Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to Circus Carnivore's Special All Hallows Show!
[A tall debonair figure clothed in purple silk tips the hem of a large hat at the attendants who cross the entrance of the Circus Carnivore. If the RingLeader is a man or a woman is up to anybody's guess.
The atmosphere is heavy underground and the darkness seems to
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And so he was still clad in garish crimson red, hair to toe, sharp teeth peeking out from his lips as he smiled, observing souls all about him, wondering what sort of lives these people, these sinners, could have led.
A gloved finger twitched.]
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[Shying away now. She's always been picky about who she lets touch her.]
Anyway we can, as long as they die.
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[A flamboyant look, his hips wriggling excitedly as he stood to let her keep her distance.]
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[Covering her mouth does nothing to dim the sound of her high pitched laughter.]
They~ have nothing to do with it.
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Not a daddy's girl, or a momma's?~
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[More laughing, more disturbing than amusing.]
The whole family's little girl, except not.
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[He twirled a little, coat tails fanning out, before he bowed to her, low, practiced]
And they did so well, for the Little Mistress~ Does she have another name, or is this preferred?
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[She could courtesy as well as anyone but chose not to, instead accepting the bow as her due, and smiling, always smiling, the best expression to deal with anything.]
She~ does, but she likes being called Little Mistress.
Hmm. Road. Road Cam~e~lot~.
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[The name rolled off his tongue in a pleased croon. It was absolutely delightful, this place. What would William think? Oh, his twitching eyebrow, that displeased expression...]
Grell Sutcliff, butler of death, at your service. ♥
[His teeth were sharp, the same bite as his chainsaw, death scythe.]
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[She liked the name, accustomed to strange names as she was, and it's less of a mouthful than her previous nickname for him at any rate.]
Butler of death, is it?
[Oh, but what a wicked smile that was. She wondered if he'd bite.]
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[He smirked, lips pulled back far too wide, and sharp teeth too white, too wicked]
A good enough title, no, Little Mistress Camelot?~ A good job, too.
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[She would have responded with a smile in kind, if she could, but for now a look of devilish glee would have to suffice. More than enough time for him to see her actual face in the future, and someone with as brilliant as smile as his most definitely would.]
But what job exactly does~ a butler of death do~?
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