Gara Kashani
"It's hard to have some peace of mind when I'm not the only one in my head."
A True Name:
Gara Kashani
A Stage Name:
Gara the Enlightened
The Date One Joined the Circus:
January 19th, 1999
The Act One Performs:
Mind Games: Gara has the power to impact the environment around him using only his mind, he also has the ability to teleport. He uses these powers to awe the locals as well as deal with any daemons the Ringleader orders him to execute. Gara pays for these powers by inhabiting the same mind space with the being he sold his soul to. The being has no human name but Gara has taken to calling her Belial, or "Not of Worth." Most of the time, Belial is a sarcastic, narcissistic, and condescending bitch who loves meddling with Gara's life.
Compulsion: Gara cannot defy Belial's commands if she so wishes to command him. All of his abilities will be stripped away from him if he fails to follow through with anything Belial asks. Belial knows of this contract and enjoys making him complete asinine or destructive acts for her pleasure.
(Gara's text)
(Belial's text)
Why One Joined the Circus:
Gara is a relatively new addition to the Circus of the Hunters and he's still learning the ropes. He originally joined because Parael approached him with the promise of adventure and thrill of the likes he never imagined. Boy, he had no idea what he signed up for. On one hand, he believes what he's doing is for the greater good but risking his life day in and day out is beginning to wear on his youthful attitude. Plus, Belial seems to really enjoy mucking up the good things in his life, it's always a back and forth between the two.
A Biography:
"What's that performer's deal? I saw him arguing with what looked like himself before the act."
Two teenagers sat in the stands after the ominous act of Gara the Enlightened, the tent had cleared out, leaving nothing but questions and awe.
"Hell if I know, Tom, I mean I've heard rumors but nothing concrete. They say he is a master of magic, but devoting his life to learning the craft drove him a little loco. In reality he's probably got schizophrenia or some shit, what does it matter? He can do some pretty impressive stuff, never seen anything like it"
"It's just, he looked... Haunted, it was creepy, doesn't it make you think?"
"Dude, it's all an act remember, he's just really good at his job, what's all."
And with that, the two boys shrugged off the unease that had set upon their shoulders and returned to the festivities of the circus. A young adult revealed himself as the two boys exited the tent, his wild black hair obscured his eyes and his whispers filled the air, he seemed distraught.
One coherent sentence echoed through the tent, offering a sad truth to the conversation that had just taken place. "It's not an act..."
A Connection:
Though Gara attempts to be amicable to all persons that travel with the circus, he has a special friendship with Auguste. The two have an odd relationship, due to the obvious differences in experience and interests but it somehow works. Gara sees the man for who he truly is, and looks up to him as a role model. Not to mention, Perigot has taken to showing Gara the ropes of their trade, due to his amateurism. While his performance might be finely-tuned and well practice, his daemon hunting skills are still budding into useable assets. Auguste has taken Gara "under his wing" per say, having around 160 more years of experience than the new Carnie.
The Audition:
The ambience of the circus always managed to permeate my senses and lure me in. I couldn't help but relish in the excitement of the next act as I sat in the stands. The metal bleachers may have been cold and the people squished next to me smelled of cigarettes and booze, but it was all ignored as the performer entered the tent.
Whispers began to fall from lips as the youthful looking man literally stepped onto air itself and levitate into the middle of the stage. An arrangement of knives lay on the stage in front of Gara the Enlightened, all around him were staggered bulls-eye targets. His face turned into a mask of concentration, the real act was about to begin. Slowly, the knives began to lift into the air, grabbed by what seemed like nothing. Gara spread his arms out wide, a picturesque mime of a crucified martyr. The knives arranged themselves into a loose circle around shoulder-height, with Gara at the epicenter.
Gasps of disbelief floated around along with the knives, as Gara held the whole crowd in suspense for a few, intense, seconds. Then, one by one, the knives shot out, as if thrown by a magical hand straight into the center of all the targets. Applause broke out, as well as skeptical whispers and curious inquiries.
Gara took a sweeping bow, and as he tipped himself towards the floor in earnest, the knives tugged themselves from the targets and took up their former positions in a circle around Gara. The knives began to whirl around in their tight circle formation, as if pushed by hurricane winds. Then the knives lifted into the sky, hanging like icicles over the performer.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, was this guy about to do what I thought he was going to do? I had been so absorbed in the act, so filled with questions about how he was pulling off these acts, that I almost forgot this was a real person, who looked like he was about to skewer himself with a large assortment of blades.
Now, a rising chorus of alarm and anxiety began to spout from the bleachers. The chorus turned to squeaks and yelps of terror as the hanging knives began to fall from the sky, Gara directly under them. He grimaced sadistically at the crowd, ignoring the pleas to move away from the impending doom above him. Then, as if he was never there in the first place, right before the first knife would pierce his skin, Gara disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Gasps of disbelief, one from my own mouth, escaped as I watched the knives hit the dirt floor of the tent. Strands of smoke hung in the air where Gara once stood. What the fuck had just happened?
My eyes followed the lifted finger of a shocked child, pointing high above the stage, no, it couldn't be.
There he was, Gara the Enlightened, floating in the air, unscathed besides his messy hair and wisps of smoke curling from his exposed skin. It took the crowd a few moments to catch up with what had just occurred, but when it finally soaked into their minds, into their bones, we all erupted with shouts and applause.
Gara lowered himself to the floor, balancing on one leg atop a single knife embedded in the dirt. He took a final bow as the cheers reverberated through his rib-cage. Without another word, he kicked off the knife and floated out the tent, his act had come to a close. A final flurry of magic gripped the knives and coerced them to drift after Gara, obedient servants to his will.
After the act I was left with a mountain of emotions, what had transpired was beyond human comprehension. No amount of theorizing could even come close to making sense to me. For some reason I felt cheated, my curiosity left unsatisfied. I left the circus with a full stomach, a dulled mind from spirits, and an itching sense that I missed out on some secret, the desired concoction of a well-performed show.