Krystle Harrison (
omggirlonthenet) wrote in
bakerstreet2016-11-05 10:29 pm
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Cirque de la Lune

Cirque de la Lune is famous across the multiverse for its spectacular cast, each exquisite to behold as they perform feats of daring and wonder before enthralled audiences. Any privileged to attend a performance will never forget, for each show is filled with magic and splendor.
Literally.
For the secret of the Cirque de la Lune is that each performer is kidnapped, modified, and enslaved by the one who runs it, a mysterious figure known only as The Ringmaster. He draws the most promising, the most beautiful, and the most talented from any dimension to which he has access, then with a combination of magic and medicine transforms each into their fullest potential, a shining jewel to play their parts like marionettes on strings of his manufacture.
Will you be a part of the circus? Or are you one of the lucky few who's managed to procure a ticket? Step right up, then, and see what it has to offer....
HOW IT WORKS:
♦ Leave a comment with your character's name and fandom in the subject. You can either select an option and set the scene, or fill brief want/do not want for other commenters. Please note that this meme is open to both sexual and non-sexual content, and may contain potential triggers.
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♦ Play out the results and respect others' preferences.
♦ Have fun!
The kidnappings come without warning or a chance at escape: those summoned by The Ringmaster suddenly find themselves in the circus, so wound about by bindings both physical and magical they can hardly move, much less think of escape. Most are unconscious for the process of alterations, which could be considered a mercy considering how long and painful it is. The Ringmaster works with the careful precision of a master sculptor, and each of his creations bears a symbol of his craftsmanship that also serves to keep them under his unfaltering control.
As the symbol can only be removed by another person at the cost of their life, almost no one has ever even tried to escape the circus, and even if they did there would be the small issue of getting away from where it exists, suspended between dimensions. Most don't even realize they're being controlled, however, for the compulsions holding their imposed personae in place are subtle in their strength.
The best of The Ringmaster's creations, those who perhaps already possessed innate talent or beauty, or who simply adapted to the changes better than most, are fortunate enough to take their places in the First Circle. These are the most privileged and pampered, and each wears a tiny jewel in their ear to mark their rank.
1) Beast Tamer
Merciless and deadly, the Beast Tamer can subdue the most unruly animal with will and whip. They seek to dominate and control, no matter how meek or cowardly they might have once been.
2) Tightrope Walker
The Tightrope Walkers are the most exquisite jewels of the circus, delicate and graceful of form and movement and often breathtakingly lovely of face, able to dance butterfly-light on the finest of wires. They are also, however, often the most passive, the most controlled, like puppets crafted of fragile china.
3) Acrobats
Whether they are skilled as trapeze artists, hoop dancers, or tumblers, the Acrobats are all agile and quick of body-- and mind. Something about the changes made to allow their feats of skill also tends to make them more sly and cunning, more apt to lie or cheat to get ahead of the rest.
4) Strong (Wo)Man
These performers were enhanced for strength-- some were given added bulk and others simple toning, but all are significantly stronger than any unaltered human. Alas, they often lose some of their mental acuity in exchange for the physical enhancements, but none will ask a performer balancing an anvil to perform calculus.
Those without special skills or who did not adapt quite so well are still given places in the circus ranks, however, being placed in the Second Circle. Members of this group bear an unobtrusive bracelet around one wrist as a sign of their rank.
5) Clowns
Many a flaw can be hidden with makeup, and those who did not quite meet The Ringmaster's exacting standards of beauty must hide behind makeup and costume. Many are failed Acrobats, and as they are quite aware that only a small mischance prevented their admission to the First Circle, they spent much of their time plotting the downfall of those more privileged.
6) Sideshow Performers
These can include jugglers, fire-breathers, or knife-throwers, daredevils or magicians, those with clever hands and nimble tongues who can amuse the guests before the main show. Some failed Tightrope Walkers are veiled and costumed and put to work in a side tent as exotic dancers, while former Strong Men discourage the guests from getting too close (though rumor says they can be bribed, at times).
7) Beasts
The Beast Tamers must have creatures with which to perform, after all. Those who already wore the forms of beasts are enhanced, whether to look more beautiful or more deadly (or perhaps both), while some others are transformed entirely into lions or tigers or other fierce beasts to share in the main performance. Some of these unfortunates manage to retain their intelligence after the change, but others find themselves slipping away and becoming as mindless as the creatures whose forms they wear.
8) Sideshow Exhibit
The displays in the sideshow tent include those whose alterations fail, those who become trapped halfway between humanoid and beast form, or those who began in such an inhuman shape that they could never fit into the First Circle even with all The Ringmaster can do. Their existence is barely better than those of the animals, for they almost always remain caged, subject to the stares and giggles of the crowd. These again are guarded by former Strong Men, but they cannot be everywhere, and occasionally the mocking and stares of the guests devolve into worse.
