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Tweak says, "bamba bamba, bamba bamba!"

Ilinca | Илинка (wildrage) wrote in cirque_rp,
@ 2017-10-27 10:13:00

Who: Ilinca & Victor
What: Debuting the new act
When: October 18th, operating hours
Where: V&V
Warnings: Depends on what goes down

As a general rule, Ilinca didn't get nervous before performing. She'd been alive for too long for things like nerves to affect her anymore. But she'd be lying if she said there wasn't anticipation sparking along her skin. Her costume was dazzling and fit her perfectly, her hair was rolled into loose waves, and her ghoulish makeup was appropriately spooky. She looked good, and she knew it.

The opening bars of piano sounded over the speakers, and Ilinca took her spot behind the curtains. She had about 30 seconds before they'd fly open and reveal her, facing away from the audience. She deliberately didn't look at them until the first chorus started, revealing her chalk-white face and bloody lips. Fog rolled around her ankles, lending more of a melancholy, ghostly air to the whole performance.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave...

Ilinca had debated using a wire hanger as some sort of prop, a nod to the famous Mommy Dearest, but had decided against it in the end. No props, no gimmicks, just her on stage, luring the audience in with her dance. Just the way she wanted.

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distressedlace
2017-10-27 02:21 am UTC (link)

It was moving day tomorrow and Victor still hadn’t really gotten used to the concept of moving around so often, but he’d remembered to cut his clothing down by half… which meant he had work clothes for the most part and just a few regular outfits… a couple of sweaters, t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a nice shirt just in case… but if one were to look at his current pick of regalia, they wouldn’t really glean Victor’s personality at all for the most part. He had a ton of tight vests, a couple of black sweaters with holes for colder weather, some sequined vests, tank tops, tight shirts… but he’d learned something well in his time working behind the bar: the less skin, the less tip. It wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable with and when he perceived no one was looking, he’d pull at them, adjust, wiggle around a little, convince himself that this was a part of the job as much as anything else was.

Tonight, he’d picked out a silver sequined vest, just a tad small on him (but without the buttons gapping the cloth or anything, he wanted to look a little… sexy, not cheap), a pair of striped grey and black jeans and his trusty, crusty, sticky Doc Marten’s. They’d seen a lot of floors, a lot of soda, a lot of thick liqueurs and gum on his way back to his dingy apartment. Luckily, no one was really looking at his shoes.

He arrived at Virtue and Vice early to make sure everything was stocked, the lemons, limes and cherries were in their tubs, the liquor was set up so that grabbing for it in the darkness would be second nature and the soda and water was working. All set, it seemed.

His hair was a lighter pink than his previous almost-neon fare, now it was subdued and soft-looking, sprayed lightly to give it some life.

The patrons started entering the room and almost immediately, the bar was bursting with life. A lot of the orders were unremarkable and the patrons were mostly single men, it seemed. Jack and Coke. Whiskey Sour. The occasional margarita. Whiskey on the rocks. A Martini for the more ambitious-looking ones among them, dressed to impress. He’d learned over the last two weeks that there were a bevy of them that thought this was some kind of dating service, that they would leave with one of the beauties on the stage, which made him want to laugh.

No matter how many bars he’d worked with how many go-go dancers, burlesque acts or scantily clad bartenders he’d seen, the story was the same: patrons went home with each other. It took an act of God and a bucket-full of booze to catch a bigger prize than that.

He’d seen Ilinca dance several times now and he didn’t guess that she needed any help finding a partner for the night or… for something more committed, as it were.

A couple of the men looked him up and down, trying to figure out exactly what they were looking at with the five-foot-three, spangled, flamingo-pink-haired creature in front of them, but he tried to ignore it. Smile, never with teeth and as the show started, the orders started dying down.

He had a small list of specials that night, pumpkin spice white Russians, sparkling apple pie (made with craft cider), a nod to Rocky Horror with a rainbow shot called ‘The Secret to Life’ and he’d been pleased. They’d bitten. It was a good idea after all.

A couple of the guys had put their hands over his while giving him the tip and he shyly, nodded, shrinking away a little and smiling at them. He’d gotten a few, “Where are you from?”s, to which he replied, “San Francisco.” Not the answer they wanted to hear. But the answer they’d get. When the music started, they all rushed to take up a seat or stand as close to the stage as they could and Victor couldn’t suppress a small laugh when he heard it was a Joan Crawford routine. Gay icon. Of course he knew who she was.

Ilinca was an absolute vision onstage even with her ghoulish makeup and the crowd went predictably wild. There’d be a second rush for him after the show was in full swing, but for now, he poured himself a sizable amount of Honey Jack Daniels in a low-ball whiskey glass and sipped it, leaning back slightly so he could catch a bit of her show. It’d help him loosen up and even though he worked here, the burlesque routines still delighted him.

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wildrage
2017-10-27 02:34 am UTC (link)

The music pounded in her ears, obscuring the sounds of patrons, her shoes on the stage, pretty much everything but her own heartbeat in her ears. All dancers were light on their feet, but thanks to her Fae heritage, Ilinca almost floated across the stage. The lights winked and flashed off of her dress, throwing little dots of light across the stage, and those seated nearest to it.

"Christina...Mother's home..."

"Christina...come to Mother..."

Ilinca crooked her finger at the audience, and saw one or two of them start to rise from their chairs. She laughed to herself as they sat back down. She'd said it before and she'd say it again: fish in a barrel. Which was good, because she'd need one of them tonight. Her energy was starting to get a little low.

She sailed through the last repeat of the chorus, then curtsied amidst thunderous applause and whistling. She made her way offstage and out into the main area, settling herself in front of the bar. "Some water, please, when you have a moment," she called to Victor, leaning her chin against one hand.