Gypsy king

[tigs]

A considerable rarity, this patchwork consisted of a canine and feline. Markings of rich golds, silken blues, and satin rose brushed across his form. In a sense, he could have been royalty, hit attitude reflected this entirely. Not so much with ego, but he positively radiated confidence, elegence, and sophistication. Being mixed of an Emotion, though, made him prone to mood changes, which was something he was working on controlling better.

He watched the busy humans from afar, secluded in a nest of silks that he'd just stolen. Precious, beautiful things drew his attention, and if only he knew what that would mean as an adult. Though not a Puppet Master, he would surely want a harem, for to have one beautiful thing would not be enough, it wasn't enough now. Bored of his watchful post, he quickly draped his fabric around him and took off for a more private spot.

The dirt was too soft to sit on without getting dirty, so he chose to sit on the edge of the stone which were used as walkways. The sun was mid-way in the sky, just at that point of beginning to sink down. The warmth was still considerable, and he decided that a little sunbathing would be good for his skin. Striking a pose, even in relaxation, he let out a small sigh and closed his eyes.

He hadn't been listening for company, because he hadn't been expecting any. His carelessness with that wasn't a good thing by any means, but there were still many life lessons to learn for one so young.

[silverdust]

She was a flash of rose-rue fire against the streets, a shadowed sunset that one would glimpse for but a moment before she disappeared, dismissed as but a figment of the imagination. She was quick on her feet, dancing upon the rooftops as she searched for something to occupy her artistic mind. Alas, she the young princess had been banished from her father's kingdom, the Maharajah's lair of treasures, for daring to disturb the dragon's sleep. Cast out and away from grace, she wandered, her silken robes torn and her hair disheveled, only taking with her the creativity and artistry that was ingrained into her slender form. She smiled as her imagination wove the story about her, how she loved to place herself within the realms of her father's foreign fairy tales. Oh of course he had not read them to her (imagine that, the Rajah reading bedtime stories?), but he had taught her enough in his offhanded way that she could read herself, as long as she did not mar the delicate artistry of the scrolls.

Oh but she was so far from her precious scrolls and her silks and fans, an exile, fallen idol, what a sad fate for one so young and lovely! Where was her prince to rescue her? Where was her talking bird, singing fountain, magic carpet? Hm, come to think of it, look down there, at the love menagerie of silks. A thousand magic carpets perhaps? And underneath, a sleeping prince. Oh how sweet and royal, wasn't there a story about that? Kept apart from her lover, the princess traveled across the sea on a magical horse of clockwork and lay by his side every night, leaving before sunrise but always leaving him one pearl of her necklace, until he could complete it and come for her. But she had no pearls and no magic horse, so she supposed she would just have to go down and wake him the old fashioned way.

She leapt down lightly, taking the fall as if she wore winged sandals. She stalked over slowly, pretending to be a dancer hidden behind veils of silk and secrecy and the scent of opium perfume. Catching the silk delicately upon one claw as not to mar the design or fabric (living, or rather partially living, with the Rajah had taught her to be very careful around expensive things), she slipped it off of his form, whirling it around herself into a makeshift sari as she leaned close to his ear, breathing in a whisper.

"Awaken dear prince, your harem dancer awaits you."

She barely supressed a snicker at the thought as she whirled away and shifted lithely into anthro-form, humming an arabian melody as she twisted her body with serpentine grace.

[tigs]

It was a sound of bells in his mind, like the swinging chain around the toned hips of a hypnotic dancing gypsy. With the sweet, sing-song chime of bells came the almost overpowering scent of musky incense, sweet perfume, and exotic fruits. His mind was in a place as far away as her own, in which his lovely fabrics were fashioned after the shape of his form, and many jewels adorned his roguish body. Mane- but hair! Long, beautiful hair which only set off the colours of his skin, and the golden eye makeup he wore.

Lovely and masculine, he was a proud and confident leader, but not of something so high as palace royalty, no, he was a wild gypsy king, leading a resistance of freedom fighters. His fantasy was one longing of a mix of adventure and luxury, the allure of being a rebel, but the amour of being adored royalty nonetheless. Her reading was matched by his writing skills, and together he and the burgundy mistress wove incredible tales, and incredible scemes. She knew no wrong, as did he. But alas, the dream would be shattered, and he would awake.