The worst off of the circus denizens are those who inhabit the Third Circle. These unfortunates wear a plain leather collar as a sign of their rank, though none are likely to mistake them for a member of one of the other Circles.
9) Menials
Someone has to do the work of running the circus, after all. This group is unique in that not all of them were brought here involuntarily: some became lost and elected to remain, some sought employment, and some came seeking their missing friends and loved ones and chose to linger nearby in the vain hope that their memories might return. Most, however, are simply those too ordinary or unskilled to fit anywhere else, and they can be found just about anywhere in the circus, doing chores or maintenance, tending the animals, or selling concessions to the guests. They go everywhere, they see everything, but they do little of consequence, even if they aren't kept under as much control as the rest of the circus folk.
10) Slaves
These are the fallen, the failed, the grotesque, those who are too deformed to exhibit, too ugly or ungainly to be allowed to perform, or those who tried to escape and are now in disgrace. They remain hidden from the view of guests, serving as laborers in whatever manner The Ringmaster or the members of the First Circle might desire. (Rumors say the former prima Tightrope Walker attempted to run away from the circus, and now bent and disfigured from her punishment, cleans the quarters of the current prima.)
And what would a circus be without an audience?
11) Guests
It is difficult indeed to obtain a ticket to the circus, for most do not even known of its existence. Only the rich, the powerful, those who are well versed in dimensional travel, or somehow privileged to be given a ticket by The Ringmaster himself in return for some service are ever allowed into the circus grounds. Some say that anyone who can provide The Ringmaster with a particularly good candidate will earn a lifetime's pass in return...
(originally by
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Shiro | Voltron: LD | ota
They use him when they want something particularly frightening looking. He's large and muscled, incredibly smooth and silent on his large claw tipped paws, faster than any animal has a right to be. He cracks elephant bones with his jaws for the amusement of the crowds. But he's not pretty. He's scarred and his mane is short. One of his legs has steel that peaks out of the fur sometimes when he moves it. They bring him out when they want a fight. He's put beast tamers down before. Otherwise they leave him alone in a cage in the back of a dark tent and use him as a threat to new workers. And he lays with his nose between the bars that glow with archaic purple runes and watches for the stars.
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After everyone had been split up thanks to the wormhole, their leader had been the only one still missing. Rumors mentioned a black lion as a new attraction in the mysterious intergalactic, interdimensional circus, Cirque de la Lune. Team Voltron couldn't pass up the chance to investigate.
Except, they found the actual Black Lion. Seemingly abandoned on a desolate planet, no trace of its Paladin, console covered with dust. Allura and Coran were ready to try new tactics to hunt Shiro down, but Hunk's gut kept pulling his mind back to the circus.
It took a bit of convincing the others to check the place out. Coran was overly wary. Old contacts of his slipped information about the truth of the place. The twisted Ringmaster, and his experimentations. A Brakomi elder warned the Paladins to stay away. For if their teammate had been taken, there would be no way of getting him back.
Hunk refused to drop it though.
Once he was given the go ahead, they hunted down those who had tickets already. With how rare and hard to come by as they were they could only appropriate one.
Keith demanded he be the one to go. Then Lance. Pidge volunteered as well, but ultimately it was Hunk who was chosen. While he might be prone to some panicking, in a pinch he could keep his head, and ultimately out of all the Paladins, he was the least likely to cause a scene . Or, more importantly, be the least likely to garner the Ringmaster's attention.
Slipping into a disguise, an intricate mask covering his face, fake tattoos over his arms, Hunk was coached by Coran on the best ways to stay unnoticed, and out of sight.
While much of him was terrified at his upcoming task, knowing he might be the only one able to rescue Shiro gave him the courage he was going to need.
And did he ever need it.
The circus itself was vast, amazing, and grotesque all at once. Slipping into the mixed bag of a crowd, including some Galra, Hunk took his seat. Watching the show was difficult. Knowing the truth his heart couldn't help, but ache, for those who had been changed so terribly. Stolen from families, loved ones, their homes... Transfigured into literal monsters, Hunk felt physically sick. He almost wish his gut hadn't led him here.
Especially when the Black Lion appeared.
Hunk's breath caught in his throat. Something deep within him shattered with pain, and sorrow. Watching the beast crunch through bone, roar with such volume that it shook the poles holding the tent... The scars all along his body, the splotch of white in his mane, the metal peeking through fur on his leg...
Shiro.
It's hard to fight back the tears that prick the corner of his eyes. After so long, they've finally found him, and he was that. A quiet sort of rage filled Hunk, one that kept those tears at bay. Tapping the thin bracelet around his wrist to signal he'd found his target, Hunk slipped out of the tent to follow the beast tamer dragging the giant lion back to his cage. It would take an hour or so before the others could come. Somehow, he had to get Shiro away from the tents. Out into the open.
