A Taste of the Aba-daba
Such an interesting concept! In my brief research I found there's two ways I can write this, one in actual ciazarn which is essentially takes a word and modifies it. Usually after every consonant sound, you insert "eaz". The almighty Google uses a few examples:
Mark (the term for a customer/mark): M + eaz + ar + k + eaz becomes Meazarkeaz.
Hey: H + eaz + ey becomes Heazey.
Look: L + eaz + oo + k + eaz becomes Leazoo-keaz.
The other avenue I can do would be using ciazarn slang using this handy blog!
I'm not going to pretend like I can properly translate/formulate a true ciazarn blurb without sacrificing my sanity and patience, so I'm going to default to just using the slang for now. I feel as if the slang would feel more organic in normal conversation and thus easier to write, but either way this is such a cool rabbit hole to dive into!
Turns out, I've been unknowingly using some of the slang too!
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I'm going to try something new and introduce some Russian into Doctor's speech! I consider him to be fluent in Portuguese and Russian and be moderately versed in English for flavor!
Tags: SFW, some mild suggestiveness, overall sweet interactions
The Freak Circus is an 18+ Visual novel Themes include but are not limited to: dark elements, strong language, sensitive graphic content, suggestive/sexual content. My works can depict similar themes and are not intended for minors in any sense.
Pierrot
"Pierrot? What's the matter? You've been pacing around the tent for a bit now."
"My love, have you seen one of my knives anywhere? I seem to have misplaced one, that or he took it." His initial sweet tone overtaken by the growl of thinking about his green rival.
Your sweet clown was looking desperately for his knives for maintenance, only to come up short. You tried helping him look around for it. Checking every square inch of his tent, feeling his gaze on your bent form, checked the lot for anything glinting, once again feeling the sharpened heart shaped pin pricks tracking your every move. You tried to get him to retrace his steps or suggest places where he could've left it, only to either come up empty handed or find things the two of you weren't originally looking for.
After about thirty minutes of hunting for the spare throwing knife you threw in the towel, "Pierrot, I don't think-"
You're interrupted by a familiar glint of his knife wedged in the undercarriage of a neighboring wagon. Its blade nearly completely embedded in the wooden compartment, thrown with such force you would've thought it as a miniature sword of King Arthur.
"Pierrot! The possum belly!" Your excitement instantly overshadowing your defeat as you make your way over to the compartment. Kneeling beside the wagon, your hand wraps around the handle as you realize you lacked the strength to unsheathe it from it's slumber.
"M-my dear, be careful!" his large hand coaxes yours off of the leather grip, and he urges you back to your feet. On his knees he looks up at you with mix of concern and relief.
"Sorry, I just got really excited. I'm not sure how it ended up down there though," your brow furrows as you piece together your best hunch.
He grips the handle of his blade and gives a firm tug, it's blade sliding out of the compartment with an apologetic crunch as it damages the wood around it.
"My love, how did you know what this was called?" He beams proudly at you, sheathing the blade in a holster on his side. "I was not aware you knew something so niche." He rose to his feet, brushing off any dirt he might have gotten on his knee.
"Oh, uh, my family used to be in a show similar to yours, although I wasn't really a direct part in it." You sheepishly turn away from him, "I even know how to speak a little bit of ciazarn, although I'm probably a bit rusty."
His signature grin stretches across his face, accompanied by a red tint to his porcelain cheeks. " I would love to hear it sometime, my love, I'm sure you could get back into it in no time"
You muster up enough courage, "I leazoveaze yeazou, Peaziereazreazoteaz"
He stops dead in his tracks, processing what you said.
Next thing you know you're being slung over his shoulder like a prize as he chuckles to himself before speed walking back towards his tent.
"Oh my love, you play a dangerous game with a dangerous beast."
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Harlequin
"Maybe if you would engage with your potential guests, you would draw more people in to your shows?" You suggested.
"Oh? I interact with my 'potential guests' far more than I would like to, although for you I would make every exception~" A tendril slithers around your waist suggestively.
He studies your reaction through his mirror, pretending to fix the same part of hair as he toys with his favorite act.
You swat at the green appendage, "I'm being serious Harley, Jester would be off your case if you took at least some of your shows seriously."
"How cruel, do you believe I don't take my own shows seriously? I never knew you had such a mean streak in you, meu querido." He makes a dramatic showing of his tentacle slinking back under his uniform like a beat dog. "What concerns Jester is remaining under the radar for your kind and also making a bit of money on the side for other expenses."
"Oh I know! You could do walkarounds!" You beam at the pinpricks that narrow back at you.
"My my, aren't you a clever thing, did you look that term up before stopping by?" He rolled his eyes and swiveled his chair towards you, "here I thought you were above something so, shallow."
"Try again. I'll have you know I did a few walkarounds for my family's business once upon a time." You triumphantly countered.
Emerald eyes bore holes through your being, "You're lying."
"I would never lie."