"What luck, I had almost feared losing my partner in mischief." He smirked, rolling to his feet with an impossible grace. Believe it or not- he danced as well. No two left feet for him, he was as agile as any marionette, and just as alluring. But at such a young age, he had only his fantasies of older years to admire him. It was enough for now.

"I'm surprised to see you out so early..." He commented, smiling a sly smile which hinted without words that she must have been up to no good. She was his sister, after all. But he knew little of where they got it from, for their Emotion mother was more of the artistic dreamer than the mischevious prince or princess. Not with the best self esteem, she was still lovely, she had been a wonderful complimenting contrast to what he knew of their father. Which wasn't much, after all, there was only room for one gypsy king in this town.

[silverdust]

"Lose me? Never me, Sinbad, Prince of Thieves. We are two of the same, Gemini, perhaps. And our sister the third, wherever she may be."

She gave a devlish grin and whirled the silk again, throwing it veil-like over her nose. She flipped a light backspring, the ghost-girl's mother had shown her how once, though she might never be an acrobat as she. She twirled again as she landed, really she should be dizzy but she enjoyed the world spinning in flashes of color around her, her brother a menagerie of a sunset over water.

"Early, I suppose. I was exiled by the Maharajah, he is in a sour mood today. Even I for all my talents could not soothe his soul, I Scheherakaezabi, mistress of a thousand stories."

She laughed and winked at her brother, holding out a paw as she invited him to join her in her dance. Her name was long and prideful for one so young, but father had allowed her to choose her own name, for he could not be bothered with such trivialities as a child, much less naming it. He only referred to her as 'girl' anyways, and that was when he was in a good mood. She hummed another tune from a sitar before lapsing back into her story-telling. She could never go very long before stretching back into her imagination.

"So I left with only the clothes on my back to escape his fearful wrath. I sought refuge in the dark kingdom of the Goblin King and his broken brother, but his wraitling consort told me he was too in bad temper, and I would not be welcome. Their mother Kali-Ravana, the many-armed demoness, glared at me from the shadows and I would not risk her anger. So I sought the Blind Maskmaker's Daughter, in her cave, but she was nowhere to be found, and I had to wander farther. And now I seek refuge in the Gypsy King's lair."

She gave a graceful, mock-swoon as if a traveler worn from the road, trusting he would catch her. "You would give sanctuary to an exiled princess, would you not?"

[tigs]

"Wherever she may be, indeed, but a constant companion to my side, I should know to always count on you appearing." He smiled fondly and twirled a piece of the fabric which his sister was dancing with, controlling her movement closer to him. Control was a fun factor to him, not that he'd belittle any of her potential to be dominant and controlling in her own way, not at all. He had a vast respect for the opposite gender, mostly coming from having been around Zabi for so long, she was basically his exact counterpart, and as much as he was infatuated with himself, he felt the same for her. She was a fine example of what females should be like.

"A sour mood? I wonder where mother would be... normally she'd be eager to ease his sourness. Though you are talented as well, I suppose there's an advantage she has with having such an intimate connection." He winked and easily moved into her dance, shifting as soon as his foot moved forward. His silks of silver and blue wound around him, overlapping her own as his hands shifted from shoulder, to hip, to waist, as he continued to circle about her. Their steps intertwined, to a point where most would think surely one or the other would trip or fall over, but even as he threw his head back and laughed, eyes closed, he knew where her next move would be, and anticipated it with his own serpent-like movements.

"Ah, I have only been to the lair of the beautiful bird, his exotic tails needed preening and so without such duties, I could not have endured staying for such unentertaining activities. Though I did stumble across The Imposter, her mystifying magic leaving me in a stupor, but much pleased. Such talents are intriguing... though a little unrealistic. I'm sure there's a trick to it..." His mind seemed to go back to the presentation but on by the newcomer- the Magician child. She'd been drawn to him from the start, and it was no wonder, her being a gift from a human gypsy king of another sort..