Once the tamer had whipped Shiro back to his proper place, Hunk took action. Shipping out his Bayard, he smashed the canon into the back of the tamer's skull. There was a sickening crunch, and Hunk apologized with everything in his heart. Coran's words echoed in his head, 'For most of them, death would be a welcomed gift.'
Slowly, cautiously, Hunk approached the cage.]
Shiro...?
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but he never fights it as hard as he could if he wanted.
As much as he doesn't like the cage, with its bars that smell of old blood and perverted lightning, its home. Its home and he doesn't know where else he would ever belong if not in the cage. So he takes the usual whipping and snarls his usual snarls and lets himself be backed into it so the door can be slammed shut and the old magic can snake up the bars of it and close him in with wordless hissing whispers and cold.
Where would go otherwise? The stars that call at him, tug at his chest and make him ache seem like painted mirrors on a black curtain, nothing but tin dreams that wouldn't last if touched.
He still paces the cage once he's inside. The magic always makes his skin crawl, always tickles in the minor wounds the whip leaves like its drinking there and leaves him restless until he's finally burned off the energy moving through his muscles.
He would give almost anything to be able to run. Just - run. Just to feel his muscles pull and bunch and punch through the air around him.
His head comes up though, nostrils flaring and his eyes glint like dark fallen stars as he turns his massive head, scenting first a strangeness in the air and then -
ah. Blood.
He's familiar with the scent of blood that's not his own. It's a familiar scent in the Circus. The tip of his tail lashes and he turns toward the approaching figure. The tent is full of shadows, lacking any light beyond the inverted purple that sometimes arches on the bars but he can see well enough to know the approach is human and unfamiliar. The rumble is low in his throat, not quite a growl or warning. Not quite anything but that either. And he paces the full length of the cage to circle back around to the arrival. And stops. Ears prick forward. He stands still, except for the steady back and forth lash of the tip of his tail. The stranger has his attention. That's all. Its more than he gives most though.]
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The ones that have looked upon him so kindly, and gently, when he was afraid, or need encouragement. Or narrowed under furrowed brows when they were in the midst of a tough battle. Still the same as those that lit with laughter thanks to the antics of the younger Paladin's.
Except now there was an animalistic quality to them. Something Hunk had never seen before. It gave him pause as he approached the cage, but ultimately didn't stop him from reaching out with a hand that so desperately wanted to shake, and tremble.]
Shiro, it's me, Hunk. Can you still remember me? Remember who you really are? You're Takashi Shirogane, super awesome pilot, leader of Voltron, the Black Paladin...
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He shifts on his large paws again and the claws of them slip out and sink back. He could easily catch that hand and rip it off. Offering it as if he's a cat that needs petting is a mistake. But - he likes the voice. Something in him very much likes the voice. So he leaves the hand that belongs to the voice along but he huffs out an exhale through his nose. Waiting to see what the stranger wants, nice voice and tugging words or not.
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In his gut something told him that he needed to turn them off somehow. Withdrawing his hand, he pulled out a small little device from the pouch on his hip.]
Pidge made this. You remember, Pidge, right? Katie? Coran was telling us about the weird stuff he's heard that happens here. So, her and I put our heads together to make this. It should be able to disable all kinds of different power sources. Like these runes. At least, in theory, it should.
[Hunk bit his lip, nervousness, and uncertainty tugging him everywhere. If it worked and freed Shiro, would he attack? He seemed rather docile for the moment, but Hunk all too clearly remembers the way his teeth cracked through bones bigger, and thicker, than Hunk's like they were nothing. The way he lunged and snarl at the beast tamers. Shiro had almost slashed one's chest open. It had made the crowd cheer, and holler.
It had made Hunk sick, and terrified.
Shaking his head, he took in a steadying breath. He couldn't focus on any of that. It's not who Shiro truly was. Shiro was strong, yes. Brave? Definitely. A vicious attacker? If it was Sendak or Galra soldiers? Yes? One of the Paladins? One of the team? No... Shiro would never hurt them.
Hunk held tightly to that belief, to that knowledge. Shiro wouldn't attack him.]
Shiro, I'm going to disable the power to your cage. When I do we need to run from here. Out into the fields to the east. Lance and Keith, our friends, our teammates, our family. They're coming to get us in Blue and Red. They'll take us, take you home, back to the Castle of Lions. Back to Allura and Coran. Do you... do you understand me at all?
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He doesn't understand the words though, doesn't understand the voice and a second later its dragged back down and swallowed in the darkness of his mind. His body hasn't moved at all, in that split second and he shakes his head now, something that sends his mane rippling and stretches the slight cuts from the whip. As if he can shake the unsettling feeling out of himself.
