May I? This sounds awesome and Olive, your post was Amazing! 

Name: Caoimhe (pronounced: Keeva) Marcipane

Age: 14

Appearance: Lightly wavy brown hair, a large smile, brown eyes, rather short, pale

Personality: Quite talkative

Other: Her family is from Italy and emmigrated to New York when she was seven. She has a slight accent and a beautiful singing voice. Her family owns a General Store (with special Italian goods) on the immigrant side of town. 

I can't post now but I cannot wait!  

Dante Rossi

Once upon a time, there was a curious boy who went to a strange circus because he didn't know when to keep his head out of strange stuff. But the boy didn't regret it, either. He made some friends, occasionally had fun while being scared out of his pants. The End. The curious boy was I, Dante Rossi.

The circus was Fossies & Company.

*

The circus didn't actually come to New York. There wouldn't be anywhere to put it. The only thing that matters in the entire state of New York is New York City, so when they set up that circus, that circus with lights and shadows and an air of mysteriousness, they set it up in a giant wheat field. The farmer who owned it? He, it turned out, had a family emergency and had to leave. I don't think he ever came back.

"Hey-a, Danny-boy!" someone sings out. I wince and turn around. There's only one person on the entire planet who calls me anything other than Dante. Finna Young races after me. I don't know how she does it, with those iron arms of hers.

She reaches me and spins around. "Lookee here! Look what I got!" she crows, and holds her arms out.

"Huh?"

Finna sighs impatiently. "Feel."

I poke her arm. "What's different?"

"Good metals!" she cries. "I've got stainless now! Stainless steel arms!"

"No rust?"

"You betcha! Now, come over here. I wanna show you sumthin." Finna guides me out of the way of the flow of people.

"What's it?" I ask. Finna's my friend, best friend maybe, but she's like a mercenary. She's a metalman, that's what she does, and all other Steelers and metalmen, too. Bodyguards, soldiers, the like. Young one, like Finna, they'll carry messages for bigshots, and nobody tries to stop them, 'cause one conk on the head with a steel arm, and you're out.

"Justa warning," she says, "Kai sent me. He says that Corey is recruiting again, and someone might try to edge you out of your territory. Kai isn't too happy about it, but there's nothing he can do about Corey."

"Thanks, Finna. But nobody's edging me out of here." By here, I mean the four blocks that are mine, and mine alone. Mine to steal from.

Finna nods sarcastically. "Oi. Whatever you say, Danny-boy. I'll tell Kai you said that, but that doesn't mean that Kai's going to be happy about it. He also said to tell you after you refused any help that he'll lower his price by twen-ty per-cent."

"Still not hiring. I'm fine. I don't need protection."

Finna sighs. "This thieving busy-ness is so complicated. Used to be simpler, I think."

"I think it was too. Hey, whatcha doing tomorrow? It'll be Saturday."

"Oi. Saturday. I was thinking about that. See, Danny-boy, there's a circus come to outside New York, and it seems to be a pretty interesting circus. Plenty of rich pockets, so's I'm hired. Got a seat even, right up front."

"Circus? What circus?"

"The circus, Fossies & Corporation, or sumthin like that. I'd thought you would have been there, working the richies. Here," Finna says, pulling out a small poster. "That guy gives me the creeps."

I take one look at short, sking and sharp bone man with eyes like thick smoke and I agree with Finna. "He gives me creeps too."

"So, you going or not?" Finna asks. "But no marking my lady, got it? Or I'll have to tow you off to the poleezies." Finna knows I'm going. Scary and creeps are interesting. Interesting makes me interested.

"Course I'm going, Finna."

She grins. "I knew it. Now watch out for Corey's people, will ya?"

"Nope."

Finna punches me, but friendly-like. Doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. "Beans bones, Finna, I'll be careful, allright? I'm always careful, aren't I?"

"You're never careful. Now, you going to go over there and buy me a hot dog or what?"

I think I nodded, but I was thinking about the magician. He seemed too real, his eyes too dangerous. I've been told I got dangerous eyes, too, but I don't see how. I look in the mirror, and I see me, and the poleeza running after me.

I don't think I'll be marking the magician. He might make me disappear.

