Voice testing a new muse who is entirely too trusting

[frogmaiden]

I don't understand. Where am I and why do you keep calling me 'the frog'? My name is Tamara! Look,  I don't really care where you send me, just don't put me back in that carnival, alright? You don't understand, that place is....

He's there.

Although....

He probably didn't mean to aim for my heart. Maybe he just lost his concentration?

No!

I always do this. I always give second and third chances! Well, not this time! This time I can handle things just fine on my own!

Unless....

Comments

[pricks]

[ He slithers in the shadows without a sound, as scorpions always do. When he slinks behind her, it's noiseless, and one hand finds its way around her eyes. The other rests on her hip, and he speaks low —] Unless ..?

[frogmaiden]

[He startles her near to death (again)! Her first instinct was to struggle against the grip his hand had on her hip, flinching at the honey sweet tone of voice she knew so well]

You stay away from me!

[Kill her once, shame on you....]

[pricks]

[ He takes a quick step back, hands up to further accentuate his, er, innocence. The Scorpion lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. ] Whoa, whoa, easy there, dollface.

See? [ He shows off their distance between them with a gesture. His face then contorts in mock confusion. Oh, he's very concerned now. ] It's me, remember?

[frogmaiden]

[She takes several steps back even after he moves away from her, rubbing her hands together in an obvious sign of nervousness]

I remember you. You said you'd protect me and all you did was kill me!

[She'd trusted him. Just like she'd trusted every man in her life who had only made her miserable in the end]

You're a bad man.

[painteddoll]

[Little tadpole doesn't want to come back and play? The Painted Doll hides her closed lips behind her lace gloves and shrugs her shoulders up, feigning a "polite" giggle. We can only wonder why.

Arms bent at her sides, she takes heavy steps in her saunter. Comes closer. Twists a delicate finger into the delicate froggie's delicate ponytail. Snaking around one side of the girl she peers up into those lost, sad eyes and pats her own heart (or, at least, where it would be, if she still had one), in "sympathy".]

[frogmaiden]

[He's an evil, evil man and if she ever sees him again it'll be too soon. Yet at the same time that ever-trusting part of her seemed to miss him terribly. She'd always been attracted to bad men. It would lead to her downfall over and over again.

She watches the Painted Doll, unsure why she never spoke. Maybe she was mute? Mind you she'd been dead when Doll had sung her tale]

He's done that before, hasn't he?

[How many women had he lured to his knife wheel?]

[mirthfulwork]

[frogmaiden]

I'm not a frog!

[painteddoll]

[Well, we do all play our parts, don't we, dearest? There's no business like Carnival show business, after all.

Our dear Scorpion? Well, of course, sweetling. The faux-empathy is gone from Doll's act when she nods. Exasperating thought, really. She brings up her fingers to pretend to count and gives up after one full hand. They've been here for an eternity. Who's keeping track, anymore?]

[mirthfulwork]

[That's simply not true, and he knows it, little lost girl. Thou art every bit the frog.]

[frogmaiden]

[Her eyes widen when the Painted Doll confirms her suspicions. The Scorpion had done this before, quite a few times. He knew how to play his part well...

And she'd been the unsuspecting lamb he'd led to slaughter]

He said I could trust him! I can't believe I -

[She's not going to cry]

[frogmaiden]

Stop that!

[Why yes, she'll even stomp her foot]

[mirthfulwork]

[Nope. He knows a thing or two about dark carnivals, himself, and this girl? Doesn't look like she'll last a day if she tries it again.]

[painteddoll]

[Like every lost lambie drawn in before her. Drawn in before him, even, when there were other nasty little monsters to play with the victims. Ever since she could remember... Granted, her memory was not always the most reliable, on the subject of history, but.

She remembered every game they played, together, very well.

Oh! But, there, there. Pressing the palms of her hands together - certainly not to pray, that would be against the rules! - Doll jutted out her lower lip and shook her head. Little frog could cry enough tears to drown herself and it still wouldn't change the story.]

[pricks]

[ He puts a hand to his chest, bowing his back slightly as he laughs oh-so gently. He just can't believe what he's hearing. ] Bad? Me?

[ The Scoprion sighs, straightening his demeanor. Both his hands linger in his pockets, and anyone without two cents might think he's defeated now. ] That place, you know, it'll — it changes you. But here — things are different now.

[frogmaiden]

Yes you!

[Fora few moments, this sweet young girl appeared to be conflicted. On one hand, he seemed so sincere. On the other hand, he had killed her in cold blood. Even despite this, a part of her yearned to trust him once more. She'd always fallen for the wrong type of man. The cheaters, the liars, the bad boys -- and all of them had broken her heart in one way or another]

I don't know if I can ever trust you again. I just don't know!

[Quietly, in a wounded tone of voice]

I trusted you!

[frogmaiden]

[She wipes at the corner of her eyes, vanishing the tears that threatened to spill there. The Painted Doll had been around for so long and Tamara....she was just a young, trusting girl. Always would be. At least until hell twisted her into something else]

Did he do the same to you?

[A valid question]

[pricks]

[ The Scorpion pleads with earnest now, falling with his knees to the ground. He means it, doesn't he? Sh, sh, sh. Of course he does, lollipop. ] I can show you. Gimme a chance, huh? Just one? I mean [ He chuckles in exasperation. ] I'm on my knees here.

[ He might look like a cruel Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire as he brushes a hand down the length of her skirt. He glances up at her, feigned innocence and a soft smile. ]

Trust me.

[painteddoll]

[Doll's head quirked to the side, almost mechanically, as she appeared to process the question. Empty blink, blink, blink. Suddenly, a hand comes up, delicately touching her chest, to ask To me?

The corners of her lips twitch and wrinkle, as she tries not to smile, tries to hold back a silent laugh. The amusement reads loud and clear, though, in her mismatched eyes, when she shakes her head NO!

Oh, silliest froggie. We have our own story and no arachnids to fear, in it.]

[frogmaiden]

[Tamara tried not to look at him, but he was right there on his knees, pleading with her. Trust him? She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. Yet a part of her wanted to. He seemed like he really wanted to earn her trust again. He had the sweetest, gentlest eyes she'd ever seen on a guy. Hard to believe her last memory was of him hurling a knife straight at her heart.

She bit down on her bottom lip and turned her head away, trying her best to rebuff his efforts]

I can't. This isn't like you stood me up on a date. You killed me!