The voice is talking again though - and he really likes that voice and the bubbling sound of music some of the words make against his ears, so painful, so heart sore, so loved and lost and missed and treasured and forgotten. It soothes him down - and makes him feel protective too. As if he should - do something. Something to make the voice and the good face sound not so afraid and worried. He huffs out through his nose. Once, twice, three times. Short sharp sounds. And he paces closer to the edge of the cage, until the purple from the bars illuminates his huge furred face and throws it into violet and shadows. His dark eyes hold the stars in them, entire galaxies as he looks through at the good face. And he croons, something so throaty and low and rumbling that it almost registers more as a vibration than a sound.]
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Pressing down on a button along the edge of the cubed device, the Yellow Paladin presses it against one of the bars. There's a crackle of energy and a soft whirring noise fills the quiet tent. Purple light darkens, then grows brighter and brighter, until it's a hot white that's almost blinding. Hunk's hand feels like it's burning, but he doesn't relent. A cry of pain slips between clenched teeth and with a sound like a whiplash, the light vanishes.
Stumbling back, Hunk falls to the ground, panting softly. The little device is a shattered pile of blackened pieces, matching the tips of Hunk's burnt fingertips. With the runes gone the door opens easily, metal creaking loudly in the quiet tent. Pushing himself up with his good hand, Hunk looks over at Shiro, body tensed, waiting to see what the other does.]
Hey, big guy... Let's just, uhm, not do anything hasty, okay?
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loud. Painful to his eyes. It sings along his whiskers, screaming in his ears and the sharp, burning smell of ozone and flesh makes him nauseated. He cringes back from it instinctively and there's something wrongly human in the way he lifts his arm with its metal bones showing through to try to shield himself, eyes narrowing down to slits but refusing to close.
Something in his chest thumps. Hard.
And then the electric scream is so loud he cringes and the silence that follows if almost painful. He blinks large eyes, seeing afterburns of dark light at the edges - and the door of his cage swings open.
He eyes it.
That shouldn't happen.
But, man or beast, opportunities multiple as they are seized and he's so fast that he's a shadow over the moon, a nightmare hiding away at the flick of a lamp, the tip of a killers coat before the crime scene is empty again and his huge body hurls out of the cage in utter silence, all uncoiling grace and raw power. There's no sound when he lands either, his leap having carried him well past the length of the cage and he turns on huge paws, almost lost now in the shadows of the tent. Even his eyes are black. But his presence isn't that easy to hide and it stalks calmly toward the stranger sprawled on the ground. Claws glint with each step, caught starlight, moon bone pale. No one can stop him now. No one can touch him. He's been loosed from more than just a cage with the breaking of the runes and the wild is in his blood. His face lowers and he inhales the stranger, close enough that it puffs the hair on his human head. And then he lowers his head even more, so that they are eye to great eye. He feels the beat of freedom and wind and starlight inside of his chest.
And he head butts the man in front of him, as light and gentle, forehead to forehead, as he can.]
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Fingertips twitch, he sniffs softly, eyes focused on the looming shadow quietly padding its way over to him. Hunk doesn't move though. Even though every pound, every ounce of his body wants him to, is begging him to run for his very existence.
Hunk stays.
Because his faith, his trust in Shiro is greater than his human instincts.
Warm, moist heat splays over his face, ruffling his sweat dampened hair. Hunk stares back into dark eyes with his own wide, brown ones. Not in challenge, but in a desire to be understood that he's a friend, an ally, someone who can be trusted. Someone who isn't going to hurt him anymore, won't lock him back up, won't try to force him to do anything he doesn't wish to do.
When Shiro headbutts him, he lets out a soft huff of laughter. His arms come up to embrace the large, shaggy head, gently rubbing his forehead to the lion's. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes as relief takes the place of fear.]
Oh, Shiro... I'm so glad we found you. Everything will be okay. I promise, nobody is going to hurt you here ever again. I'm taking you home, and we'll figure out a way to fix this.
[Out in the distance Hunk can hear voices yelling. Fear is back in his system and he releases his hold on Shiro. Pushing himself onto his feet, he grabs the mask and slips it back on. From the pouch on his side he pulls out his Bayard.]
We better get the heck out of here. Our pickup is the field to the east. Hopefully Lance and Keith will be here soon. You ready to run, Shiro?
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Except he hears the voices too, ears pricking forward and the throaty purr is always changing into a low, warning growl of sound that spreads out to fill the entire dark interior of the tent, tail swishing at its tip, claws flexing.
The things he wants to do to those voices. Each and every single one of them. And he's finally unbound enough to be able to.
Except -
Except his companion is still by his side and he knows, just as deeply as he knows anything, deeper still, that he has to protect them. He has to keep them safe and out of danger. Because he's Important. He's Necessary. Shiro's tail lashes one last time and then he's turning and bolting for the far side of the tent and the fastest way out of the Circus. Except he holds back, not about to outrun and leave behind what's so precious to his heart that it knows the name without words.
All he's thinking of is wide fields and freedom and running where he can stretch himself entirely out and finally use the power in his body the way its been meant to and he's dark enough that even outside the tent, he melts into the shadows. If they stay quiet and move steady but fast, they can escape. He knows it. Feels it in his fur. The edge of the Circus and the start of the stars is so close.
