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

SNACK TABLE

[baedalites.livejournal.com]

The lobby has been filled with tables and the tables have in turn been filled with plates, crates and bottles full of pie, fruit and beverages. There are no helpful signs or other indications detailing what has gone into pies or drinks, but what is life without a bit of a gamble. It appears to be a self serve sort of deal, through there some staff looking individuals trying to keep things clean and mirthful.

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

Tadhg's attire shows that he has been clothes shopping at some point: twill trousers in a dark chocolate brown, a suede vest (http://www.vestsbycharlotte.com/images/vests/20m-faux-taupe-suede-vest.jpg) over what looks suspiciously like a poet shirt (http://thedarkangel.com/img/photos/2008_11/447_-_poet_shirt_500x500.jpg). What he's sporting on his face (http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y61/karihan/RP%20Whossits/Autumn_Green_Man_Leather_Mask_by_me.jpg) makes it fairly obvious that he visited the craft tables in the carnival at some point. Soooo he's only halfway to looking like a Ren Faire escapee. His sister would be proud, or at least less obvious about facepalming.

At the moment, he's surveying the array of food with the air of someone laying out a plan of attack. Every so often he inhales deeply, nostrils flaring as he tries to decipher what might be in what.

[thenormalsquint]

Dog-free for the afternoon, Angela wanders around the festival, looking at the various styles of the new city she's found herself in. She's been staring at things long enough to decipher who's decorated who so far and she recognizes the man under the jewel-colored mask, this time with more normal looking eyes. This is good for her and quite possibly bad for him, but when since has Angela cared.

"He wants this," she says, pointing to a small hand pie filled with some kind of stewed fruit. It looks innocent enough unless Tadhg has something against fruit. "Well, actually, I want it, but I want him to taste test it first."

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

"Oh you do, do you?" Tadhg chuckles and picks up two of the pastries, making a show out of sniffing at one of them before taking a bite. Suddenly his eyes cross and then roll back. He makes a gargling noise as he starts to pitch forward--

--only to catch himself before falling into the food. Turning, he offers the second pie to Angela with the sweetest of smiles, because he can be a rotten púca sometimes.

"Dried apricots and cherries stewed in ... red wine, I think? It's very good." He takes a second, larger bite and chews enthusiastically, slightly chipmunk-cheeked by the mouthful.

[thenormalsquint]

"He does nothing for your business image," Angela reports to the elderly lady that's schlepping the pastries, handing over a few coins for two pies before taking the one offered to her. "Personally, I would hire a new ad guy."

The grandmother rolls her eyes at the two clowns at her stall and waves them off grumpily with a few foreign words that sound suspiciously like insults towards somebody's mother. Ah well. Not the first time somebody called Angela the spawn of a whore. Probably won't be the last.

For his trouble, though, Tadhg gets Angela poking at those puffy cheeks of his. "Adorable, really."

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

Tadhg can't understand the words either, but the tone is clear enough. He'd offer a charming apology to the pie matron, but a. his mouth is full and b. she's already dealing with another customer, hopefully one less inclined to amateur dramatics. He turns back to Angela just in time to get his cheeks poked, but he refrains from spraying her with pastry crumbs in return.

Self-control. He has some now and again, really.

Instead he swallows his mouthful and lets his sweet smile shade to something a little more roguish. "Thank you, a chara. I do try." Gallantly offering her his unoccupied arm, he waves his pie-holding hand in a circular gesture at the festivities. "They do know how to throw a party here, don't they?"

[thenormalsquint]

It's good one of them has self-control because the concept is completely foreign to Angela.

"This is a party?" It lack many things that make up a Montenegro approved shindig, mainly a beer keg and beer pong and a room to sneak off to. "Well, I guess it is better than nothing else," she concedes with a chuckle, sliding her arm through his with no amount of hesitation. "It could use a couple of greased up shirtless guys."

Or women. She's not picky at all.