Sorry, the last sentence is bad but I had to force quit Word and it didn't save. 

Caoimhe-

I walked into the front room of our little store, breathing in the scent of salami and ripe tomatoes. The edges of Papa’s shoes could be seen from under the blue curtain where his office was situated.

“Ciao, Papa!” I called, then walked into his office and planted a kiss on his smooth cheek.

Papa was a rather plump man with graying dark brown hair, square glasses and a carefully shaved beard.

He had always dreamed of opening his own store, but Nonno had wanted him to take over the family business when he died so Papa ran off and married Mamma.

Soon after I was born, did he begin making plans for the store; only after I had turned seven did Mamma finally consent to us going to America. 

Now his dream had come true and he sat in a store everyday, waiting for customers to walk in.

“How was business today?” I asked even though it was a touchy subject.

“Perfetto!” he declared. If business was good he said ‘multa’, if bad he said ‘perfetto’.  

I nervously bit my lip, knowing this was bad for us. We could not pay the bills for the imported Italian goods, nor could we pay the next month’s rent if things went on like this.

“Papa, what will you tell Mamma?”

He did not reply, yet I saw his shoulders sag slightly. “Go, mia cara, I have work to do.”

I made my way up the stairs to our two-room flat on the second floor. Mr. Katterhenry, our landlord, lived on the upper side of New York City and only came to see us when it was utterly needed. 

The first room in our flat was the parlor and kitchen. One window looked down into the alleyway between our building and the one opposite. A rather frayed sofa and a little coffee table served as the parlor. A sink of cracked porcelain, an ash-covered stove and a spindly table made the kitchen. 

The second room was the bedroom. I do not feel the need to describe it, as it was even less accommodating than the front room.

*

 We - Papa, Mamma, Gloria, Fernando, Adriano and I – were silently eating our muscle soup when Adriano, my youngest and naughtiest brother, brought up the courage to speak out of turn.

“Mamma, Papa?” Both of them looked up, seeming rather annoyed.

My brother looked at the orange-colored soup and murmured: “A circus is here.”

“Louder, figlio.” Mamma took another sip of her soup.

Mamma was a rather stern woman, always dressed in a flowered apron with her dark curls back in a loose bun.

Adriano cleared his throat again. “A circus, Mamma.”

“A circus?”

“Mhm.” Adriano nodded furiously, his brown eyes wide.

“Why must our meal be interrupted for you to tell us this?” Papa set his spoon down and mustered the boys.

“Raoul, he wants to go with some other boys and we thought-“ Fernando began but was cut off by Papa.

“You shall not go, not at all. It’s a waste of money and all the tricks are fraud.” That ended the conversation.

The talk of a circus made me curious so I decided – even though the possibility of being found out was high – to go.  

@Elizabeth M.: Thanks! You're so sweet. :) And fraud tricks? We'll see about that *Mr. Tannebaum laughs inside my head*

@SC: Yes, steampunk *highfive*! You're so good at writing steampunk. Writing in general. (everyone here is, it's so strange, compared to the people in my classes...) (STEEL ARMS) I don't even read steampunk (Leviathan kinda ruined it for me...).

//Alice Corker//

By the time the tent is up, a long line has already formed, cutting through the wheat field like a long row of shining weeds, their metallic items and body parts glinting in the moonlight. The line seems to stretch for miles.

I close the tent flap and look at the room in front of me. There always are just two tents. The biggest one is where the show takes place, but a tiny, often unnoticed, tent stands just behind it. That is where all the costumes and makeup are stored and where everybody waits for their turn.

Every single performer.

In one tiny little tent.

There is no chaos; there's never any chaos. In fact, it's unsettingly silent. But being squished in between two Freaks- The Hairiest Man Alive and The Dragon Man (he performs tricks with fire)- is never pleasant.

Mr. Tannebaum stands at the front of the tent, peering out the flap that looks into the main tent. On his right are two Triplets- Avi and Malcolm. Blu and the apprentice- Renault- stand on Mr. Tannebaum's other side.

The Ringmaster sweeps in suddenly and the Triplets disappear, Renault trailing after them. The Ringmaster is a tall and handsome man who makes all the women in the audience swoon.