"You never once mentioned this 'family business' of yours, my dear. Although I suppose it makes sense given how well you fit in around here, being a freak must be in your blood." He chuckles at his own joke, before making his way to his tent exit, gesturing for you to come with.
"Do you think I'm joking? Or are you just worried I'll do a better job than you?"
"It would be cute to see you attempt to win against me, but as much as I would love to see you perform a walkaround..." His hands grip your shoulders possessively from behind. His breath tickling your skin as he laughs to himself.
"I would much rather watch your kootch show later tonight, perhaps after my sold out show, minha provocação favorita~"
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Jester
"You're worrying about nothing, just keep running the show how you've been running it, just maybe hold off on the humans being livestock ideology." You attempt to reassure your distressed love.
Jester paces around his tent in a rare lapse of self reliance. The rhythmic jingling of his bells matching his panicked steps. "We have dealt with press before but not to this extent. You humans and your curiosity.." He growls under his breath before making another lap around his tent.
"Well, it's been years since anything as big as your circus came to our humble little town." You chuckle, "it's no surprise that the news wants to check out something other than the county fair."
"I am being serious, pet, this can be detrimental to our operation, to my family." His eyes flicker magenta for a moment as his words carry a dose of venom, a warning.
You straighten your back and drop any leftover humor, realizing the hidden gravity of the situation. You know somewhat of the secret operations of the circus, how the members of the troupe aren't entirely human, and how they use the circus as a way to feed their appetites, most likely illegally.
"It will be fine, my Lord."
He stops in his tracks at the pet name, magenta fading in once again.
"Press are one of the most easily appeased part of humanity. Just treat them as VIPs, make sure they're fed, spoiled, front row seats, the works. I would even try to pamper the house to keep up appearances." Your words keeping the pink from flooding his mask completely. Turning towards you he studies your face for any kind of deception, as usual, coming up empty handed.
"How do you know what 'pampering the house' is, pet," He strides over to you, his towering frame attempting to recover it's intimation factor after a show of anxiety.
"I learned a few things from my family, back when they would perform. I've had to deal with a few interviews from the press myself." You give him a reassuring smile and extend out your hand cautiously. "I can give you a few pointers if you'd like?"
He takes a moment to consider relying on you for help, his mind racing through various scenarios, before ultimately taking your hand.
His grin returns as he pulls you closer to him, placing your hand on towards his shoulder, his free hand meeting the small of your back.
"It seems like you just volunteered yourself, dear pet, you will be the face of the circus for tonight."
"I never agreed-" You cut yourself off, looking for a way to rephrase, "you should know how to talk to them, in case I'm not around." Your voice attempts to hold back a twinge of sadness at the thought, before catching yourself again. "You have such a silver tongue already, your nerves just get the better of you."
You place your hand in reassurance on his cheek, risking the backlash of such a gesture.
"The press are some of the easiest people to mislead once you know how to play their game."
He pulls away from you, opting to just give you physical space as opposed to his usual punishments of unwarranted touch.
"Very well, pet. Don't think I've forgotten about your little nickname you gave me either."
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Ticket Taker
Your brows furrowed in concern as you watched Bil calculating hypothetical numbers on a blank paper. His mind strolling through a mental map of the circus trying to figure out new ways to rack in more income for new costs. He shuffles some papers around, searching for one elusive sheet in particular. A slight groan sneaking past his breath as he finds the circus' floor layout, a beaten sheet held together by responsibility and antiquity.
He meets his own furrowed brow with his hand, massaging the porcelain mask in any attempts to grant his own relief from the mounting stresses.
"Are you trying to find ways to make nights a turnaway?"
He sighs into his hand, fully releasing the annoyance he was harboring, "yes, we have new bills and new projects to invest in, and to do that we-" he pauses.
He turns towards you in awkward shock. "What did you just say?"
"I asked if you wanted to find a way to sell out?" Your concern quickly turning to confusion. "I know you and Jester have been trying to find new ways to prey on people's wallets." You peek over his shoulder to glance at the floor plans, stalls that were unfamiliar to you still listed in aged ink, along with new ones sketched out in faded pencil.
"I meant the exact terminology you used." He followed your gaze and flipped the layout over, effectively pausing your brainstorming. His hand resting on top of the sacred parchment.
"Oh, turnaway?" You move in closer to him, gently touching the aged sheet, feeling every textured stain and spill of memory it harbored. "I learned a few things about showmanship from my family," your fingers grazed his gloved hand and you could feel a reflexive tension move under the well maintained fabric.
His gaze was torn between maintaining eye contact with you and risking glancing at the subtle teasing you were causing him. "You never mentioned your family was in the mutual business as mine."
"You never asked me," your hand trailed over the back of his hand, gracing his touch starved skin with a hint of affection at the hem of his glove. "Let me look at the floor plans, I can help come up with something for you to take to Jester," your voice barely above a whisper, and laced with an intimate invitation.