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

The problem with relying on a púca's sense of self-control is that you never know when it may be tossed aside in favor of something more interesting ... or more fun. Tadhg's eyes sparkle mischievously as he polishes off the last bite of his pie. A social butterfly he is not and never has been, but neither is he a hermit. Tonight he feels the need to be with people, and he's quite glad that Angela found him.

"So, a róisín dubh, I take it that this is all just too staid and family-friendly for you?" he asks cheerfully. "I certainly can't have a friend getting bored. Did you have a striptease act in mind for the Zygoda, or possibly oil wrestling?" And with that he starts unbuttoning his vest.

[thenormalsquint]

Wow, he really makes it easy for her to get an eyeful, doesn't he? Far be it from Angela to shyly look away or blush or do anything in the coy department. She leans back on her heels, narrowing her eyes, looking as if she's deep in thought for anything in the world.

"How about both? I mean, if you want to do either or, don't let my choice stop you, but I wouldn't mind both." And this is why one never tempts Angela like this. Especially with a man who is threatening to undress in front of her.

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

Modesty and fae, two things that rarely meet. Human nudity taboos have never made much sense to Tadhg anyway. If anything, he grins wider at Angela's encouragement.

"Well now, as much as I enjoy helping out a friend--" The vest slides down his shoulders and off. "--I'm really not looking to get arrested my first week here. But I doubt I stand much chance of landing in jail just for going bare-chested--" Shirt parts company from his waistband and gets rucked up his torso. "--so the shirtless part I can provide."

Both garments wind up neatly draped over one arm as he once again offers the other to Angela. Tadhg now sports nothing above the waist besides his mask and a silver pendant (http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y61/karihan/RP%20Whossits/1048.jpg) hanging low enough on his chest to be concealed by most shirts. And if there are any raging prudes in their vicinity, the mild ward of inattention he activated while reaching for that first button will make it easy for them to ignore anything that might upset their delicate sensibilities.

[thenormalsquint]

Somewhere, sometime, somebody is going to think Angela as fae with her lack of this modesty concept. It really won't be the first time. "Now people are going to think I picked up one of the performers to take home... and that's pretty much all right with me."

She laughs but it's suddenly cut off by her attention being diverted away from Tadhg's pecs to what's hanging down from his neck between them. The pendant sparkles in the afternoon sunlight, enough to get Angela to pay attention to something artistic.

"Pretty," she muses in a low voice, running her finger over the intricate knot work.

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

"Oh really?" And am I getting taken home then? would have been the next words to pass his lips, had he not noticed Angela's sudden interest in his warding medallion. He crafted the piece of silver to hold certain spells at the ready, and among those are measures (some subtle, some less so) to discourage theft of the ward itself.

Nothing serious to worry about, though. A slight shift so that she touches skin before she touches metal, a moment's focus, and he more or less tells the magic he placed in the pendant that Angela is a friend, not a cutpurse or pickpocket. It lies inert under finger, seeming nothing more than an ordinary piece of jewelry.

"Thank you," he murmurs at her compliment, noting her careful attention to detail. "The casting was fairly straightforward, but etching on the fine detail took time."

[thenormalsquint]

Oh, she'd take him home, wherever home is right now, but Angela's as distracted with something shiny as a magpie. Moving to hold it in her palm, she brushes it with her other hand, taking in the fine etching.

"You did it yourself?" She sounds impressed. Metalworking was never her forte. The closest thing she's ever got to working with metal was her Red Bull can sculptures on a night she had to stay awake.

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

"I did, yes." Tadhg smiles, pleased by both the compliment to his crafting and the gentle brush of the back of her hand on his chest. "I made one for every member of my family, a different design for each."

He distracts himself from dwelling on his family with the recollection that Angela prefers his eyes in their natural state and drops their concealing glamour. It feels so strange to do so in public, but he has to admit he's seen far more unusual-looking people around than simply a man with animal eyes.

