Wednesday 16 February 2011

Cursed, cursed, cursed




I suppose I should explain... Fabien is not a fox, he's under a CURSE.

His story begins during the French Revolution, the Reign of Terror to be exact... where he was promised riches, fame, and glory... for one small act of betrayal. Turns out, it was a big act, turns out the tribunals were very unforgiving... turns out his entire FAMILY lost their heads, all because one little boy told a very big lie.

Anyway, he's 400 years old, and a living embodiment of a 'bad omen', so having him around is going to make your life HELL. He can walk through mirrors, which he does for fun, his breath is FREEZING cold, and he loooves eating coals. What he doesn't like is Salt. You put that anywhere on his dirty grey skin, and it will fizz and melt like a snail on a bad day. He's also not very fond of circles, and bells, see where I'm going with this?

Being a symbol of bad luck, he's in touch with everything... unlucky, and storms are one of his faaaavourite things. That tail is staticly charged, and it doesn't feel pleasent.

As for why the curse bestowed him with some... foxy atttributes, that's all down to a little ditty by Aesop.

"The fox who longed for grapes, beholds with pain
The tempting clusters were too high to gain;
Grieved in his heart he forced a careless smile,
And cried ,‘They’re sharp and hardly worth my while."

The one who cursed him, we don't know who that was exactly since they were in disguise.... he found it ever so funny.

What else? Oh yes, Fabien is a very, very talented magician... and of course, he has something of an unfair advantage. He doesn't perform much anymore, given certain ah... accidents, when he was on stage, but he still has his old playing cards.

You might find him sitting in the shadows of old Paris café's, his features half masked in a cloud of cloven smoke, or prowling past windows on moonless nights. He smells of storms.