Jupiter, Florida
1952
A flashy black and white feather stole; a light red dress; a black beret with a feather sticking out of the top of the cap; a large bag with a devilish-looking clown surrounded by spotlights and juggling balls; short, curly blonde hair in a perfect coif; fashionable shoes that seemed to clack against the ground as she walked; a strange air with a fascination for the mysterious and unknown—these are just some of the things that could easily describe Elsa Mars.
It was time for a new attraction to join her "cabinet of curiosities"—the freak show had just come to the quiet hamlet of Jupiter, Florida for the autumn and winter months. They had been touring the country for well over a decade, possibly longer; yet business was not doing well for them in the previous few months. Sure, Elsa had recruited conjoined twins, but the raving around town was short-lived. They needed to see something extraordinary to even think of buying a ticket to another show—Elsa turned her head to the shop window of a small boutique and gasped at the sight of a young woman dressing a mannequin with a new style of dress.
She seemed to struggle, but despite this, Elsa was amazed to see that she was whiter than white; in fact, whiter than freshly fallen, virgin snow on a sleepy mountaintop. Her hair and skin were the exact same color, nearly translucent. Even her eyelashes were the color of alabaster, and her eyebrows were so light-colored they looked absent from her unearthly face. Elsa noticed the young woman to have full lips the color of pink sugar, and she had high cheekbones defined by only the ghostly pallor of her complexion. It was when her unsmiling face looked out the shop window that Elsa got a good look at her eye color—it was unnatural, freakish to an extent; a light lavender-violet that wasn't too intense, but clear enough to distinguish as being the only colorful part of her face other than her lips.
Elsa entered the store, slinking gracefully through the glass French doors as a normal-looking woman greeted her—dark chestnut hair in a curling updo, glistening blue eyes, peaces-and-crème complexion, a bright, sky blue dress, and a pearly-white smile from ear to ear. She seemed enthused to see the woman with the strange tote bag, but Elsa, whose accent seemed to draw the attention of other customers, looked at the girl and answered her greeting.
"Welcome to Clara May's," the girl said. "Need a dress for—"
"I don't need help, leibchen," Elsa smiled, cutting the young saleswoman off. "I'm just browsing."
Making her way to a circle-round clothing rack, she glanced down at three dark-colored dresses that were marked with discount tags; but then the image of the young, pale woman distracted her enough to inadvertently take a few slow steps closer to her as she struggled to put the sleeve on the same mannequin she had seen just minutes before outside the shop window. She looked to be very patient with the mannequin even as she had a difficult time dressing it, and Elsa even heard her grunting slightly before making her way over to assist the girl.
"Here, allow me," the German woman offered.
The ghost-white albiness seemed to stare off into space when she faced Elsa's direction; the German was in awe of her extreme physical features, her eyes a piercing lavender-violet; her platinum-white hair straight and styled with a blunt fringe; absent, wispy white eyebrows; full, ice-colored eyelashes; full lips that resembled light pink fairy dust fallen on virgin snow. Her outfit was entirely black, which made her extremely fair features stand out even more. It consisted of a black button-up blouse that was relatively form-fitting around her average-sized bust, and beneath it was a plain white dress shirt over a knee-length pencil skirt. Her white, thin legs were covered in black hose, and her shoes were simple leather loafers. Elsa lent her a hand in putting the sleeve on the mannequin, and once it was on, the young woman's task was completed—meanwhile, the saleswoman who had graciously greeted the older German woman witnessed the help her employee was given by the customer.
"Hey!" she called out. "Don't help her! Let her do it herself!" Elsa turned back and glared at the woman, her hazel eyes darting at her mercilessly.
"I didn't ask for your permission," she sneered; the young albiness said nothing.
"We need you in the back," the saleswoman said to the snow-white woman. "Some hemlines need to be done on those dresses. Right now." The girl sounded uncomfortably stern, and it was the first words Elsa had heard from the albiness' mouth.