"You could be a spy my dear! Oh but I should know better... surely you couldn't betray me... for it would be your last mistake.." With this he turned her mock-swoon into a real swoon, charming smile directly in her face though his claw was mockingly at her slim throat. "You're lucky I long for such agreeable company... I suppose I can take a few chances." Another roguish wink was given before he settled into the fabrics on the stone step, leg stretched outwards to support his hand as he leaned on the opposite hip. A favoured pose, he'd stolen it from somewhere or other.

[silverdust]

She copied his smirk and spiced it with a laugh as she flopped down beside him, temporarily forsaking her grace. Beauty and regality was important to her, but she did not revel in it completely, lest she become like her father. That was a strange, frightening thought.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the sun upon her rose-tinted fur. "It seems you have quite the more aesthetic adventures than I. And perhaps a budding romance...?"

She cracked open one eye to wink at him before retreating back into her reverie. "You are lucky, there are no such prospects for me. The children around me are ugly and twisted, the adults strange. The only one that I might dally with had I the interest would be the masked Marionette, but she is carved of ice, one touch, she shatters into silence. The Goblin King is no beauty in a beast's guise, but he is powerful even for his youth. Yet the wraithling adores him so, I would not enter their strange tangle. And I don't even want to think of the other Puppet, he disgusts me so."

She stretched, arching her back and nonexistant chest, opening her eyes with a sigh. "Call me shallow, I don't mind. Being with the Rajah has made me a slave to beauty, I will not deny it. Besides, you are all the companionship I need for now."

Her face soured slightly into a pretty pout as she thought of her father. "Oh, even Mother wouldn't reach him at a time like this, and I don't understand how she ever did. The Maharajah is cold and malicious, and he thinks of nothing but himself. As much emotion as a cold diamond. There is but one who could stir him, the name that he murmured once in his nightmares. But hush, I cannot tell you this secret for all the treasure in the world."

She sat up abruptly, pulling her knees to her chest and cocking her head sideways at him in an impish, enchanting motion. "So what shall we do, now that we Gemini have joined?"

[tigs]

He laughed aloud at the prospect of a 'budding romance'. No romances would be for him, but simple lusty tendencies. He didn't want to be tied down, too independant for words, he thought it was weak to need another in any way, shape or form. But plenty would oppose his opinion, he didn't mind. "Romance? You should know me better, my sweet princess. She is intriguing, but I've plenty to do before considering such things." The Magician was lovely, there was no doubt, but there must be so much more beauty for him to see yet.

"You simply have to venture farther my dear. Tell me, have you met the beautiful bird? Though he preens, he is a bird of song and beauty, adventure as well. I think you might find him interesting." Cerivaeje was practically an instant partner in crime to Rakaeja, the other male fitting his profile for minions perfectly. Charming and suave, the peacock Masquerade/Music seemed to enjoy Ra's crazy ideas as much as he enjoyed adding his own little spicings here and there.

The wretched company, he knew that all too well. Twisted demons roamed nearby, and he'd have nothing to risk his ruling looks and sinbad attitude. He kept far from them, for to be 'badass' was one thing, but to be satanic was not part of the creations for his fantasies. In his world, they would not be permitted to exist, as simple as that.

"Beauty is wonderful, I must admit I too am a slave to things which catch the eye, intrigue, and captivate." He sighed wistfully, thinking of all the jewels and fabrics and rich paints he would use were he to establish a personal headquarters for himself, as he often dreamed. The ladies would all compliment his choice of decor, and only the most exotic and sought-after would be his personal companions.

He frowned softly, and thought back to when last he'd seen his mother. "It does seem a strange mix. Perhaps his lack of emotion, and her overabundance caused something to open up, something which he now has either sealed or chosen to ignore. I imagine she is rather upset, and so hides her misery from us." He nodded, it made the most sense, that she would be too embarassed to cry in front of her children, but being of an Emotion type, the constant rejection would be so very hard to handle.

He shook the tension from the air with a simple roguish grin and looked around, "Well, I don't know really. I've already done a fair bit of dastardly deeds in this short span of daylight. Night will be arriving in a few hours, and you never know what will await."

