Work Text:
Generations
by Scribe
Preface
It's hard to describe what makes a Chancer. All are unusual. Some are born so, some become so accidentally, and a few work hard to achieve that state. What do they have in common? It's more what they don't have in common with the rest of the world. Some how, some way, they don't fit into what the world considers to be normal. Vampires, werewolves, seers, mermaids, fauns, mages, and creatures for which there are no name--all have the potential to be Chancers. They are the ones seen as myths, legends, and the stuff of folklore--or nightmares. Those who don't believe the old ways see them as freaks of nature, or mutants. In any case, they aren't wanted. No one wants them for a neighbor. Society's mildest response would be shunning, or exploitation. A more common reaction would be hostility, up to and including murder.
But it isn't just the difference from humanity at large that makes a Chancer. Many of the different ones make their way alone, convinced that it is not safe for anyone to know how different they are. The Universe never intended for a thinking being to live in a social vacuum, though. Refusing all close society can makes it even harder to blend in when, inevitably, the Real World intrudes. Such a lifestyle may provide physical survival, but it can lead to... twisting.
Knowing that you are different, believing yourself to be unlike anyone else in the world, is a burden. Imagine being like that, thinking you will have to go through life alone, and then suddenly discovering that there is a whole society that will not only accept you, but understand you. Finding out that there are people LIKE you, in that they are unlike anyone else. Imagine how freeing it would be to live among others and not have to guard youself every waking moment.
A group of unusual people living together could not go long without discovery. Even the most distant wilderness is destined to be penetrated at some time. It was decided, long ago, by some wise man or woman who has been lost in the mists of time, that the safest way for the most unusual to live would be in plain sight, by simply pretending to be only a little unusual. A sedentary lifestyle was too risky, but a nomadic one would mean that they could be gone before people had the time to ponder upon any strange attributes or activities. The perfect solution, then, was a traveling show. Did the group seem a little strange? Well, you know... carnies and performers. Enjoy the show, then forget about it. They'll be gone soon.
That is how The Show came into existance. The Last Chance Traveling Show. Last Chance, because they are the last true refuge in a world that has no place for the unusual ones. The Last Chance is a haven, and a home, for those who cannot or will not live among 'normal' men. The Chancers amuse the citizens of the towns they pass through, presenting themselves as eccentric and colorful, but not unnatural. When the rubes have gone home, though--they are themselves. The protective coloration is dropped, and no one hides what they really are.
The Last Chance Traveling Show is more than just a business, and a job. It is home, friends, and family. It is sanctuary, haven, and refuge. For most it is, indeed, the last chance at a peaceful life. Acceptance means support, protection, strength, companionship, and love--and that's more than many 'normal' people find. To threaten one is to threaten all. Considering the combined talents and powers of the Chancers, that simply isn't a wise thing to do.
Chancers join, and less often go. When one Chancer is lucky enough to find and bond with another, the child is a Chancer, unless they someday decide to leave the show. Even then they can be assured that the Chancers will do all that they can to look out for them, and keep them safe. But most don't leave, and those who do usually return. If there is one thing Chancers seem to share, it is a need to keep contact with their past, with their families. From generation to generation, from ancestors to grandparents, to parent and child, and future offspring... The thread of connection is sometimes worn thin, but it seldom truly snaps.
end preface