"I already did them." She had an accent; not too heavy, but quite noticeable. Nordic? No. Finnish? Definitely not. Slavic? Possibly. Elsa speculated the woman's origins as the saleswoman seemed to be barking orders at her.
"Well, there's more. Go do 'em," her boss ordered. Elsa intervened—why was she treating her so terribly? Did this poor young woman, who probably had nothing to her name, get this treatment on a daily basis?
"Don't speak to her that way!" she hissed. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Excuse me?" the young saleswoman asked. "Who do you think you're speaking to?"
"You!" Elsa chided. "Do you treat all of your employees like…likeanimals?! She was trying to do her job, and you just shoot her down when help is offered. How selfish can you be?!"
"I'm afraid she's the only animal here. My mother hired her," the girl said, looking at the albiness cruelly; again, the young woman said nothing to defend herself.
"And I'm getting her out of here!" Elsa contradicted. "I just happened to be the owner of my own…business." Her hazel eyes turned to the snow-white woman dressed in raven black. "You're getting a new job, leiben. A better job."
"Huh?" The albiness seemed disappointed, but the idea of a better job was like a breath of fresh air. Yet, she hadn't even known the woman's name—how could she be so sure to trust her?
"You can't do that!" the saleswoman said forcefully. "She works here! She's ours!"
"So it's slave labor now?" Elsa asked slyly. "If I report you to the police, then it won't be such a pretty sight. You probably pay this girl nothing but grief." She looked at the woman's lavender-colored eyes and continued, "but she is worth so much more than what you're making her do. Life is to be lived. Toiling in a dress shop…this is no place for a girl to truly live her dreams."
The albiness looked at both the German and the saleswoman with confusion—the woman seemed so tempted to follow through and quit her job at the dress store, but at the same time, how did she know she could trust someone whose name she barely knew? She sighed, and Elsa cut into her thoughts with three words.
"Get your things."
She did so—the albiness was convinced. She was never easily convinced, but if having a better life meant putting her trust in the unknown, then it was meant to be. It was certainly true. Life is to be lived, especially for a young woman of her age. Working fifty cents per hour at a dress shop was not easy to get by. Elsa had noticed that even her hat was black, and it had a wide-brim as to block the sun's rays against her icy, ghost-white flesh. Even as they walked down the street, the German noticed the albiness' squint, and even an eye-twitch here and there. It was the perfect time to make conversation when they sat in a shady area underneath a hawthorn tree in the park.
"What is your name?" Elsa asked. The albiness took a few moments of silence before answering.
"Naya."
"Is that a nickname?" she asked.
"I suppose."
"I must say, you are quite a lovely girl," Elsa smiled. "Schönes mädchen." Naya darted her lavender eyes to the woman, but didn't have a single hint of expression on her face. Not a smile, not a frown, not a glare—nothing.
"You should smile," Elsa encouraged, smiling and looking at her to try and get her to do the same—nothing. Just a lifeless, pale, unwavering gaze that stared off into space and through Elsa, who continued.
"I have a new job opportunity, as I've said," she began, a new train of thought.
Naya watched attentively as the woman pulled out a small business-like card from her large tote bag with the demonic-looking clown head and other adornments. Elsa handed it to her cordially, as if inviting her to a grand gala, and the girl's pallid, almost blue livid fingertips took it; she seemed to struggle reading the text even as she brought it closer to one eye in particular. Elsa watched her and sighed sympathetically.
"Can you see?" she asked.
"Not in one eye," Naya replied. "I am blind in one eye."
"Oh, my," Elsa gasped. "It's no wonder you were having issues with that dummy in the window."
"It was partly that," Naya said, her accent soft but noticeable. "They are hard to put clothing on anyways."
"Can you read the card now?" Elsa asked. The albiness struggled, but with her good eye, she could easily read the text.
"Eh…uh…" She stammered a bit before reading it aloud. "Fraulein Elsa's Cabinet…of…C-Curiosities?"
"Ja."
"Huh." Naya proceeded to return it to Elsa, who refused it and shook her head.