[silverdust]

She smiled. Of course her brother would have no feelings as of yet, she should know this. Perhaps it was her own desire, already prematurely aged from so much time in her fairy tales. And in some way, some tiny jealous worm in her heart was relieved. As odd a complex, she didn't exactly like the idea of sharing her 'prince'. But those little parts were kept to herself, for she had inherited her father's mystery, in that respect at least.

The mention of their mother's sadness gripped like a small vice around her. She wasn't familiar with her mother, and indeed wondered why she had been chosen (or if it had been her choice, she wished she could remember what called her) for her father's cruel silence and apathy. But from Rakaeja's words, it had painted a soft watercolor mist of the care she wanted, the tenderness. To know that the Maharajah caused her such pain, it ached for she too had that persisting desire for his attention. But perhaps she was so more used to the rejection than her dear mother, having grown with it for as long as she could remember. But with a tactful grin her brother abruptly lightened her mood. He always seemed in tangent with her emotions, no wonder they worked so well together.

"Yes night, always so alive! Too bad we lack a marionette's shift, the humans can be so fun to play with in their soirees..."

She hummed as she lifted and arm, letting the silk slip off of it like rose rued water. She gave her brother a sly glance and feigned flirtation, batting her eyes. "Bird? I have not met this bird you speak of, perhaps sometime our paths may cross and I might hear his song for myself. Yet your choice of companionship has always been exquisite."

She knew not of his desires for his harems and exotic ladies, but she could well guess. Her dreams strayed more in the direction of a library of scrolls and paintings, and as for males...well, if only those in her stories could be brought to life. Warriors and princes and sorcerers of great power, those she would be drawn to, if tey had cahnce to exist in this reality.

[Vyn]

With twilight she came, the third dancer in the trio of gypsies and dreams. She was the mingling of twilight and morning, a dream in waking; gold and pinks brushing the tips of her paws and muzzle, sliding into dreamy blue streaked with the darker hues of midnight. She was a Queen of Gypsies, dancing in the dreams of humans and Euclide alike, singing her sweet lullabies to the subconscious.

But o! what a different tale she spun than the ones of which her siblings adored so! Her mind was filled with the morbidly exotic songs of Kthulu's dark world; she had followed the Mahareja's decent into the Nightmare domain.

Though her paws were dipped in sunset, she followed the descent of the burning orb, dragging behind her the cloak of darkness and the cover of a star besotted sky. From her maw drifted the dark melodies of her mind, the songs of Kthulu and his dark land. Her voice was laced with poison, but as soft as silk, alluring and terrifying at once.

"And what do we have here, the twins draped in silk? Finally come to earth from another carpet ride?"

A beautiful smile graced nightmare's muzzle as the young Puppeteer pivoted upon her paws and allowed the seamless change from feline to anthro so that she could join her siblings in their thoughtful basking. Lightly she rested upon the step above her siblings, watching them with shining void-like eyes.

_{Kaethulabi: 1}

[silverdust]

Their last sister and the trinity was complete! Schehera tipped her head back to smile into her sibling's cool, dark orbs. Three was a number of power, repeated many a time over in the fairy tales she spun into life. And what a third power, for light also needed darkness to grow. The one thing she did not hold with the fairy tales, the clear cut line between black and white, light and dark, good and evil. Her sister was darkness, but she never would've liked to believe it to be evil.

"Never coming to earth, only visiting," she laughed brightly, reaching her hands out to cup her sister's face. "If I descend all the way down, I'd be destroyed. You know that, don't you?"

And what eerie truth there might be behind her words, she hid carefully. Instead, she smiled even brighter and flopped onto her back, so she could have full view of their sibling's face. She had always held a slight awe for the third sister, for she reminded her the most of their father. In that way, gaining attention, acceptance from her, helped to ease her ache at the Maharajah's indefference. A shallow imitation, but she made the most of it, hiding behind her masks of silk.

"Dear sister, I have been banished from my kingdom," her voice a soft plea, almost convincing if not for the spark of devilment in her eyes. "Write for me the next part of the story, for the princess is lost among her gypsy thieves."

