Fishgirl and Fangboy

Who: Renaud & Porcelina
Where: The Freakshow Caravans
When: Pre-dawn

They had been on the road for days, an annoyance that Porcelina had become used to but had never grown to enjoy. Porcelina hated moving the way they did. She hated the way the water in her tank sloshed. She hated how on edge everyone obviously was about the new place. She hated that she couldn't see where they were going. She had a lot of hate for the entire process of being carted from place to place against her will with a bunch of fools and scum. So it was understandable that she wasn't in the best mood even by her standards when they finally arrived in Marquette.

Her tank took up half of an entire caravan, the rest of which was filled with her costumes in old wooden trunks, several dusty mirrors, and piles of scarves and materials, as well as jewellery and 'pretty things' which The Ringmaster had given her, most of which had a tacky ocean theme. Nothing Porcelina particularly wanted or cared about. Currently, she was sitting naked on the large rock that occupied the top level of her tank (most of her tank was filled with water, but there was a small ledge built just above - although still behind the reinforced glass - with a rock and a hideous painting of an ocean sunset) with her tail swishing through the water in all it's blue scarred glory.

They had been stationary for some time now, and even though she had no idea of the time of day Porcelina expected some breather filth would be around in time to bother her with something. Some pathetic ritual of arrival or departure that she didn't care for. She was twisting tendrils of her long blue-brown hair around her webbed claw-fingers and pouting with great venom. New town. Meant new ways to escape. Also meant new gawkers, all of them boring, all of them just food.

Renaud hated traveling almost as much as everyone else in the show, but he, unlike the rest, understood the importance of it. Plus a new town would mean new victims, and perhaps he'd find someone more entertaining here. Or so he thought until he walked out of his trailer for a breath of fresh air in the final hours before dawn and actually took a look around the wasteland they'd parked at. There was nothing around them but trees and snow and it brought his already bitter mood down even lower. Plus he was hungry. It had been days since he'd had blood from a live victim, just from the stock that he kept on hand for traveling. It was disgusting, but it kept him alive.

Frustrated, cranky and overall just annoyed with everyone, he walked through the mess of fabric and people that was required to set the show up at each new location. No one greeted him as he passed, although most did move out of his way. No one asked for his help because no one wanted it, not that he'd help much anyway. His path took him around Porcelina's tank, although it wasn't really his intended direction.

Porcelina curled her face into a sneer when she saw the dead thing wander past. She didn't like him being near her tank - he was filth and not even edible filth. It was just proof of how like vermin the breathers were, that their kind would still walk after they ought to be dead and buried. Disgusting. The fact he was wandering though, meant it must still be dark outside - and so she supposed she had some time before she had to be dressed in costumes and make pretty for the gawkings.

"Rotting dry," she spat, "Crawl back to your boneyard, away from me." Her English was pretty good for a Mermaid, considering how much time she'd had to pick it up, although her accent was still thick with the South-Pacific almost Australian lilt despite the amount of time she'd been away from her people, and there was something else running through it - something that almost sounded like a dolphin click at the back of her throat with certain vowel sounds. She was muffled by the thick layer of glass between her and the rest of the Carnival anyway, which mostly made her unintelligible unless someone was actively listening, and she half-hoped he wouldn't hear her anyway because she was not in the mood for anything even close to conversation with anyone, but being insulting was second nature.

He heard her, but then he'd been listening for whatever insult she might throw his way. She usually didn't disappoint and he was in such a rotten mood, making someone else miserable seemed just the thing to help cheer him up. Or at least bring someone else down to his level. He ducked behind a curtain around her tank so he could see her, sitting pretty on her rock. Mockingly he ducked into a low bow, his long winter coat sweeping behind him and his hair falling in his face just so. He looked up from behind the locks of hair, a small smile playing on his face. "Did you summon me my dear?" His voice was laced with sarcasm.

She looked at him and wrinkled her face in disgust and annoyance. "Snub-nosed, flat-headed, dead thing, don't make me choke. Get beached," she said with obvious disdain, holding her chin high and staring down at him with her bright blue death glare. He was probably looking for a fight. He did that sometimes. Porcelina didn't like to let him get under her skin, but she wasn't about to back down and play docile for the corpse, "Go bloat somewhere. What do you want?"

