Kite Woman

[MP]

Sarkany never paid mind to special occasions—humans found the most arbitrary reasons to celebrate—so he knew nothing of the festival until it found him. When the first whistles and cracks split the sky, he jolted awake and off the bench like a cat with its tail on fire. The bright pamphlet he’d used to shade his eyes in sleep fluttered to the ground, and after a dazed moment staring around at the picnic blankets and families around him, he picked it up and read with difficulty.

An invitation, with some kind of glamor wavering over its surface. He let it fall with a sigh. The things had been everywhere that morning—easy paper, he’d thought, and left it at that. If he’d bothered to read one, he would have known about the fireworks.

Wincing a little at the bang overhead, he turned down the path and made for the lights of the normal city, where the noise was more manageable. Since he was up, he might as well find something decent to eat. That was the plan, at least. He was stopped short by a sudden hand on his shoulder.

“Tommy, there you are!”

“Pardon?” Sarkany said, turning, and was yanked sharply downward as a tiny, wrinkled woman threw arms around his neck in a wiry embrace.

“Tommy, it is very nice,” she said, patting the dumbfounded Sarkany’s cheek as she released him, “But why’d we have to meet somewhere so loud?”

He backed away, confused and not a little alarmed, staring around as if help might materialize from the air. “Look,” Fireworks screamed overhead as he took another step back. “You have me mistaken for someone—”

“Oh, I see!” squeaked the woman, following his gaze. She apparently had looked. “They must have moved it this year. Let’s go before the lines get too long.”

And with surprising speed, she crossed the distance and clamped fast to his arm. Too stunned to make proper resistance and wondering what exactly he’d done wrong, Sarkany was led toward the bright stalls and music of the fairgrounds.

[Laura]

Out of the woods peeked a large, hefty, rather square-shouldered man, who had a scruffy head of hair and an unkept beard. He wore casual, loose-fitting clothes and seemed to be fairly nervous. Most wrote him off as some lost lumberjack, but he certainly didn't seem to fit the part at the moment.

Most didn't seem to notice him or pay him any mind outside of the occasional glance or questioning expression, so the man took a breath and stepped out from behind the tree into the open to join the crowd of people that had gathered there in the field.

It felt so strange to be walking among people without having to be fearful. The Kopahn wasn’t used to this form and found it difficult to adjust, walking a bit stiffly before he got the hang of things again. Varkas wondered if these ‘shoes’ were necessary, seeing as he couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet.

WDSA had given him an illusion charm, one of their most powerful, in the hopes of allowing him to participate in this festival, but the poor soul hadn’t had much reason to use it until now. Thankfully it only took a bit of practice to get walking right, but he felt extremely uncomfortable to be without his fur and feathers.

No claws or barbs to defend himself… No wings to carry him away if there was trouble... How on earth these humans made due with nothing but their legs and their teeth was beyond him. Even the prey animals back home had more defenses than this...

He stumbled along until he remembered something, fumbling with the wallet that was tucked away in his back pocket. One of the staffmembers had given to him and he tried to recall what she’d said about ‘currency’ when he’d dropped it in sudden terror at the sound of crackling thunder. Varkas collapsed to the floor, about to make a scrambling run for it when he saw the sparkling lights drifting down from the sky like falling stars.

The Kopahn hesitated, breathing heavily as he grasped for the fallen wallet, keeping his eyes to the skies as the fireworks continued to shower the crowd in vivid golds, reds and blues. It seemed that this was a common occurrence at festivals, as nobody had reacted as he had and most were actually smiling up at the strange phenomenon.

Thankfully for his pride, no one had noticed his embarrassing jolt, but he pulled his legs toward him and pretended that he meant to join in on the festivities. He fussed with the money in his wallet in the meantime, when he could spare his attention from the fireworks.

[OOC: For those who may not remember this guy, he's from our very first Summer Festival! His name is Varkas.]

[MP]

The old woman tottered along, arm in arm with her bewildered escort and chattering happily all the while. She paused to smile at every passing stranger with the warmth of a smaller, older time. Sarkany kept pace with her, becoming increasingly uneasy as he pondered how to make a getaway. The slightest attempt to extricate his arm from hers brought her attention round again, along with a flood of Tommys this and Tommys that. Stopping only increased the chatter. And then there was the woman herself. She was...different. Less, somehow.

"I don't know your Tommy," he tried again during a break in the fireworks. "I'm sure he's waiting for you back at the benches. If you'll turn around..."

But the woman was staring at him with such a look of confusion and distress that he trailed off, feeling suddenly and unaccountably ashamed.

"Tommy?" she said hesitantly, testing the word. "Waiting? I - I don't -"

A scream of fireworks overhead cut them both off. Sarkany winced at the noise, averting his eyes from another blinding white flash. When he looked back, the look of consternation had disappeared from the weathered face. She wasn't looking at him at all, but rather at a large, disheveled man picking himself up in a flustered manner.

"New to the festival? Poor thing. They are amazing, aren't they?" she was saying sympathetically. "And they went all out with the effects, too." She beamed around at the passing supernaturals.