But something, something hard and implacable and determined, something that speaks with a human voice inside his head, jerks him around just as they reach the edge. No. Not yet. There's a piece of us, of him, still being held in the Circus. He can't leave without it. He wants to. He can't imagine anything being worth staying a second longer for and he rumbles his growl low and quiet in his throat but -
No. The voice without words inside his head says it. Drops the demand like an iron bar into the ground. No. Go back in and take it. Don't leave them anything of yourself. His gums draw back, show his teeth. The animals fights it. Freedom is so close. The stars are so close. But the voice is stronger. Eyes rolling to look at his companion, Shiro turns and slinks back into the Circus, bee-lining for a tent close to the very center of it.]
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Except... Shiro is running right into the main area. Hunk has to catch himself from yelling out to his friend. The voices from before are drawing closer to his location. With a silent curse he takes off after the lion, doing his best to stay out of view and keep his steps quiet.
Trying to think of just what has gotten into the other, Hunk can't imagine why Shiro would want to return to the heart of his captors. Risk being caught by the ones who turned him from the Paladin of the Black Lion into an actual lion. Then it clicks.
Paladin.
His armor.
When they captured Shiro, he would have been dressed in his Paladin armor. Keeping his grip tight on his Bayard, Hunk follows the lion and stops when they reach the tent. Theres faint flickers of light from behind the thick fabric wall. Peering in through the flap there doesn't seem to be anyone inside.
Hunk looks down at the lion and steps in front of him, voice a whisper.]
Stay here, stand guard. I'll get your armor. Just, uh, growl or something if someone gets close.
[With that he slips into the tent, eyes darting from one pile of personal looking objects to the next.]
okay probably last tag for the weekend
But he needs what's in there. He needs it like he needs a heartbeat, like he needs air to inhale, like he needs his very bones. What he is is in there and he can't leave without it. If he does... if he does he will be what he is forever, slowly forgetting more and more. The lion feels that even if the full damage of what that means doesn't make sense. But he's seen the dumb brutes, the animals so far gone that nothings left of them but feral, empty eyes and even the lion can be revolted by that.
He doesn't smell anyone inside the tent. The Ring Master isn't there. He'll come soon. Shiro knows that once they realize who is missing they'll look for him here but - he's not here yet. His evil lingers behind though and Shiro paces, worried, as his new friend/old friend slips into the folds of the tent. The Ring Master doesn't leave his treasures unprotected and his traps are wicked songs of heart's desires and dredged up nightmares. Shiro feels the overwhelming worry for his friend and deep in his throat he starts a rumbling, thrumming, grumbling, humming sound that vibrates through the walls of the tent. He's the Black Lion and they gave him things they hadn't meant to when they stripped him of so much else.]
no subject
Gotta keep it together.
He's here to find Shiro's armor. Among the personal belongings of the damned, it's in here, waiting to be returned to its proper owner. Hunk hurries his pace. His eyes dart from one pile of treasures to the next. The pressure returns and he stops mid-step, mind feeling fuzzy and heavy. What was he just looking for again? He's so tired, maybe he should take a break from this search. A little one.
There's a chair in the corner that looks comfy.
It feels like his body is being pulled towards the piece of furniture. Something is trying to keep him away, but that's ridiculous. It's just a chair! What could go wrong with just resting for a couple of minutes?
Reaching out to put a hand on one of the arms, the tent walls flutter. Hunk looks around in confusion as a deep rumbling courses through his body. The gentle hum pushing the crushing pressure out and away from his mind. He gasps softly, stumbling away from the now rather ominous looking chair. The warm colored wood now dark, and dingy. Smooth frame sharp and splintered. What had been a bright, and cheerful, patterned cushion, and blanket, was merely tatters barely concealing the hidden daggers, aimed to maim any foolish enough to actually sit upon it.
If he had actually taken a seat, Shiro would have had to drag him out of here. Assuming that there wasn't any other tricks involved.
Hunk shivered and quickly returned to his search, the soft noises of his companion helping to keep his mind clear, and the traps of the Ringmaster at bay. The Yellow Paladin isn't sure just how the lion is doing it, but he's thankful. Making his way towards the back he almost yells in triumph.
The Black Paladin armor is settled on a mannequin, looking clean and polished. Reaching into his pouch, Hunk pulls out another small square device. He was going to have to thank Pidge big time for all these gadgets. Pressing a side produced a greenish light. Sweeping it over the armor revealed a similar set of runes that had been on Shiro's cage.
Cursing softly, he replaced the scanner, and fished out the twin to the crumbled metal bits in Shiro's tent. There wasn't much use debating which hand to use this time. He'd need at least one in decent condition to wield his canon if, or more likely when, it came time for that. With a grimace, he pressed down on the button with his burnt index finger and pressed the device to the front of the chest piece.