Someone taps me on the shoulder suddenly. One of the other trapezists, Pike I think.

"There's a rip in my costume," he mutters. He voice sounds like a grumble which I can hardly understand, but I just nod.

"When do you go on?"

"Second-last."

"Find an extra costume on the rack over there." I somehow manage to squeeze my finger out and point to the right wall. "Then give me yours. I'll try to fix it before you're up." Pike nods and does exactly as I ask him.

I glide out of the tent holding Pike's costume and a sewing kit; it's not safe to use a needle when there's not enough room to even put a hand in front of your own face.

I sit down and look at one of the houses in the distance. They seem pretty big. I begin to sew.

I hum. But the melody stops at the sound of fabric being sliced open. I know the sound well.

I abandon my things, taken only a pair of sewing shears and my rashness. I walk quietly to where the sound is coming from and my blood runs cold when I realize who it is- or rather, what type of person. 

Who wants to be caught sneaking into the Circus? :D 

//Renault//

Could I please hide in a trunk or sumthin?

I look at the girl with red hair. She seems scared. I think it might be because of the Magician. Blu always thought that he was a bad person.

What are you doing here? I think to the boy who wants to hide. I wait for an answer but none comes. Then I remember that he doesn't have the Curse.

Blu thinks that she found me outside the big circus tent one day. She remembers that I seemed to have the Curse as well, because when she thought to me to stop crying I did. And I've never said a real word before either. Blu, Avi and Malcom always used to talk, especially Malcom. And Avi used to have golden hair and Blu used to have blue hair. Malcom's hair had always been black though.

Blu thought that her and her siblings used to hate the Magician and found out his dark secret, but then the Magician found out and he placed the Curse on them. Now they can only send thoughts to each other and to me too for some odd reason. And they're only able to speak on the night they were cursed, December 28.

What do you mean can you hide? The girl with red hair is screaming but the boy shushes her and points to some tall, scary boys a few hundred metres away. (Do Americans use metres?) They look angry so I push the girl and the boy into the small tent and I'm no longer able to find them because there are so many people.

Renault! I hear Blu think. Hurry up, it's almost our turn! 

I run to the front of the tent, thinking I'm almost there! And then rush out, met by a roaring crowd.

//Alice Corker//

I glare at the boy who calls himself Dante Rossi.

"What in Ricci's name are you doing?" I hiss. "Why are you trying to hide?"

The boy opens his mouth to respond but then the flap is thrown open and two tall boys waltz inside like the small tent is a store. Everyone stands up, scowling. Everyone except for me and Dante.

"And exactly who are you two?" booms the Strongman. A flicker of fear passes over the boys' faces but it disappears quickly. 

"We are just hear for Dante Rossi. Hand him over and no one gets harmed," says one of the boys. He has a pockmarked face. I hear the roar of a flame and know that the Dragon Man, the fire dancer, probably lit his arm or head because they're much more convenient to light than a torch- well, for him anyway. The two boys step back.

"Why don't you two leave and you don't get hurt?" comes the unmistakable voice of the Ringmaster.

And I don't know much about this Guild business so the rest is up to you SC. :) 

Unfortunately, Olive, Americans mostly use feet and yards for measuring. I think they should use the metric system like the rest of the world and I think schoolchildren are introduced to both systems, but in everyday life most everything is in inches, feet, yards, or miles.

Admin

Caoimhe-

The boys had disappeared from the schoolyard during lunch - or rather everyone assumed they did. I, for the matter, knew exactly where they went.

Lydia O’Neil was sitting next to me whispering to herself when my brothers - including Raoul -  began to walk towards the tall wire fence of the school.

Lydia was my best friend, actually my only friend. Students had found her odd ever since she had arrived in September. I, for the record, found her quite intriguing. She had red hair, the color of tomatoes and indigo –yes, indigo- eyes. The weirdest thing was that her right leg wasn’t flesh, no, it was pure iron that creaked when she walked as if it should be oiled. I had asked her about it once but she had turned away and begun murmuring to herself. Since then I sat quietly with her in the schoolyard, trying to hear what she was saying.

I watched the boys until they had disappeared around the corner, then I stood to follow.

