedom, something that Sara feared she would never have again.

Re: Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Ve

John followed the road on foot for a few hundred yards before cutting into the field, now far off from the carnival. Whenever he became parallel with the row of tents he turned ninety degrees and walked straight for the tents. As he approached he noticed that while some lights were on and there were obviously people about, the place still radiated a very dark and ominous feeling. It made him crouch down slightly and walk in a half-crouch. As he approached one of the outlying tents he heard what sounded like metal on metal or a steel door closing. Reflexively he pressed himself up close against the tent, realizing at the last moment that it wasn’t going to resist him like a wall and didn’t push his weight against him. His heart was beating faster now, the camera around his neck was moving slightly from his heart beating against his chest. Adrenaline shrouded his mind in its familiar state of hyper-awareness.

He waited a moment after he heard the sound, and the heavy footfalls of someone walking away. Then, he slowly peeked around the corner. He saw the women huddled together in the cage and his eyes widened and he ducked back around the side of the tent. His fight of flight instinct was screaming for him to choose the latter. To run away and call the police or someone. But something in him brought him around the corner of the tent again and set his eyes looking about. Any presence of someone else and he would turn and run. Maybe it was his undying pursuit of knowledge, or maybe part of him thought that uncovering a slave trade would gain him some respect at the office and the community.

Eventually he made it to the cage, his fingers wrapping around the bars, his face peering inside at the naked woman with the tail and the ears, and the nearly naked woman she was holding. At that moment he thought that the feline tail and ears that Sara sported were fake, a carnival trick. “Hello?” he whispered as lowly as he could managed, then looked in both directions to see if anyone had heard him, before casting his eyes back on the women.

In the light they would be able to see his face. Handsomely constructed in a boyish way, save for the slight but even scruff that went down from his sideburns around his chin and connecting his mustache to his beard. On the bridge of his nose sat a pair of plastic rim glasses that fit his face, framing his bright and wide green eyes. He was of average height with an athletic build. Enough to let his jeans and wool jacket fit well on his body.

Re: Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Ve

It wasn't odd for Sybil to take comfort in Sara's touch. Normally she wasn't one to seek comfort in the presence of another. In fact, this whole experience had stressed just how accurate she'd always been in assuming the intentions of others were always selfish. Not Sara. She protected the girl with her life and likewise. It was the sick bond they'd formed by being together in that hour of distress. It was all she could do for the tears of frustration to stop pushing at her eyes. Oh Goddess and Consort, she couldn't let them fall. She wouldn't let them fall. She had too much pride.

She nodded as Sara confirmed her blurry visions. Usually it was clear just was she was going to see, but her link to the divine had been shady since her powers seem to have been disconecting and fading with this dark cell of a carnival. Gods help the one who created this mess if she caught hold of it and began to run it herself. That was her main goal. To turn the tides and whip the shit out of her "master".

She was beginning to see things that simply weren't there. The moonlight...it had always brough her so much comfort when the sun set, and even a small bit of heat. Swallowing hard, she nodded once more. It hadn't even been difficult for Sybil to stay awake. She could do so for days without any issues...and she wasn't even tired yet. She knew, however, that the could would eat at her Pysche enough to force her into sort of a hybranation if not permanantly so.

The warmth from Sara was all she needed to gain a bit of that energy back. She nuzzled into her neck, her own body heat faint. Thus, they created warmth together, their skin touching and pressing into one another as Sybil wrapped her arms around her precious kitten, who'd become her best friend in a matter of time. If this were to end, she wasn't sure they would lose contact as the woman had grown dear to her heart.

She took a moment to arch her back into the touch, her own hands instinctively exploring the other females bare skin. The exchange in energy was happening and warmth was beginning to rise to her surface when a voice made her jump into the other females body.

He own Serpentine reflexes caused her to stand upright, cradling Sara against her body as she looked around for the deep male voice that spoke to them. However, it wasn't familiar. It wasn't anything she'd heard before and the very thought made her tremble. Her newly found warmth pumped through her body now in the form of anger and defense.

"W-who...Who the hell are you?" she asked, looking around. Still, her vision was fuzzy as her eyes darted around. Her sense of smell was what was honing in on this unfamiliar presence. "What the hell do you want?" she snapped, far from welcoming. Should she be mistaken, and it was her master, she would be severely punished.

Re: Under the Glass Moon [MarxistPanda, xWickedBlackLace, Ve

Sara continued to nuzzle and comfort her little Serpente, "We'll get you out soon, I promise you. Tonight. Don't cry..." She said softly as her hands moved over her shoulders, stroking the skin she could find, fingers moving up to gently stroke her cheek. While Sybil was tormented in her lack thereof clarity, Sara was listening. Even though the one who had come tried to make no sense, it fell onto her sensitive ears. The careful steps of a footfall outside the tent, far unlike the heavy footfalls from the Ringmaster.

However, she found herself in a different position as he spoke, her hands gripping the other woman's shoulders as she was deposited into her lap. "Calm down, Sybil, use your nose..." She said softly as her feline ear flicked towards him. She herself couldn't move as fast or as far as Sybil could. She needed to conserve what she had left. If her ears were fake, as John had assumed, they certainly wouldn't move about like a feline's would. "I heard him coming..." She slowly turned her head to look at him, her eyes flickering and killing that sense of hope that was rumbling to to the surface. Not that she didn't trust her instincts but she wouldn't put it past the Ringmaster to show his ugly mug again so soon.

Slowly she nuzzled into the other woman's neck, a soft comforting purr lingering in the back of her throat before started to speak again, "Your curiosity is going to get you hurt if you're not careful, Human. Do not let your fear give you away." She tilted her head to one side her long cascade of black hair falling from her shoulders. An outsider was rare outside the Carnival's life of the town, slowly she slid her tail from around Sybil's waist to move across the cage closer to the man. "What is your name? I promise we will not harm you," She glanced up at Sybil, before letting her gaze rest on him again. She was the calm inside a torrential storm, however her own mind had thoughts. Thoughts that his smell had brought to the surface that she had thought long since dead.

They needed help, he was the one who would give it to them. If he decided to attempt to pull her tail, a startled 'mrowl' would leave her lips, the tail's fur stand on end and feel very real, complete with the bones and cartilage to make him think otherwise from the fake. Unlike Sybil, Sara was cursed to never be able to hide all of her features. No matter what she would always have the cat ears and tail. He would soon learn otherwise that this was no ordinary carnival, and these were no ordinary women. She just hoped she could get Sybil free before the Ringmaster came back. If no one else, she needed to get out faster. Sara would survive, if she needed to, but the threads of her teeth. She wasn't so sure about Sybil anymore.