It seemed the Ringmaster wasn't as worried about the trinkets here being taken, as much as he was about Shiro escaping. The amount of power needed to break the runes isn't nearly as much as it took to crack those on the cage. Hunk feels a small rush of gratefulness that his battered fingers won't need to suffer too much more.
The runes snap with a crack, and the young man is quickly gathering all the pieces into his arms. Rushing back out of the tent he jumps a little hearing the enraged voice of the Ringmaster drifting towards their position.]
Quiznak, we need to go, now!
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its a siren's call, its the first gasp of air to a drowning man, its the tug of who he is. It's Home. He spins on light paws, ready to run, ready to escape and leave this place and all its twisted trapped nightmares behind forever. Once you leave the Circus you never find your way back and Shiro is ready to -
He stops. His tail lashes. He can hear the Ring Master and he knows he's in no condition to fight that. Not before and certainly not know when he's only half himself. But -
but he's not the only one trapped here. Not the only one with pieces of themselves caged away in that tent, ripped out of them and corrupted.
He can't leave. He can't leave everyone behind like that, to this life. The look he shoots Hunk is apologetic but he turns, leaps back to the open mouth of the tent and he can feel the power, the hunger, stretching out of it for him. He can feel the way it wants to lure and then devour. And he feels the rage, the utter, pure, undiluted rage inside of him at all the lives lost and broken here. He opens his mouth and the roar that comes out starts low and thrumming, something that resonates at bone level. And then it builds. And builds. And builds. Shiro's roar grows like an incoming rushing wave on the ocean, a tsunami, pulled up from the very depths of his heart, the depths of space, all the darkness in between the stars he's walked in and it roars forward like a storm, like a hurricane. The walls of the tent billow unnaturally, as if the fabric itself is alive and trying to flee and everything inside of it rattles and shakes. Brilliant bursts of sickly light and foul scents explode. The magic bindings fight the attack -
and then, somewhere, far away, there's another roar, just as furious. For a paladin lost and stolen away a second time. Shiro can feel it in his own chest, hear it in his own heart and it pours out through his throat along with his own roar -
and the runes snap and shatter on hundreds of stolen and traded away hopes and dreams and lives. Shiro turns tail and runs, streaking over to where Hunk is, whites of his eyes showing and plows into his legs, intentionally trying to knock the other paladin off balance enough to fall over him. Because if he can, if Hunk will grab at him even a little, Shiro will take him out of the camp faster than any racing horse.
Because what was in the tent is coming free and not everything that was stolen or traded away was good and wholesome and passive. Some of it was hungry.]
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When he doesn't hear the lion following, he spins on his heel just in time to see Shiro moving into the tent.]
Hey, pssst, Shiro come on dude!
[The roaring starts and it causes the hair on the back of his neck to stand. It's powerful, and intense. Makes the ground under his feet rumble. Across the lawn Hunk spots the lights of their persurers, bobbing in the gloomy night as they too stop from the vibrations.
All around him the air seems to shift and come alive, static crackling around his ears. The tent filled with the stolen treasures begins to glow, and shake, Hunk barely able to make out the shadowed form of his teammate.
With a sudden pop, everything quiets down before a cacophony of noises erupts from the various tents. The loudest, and most nightmarish, coming from the main big top. Hunk let's out a startled shout when he spots Shiro running towards him.
He barely has time to turn around and start running himself, before the lion rams into his legs. Yelling, he manages to grab hold onto Shiro's mane, gripping with all of his might.]
Holy crow, what did you do back there?! Crap, crap, Keith and Lance better be here or were totally screwed!!
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The world narrows for Shiro then and - that's the way its supposed to feel. That's the way its supposed to be. Because he has his own body around him, fur and muscle and metal and star bones and the only part of this entire mad house that matters is hanging on to him as tight as Death. The rest of the Circus can go to hell - or save itself to heaven. Shiro did his part. All that matters, the only thing he needs to concentrate on, is getting his paladin, his team mate, his friend, to safety. And to that purpose he is suddenly grateful for the hugely muscled body he's been given. Because the muscles are tight coils of steel and velvet that bunch and flex and press him forward so fast that the icy air stings down his nose and into his lungs and he has to slit his eye against the rush of his long uncoiling body through it. His huge paws eat up the distance in devouring leaps, claws digging in for traction, powerful back legs pushing off. He's never been able to run in this form and something tells him he may never again and there is so much wild freedom in the pure energy and power of it that he could almost forget and run forever.
Almost.
Because compared to his huge body, Hunk is no weight at all but the weight he holds on Shiro's heart is immovable and the huge cat's body pushes itself to its limits and then far behind, great heart pounding with that beat. All around them tents go up in black flame or shatter in broken mirror shards or writhe, wailing where their tent pegs hold them down and the beings that burst and crawl and slink and slither and fly from those openings are beautiful and terrible and horrifying and pitiable, screaming and singing and crying and exalting all in cacophony.