She flashed a wicked grin at her brother. Her sister, with her nightmare mind, could weave such macabre tales, she could only dream of one day grasping. Her sister was fearless in the grotesque, not afraid to reach into the darkest recesses of the minds she prowled, and draw out true horror, and true beauty. Schehera's stories were not complete, after all, without the shadow.

[Vyn]

Thula watched as her sister tipped her head back to gaze upon her, a haunting smile playing over her visage. With a playful twirl upon her hindpaw, Thula altered her shape from animal to anthro, basking in the effect the embellishment gave. If only she had some smoke and the right lighting, she could've doubled the effects...but no, she'd leave illusion crafting for the Magicians.

And o! how true those words were! Darkness and nightmares but never truly evil, she walked a fine line...but her sister read it well.

Mixed emotions, smiles suited to nightmares and likewise wrapped in sunrise, Thula leaned into her sister's touch. Briefly she reached up, gold-tipped fingers brushing her sister's rose-hued cheeks.

"Of course, my dearest sister! Ne'er could you truly touch the ground, nor I meet eyes with sun's zenith, lest we meet our final fairytale ending and what a pity it would be, to close the tale too soon."

Thula could read the truth hidden within her words and could see the darkness lurking in the shadows of her brilliant smile. Although just a child, Thula had lurked in the subconscious of many, had watched their nightmares manifest before them. She knew of the darkness within people's minds and she knew how to unlocked those captive feelings. Yet, such a fate was one she'd never unburden upon her dearest sister of sunset embodied.

For this reason as well as many others, Kaethula was always happy to play her role in her siblings' stories, always happy to bring them a wisp of shadow to weave into their Arabian dreams.

"Lost, are you, among the gypsy thieves? So far from your beloved kingdom, of what thy heart holds familiar to thee? O, sweet sister! Never fear! The raven cometh and she knows your name, she bears tidings from the Queen of Nightmares and bids thee welcome to her domain."

She held out her hand to her sister then, smiling with deviled bemusement and her eyes twinkling with the nightmares she so adored.

"But do you dare to dream such things? To take flight upon raven's wings? And would you quest to find her lair? Though it might mean to descend through despair?

Speak now, my sister beloved... The raven won't linger long, she is just a simple messenger of the nightmare's elusive song."

_{Kaethulabi: 2}

[tigs]

His roguish danger held him the element of intrigue that his sister saught from Kaethula. Though he enjoyed her stories as well, he was less likely to jump in. He preferred his realm of princesses and gypsy thieves. Smiling gently, he twirled his silken fabric about himself and bowed.

"It is an honour, oh mistress of the dark." His eyes rose to her carefully, as if not entirely sure of her actions. It was a play, he truly trusted his sister, but in his realm she would be a dark witch to be feared, and he'd treat her as so.

It was then that a lovely Magician came into the scene. She was mischevious with her top hat and wand, playing a role all of her own. "Very interesting." She stated simply, watching the surprised grin that came from the Gypsy King himself. She had wanted to join for a while, but they were so interesting, and she lacked the imagination to craft the things they crafted for each other and themselves.

"Birakaecia, Magician Director extroardinaire!" She bowed dramatically, rising up and tipping her tophat. The cerulean tuxedo femme glanced at the other two and took a careful step forward, tapping her wand against her leg. "And who might these be? Company of the Gypsy King himself?" She wondered aloud, though she'd picked up on their parts of the conversation, and knew more than she let on.

As a newcomer, though, she wanted to play the part. She was surprised when a hand came over to rest on her shoulder, turning her to the side. "A master of illusions! You simply must join my band of outcasts. With your skills we have the means to deceive and confuse those who would oppress us!" He seemed excited by the mix which had fallen into their gathering. A Gypsy King, a scholar-like Princess, a dark crafter of nightmares, and a rogue of illusions. What more could one ask for?

"To what allegiance does this Queen of Nightmares lie? To think... adding to our forces would make us unstoppable! The world could be ours..." He tempted, pulling a silken scarf around his face to create a mysterious appeal.