a late autumn wasp

[baedalites.livejournal.com]

Who: Everyone!
What: A harvest festival and talent show.
Where: Howl Barrow
When: Misdi, the first of Maryden.
Notes: Players are encouraged to invent NPCs, talent acts, or have their characters participate in the show. Have questions? Need to plot more? There's an OOC post for that.

The Zygoda squats in Howl Barrow like an extravagant toad, weighted down by enough decorative architecture to make a baroque angel blush. Live colourful birds - of which an alarming number appear to be cockatoos - roost between the columns and pillars of the facade. The light-up sign outside declares THIS NIGHT ONLY AT THE ZYGODA; AUTUMNAL FESTIVITIES; AMATEUR NIGHT; EVERYONE WELCOME; HARVEST PIES!

The street beneath it has turned into a carnival in its own right; there are tents and stalls selling anything from fortunes told, candy, face paint, and odd little handicrafts. There are street performers and vaudeville artists putting on shows that invite bystanders to join in. The crowd appears to be in a good mood, happy perhaps to be able to let lose and blow off some steam in a friendly context for once. Some wear masks, others are dressed in finery, and others still look like they just got out of work. No one seems to mind either way. The theatres doors stand open, inviting those who wish to step inside.

Comments

THE OUTDOOR CARNIVAL

[baedalites.livejournal.com]

The carnival smells like cotton candy, spiced wine and rare incense. Music, chimes, laughter and loud theatrical voices fill the air. One of the more popular attractions seem to be something called "Kiss the Carp" which appears to be a huge suspended bubble of water in which a large fish swims. On the promise of being rewarded with a fortune or a trinket, one is expected to give up some coins and, as the name suggests, kiss the fish.

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

Speaking of face-painting, a local friend of Asbjørn's managed to double-book, and so his artistic skills have been set aside for less permanent uses this evening. He can be found amongst the usual chaos armed with face paints, sponges, brushes, a book for ideas and glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. He's looking a bit ruffled (http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT4G2DNcKneQSg5otYKba90jS_kzq36wKBDe9UZRihstcz1gaG4rg) and sparkly for the occasion.

He's accompanied to his left by a young, androgynous looking fellow (named Casey, if anyone should ask) offering hair wrapping services and whose own do looks like the love child of Captain Jack Sparrow and Emilie Autumn. There is another, lower table to Casey's side selling a selection of fun accessories like flower hair garlands, clip-on horns, felted pixie hats, etc, as well as a fanned out selection of fliers for The Lucky Dragon Tattoo Shop.

A finer pair of cheerful weirdos there never was. Come, and give them your money.

[thenormalsquint]

What is this stand? This stand contains everything Angela has ever loved and will love in her lifetime. Feathers, glitter, paint! Her fingers poke and prod at a few garlands before she selects one make of lilies, her favorite flower before sliding into Asbjørn's chair as soon as his current customer vacates it.

"Make me beautiful," she says with a laugh.

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

Asbjørn feigns shock, before gasp-whispering, "Impossible!" Then grins, adding, "You can't mess with perfection."

Don't mind him and his friendly flirting. He holds his hands up, making a square with his fingers. "But I am getting a fairy feel from the choice of head wear. I'm thinking butterfly eye-mask. What say you?"

[thenormalsquint]

"Flattery won't get you in my pants, Asby." And don't mind hers because that will happen more often than not with this woman.

Angela purses her lips in deep contemplation about her painted-on options and shakes her head. "I want something different. I feel like you'll be doing a whole bunch of butterflies today."

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

He pokes his tongue out as a reply to the first, then he considers her request. "Hmm. How about ivy leaves? Sort of a play on the pagan Green Man image. Only you'll be the Green Lady."

"I don't have to make you match, mind you. I'm just in the mood."

[thenormalsquint]

This time, Angela grimaces playfully. "Well, if you must. It would be cruel of me to deny the muses of another artist. Do what you need to do."

So dramatic, this woman. It's a wonder she doesn't carry around her own fainting couch.

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

"I promise it will be dazzling," he says with a grin, because apparently Asbjørn enjoys treating people's faces like a six-year-old would making a greetings card.

"Right." A sponge is grabbed and he dabs on some pale, shimmery looking paint. "I need to keep your hair out of the way. Do you mind if I use my hands or do you want to wear an alice band?"

[thenormalsquint]

Only nobody will let a six-year-old have so much access to glitter, right? Hopefully.

"Whatever makes life easier for you," she replies, closing her eyes and leaning back into the chair. "Except for making me look like Medusa's twin or something."

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

"Alice band then," he says, passing one over. "Medusa would be seriously cool, although we'd need a better head piece for that. Green dreadlock falls or something."

[thenormalsquint]

"Medusa would certainly be not," Angela retorts with a strained laugh as she tries to keep her head still enough for the band to slide into place. "I'm not trying to be celibate for a whole year again. Looking like Medusa will just lessen my chances at a one night stand."

Far too much personal information for a woman to tell a man she's only met less than a week ago, but really, what is anything personal to Angela? Certainly not space or words.

[sailorofthefloe.livejournal.com]

"I don't know, with some people around here it could actually increase it." There is dabbing of paint, etc, as all this is going on. "It's none of my business, but why celibacy?"

Is he making a face? Maybe. Sliiightly.

[thenormalsquint]

"Lean market," she replies through clenched teeth, this time trying to stay still so he can paint in peace. "Very lean market with people who were too young or didn't play for the same teams I did."