"Nein," she said. Naya's eyes darted at her again, but she listened. "Keep it. You will need it for your first day, leibchen. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Naya asked with disbelief.
"Ja," the German smiled. "You will start work tomorrow."
"B-But…I…I do not know your name," Naya objected. "Are…you—"
"I am Elsa Mars," she said, extending her hand out to the albiness; her hands felt cool and clammy to the touch. Perhaps the Floridian heat had been getting to her considering how she was dressed head to toe in black. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Naya soon got up from the bench and walked her way home with the business card in hand—Elsa went in another direction; the diner.
The diner in the heart of Jupiter was always bustling with the breakfast and brunch crowd at that time of day. Elsa removed her flamboyant black and white feather capelet and put it on the back of her chair and read the newspaper that was provided on the front table near the seating podium. A waitress was filling her coffee, and the two participated in friendly conversation about movies and entertainment. At least until the all-too-familiar sight of a young man wearing a leather jacket, matching cap, and distinctive mittens flirting with a beautiful, brunette waitress caught her attention; Elsa's eyes widened as she heard his voice subtly, sounding flirtatious and coy as the young waitress blushed.
"I ride a motorcycle," she heard him say. That does it, Elsa thought as she stood up and made her way over to his place at the counter, no more flirting for him.
"Jimmy!" she whispered forcefully—he looked back at her, his smile fading rather fast before he glanced up at the waitress.
"Hit the road, toots," he said, sounding nonchalant and even rude to an extent. The waitress' beautiful face, smiling only moments before accompanied by a blush, looked at Jimmy and shook her head, walking away as Elsa took a seat on the stool next to him, glaring at him harshly.
"Are you seriously willing to give up what we have for some…some hussy?" she hissed.
"People ain't buying tickets, Elsa. We won't be here for long anyway at this rate," Jimmy answered. "No one wants to come and see the show anymore."
"I think I have the solution we've been looking for," she contradicted. "I found her today."
"Her?" Jimmy asked, sounding rather bewildered.
"Ja," Elsa replied. "She is…the perfect addition to our show."
"It won't matter if we include someone new," Jimmy expressed doubtfully, his deep, dark brown eyes looking at the older woman. "People don't want to see a bunch of carnies on stage. We could be living normal lives, you know."
"I say we are going to include her, and that is final," Elsa sneered.
Jimmy was indeed very handsome—at age twenty-four, he was quite the charmer of the ladies in town. With his hands ungloved, exhibiting a severe case of syndactyly with fused fingers forming larger digits, he made extra money on the side pleasuring women at Tupperware parties and other gatherings they would come together at to gossip and socialize. Alternatively, he was a performer in the freak show, known as Lobster Boy, the only place where he felt accepted by society. His eyes were dark and warm, chocolate brown and easy on anyone else's eyes, and his brown hair was close to his head and always styled with an excess of gel in the front to make his curling locks stand out. He looked at Elsa with a squirm, widening his eyes as he raised his mittened hands up in the air before putting them together again. As he walked up and left the diner, the same waitress who was waiting on Elsa approached the counter from the employee side and looked down at her.
"Uh, ma'am?" she asked. "Do you mind closing your check now? I'm going on break." Elsa stood up, putting her crazed black and white feathery stole on over her red dress before glancing back at her.
"Oh, no, darling," she began with a tricky smile. "It's on the house. Stars never pay."
Elsa seemed to slink out of the diner gracefully as the waitress watched her with shock. Yet Elsa was not the star, let alone the only star. Other matters were afoot and needed tending to.
A/N:
Hey, what's up? Keri here, with a brand new AHSFS fanfic. Before you ask (if you're curious), this is NOT related to the Britta/Elina/Eleonora storyline in any way, shape or form. Naya is an entirely new OC of mine.
Her character's physical description is inspired by Russian albino model Nastya Zhidkova.
Stay tuned for the next chapter, leave feedback/questions in Reviews and if you like this story, favorite and follow!
Thank you and happy reading!