The Ginger Sisters' Carnival (IC Thread)

(( OOC thread is listed here: http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=732285

Only characters who have been approved in the OOC thread are eligible for posting. Should you wish to join us, write a bio in the OOC thread and I'll check it out.

Enjoy reading. ))

Date: 9th of June, 2016
Location: Central Park, New York City
Entrant: Sheila Ginger, Director.

It's now been 4 years since me and Larissa took over the Carnival. Or.. were forced to, is probably a better description..

Ever since Dad got that accident during a routine training, things have never been the same for us. Then again.. with a collection of freaks like us, things can barely be considered normal to begin with.

After the accident, many of our family left, concerned that whatever happened to Dad could also happen to them. I don't bear them any ill will, I just hope that they are alright in this inconsiderate world.

We took things slowly for the first year and a half, much time was spent finding new family members, teaching them our craft, training them to hide their gift or to make it seem innocent.
After that 1,5 year, we started to tour again. First in the local area around Houston, then the surrounding states.
And now, we're here.. New York City. For many, if not all of us, the biggest podium we'll ever have.

And yet... there are feelings that I simply cannot shake.. Like this place will also be our biggest testing phase.

Sheila closed the book as she heard the knocking on her trailer's door.
"Yes? What is it?" She called out. It was most likely to be her sister, but it never hurt to ask anyway.

Damion la Strange

Damion woke up as water poured over him, blinking his eyes he lifted his head and groaned from the pain and laid his head on the ground again...soggy...muddy ground. Slowly he rolled over onto his stomach, it felt like his head throbbed painfully, but Damion could at least open his eyes now. A wave of nausea washed over him and he could feel the bile pushing up to his mouth and he forced it back. What on earth happened to him? He spat out the vile taste in his mouth and slowly composed himself. The pain started to reside and focus on the base of his skull, slowly he managed to get to his feet. Wiping the water out of his eyes he looked around him, at first he thought he was in a ruined building, but closer inspection proved it to be a construction site.

As he stumbled out between the framework, vertigo overtook him and he fell to his knees and threw up. He got up again and looked around, then realized that the pain was gone, he carefully felt the back of his head and found that there was no wound, feeling a bit higher up he encountered a ponytail. So he had longish hair, maybe that meant something? Nope nothing came to mind, he shivered from the cold wind that suddenly blew over him. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and noticed a few lights not too far off.

Damion set off towards the lights, stumbling on his cramped up legs, but as he moved it became better, but the cold wind chilled him to the bone. He felt groggy though, it must have been one very hard hit, when he looked up he was among a group of tents

"Hey!"

As he turned, he lost his footing and fell down on the ground, he laid there, groaning as a new set of pains rushed through his cold body. The voice that made him turn around forgotten for now

Emelia heard her sister answer and stepped into the old trailer. It had been the one their dad used........before things got complicated.

She ducked her head as she came in the door. Short wasn't one of her favourite things to be, so she got much taller when she was moving about the grounds. The 6 foot girl looked at the back if her sister's head, "are you ready to give the pep-talk to the crew? I've got them all assembling in the main tent".

Emelia was already expecting a scowl when her older sister turned around, Sheila didn't like her walking around in her stage costume, but she enjoyed it too much to give up.

Rubbing the dirty mirror Max could see his pale worn face and the dark circles under his eyes. Coming back to a city had been taking its toll on him. As they had travelled north he had felt the mounting mental pressure from all of the ‘voices’ in the city, it was like he was slowly sinking under an ocean of black noise. At least he couldn’t hear the voices this time. He shook his head. The continual concentration needed to retain his self and not be swept away by the noise had drained him and when he could do it no more he returned to his old friend Jack D for comfort and then thankfully unconsciousness. Looking back across the caravan he could see the empty bottle lying next to his bed and two used glasses on the floor. He did have a vague recollection of drinking with someone last night but who, he could not recall. It was just as likely that the glasses had been there for days; he dismissed the thought.
The drinking however had been real. His head pounded, the pounding was just out of time with the waves of noise from the city. The two beats in his had momentarily disoriented him making him stumble back to the bed. Painfully catching his shin on the wooden bed frame he slumped down closing his hands over his ears and closing his eyes tight wishing he could block the world and his hangover out.

It was ten minutes since he had heard the knock on his door calling the ragtag team together for another un-motivational pep talk from the Sisters. He had woken still fully clothed including his muddy boots. He was not in the mood. Lying back on the bed he started to push his presence in to the minds of the whole crew. Staying in his warm bed was far more palatable then walking through the wet ground to the centre tent. His attempt at projection, even he knew, was bound for failure within a few seconds. The resulting wave of nausea though was enough motivation to get him out of bed. He burst out of the caravan, in the dark, Max missed the steps and fell the foot and a half to the wet grass. Scrambling to his feet he made it to the back of the caravan before violently parting with Jack and the carrot friends he had made on the inside.

Max now started making his way to the large tent stopping to grab his winter coat to ward off the cold. He could hear voices and shouting but could not see who. It was the norm, he ignored it and walked on towards the tent, late as usual and as usual he didn’t give a fuck.

(( Still waiting for Springwheel to show up.. but I'll go on nonetheless ))

Sheila turned around, showing only a light frown as she saw the costume of her sister. While it made her uneasy to see her sister in such skimpy clothes, it was Emy's wish to dress like that.
"Yep, thanks Sis." She looked out of the window to her side.
"Can you believe it.. New York City.. the biggest audiance that we've ever had. Not even Dad managed to go someplace like this" She said like she was talking to nobody in particular.
"I'm not saying we surpassed Dad.. heck, our lives would've been totally different if it wasn't for his start.

