Step Right Up! [Open]

[applesaucemod]

It might be winter in the waking world, but tonight, the dreamers will find themselves wrapped in the warmth of a blazing August afternoon. Here, it is summer - and what's more, the Carnival has come to town!

Whatever the dreamer's tastes, there should be something to amuse them. There are rides that tend towards the rickety, wooden end of the spectrum, a petting zoo occupied - for the most part - by tolerant farm animals, food stalls selling every kind of carnival faire you'd imagine, and an arcade full of rigged games. Inquisitive dreamers might find that some of the wares tend towards the esoteric, and some of the stalls might seem a little out of place, but it's all the sort of thing that might show up in a carnival somewhere. Look, no one's perfect.

Overall, though, it's a modest set-up. The once brightly colored canvas has been faded by the sun, and the paint is peeling in a few places. But the gentle wear lends everything an air of comfort (as opposed to an air of a lawsuit waiting to happen). Whether you're riding the ferris wheel, petting a goat, or trying to win a stuffed animal the size of a small child, the only harm the dreamers can expect is the kind they might dole out themselves.



[OOC: oh, you all know the drill by now.]

Comments

[grimaud]

Lucien has so far only been observing rather than interacting. When he spots this particular young man though, his behaviour strikes him as particularly odd. All these festivities, and this boy is digging through the garbage?

His first guess would be that he's a simple scavenger, something he's intimately familiar himself. But it doesn't seem to be just that he can't afford the carnival activities - he appears to enjoy rooting through the trash. It piques Lucien's curiosity enough to approach.

"Anything of interest?" he asks casually.


[Fair warning, he may look like Seth, but he is not as nice.]

[boneshaker]

Castor looks up and smiles affably at the total stranger. "Only always," he says, holding up a broken shiny green bottle. "If this weren't a dream I could make something outta this, but..." He shrugs and absorbs it, the glass dissipating into the air as he holds it on his open palm.

"Garbage is kinda my specialty," he grins, resuming the search. "I'm Castor."

[grimaud]

Lucien's mind casually brushes over the 'dream' mention for now, and he also forgoes introducing himself in return. Instead he takes a single step back at the bottle disappearing into nowhere.

"How did you do that?" he asks immediately, voice slightly accusatory, as if he's suspecting Castor of doing witchcraft or something. Not that Lucien particularly believes in witchcraft, but still.

[boneshaker]

"Magic!" says Castor brightly. "Garbage is kind of like my energy source. It's my medium. Cause, you know. It's everywhere." He continues rooting through his treasure trove. There are a lot of interesting, colorful pieces here, as one might expect from the venue. He wishes he could take it back to the waking world with him.

"So what's your name?" he prompts, since it wasn't offered.

[grimaud]

Well, that's... something. Lucien has no idea what, but it's definitely something.

"What do you mean, magic?" he asks, with an obvious note of disdain. He doesn't answer the prompt. Considering the path this conversation has gone, it barely seems worthy of answering.

[boneshaker]

Castor's smile fades a bit, his expression tightening even as he keeps his focus downward. That's twice now this guy has passed over obvious opportunities to share his name, and so far he knows several things about Castor, and Castor knows nothing about him. That and the unfriendly skepticism are putting him somewhat on edge.

"Just what it sounds like," he says, maintaining a casual tone. "Nothing too fancy. It's pretty commonplace where I come from."

[grimaud]

"Yeah well, where I'm from, there ain't no such thing as magic," Lucien responds. There, that's one thing Castor knows about him now.

Lucien couldn't tell you what exactly Castor did if it weren't magic, though. Then again, there have always been illusionists, people doing tricks for money. Combined with the trash thing however, this seems particularly strange.

[boneshaker]

"That's too bad," says Castor mildly. "Magic is pretty neat."

All right, that's just about enough one-sided pleasantry. His chill only extends so far. He looks up at the guy, folds his arms, looking probably comical, sitting all stern in his pile of garbage. "So who are you?" he says. "Are you just here to interrogate me, or what?"

Interrogate is a strong word, chosen because maybe it'll get a strong reaction. Castor can't read this guy, and he doesn't know how to deal with people he can't read.

[grimaud]

Lucien raises his eyebrows at that. He's not that easy to get a rise out of. Or, well, he can be, depending on where you poke. But most people who do that end up dead, unless there's a particularly compelling reason to keep them alive.

"Lucien Grimaud," he answers finally. "Why, do you have something you should be interrogated about?" he asks, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

[boneshaker]

WELL that's not altogether comforting. Castor blinks and says, "I, uh, don't think so?"

He'd kind of been assuming the getup was for the carnival, but... now he can see plainly it's very definitely not. Lucien has a look Castor recognizes, should have recognized at the outset, someone who knows life in the streets, and someone who does not fuck around. The kind of person Castor's worked for often enough. Never particularly savory company.

"Is that a thing you're practiced at?" he says, feigning nonchalance, and nods at the hand on the hilt. "You've got the sword and the attitude for it."

[grimaud]

"Yes," he answers simply. Though usually he finds that the dagger he's got strapped behind his back under his cloak is much more efficient for those kind of things than a sword is. The sword is for fighting, as is generally the pistol. The dagger is for threatening and executing.

Still, that's not the answer of a man with a particularly guilty conscience, which means there's no particular reason for pursuing the matter. Instead he simply remains silent after answering the question.

[boneshaker]

Cool. This is going great. Castor smiles blandly at him, waiting for elaboration he knows isn't coming, besides which he's not sure he particularly wants.

"Bet you're a ton of fun to drink with," he says. He resumes shuffling through trash, though it's with less lightheartedness now, now he's guarded, edged. He doesn't like this man's stare.