“No!” I jumped as Lydia grabbed my arm. Her eyes had suddenly become dark with rings of black around them as if she hadn’t slept for years.

“I-is everything okay?” I attempted to push her arm off mine but her grip was like a snake coiling itself around me.

“Please, Caoimhe, please don’t go!”

“Go where?”

Lydia looked around – her hair looking a little blacker – as if someone might be listening. She then cupped her hands around my ear and whispered, “The circus.”

“Wh-What’s so bad about it?”

“Please.”

“You can come.”

“NO!” She screamed, held her ears closed and ran away from me.

Why didn’t she want me to go?

 I took a deep breath, deciding if it might be a better idea to stay in school, but Lydia’s reaction to the circus had been scary and relatively fascinating so I determined I would go.

*

The circus tent – or rather, the outside tent – appeared to be normal with no odd parts. I peered around but found no sign or my brother’s or their friends.

Shall I go in?

I took a step forward, closer to all the well dressed women and men visiting the place.

Suddenly Adriano, Fernando, Raoul and three other boys burst out of the tent and ran off the grounds.

“Caoimhe! Get away from here!” Adriano screamed as he went by, then sped down the street.

I found a little opening under the tent flap and crawled under it. Inside, lights were strewn all around the sides of the outer tent and another larger tent appeared to be the circus tent.

As I got closer I spied an even smaller tent. Perhaps for the performers?

A short man with dark pupil-like eyes emerged from behind the tent. He looked straight at me, frowned, shook his head and advanced towards me.

Knowing that if he caught me, I would be in trouble, I began to run towards the smaller tent – diagonal from where he was.

I ran around it and found an old coach. A perfect place to hide. I slipped inside and closed the door, feeling a shiver run down my back.

I scooted under a seat and hit something hard.

“Who’s there?” the voice demanded.

I was thinking that maybe SC would be in the coach...

@Olive- You don't like Steampunk? I thought you loved Leviathan (or whatever it's called).  

Name: Neria Cornwel

Age:13

Physical Description: Black hair, brown eyes, medium height, delicate (she looks exactly like Samantha in the movie based on the American Girl Doll Samantha

Other: She got sick of being handed everything on a silver platter, so when she was ten, she ran off and joined the Theives' Guild.  They all knew who she was, yet they accepted her (she thinks it's because Melly, a high-ranker thief was her best friend even before then [more on that later]).  Now she goes to the Guild's hideout on Montegrew Avenue (just pretend it's a real street) whenever she gets bored. 

Lydia~

"Jam!" I shout out as I go into the hideout.  That's so they know I'm supposed to be there.  "Hello, Melly!" I call out as I pass the blonde-haired girl.

I've known her since we were five, when she posed as a maid's child to steal Mother's emerald ring.  I discovered her in Mother's room when I went in there to get my doll.  We suprisingly ended up liking each other.

"Nerie, we need to go after Dante," she tells me.  I stop short.  Dante always escapes danger easily.  If it's so dangerous we need to get him back, I could... no, will, get killed. 

"I think Mother wanted me back for tea right around now," I reply. "You know how she loves her events that originated across the pond."

"Nerie, Bessie (yes, she calls my mother by her first name, even though she's a lot poorer then we are) stopped forcing you to have tea when you dumped the pot on your nasty governess.  And the ringmaster's friends with Tatiana."

I inhale sharply.  Tatina's a woman in the tenements.  She's got powerful connections, though. She has some strange hatred against us.   If the ringmaster finds him, he's toast.

"I'll do it," I say.

*

Cole, Mason, Melly and I run across the field that houses the circus tent.  We already agreed in the hideout what to do.  Normally, because of Kai's rules, we wouldn't be able to go after him, but where Tatiana's involved, rules are broken.  Cole and Mason will go in and get Dante, and if there's a struggle, we go in and charm 'em.

Through a gap in the fabric, I see Cole and Mason walk in and act natural.  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see some of Corey's men walk by.  Melly spots them too, and her eyes widen.  We go inside the tent for safety. 

The man I take to be the ringmaster's eyes widen when he sees me.

I hold in a gasp, then say, "Uncle Moore, you're a ringmaster, now?  Let them go, Unkie."