Name: Dante Rossi

Age: 13

Phys: Tall, curly brown hair, brown eyes. (Yes, many of my characters are tall. I am five foot nine.)

Personality: Way too curious for his  own good.

Other: Native New Yorker, lives with the Thieves Guild. (What? It's steampunk!) He's a thief, obviously, and a rather good one.

That's an awesome idea!!! I need to think about my charrie this time though, because half the time I end up hating my character or changing my bio, and then everyone gets confused.

I'm searching the depths of Inkwell for like three threads. TOP!

I thought I said top!

Spamdragon, help me!

Spamdragon says rfme. Rain Falls on ME. That's great. A little help?

otp

Why don't we get this show on the road, folks, eh? :P

Oh, and I'm making another charrie.

Name: Renault

Age: suspected to be somewhere around 10 or 11

Phys: Black hair and hollow, deeply-set in black eyes, pale skin 

Other: Apprentice trapezist, orphan 

//Alice Corker//

There is a circus. No one knows what it's actually called since it has thousands of names- Fossies & Company, Ursula's Magical Emporium- but the people apart of it call it the Circus of Dreams. I guess that's because what happens in the circus seems to come straight out of a dream.

The Circus of Dreams doesn't have a set schedule- at least, not a publicly known one. And it's hard to find as well. At first it just seems like a generic travelling circus, but once it's found, the thousands flood inside it's dark purple and black tents. They say watching us is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

I'm normally in the audience or checking for tickets, but I have been in the ring before with the audience staring down at me, expecting something miraculous to happen. The audience always seems to be in a daze, as if they were under a spell.

Don't let me fool you: I'm not one of the performers. I'm not clever enough to be a magician nor agile and flexible enough to be a trapezist. I don't have balance or strength or bravery or any oddity about me. I'm not particularly pretty either. My only redeeming quality I have is my deft fingers, and they're only good for sewing and even then I'm only decent. The only reason I'm kept around is because the Monsieur- the head of the whole circus- is rumoured to be in love with my mum. I doubt it though, I've only seen the man twice and my mum's only seen him once. 

The Monsieur isn't the ringleader of the circus who appears in the beginning and end. The Monsieur never goes into the ring at all. No one knows why so we all just assume he prefers anonymity.

I've never seen anyone practice before and there are never any rehearsals. We just put the tents up, perform, take them down then get on the train to go to whatever place the Monsieur decides.

I don't mind the travelling since I've been doing it for so long now, but it is annoying when it's Janice or my turn to watch Ricci. Ricci's a demon baby (well I think he is) with five chubby arms and vampire teeth. He's always screaming or crying or both and is always in the third carriage. I try to room as far away from that carriage as possible, which is rather easy- the bigger the act, the closer to the front of the train you are. My mum and I are in one of the last carriages with racks full of costumes.

In the first carriage is the Monsieur and whichever lady friend he's toting around. He always has one when we're in public- to keep up a good appearance no doubt.

But the carriage that everyone avoids whenever possible is the second. That's where Mr. Tannebaum, the magician, stays, along with the ringmaster. But the ringmaster is always finds an excuse to stay in some other car.

Mr. Tannebaum is a short, spindly little man, with eyes so dark that they just look like pupils and nothing else. He carries around this scary aura that only disappears when he does and when he's performing.

Everyone part of the circus is aware that he can do almost anything. He can make a human head sprout from a lion's back, he can make anyone fly up into the air, and he can make objects fly at you so quickly that you aren't aware of them until it's too late. We've all seen him do those things.

We also know that he can make a person disappear for good with the snap of his fingers.

He and Ricci aren't the only irksome circus performers. The three main trapeze artists, Malcom, Avi and Blu, also known as the Triplets, never talk. Their performances are always marvelous and seemingly impossible but the only time they open their mouths is to eat and they rarely ever do that even. I checked. It's always like they communicate with each other using their minds.

Their eyes are all dark, though not scary like Mr. Tannebaum's but hollow and empty. They also all have pale, bony faces and their eyes are deepset into their heads, so they tend to look like corpses.

They have an apprentice, a boy a bit younger than me named Renault. He's just as hollow-eyed and bony as they are. I heard he was abandoned and one of the Triplets took him in. He never talks either.

The only reason my mum tolerates this freakshow is because my dad ran away to join the circus when I was two. We were in debt and he promised to come back with a whole fortune, but he never did come back. My mum has been joining circuses ever since I was three in hopes of finding him. We haven't found him yet but I have a feeling we will someday.

* (yes, a dramatic asterisk pause)

The train carriage rattles and several racks of costumes threaten to topple over. My mum doesn't even flinch in her deep sleep so I'm the only one left to keep them from falling. The train comes to a sudden stop and the sliding of doors and chains begins. I automatically undo the bolt on my carriage and the whole wall falls down into a ramp. I learned the hard way not to lean anything against that wall.

We're in a giant wheat field. In the distance I can see tall buildings, in another direction are houses that look like they'll fall over any minute now. They're brightly coloured and look like a giant baby took several houses and piled them one on top of the other in an unsteady pile.

The Triplets are already hauling long wheeled boards with poles and canvas on them. That means that we'll be setting up somewhere far away where there are no train tracks. I sigh and begin the task of hauling everything into protective crates and onto the carts. I can wake up my mum once all the work's done- she worked hard enough well past midnight, repairing Mr. Tannebaum's cape to perfection. The man had the gall to walk into our car without knocking. I swear the flower on one of the clown costumes died the moment the door opened.

How was that? I know it's really long, sorry about that. :) 

I know you already kinda started, but may I join?  If I can, can I be like a rich New Yorker's kid who's always running off?  I think there are a lot of those in steampunk.