"You are far to kind to me love," Renaud continued, letting his American accent slip and his French play into his words. "I am merely here to serve you, as I always am." The smile didn't fade, but shifted, curling about his lips like the Chesire Cat. Harrassing the pretty little fish was always good for cheering him up.

Porcelina sniffed, and made a serious of weird clicky sonar noises at the back of her throat - a Mermish insult that didn't translate particularly well and keep the same level of nastiness - and wondered what his stupid game was. She was hungry, hadn't eaten for what felt like a day or two - and even though she could practically smell the rot off of him which didn't improve her appetite he was often the one to feed her. Which she hated. She longed to hunt for her own food instead of being a pet. Pathetic.

She slid herself into the water of her tank in one smooth motion. She hated talking to the land-walkers, it made her feel about as dry as they were. Bobbing her head back up so she could hear him, she pressed her webbed hands to the glass of the tank and stared at Renaud with her head tipped. "Shouldn't you be working? Cannibalising someone? Abomination."

As much as Renaud hated being part of this ridiculous charade, he had to give the Ring Master credit for capturing the mermaid. She was a pain and feeding her usuall fell on Renaud shoulders, but she was quite the little prize. "Keeping you company is my job," he continued with his part trying not to be annoyed with the cannibal comment. She made his lifestyle sound so dirty.

"So quit," said Porcelina simply, not changing her expression, still staring. They were so ugly, the land-things. All one colour and puny and pointless. "Where've we stopped, anyway, dead-thing? New place? Coastline?" Might as well use him for information if no-one was going to let her out and wander.

"I love my work too much to quit," he told her with a wink. "We are in the middle of nowhere Michigan from what I've gathered. Plenty of trees and snow, although if you're sensing a coastline that is more your specialty than mine, I haven't ventured far enough from home to find a waterline. It is always a possibility given that the state is surrounded by lakes." Renaud leaned in close, rapping on her tank wall with his knuckles. "Are you getting a little bit of cabin fever in there darling?"

She bared her teeth and hissed, blinking when he rapped on the glass. "Get beached," she snarled again, her favourite insult, and dunked herself under the water - her eyes remaining open so she could stare at him angrily. If he wasn't going to let her out or feed her she wasn't going to humour him with conversation any longer. Although it was interesting to hear they were near a large body of water - even if it was only a poxy lake.

"Beached? Isn't that what you are?" His smile didn't fade and his tone was sweet, but his eyes shown with the insult. "Plus I'm not really the beach type...I don't tan well."

She made a series of high pitched sounds, which he wouldn't be able to hear, but possibly feel vibrating along the glass of the tank, and he'd definitely see her mouth move. She didn't know or care how good his perceptions were but they were definitely offensive noises. She didn't want to play with the idiot. Beached beached beached. Worst thing there was to be and she definitely was it, but Porcelina was better than letting him know he was bothering her. Didn't tan well. She'd like to thrust him into the heat and sunlight of the islands and watch him sizzle. So foul the sunlight couldn't even bear him. Pathetic.

Renaud rapped on the tank again. "Struck a nerve didn't I gorgeous?" He really couldn't tell if she was angry since typically she looked pretty foul, but her yelling in her native language never meant she was saying nice things.

Porcelina made a very sour face and ignored him. If he wanted to fight her, he could let her out of the tank. He was stronger than a regular breather, but still not as strong as her - she'd rip his filthy arms out of their sockets. Until then, he was playing games, and she wouldn't take his bait

"You really are a pretty little pet aren't you?" Renaud commented, watching her tail swish and her hair float around her. The little tart was annoying, but despite the fangs and such she was a lovely creature and he could appreciate beauty. "You should try smiling, it will make all the mermen go wild." The teasing tone was back along with the glint in his eye.

If he called her "pretty" one more time, she was going to rip his eyes out and spit in the sockets. He didn't get to talk about her like that. She pulled herself back up out of the water and onto her rock-ledge, reaching a paw up to the trapdoor which released her into the carvan.