And Shiro runs as if he's burning up from the inside out.
The edge of the Circus comes into view and the night beyond it crinkles as if viewed through crinkled celophane. Shiro roars and puts on his last burst of energy to reach it as something, somewhere behind them, starts to try to crack reality itself in two to force its way in or out of the Circus.]
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And with what is now behind them, with what is creating those terrifying shrieks, and wails? Hunk knows deep in his gut that if he falls he won't ever see another day. He also knows that if he falls, Shiro will stop to save him, and Voltron will lose two of its Paladins. Because whatever his teammate let loose is beyond simple anger, or lust for revenge. Among the various creatures and experiments is something far greater, and vast.
Something that has been waiting just for this day, for this moment, and it doesn't care about not taking the one who set it free down with everything else.
While Hunk was wishy-washy on the idea of ghosts, or spirits, there was denying that an ancient one had just been released and it was hungry. He could feel the impossibly cold chill of it in his own bones, and he clutched even tighter to the moving mass underneath him. Tears prick in the corner of his eyes as the weight of its immense pain, suffering, longing, all of the things it has built over it's seemingly incalculable length of captivity bears down on the entirety of the circus. Hunk's heart is almost too gentle to keep it out, to ignore the way it tugs and pulls at him, to fulfill a desire to calm that quaking monster.
It's Shiro's roar that snaps him back to the true reality, and he looks up to see the final barrier of the circus perimeter rushing toward them.
Close, they're so close. There's lights flickering out in the distance that Hunk knows are their fellow teammates. The Red and Blue Paladins with their Lions. As the soft haired, and warm lion beneath him surges through the last threshold a wave of relief courses through Hunk's system. The almost suffocating presence is gone and the younger man lets out a cheerful holler.
At least until there's a cracking sound from behind. Hunk yells as something wraps around his leg and jerks him backwards. The night sky is whirling in his vision as he tumbles from the mighty lion's back, the Black Paladin armor spilling out alongside him. Groaning, he pushes himself up onto his knees and looks up, almost afraid of what he'll see. A gasp slips from his lungs, eyes going wide as they settle on the view of a very, very furious Ringmaster, his bleeding, tattered face illuminated by the red glow of the whip in his hand.]
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oh... the stars above are real.
Shiro's great jaws snap open to roar again -
and suddenly the weight is snatched off of his back and his heart threatens to go with it. The speed he was moving at makes it hard to stop, harder still to turn and Shiro digs in great bone white claws, tearing up dirt and turf, whole giant body twisting and falling, going down in a spin that still rolls him painfully. Something's wrong with his body, with his bones but it still moves because that's all that matters as he struggles back to his four feet and his heart threatens to crack in two when he sees -
His roar isn't the only one that splits the air, as something, somewhere, vast and ancient, reacts to its paladin's danger. But all Shiro sees is Faust's own devil and the hold it has on his teammate. He dives for the whip, intent on catching it in his great jaws and severing that link, whatever the cost.]
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The Ringmaster laughs, a dark, wicked sound as his frenzied eyes meet Hunk's. The Yellow Paladin barely registers the dual sounding roars. Panic begins to well up in his veins as he attempts to jerk his captured leg back. It's a fruitless effort. After so many countless years of keeping his own created monsters under command, the Ringmaster has a level of strength that's greater than Hunk's own.
Just when he moves to go for his Bayard, there's a dark blurred mass rushing by his side.]
Shiro, no!!
[Hunk tries to swat the lion away as his powerful jaws bite down on the whip. He doesn't want his friend anywhere near this crazed maniac, especially not when said psycho has nothing to lose any longer. Despite being able to break bones, the whip's braided cord doesn't seem to yield to Shiro's sharp teeth.
Watching with deadly intent, the Ringmaster laughs even louder, jerking both Paladin and lion in closer. Hunk yanks his Bayard out, and keeps his voice soft so only Shiro can hear.]
When I get to 3 you gotta let go and grab onto my arm understand? I'm gonna blast this creep back into his dimensional hell hole, and you're gonna keep me from going with him. I'm pretty sure the rounds of my canon will be enough to break the energy coating on his stupid whip. So... On 3 okay?
a little late but Merry Christmas!
Not on Shiro's watch though. He can feel his body trying to shift, trying to becomes - something. Something it once was or something it's never been but the beast is starting to slip away and - he can't. He can't let it. Because the beast is the only thing that can fight the Ringmaster and he places its huge body, his huge body between his friend and the barrier and the demon on the other side and if they get pulled in - well, he'll be in first and then they'll see just how strong the bones of the Ringmaster are.
On Circus ground though - even Shiro's beast brain realizes what a hopeless gamble that would be, suddenly unreliable body or not.
The only other option is letting go of the whip though and that's not going to happen. He'll be dragged back into hell before he'll lose Hunk.
