And by noon we'll be gone...

[asliceofchaos]

In the dusky predawn, the Carnival changes. The rides speed up. The music turns frantic, and the dancers match the pace. Fairies, earlier drifting and enjoying the sights, clear the rows between tents and stalls as a new crowd strides the carnival grounds

Comments

[playonforever]

A young boy with white eyes stands balanced on a pole in front of a booth. The booth counters are lined with bottles and charms and bits of jewelry, and several globes of light. The boy, as he balances, is juggling five such balls himself, singing in a high voice that sounds a bit like a piccolo.

I am the song of the rose-owl flying;
I am the forest of the night.
I am the joy of the spring in dying;
I am your darkness and delight,
I am...

Behind the counters of the booth, a girl with very pale hair and eyes like oilslick rainbows shows off their wares, quiet, mute even, unless spoken to.

[mrsarcastic003]

Tim hadn't been going to go to the Carnival. He hadn't. He's had more than enough encounters with fae lately (how many weeks had he been missing without even knowing there was a problem?), and... honestly, he's already in enough trouble with Cissie.

So why he finds himself strolling down a midway lined with booths in anyone's guess. He sees the familiar [eyes] faces and almost misses a step. His stomach doesn't quite drop away, but it's a near thing. He nods in polite greeting to the boy and then the girl behind the counter.

[playonforever]

The girl gives him a tiny smile and inclines her head in return, while the boy switches to one foot and keeps singing.

"Honey on a razorblade,
I am fire on your skin.
I am standing on your threshold,
Spread yourself and let me in
And I’ll be you."

He lobs one of the glassy balls he's juggling high and lets it drop toward Tim.

[mrsarcastic003]

Tim catches the glass orb automatically and tosses it back toward White Eyes. He's juggled like this with Dick any number of times, and it comes easily to him now. He gives the girl a quick grin in return.

[Bar]

[fromsixtoclose]

Goldie is in the bar, walking back and forth on stilts as she serves the patrons. It's the only way she can reach everything. She, too, is singing, though it's far gentler and quieter than the white-eyed boy outside. It's impossible to make out the words unless she stops at your table or in front of you at the bar itself, and even then, the words slip out of memory as soon as she turns away.

[invisibill]

Danny waits for a moment when no one is watching and fades into visibility in a dark corner of the bar. He'd spotted the white-eyed creep outside and decided to make a hasty and invisible retreat. Well, at least he thought he'd spotted it. You could never be sure with shape-shifters.

He keeps a careful eye out as he makes his way toward a wall with the intention of making his exit.

[fromsixtoclose]

Goldie sticks one stilt out to trip him, humming quietly, the words hanging like a whisper in the air.

One's for the leaving and one's for returning,
And one's for a candle to carry you through.

"You're not even gonna have a drink first? That's rude."

[invisibill]

Okay, Danny hadn't been expecting that. He yelps and hastily turns intangible, managing to phase halfway into the floor before he can stop himself.

"Hey! What was that for?"

He levitates back out of the floor and stands there, floating a few inches above the floor.

"And I'm a ghost. We don't really need to drink."

[Midway]

[mynameonit]

An otter, slightly larger than an otter should be, squirms between piles of trinkets laid out on blankets at the edge of the midway. Some of them look like garbage, some like treasure. Anyone who reaches for something without the otter's permission, however, will get a sharp slap of water to the face and a round scolding.

Pretty much anything practical a person could wish for is somewhere in her piles.

[gallantgoggles]

Takato was leading Guilmon through the Midway, watching everything around him with bright curiosity. When he sees the otter on the edge of the Midway he makes his way over and kneels down by one of the blankets to get closer to her eye level.

"Hello. Do you live in the forest?"

[mynameonit]

She gives him a long, suspicious look before she chirps and bobs her head in the affirmative. Guilmon catches Nomee's attention a breath later, and Takato might as well be a stump. She clambers up onto the boy's shoulder to get a better look at the digimon and chatters at with what sounds like a question.

Nomee jumps back down and lands with absolutely no grace, vanishing into her piles to retrieve what looks like a torn up card with wings on it.

[gallantgoggles]

Fortunately Takato was quite used to creatures climbing over him. Between Culumon and Terriermon he'd spent quite a lot of time with creatures hanging off his head and shoulders. He still nearly loses his balance in surprise. The otter was quite a bit heavier than either of them.

Guilmon stares at the otter quizzically and moves over to look over Takato's shoulder as she brings out the card. He pokes at his partner. "Ne, Takato! What's going on?"

The boy shakes his head and looks at the card in confusion. "I don't know, boy. That doesn't look like any card I've seen before."

[Dancing floor]

[tenoroftheskies]

Out on the large clear space that's serving as a dance hall, there's a crowd of fae clustered around its outer edge. They're stomping, twirling, spinning each other to the tune, but there's only one on the floor itself. Tempest, kitted out in gray and blue skirts, spinning and spinning with her hands stretched high above her. Her shoulders are bare and sweat-bright in the lamps overhead. Her skirts flare and thunder rolls over the floor. She seems oblivious to the rest of the fae, though if someone stepped in to the circle she's made hers, she would notice. She most certainly would.

Re: [Dancing floor]

[notalighieri]

While most of the unwilling occupants of the Barracks might not have planned to wander into the carnival's claws, Dante most certainly had. Sanity is a relative concept. He cruises through the crowds and watches the scenery change, hands in pockets; the tattered red cloak swaying as he walks.

Look, a familiar face he hasn't seen in quite a while. Dante stops, and backtracks his steps to stop by the side of the dance floor. The princess of storms sure is a sight to see. No sane person would disturb such a show when not even the locals seemed to dare. But sanity is a relative concept.

Dante smiles to himself as he steps just one step closer than the rest of the crowd.

[tenoroftheskies]

Her spin broadens until she twirls to a near-halt in front of Dante, her eyes foreign and almost oblivious to his presence. Tempest catches his hands in her own and sweeps him on to the dance floor, the wind picking up around their feet. It's only then that she seems to recognize him, and a faint smile flickers and dies on her face.

"Demon-hunter. Have you found yourself entertainment enough in our forests?"

[notalighieri]

The smile might flicker and die on her lips, but on his it lives on in full health. Well.. it's more of a grin, really. -A stunning, mysterious, and no doubt incredibly dangerous woman: what's not to like? Dante allows the princess to lead him across the floor and follows with surprising grace.

"Never enough." A swift dramatic step and he's up close to her, grinning, and guiding one of their joint pair of hands outward to the side -almost as if suggesting a Tango. "I'm easy to amuse, Princess... But I'm picky with what I like."

[Outside the Gambling Hall]

[allwhoarelost]

Here, the merchant fae have taken up residence, spreading their wares across foldable tables, blankets, and small booths. There are no prices on any of it - if you're brave enough to approach the oversized animals that guard their wares to ask, they would be happy to bargain. There are no little liquid-filled bottles, as at the white eyed boy's stall, nor items of a strictly practical nature, as at Nomee's spread. Everything they have to offer is enchanted somehow, and any buyer would be wise to find out exactly how before purchasing.

Pricing can be very generous. The merchant fae love a good haggle.