Or they were all vampires, exes of her friends, or generally untouchable. Or just plain not interested in her. That last part Angela doesn't like to think about.

[neverrundry.livejournal.com]

Since his arrival in Baedal, Dolohov hasn't seen his sober side. He's kept himself pretty well lubricated, and right now is no different. Though he isn't participating in the games (certainly not at the risk of parting with the money he has), he's watching them with undisguised interest and thinking to himself that Muggles will do anything for a the brief sensation of success.

Even kiss a fish.

After a momentary lapse in his train of thought, he returns the conversation with his companion, slinging an arm around their shoulders. "Where was I? Oh, that's it - well, he was heartbroken, of course, but it's not as though he didn't see it coming, the poor bastard. Well, we got together and decided what he needed was a new romance. And of course, he refused, obstinate git that he was. So, we took out an advertisement in the Prophet for him. 'One Hogwarts alumnus, for sale as-is to willing witch, age 17 to 90, three galleons.'"

[Open to all.]

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

Njoki isn't sure what to make of the giant, slightly unnerving fish. She's fairly sure it some sort of goldfish and not likely to eat anyone's face off, but at the same time, is it really a good idea to pay a bit of money for a soggy smooch and a strange trinket?


"Seems a fair price," she says with a bit of a surprise after been clapped on the back by a stranger who must've lost his usual companion. "But does he have any skills? Match the furnishings well?"

Annnnd...tenses, I has them

[neverrundry.livejournal.com]

He doesn't appear to notice that Njoki isn't the same person he arrived with; instead, he nods agreeably. "It was a fair price. You can get a unicorn horn for seventeen sickles. Three galleons for a pureblood wizard is a bargain."

He laughs uproariously and goes, "We had ten inquiries the first day. All it took was a little firewhiskey in his system and he was amenable to anything. Merlin's balls. As far as I know, he's still married to a mouldy old hag in Bulgaria."

Extracting a flask from his coat, he takes a long swig, then blinks at her and holds it out, offering to share.

Tenses! For victory.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

Njoki has many excellent qualities, one of which is an exceedingly strong constitution and a dubious sense of self-preservation.¹ "Cheers," she says accepting the flask and taking a swig, "Next one's on me, eh?"

"They could be happy as clams together. A great sea of children, all running about, laughing over the funny story of how their parents met." Her own laugh is a short, sharp bray that shows off her slightly too sharp teeth.


-----
[1] See: Letting a frenzying vampire into her apartment because it seemed like 'a good idea at the time'.

[neverrundry.livejournal.com]

Reaching to take the flask back, he shakes his head, his twisted grin a gash in his face. "No, Malfoy heard what I'd done and there was a consensus that we ought to bring him back. No one wanted to, mind you, but it was for the best."

He takes another long drink, then laughs abruptly. "Getting him back's one thing, but no one said I had to make sure it was annulled. They were too surprised I got three galleons for him!"

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

"The real question is, what did you use the galleons for?" Njoki chuffs and nudges Dolohov in the ribs as someone tries to kiss the carp and tips over a little too far, getting stuck half-way into the bubble of water.

They should totally give that a try, what could go wrong?

[neverrundry.livejournal.com]

Antonin claps a hand on Njoki's shoulder and beckons with the other - come closer. He lowers his voice as though sharing a potentially devastating secret. "Two bottles of Old Ogden's finest Firewhiskey and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."

With that admission, he roars with laughter as though it's the funniest thing he has ever heard in his life.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

While not entirely sure what either of those things are, Njoki is still able to share in the joke. She's always been quick to find humour and is the first to admit that a good laugh is infectious. Of course, once she gets to laughing, her whooping giggle is a bit strange and usually gets a few looks.

"Brilliant. Were you good enough to share with the poor sold-off husband? Or did you keep it all for yourself?"

[neverrundry.livejournal.com]

The giggle coming from his heretofore-assumed-male companion leaves Antonin feeling rather wrong-footed. He doesn't want to ask, however, because after all, some people just have strange laughs.

Instead, he focuses on the question and shakes his shaggy head. "Kept it all to myself. No one cares much for Barty, you see. He -" He pulls a grimace, as though trying to figure out just how to explain Barty. "He did this thing with his tongue."

He mimics the darting motion with his own tongue, exaggerating it, his eyes going wide with each swipe. "Like cracking your knuckles, but he did it during conversations."

And this was good reason for selling Barty to a hag for three galleons and not sharing the resulting purchases.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

Njoki wrinkles up her nose in distaste. She's got her own odd habits, but thankfully that is not among them.

"I knew a man that would lick at the corners of his mouth when he was nervous and he was always scared of some damn thing or other," she says with a chuff and other dismissive expression. They should both rejoice in their perfect normalcy, right? "I'm Ki, eh?"

[neverrundry.livejournal.com]

He has his own bad habits, as well, but there's just something about Barty's 'tongue thing' which sets him (and others, he suspects) on edge. Barty's eyes go a little too wide, his insanity a little too contrived. Antonin thinks he probably does it to get a rise out of people. The obnoxious younger brother, plying for attention by being obnoxious.

"Ki," he echoes, then holds out one large hand. He has no compunctions about being friendly with the filthy Muggles of the world. Just so long as they stay in their place. "Antonin. Been here..."

He trails off, then shrugs. A few days, a week. He's not so sure.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

"'Bout the same. Bit longer, probably," she says, taking his hand and shaking. Antonin might notice that her temperature runs a bit hot and her hands are one of the few visible areas of skin that aren't intentionally scarred.

"These days, I'm from Mafaton."