InsaneJournal

klaus mikaelson (howeverlong) wrote in carnaval_logs, @ 2013-09-11 22:07:00

There was a trick to swallowing swords that Klaus hadn't quite mastered yet. Perhaps it was because he simply wasn't interested in devoting the time necessary to do so, but whatever the case, his performances left him pained and exhausted by the end of it. The blades weren't particularly sharp, but that didn't mean they weren't sharp enough to do plenty of damage in such a delicate environment as the inside of the human body. In reality, it took years to fully master something as intricate as swallowing steel. One had to push past the gag reflex and keep it suppressed, learn how to relax the throat, learn how to tilt the head back just right, and the list just went on and on. Klaus didn't have the patience for any of that. So rather than devote his precious time to learning the ins and outs of the delicate art, Klaus simply allowed his body to take the punishment that came along with inexperience and nonchalance. After all, he healed nearly instantly.

Nearly being the operative word. And near-instantaneous healing didn't mean he was without pain. Nightly, he had to deal with the lacerating of his esophagus, piercing internal organs, and general discomfort that came along with sliding the less-than-optimum quality swords down his throat and putting on a show of it all. To boot, he was forced to wear clothing that made him look like as if he were from Arabian Nights. Once the night was over and Klaus was finally able to make it back to his tent, he was cranky and exhausted. He could feel his insides healing as he walked away, taking a moment to stop and spit out blood, nose wrinkling in disgust. While he was generally a fan of blood, Klaus found he didn't necessarily appreciate the constant taste of his own invading his mouth and senses. The other downside to the constant coppery taste was that it saddled Klaus with incessant cravings for feeding on others. Without decent alcohol to curb them, Klaus found himself constantly forced to feed off of, heal, and then compel the memory away.

His aggravation with his current predicament was steadily rising. While his anger was explosive and destructive, Klaus typically had a slow-burning fuse that took a great deal of time before it finally reached ignition. But with the nightly self-torment, the constant cravings, and the displacement from his actual life and his goals set his teeth on edge. There was only so much he could take before he would inevitably snap. He paused at the back of a tent near his own, spitting blood again as the last of his internal injuries healed. His eyes flashed gold, veins darkening under his eyes for a moment before he blinked it away. All he wanted for now, was to get out of this absurd costume and then find something to eat.