Sarkany stared at her, thunderstruck. The otherness, the diminished feel to the woman - it clicked suddenly and neatly into place. He could almost have laughed at his own stupidity. Human. She was completely, thoroughly human. He saw so little of them these days, he'd almost forgotten what it was like.

As if she sensed his gaze, the old woman turned back to him. Sarkany's amusement died abruptly as she hurriedly took him by the arm and drew him forward with all the pride of a brooding hen. "Tommy and I come every year, don't we?" Beaming, in as conspiratorial a tone as was possible while yelling over fireworks, she shouted down at the man. "If you don't know where to start, we can show you all the best spots."

Sarkany shot the man an eloquent look that said something between help and run. But it was too late. With a determined, business-like charity, the old woman pulled the stranger to his feet. Grasping each man firmly by the arm, she led them onward toward the carnival lights.

[Laura]

Varkas blinked rather stupidly at the duo that had approached him, glancing to either side as if to see if the old woman were speaking to another person. He stuttered and mumbled in uncertainty, holding up the wallet as if it might appease her. That was what she wanted, yes?

The man recoiled a bit at her touch, but Varkas obliged to stand once he realized that her hands meant no harm. It was a bad habit he had yet to break since his time with the carnival. He tried to make up for his mistake by offering a smile; a much too-toothy thing that looked more like a grimace than a joyous expression.

He’d have to practice that part.

Maybe it was more prudent to practice his speech, seeing as how these two were spiriting him away to whereabouts unknown. Using his free hand to clumsily return the wallet to his back pocket, Varkas spoke in a low and growling voice. “Going?” he asked simply, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated way so that they would catch the emphasis of the question. Where were they going, exactly?

This lady seemed to be leading them farther into the festivities and while it meant that he would be farther away from the thundering falling stars, the Kopahn wasn’t sure if he was ready to see more just yet.

At least this was good practice for all the studying he’d been doing at the reserve. His nose twitched at the smell of food and he perked up a bit, letting the old woman drag him with less resistance. Maybe he could find out what that smell was.

“Good nose,” he said approvingly, though he furrowed his brows a little at the statement. Varkas tried again presently. “Smell,” he corrected himself, beaming that horrid grimace at the other man in triumph.

[MP]

Good...? Sarkany's brow furrowed too as he regarded the leer of his fellow hostage. It wasn't that the man was drunk - he seemed to be in control and even aware of his own fumbling. But there was definitely some kind of disconnect. With both of them, for that matter.

Should have napped in the woods, he thought despairingly. I've been kidnapped by lunatics.

He glanced despairingly down at the tiny dictator, who had dragged them into the thick of the attractions and up to a tiny stall hunkered between a shooting gallery and some kind of tour. The rich scent of fresh-baked pretzels and roasting hot dogs crashed over him like a wave. He wrinkled his nose, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the scent of glaze and grease.

"Good nose?" the woman was squeaking up at the bearded madman, bopping herself on said feature. "It's the best! And so are their pretzel dogs. I'd come here just for those. Now, what would you boys like?"

Sarkany stared helplessly between the two. Not knowing what else to do, he leaned toward the woman.

"Your Tommy." he said, slowly and clearly, "Is back - at - the - park. We'll - take - you - back. Okay?"

She was fussing through her purse at the counter, ignoring him. He moved to take her by the shoulder and lead her gently away. He wasn't about to eat a hole in some old human's wallet, after all. But he hesitated, stopped again by her expression. There was the faint crumpled look to her features again, like old ice underfoot. Sarkany looked helplessly to the man beside him, as if the stranger were about to magically spew something sensible. In that moment, steaming pretzel dogs were thrust into both their hands.

"Hurry and eat while it's hot," she urged, brandishing a pretzel dog of her own. "We can look around when you're both done."

Sarkany looked from the food to the stranger to the woman eyeing the nearest ramshackle attraction. With a sigh he reached for his wallet and began thumbing through ragged bills, counting the cost. The woman saw him coming and fluttered her hands at him with a faint air of menace.

"Oh no you don't. If you're not going to give me grandchildren, at least let me spoil you once in awhile." She snapped her purse shut with an air of finality, still scoffing to herself.

[Laura]

"Thank you very much," Varkas said confidently as he lifted the strange food to his nose and gave it a quick bite. It wasn't like anything he'd ever eaten before and to be honest, he wasn't sure if he liked it at first, but after examining it for a moment, he decided that it was tasty enough to finish off. After all, his tummy was pretty rumbly. "Pretzel ... dogs," Varkas repeated, looking at the sign where the term was lit up in bright neon letters. It was a combination of two different nouns... but these pretzel dogs were not a pet.

English was weird.

Shrugging off the confusion, Varkas finished off the pretzel dog and licked his fingers. Focusing on the others, he managed to catch what he thought was supposed to be a joke from the little old lady and laughed in a grumbling chuckle. "Grandchildren." The Kopahn slapped the back of his companion and followed after the old lady, thinking that it was safer to be with her than to wander about by himself. After all, she did feed him nice things. That wasn't so bad.

[OOC: I guess from here, we're going to This Thread!]