It's just.. I miss him Emy, I wish he could've been around to see us here."
Sheila let out a long, sad sigh. Talking about their father had always been hard for the older sister. She stood up and nodded to her taller, yet younger sister.
"Okay, let's go."

There was commotion down below; his friends, colleagues and other employees of the carnival were gathering in the center grounds. ‘Later’ he thought, as he managed his way up the tall ladder. He knew Sheila was planning to rally the troops and psyche them up for their first show in NYC, and he would make this meeting in due time. But right now, he had a ladder to climb, and a new stunt to test.

Due to the ladder’s height, plus the fact that his arms and legs were nothing more than stumps about 3-4 inches long, the task was not an easy one. Not easy... but NOT impossible.

Evan used to have full use of his arms and legs.... and he also was endowed with the gift of moving his muscles, in fact his entire body mass, in some cases the very CELLS of his body to such an incredible degree of control that he could travel at speeds that would rival that of race cars and some airplanes.

Since the mysterious accident took his limbs, he discovered his body still had the gift of super-speed. He couldn’t run or climb nor achieve the top-speeds the way he used to, but by focusing on his torso muscles and remaining arm & leg muscles in his stumps, he could utilize that super-speed in many different ways... one such trick of movement enabled him to make progress up the ladder: he scissored his leg-stumps to “hop” up each successive rung, and grasping the ladder with his arm stumps and hooking the next rung under his chin. It took a great deal of practice to use just the right amount of force in these hops... A hop at full power could launch him upwards several, several feet. If he had a way to more finely tune his natural aim, he COULD have used a full-power hop and land right on the roof of the trailer... but he didn’t want to overshoot and land on the ground...again.

He finally made it to the top rung and he stood upright. He assessed the grounds, the placement of the trailers, cabs, the canteen... and the big pole where a number of his fellow carnies were standing, chatting, smoking before going to Sheila’s meeting. Every good carnival show needs a “big-pole;” something immense and towering to make all the acrobatics and stunts really wow the crowd.

Evan had worked this out with the carnival drivers and stage-crews the weeks leading up to the New York Gig. The trailers were lined up just the way he wanted. The cable system was attached to the top of the big pole... and his “basket” (a net, similar to those used for rescue efforts, and reinforced with strong cables, padding to be used for stunts) was attached to the end of the cable system... “This is totally going to work!” he said to himself and grinned.

He pushed forward with his left stump, launching his body across the length of the canteen trailer roof at a very swift speed. Just before he cleared the far end, his right leg-stump came down, pushing him forward for another super-speed hop.

He flew over the gap between the canteen trailer and landed on one of the prop trailers and immediately kicked forward with another speed-hop... he continued his run... jumping forward, traveling across the roofs of the trailers, food stands, & special attraction booths in a wide spiral around the grounds... gaining speed, so that on his last hop, he can launch himself with enough altitude and momentum to land inside his “basket”.... and then SPIN around the big pole like a human Tetherball... winding winding winding down, until the basket reached ground level allowing “The Greatest Jackass of them all, Stumpy McGee!” to roll out, victorious in front of an amazed audience...

Or in this case, to his friends and colleagues... none of whom he told about his latest stunt. ‘where’s the fun in telling anyone?’ he mused.

He was approaching the last trailer he needed to jump across to reach the basket, suspended, so close, just awaiting the weight of his impact to release the catch and start the Tetherball spectacle... he took one last great push of his leg-stumps....

Time slowed down... as he sailed OVER his basket... missing it completely... Evan sailed thru the air, almost serene as he thought to himself ‘Okay.... that didn’t work...’

The small crowd of people at the base of the big pole watched as Evan's tiny form flew past it's designated target. Some sighed... many calmly clapped in mock appreciation.

This was not the first time he flew thru the air at speeds impossible for the average human to reach... nor will it be the last. The ability to withstand such incredible wind resistance made his body tough enough to endure impacts like the one he was about to experience... with... he estimated... the West boundary wall of the carnival grounds.

The wall rapidly grew larger as he flew towards it, and Stump saw the New York skyline dip below it’s edge. Laughter overtook him just before his impact. “Hello Big Apple! Hah hah hah hah!”

Peter rummaged in the props trailer, he had to get everything ready for the next show. Max would be furious if they didn't have time to practice their routine before the opening performance, mind you he was often furious for not much reason at all.

Finally locating the last candle, he placed it carefully in a small crate with the other supplies. There was a loud THUMP as something impacted briefly against the roof. "Oh no" he said, rushing to the door.

Outside though, he didn't get a chance to confirm his suspicions. A large man was wandering between the tents somewhat aimlessly. "Hey!" Peter yelled. The man slipped on the wet grass as he tried to turn, landing on his back and groaning in pain. This was definitely not good, there was a stranger on the grounds.

Peter rushed over, his white t-shirt beginning to dampen in the light rain that began as he looked over the large figure. He was a very tall blond man with a scar down one side of his face. Not wanting to get too close, Peter stood a few feet away. The man looked as though he could snap him like a twig. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?" he asked.

Damion la Strange

"Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

The voice sounded uncertain of itself and Damion slowly shook his head to clear it, he looked up to find a slender man with black hair standing close to him.

"I feel like somebody tried to panel beat me with a sledgehammer and I...well...I don't know. I saw the lights and I thought I might find help here"

Damion slowly got to his feet and wiped the water from his face.

"Uhm...where am I?"

Damion knew it would sound stupid, but at this very moment he didn't even know who he was...that had to be a hard knock to the head that he took