The whistle from the tea kettle broke his concentration on your alluring proposition. He lifted his hand off of the prized possession, opting to adjust his collar.
He cleared his throat, his eyes wandering to the back of the floor plans, "go ahead then, dear. I'll make us some tea." The chair skittered along the floor as he hastily rose from it, scrambling to correct the abrupt action by presenting you his seat.
You sat down in place of him and looked over the plans as he wandered off towards the coffee bar. His ghostly form beginning to blur to retrieve ingredients with ease.
You couldn't help but watch him as he prepared the cups, his slender form turned misty visage as phantom hands pour hot water from the spout.
"Have you ever tried cake cutting?" You jokingly suggested, biting your lip to hold back a playful grin.
He flinched at the thought, causing a droplet of water to trickle down the lip of the cup.
"Such dishonesty at the booths would surely start our downfall, surely you're jesting."
"I am, don't worry, we'll figure something out. Together." You shifted your gaze back to the ancient formula of business and started studying.
The concept of working with someone other than Jester is definitely a foreign one, but if it's with you, he could get used to it.
"Together."
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Doctor
You and Doctor were tasked with relocating a food booth to another end of the circus, and that meant just watching Doctor dismantle the booth and sitting pretty, not that he minded either.
Getting to watch Doctor work on something other than gory experiments that would make Frankenstein himself blush was a treat in and of itself. Watching his muscles flex under his cloak as he coaxed a support beam out from the ground, untying various knots of the canopy, and especially using his immense strength to effortlessly start rolling the cart to it's new home were all great forms of study.
You were in charge of keeping the public out of his way while he wheel barreled the stand through the crowd. Polluting the air with courteous "excuse us,", "coming through," and "can we squeeze by you,"s.
Your progress was paused when Jester's show concluded, a flood of guests wandering out of the tent in search of the next attraction, some stopping to ogle your plague doctor work horse, who decided to wait out the crowd.
Doctor rolled his shoulders a few times, then his neck, letting out a relieved sigh as his joints popped and snapped.
"So, you and Pierrot mostly help out with the manual labor for the circus?" You try to pass the time with small talk.
An approving grunt followed by another pop of his neck. "It helps keep me fit, to say the least. Most of my strength comes from setting up the circus, sweetie."
"Do you ever get any lot lice?"
He pauses, before laughing. A deep rumble overtaking the noise of the crowd, some guests turning to look at the source, but you were entranced.
"I haven't heard of that term in a long time," he gives the stand another once over, making sure he didn't lose any pieces along the way, "yes, there's only a handful of times where we could set up without onlookers disrupting the process. Although..."
He squats in front of you, his massive frame still overshadowing yours as he cocks his head to the side. "How do you know the term 'lot lice', sweetie?"
"Oh, uh, my family-"
A rowdy teenager knocked you into your practitioner, in their attempt to keep up with their friends. Within moments Doctor was back on his feet, scruffing the teen while bracing you against his sturdy body.
"No running in the circus. Someone could get hurt, right, паршивец?" The goggles in his mask flickered red momentarily, the color reflecting in the teens fear filled eyes as they nodded feverishly.
He released the teenager before turning back towards you, this time fully kneeling before you. His hands palming over where the two of you made contact, checking for any injuries.
"Your family? Were they in the business?" His warm hands ghosted over your clothes, the heat adding to your flushed face.
"Y-yeah, they were. I never really got involved with it aside from book keeping or the occasional advertising." You felt his hand drift low, too low for your liking. "H-hey!" you swatted at his wandering palm.
He chuckled at your reaction, but got back to his feet, "I will have to be more thorough later, my sweet." He steadies himself in front of the handles of the stand, before lifting it effortlessly.
"I expect you to fill me in on this detail of your family I somehow overlooked, along with a continuation of your examination."
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Possum Belly — Storage box built into the underside of a work wagon to carry cable, stakes, rigging, etc. At times a place for a quick nap by a worker, and at times the temporary home of an unauthorized "traveling girlfriend" (a "possum belly queen").
"I leazoveaze yeazou, Peaziereazreazoteaz"- Ciazarn for "I love you, Pierrot"
Walkaround — A clown feature in which clowns stroll through the crowd and perform comic bits interacting with audience members.
Kootch Show — The raunchy version of the "girl show". No revue, no "posing," and definitely no clothes, just a close-up view of what men want to see.
minha provocação favorita — My Favorite Tease
Papering the House — Giving away free tickets to fill up the audience, to give the impression that the public is anxious to see your show. Often done when the press is in attendance. (Also used in the theater.)
Turnaway — A sold-out show.
Cake/Cake Cutting — Money made by short-changing customers at ticket boxes.
Lot Lice — Local townspeople who arrive early to watch the unloading of the circus and stay late. Maybe they leave money behind, but they sure get in the way/Locals who arrive early to gawk and stay late to browse but don't spend anything.
паршивец (parshivets) Brat