[thenormalsquint]

Angela nods at his answer, still impressed at the crafting and what had to have been long hours and probably some frustration put into it. But she's held onto the charm long enough and she lets it fall back onto his skin, with a gentle pat to it as she glances up to notice the change in his eyes.

"Thank you." Her voice is soft and warm, sounding genuine with the words.

[gifted-hands.livejournal.com]

"You're very welcome." His tone shows his pleasure with her preference for his undisguised appearance, but there's a gentle hint of uncertainty as well, as if he's not sure what to do with her thank you. He wonders for a fleeting moment if he shouldn't be thanking her instead.

"So how are you doing?" he asks, his voice matching hers for softness.

[thenormalsquint]

No need to thank her just for her preferring people stay themselves around her. However, her thank you is for him feeling comfortable enough to drop it in general, though Angela is appreciative that he does it around her.

"I could be better," she confesses, dropping her eyes from his. Her happy-go-lucky attitude is natural, but what underlies that is sadness and homesickness. All that time she wanted to get out of the City and just leave... she didn't mean leave and go somewhere else, skipping home completely.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

It is a universal constant that all version of Njoki throughout time and space love pie. Bad pie is a tragedy, but good pie is something to be rejoiced over and consumed with great joy. At this particular moment, Ki is eating some sort of fruit-like pie that is orange(ish) and neither pumpkin or cape gooseberry, but somewhere between the two flavours.

[goodeintentions]

Aimery, too, had a fondness for pie. There were all kinds of variations and improvements, but the basic concept of them had survived enough to still remind him of the more pleasant aspects of 'back home' in Warwick. He had decided to limit himself to one slice at the most, maybe two, but it all just looked and smelled so good.

He wandered the table for a bit, undecided, until he found one that was a delightful off-orange color with the most pleasant smell. Except he didn't know what was in it and getting it and taking a slice only to toss it away would be terribly wasteful. So he looked around, eyeing the people's plates until he spotted a one that held a slice of the same color. Even before he recognized the bearer, he was headed over, his face a picture of polite inquiry, "Pardon my interrupting, but that pie. Is it any good?"

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

"S'not bad. It's orange, but doesn't taste of orange. I can't tell you what it is or tastes like, but it's not too sweet?" Njoki looks down at her plate and stabs a piece of pie off to eat. It would be better with a cup of coffee or maybe a pot of tea, but you can't have everything. "Might be persimmon?"

[goodeintentions]

"Persimmon?" Aimery made a small thoughtful noise, a soft hmm as she are her bite of pie, then gave a firm, agreeing nod. "I shall give it a try then, thank you."

He half turned back towards the pie table but stopped himself, deciding pie could wait until he confirmed they had, in fact, met. "You attended the Luthor birthday party about a month back, yes? You had a... Columbina mask, if I recall?"

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

"Oh, I remember you now. You were working, right? Dressed as the wannabe sheriff, yeah?" She chuffs, genuinely happy to see someone she knows and juggles her plate of pie so she can better offer to shake hands.

[manyshapes.livejournal.com]

Raven has been wandering through the festival, mostly people-watching at the moment, although she might check out one of the fortune-tellers later, just for fun. Right now she's contemplating the spread of food, trying to decide whether dishes that look familiar probably are familiar, or just cleverly disguised that way to lure in the unaware.

[goodeintentions]

Maybe a second plate wouldn't hurt, if the tenders didn't recognize him, so Aimery found himself once again surveying the buffet with a keen eye. He wasn't the only indecisive one either, it seemed, from the number of people wandering the line looking hungry- one wearing a familiar looking scarf. Aimery grinned and tried to play his winding up standing next to Raven as pure coincidence, but his voice was plenty cheeky as he asked, "Miss, could I bother you a moment for some advice?"

[manyshapes.livejournal.com]

Raven recognizes that voice instantly, and she turns her head toward him with an equally cheeky grin. "Only if you'll give me some advice in return."

Then in a spontaneous fit of happiness at feeling like she almost has friends here, she gives Aimery a quick hug. "I saw you sing, you're really good!"