Except Hunk is talking and even over the screaming, howling roar of the Circus and the building tension in his head as he can feel something approaching from the other direction, he can hear it. Because - its Hunk. And his ear twitches on that side. The words... the words make sense. And he doesn't like them, a low growl that doesn't sound exactly right in his throat. But -
Shiro winks. Just the one great eye on the side that his teammate is on. He doesn't like it but he trusts Hunk's judgement. On 3 he'll let go and dive aside to grab his arm.
And if it doesn't work, they'll go to hell together, because he's not going to let go.]
merry christmas to you as well!!
Taking a steadying breathe, Hunk counts down audibly enough for the hulking lion to hear him.]
One...
[Hunk grips his injured fingers tightly on the Bayard's handle, doing his best to ignore the flaring throbs of pain it generates.]
Two...
[Rising his gaze away from Shiro's, he focuses his eyes on the Ringmaster. The crazed look on the man's face, as he jerks the pair closer, only serves to strengthen Hunk's resolve. Focusing his thoughts on his weapon, there's a flash of light and-]
Three!!
[The Bayard shifts to its heavy canon mode, and Hunk grits his teeth as the added weight pulls on his injured hand, as Shiro's fangs pull at his arm. With his good one, he holds the massive weapon up, and aims for the glowing cord in front of him. Pulling on the trigger unloads a volley of charged rounds. Some make their target, blue light clashing against the red, until the glow of the whip sputters and dies. Others fly past the cord and strike the screeching Ringmaster himself.
Hunk fires round, after round, until he feels the tight cord around his ankle grow slack, and the force that was pulling them towards the collapsing hellscape has ceased. Watching the Ringmaster fall, bleeding and cursing them, the Yellow Paladin can't help the shudders that wrack through his body. The swirling vortex of death and chaos is still trying to draw them in, as if it knows there are souls that belong within it outside of its grasp.
There's no doubting what it wants though. It wants the real monster that created it. Gave birth to the cruelty and blood-lust that is currently consuming itself whole. Hunk intends to give that beast just what it desires. With a soft cry, he pulls the trigger on his canon once more. The charged rounds strike the Ringmaster, sending him backwards, and right into the range of the monster's claws.
The night air is filled with the screeching terror of the Ringmaster being pulled back into his own realm, the one that once protected him and now rips him limb from limb, to suffer in his own personal hell. Satisfied with its victim, the rippling gate vanishes with a crack, leaving the grassy plain just as it should be. Still, and quiet, except for the soft sounds of native insects and a calm breeze.]
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The pressure and implosion of the Circus is so strong that he feels as if its all inside of his head trying to get out and in the devastating silence after he finally realizes he can let go of Hunk's arm with his great aching jaws. He feels hollow and he feels horrible, as if the inside of his head is turning inside out, growing fangs inside of him and exposed raw nerves on the outside. He screams as he goes down and its a animal howl that shifts too close to human for comfort. With no reason left strong enough, his body starts the transformation process without his consent, bones snapping and popping, rearranging, muscle rippling and writhing. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers pain like this once before but its so far away and distant there's no true memory of it. Unaware, the white of his armor glows, a dust like stars drifting out of it to fall over the giant furred body as it shrinks and screams and writhes.
The ugly Galra tech arm is the first thing to solidify in the twisting mess of growing skin and shrinking fur and fang.]
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A memory of watching some decades old horror film with Lance comes to mind. Of a man changing into a werewolf, and then later changing back. It's similar to that, the movement of skin, and muscles, over shrinking and shifting bones. Hunk wants to look away so badly, but finds that he can't, even as his stomach begins to clench with a desire to be sick.
Someone needs to see this, to remember what Shiro might end up forgetting.
That way, at least, there will be somebody who can help. Who can keep the Black Paladin out of situations that might trigger anything he'd rather forget. None of them know what he went through with the Galra, what was done to him during that year he was in their clutches. Hunk won't let that be the case again. He won't let Shiro have to suffer through nightmares and terrors alone.
There's a familiar, mechanical sounding roars in the distance. Hunk glances out across the field to where the meeting point is and can see the shadowed forms of Red and Blue. Biting at his lip, he can only quietly pray that Shiro's return to his true form finishes quickly. The sooner he's back to being human, the sooner he can call for their teammates to take them home.]
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It ends though. It has to end eventually and the fur is the last part of him to fade from beast back into human, sinking into him as if its still a waiting part of what he is, leaving behind growing patches of pale, sweat soaked skin and revealing scars. So many violent and ugly scars, some of them still the new pink of fresh marks but most the dull dark purple or white of old ones. Shiro's body lays like something that's been tossed aside and discarded, utterly loose jointed - but he breathes. He breathes, chest heaving with it and after a short amount of time his eyes crack open, slit with pain -
and they're the cloudy sky grey of completely human eyes.]
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