"Let me out. You don't get to look at me, breather - only you don't breathe, even, hey? Subhuman. Dirt amongst dirt. Even the dry filth scorn you, rotting, foul, cannibal, THING. Bottomfeeder. Let me out NOW. I'm going to skin you for looking upon your better in such a way."

She said this with full princess-haughtiness, glaring at him with a raw fury. He hadn't pissed her off so massively for a long time - which meant he himself must be in a fighting mood. She was clearly furious, her gills pulsating and her teeth bared. She hated that she let the hired fucking help get to her, but he could not get away with such insubordination towards her. She would not bear it.

"Why would I let you out if your'e just going to kill me? Or well, try to kill me. I doubt skinning me alive would actually kill me." His light tone was gone and he was a little more than annoyed. "If your blood wasn't so tainted I'd consider draining you, but I'd rather not get sick from eating filth."

Porcelina growled, her fury obvious, "You dare, to compare me with your kind? You drown and flail, like newborn seals, good for nothing but food and you cannot even boast that. Vermin. Back to your dust where you belong," she spat, and then made a series of odd high-pitched whistles insinuating unkind things about his parentage. She balled her webbed claws into a sort of fist and punched hard at the trapdoor, knowing from experience it would do no good, but would help release a little of her frustration. Someone would let her out eventually, and she would destroy him while he slept. The very idea that he could harm her was ridiculous. The Ringmaster would flay anyone who harmed her (which was a protection she hated to admit, but it was true enough.)

"And yet, I'm the only one able to stomach feeding you. Continue to insult me, it should make your dinners such a pleasure," Renaud scowled. He wasn't worried with how angry she was, she wouldn't do anything. Just like he wouldn't actually hurt her because it wasn't worth the wrath of the Ringmaster, he enjoyed a similar protection. Sure Renaud wasn't a prized collector's item, but he was more useful than most in the entourage, especially when it came obtaining more creatures for the Ringmaster's games.

"You slaughter your own kind outside the boundaries of war. I eat your kind, that aren't decay like you, hear? You are a betrayer, hermit-crab, dirt and poison. Sewage. Slime. You got that pride, right? Well it wasn't never founded in anything, so there's your answer." she said smugly, slipping further into Pidgin the more she spoke. You wouldn't catch mermaids feeding their own kind to another. The very idea was repugnant, let alone the cannibalism Renaud took part in. Nasty dead creature. She pounded her fist again, frustrated, "Let me out, I want to go walking. Away from your stink."

Even though half her insults didn't make sense she did have some of the best. Renaud didn't make a move towards her door despite her desire to escape. "I'm not letting you out, I don't have time to watch you or walk you about on your leash." Dawn was creeping along the edges of the night, and he could feel the morning weighing down on him. He'd have to retreat to his own bed soon, again with nothing to eat.

She sneered at him, and thumped her tail hard against the glass, wincing slightly with the impact but not caring. Her tail was a lot stronger than her fist, and even though there was no way of her breaking out, she'd learnt a while ago that it rattled the glass enough to be worrying. He knew she couldn't wander off, he must do, but she wasn't going to point it out to him.

The smile turned to a snarl, which exposed his fangs, giving him a truly evil look. He gave the glass a solid punch with his own hand, again not enough to let it go, but enough to shake it some as well. "Sadly my princess, dawn has interrupted our liaisons. I'll have to bid you a good morrow." The words were sweet but there was venom in his voice.

"I hope you fry," she spat after him, wondering how long it would be before someone else turned up and let her out of her holdings, "sunlight doesn't care for abominations, does it?" she added as an afterthought, smirking in a patronizing manner, glad to see the back of him. She hated everyone, but she hated herself for letting the underlings get to her.

Renaud turned on his heel, hardly bothered by her statement. He'd lived long enough to be called an abomination plenty of times. Personally he just felt more evolved, more civilized than the mere mortals, even if he fed from them. "Parting is always such sweet sorrow my sweet," he called over his shoulder as he stepped back into the final moments of night headed for his trailer and a long, fitful sleep.