(Sorry for the length, I don't usually write quite this much ^.^; )
(Edit 3/21: With Shinigami's permission, I'm opening this thread to others :heart: )
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The world was alive today.
The most hideous and wonderful faces and bodies swarmed the streets. A long-nosed, red-faced demon chatted with an apple-cheeked young girl in pig-tails and gingham, his features a fixed leer as his clawed hand patted her teddy bear's head. Across the way, a scraggly werewolf handed out ivory bones to passers-by - who greedily sucked on them - in exchange for coins that winked in the sunlight. And further down a man in crimson set fire to the sky, to the delight of smiling parents and their awed children who perched on their shoulders. Shouts, laughter, and talk rattled the air, rebounding and redoubling, until it formed a raucous cover for the crowd below, a heavily woven blanket that they carried easily with them from place to place. Their mouths never seemed to tire of it.
Bright colored streamers criss-crossed overhead, stretching from post to post, lacing the area in a tight corset of noise, cheer, and frivolity. Smaller ribbons, tied in pert bows and their tails twitching in the breeze, spiralled down stall supports. Their ends dangled over dozens of offerings. Jewellry and lace, toys and trinkets, all on sale for the masses. And every one of them attended by someone barking quick comments into the swell to attract ears... and wallets. The lanes had became vessels to the swollen beat of a racing heart.
The world was so very much alive.
Of course, one might argue that the world was alive every day, what with the people milling around in towns and villages, the forests and fields growing, and the animals scurrying around on their daily missons. And one might further argue that one city hardly contained the world - as much as its citizens might feel otherwise. But this... this was a special alive and it engulfed a certain city.
Arca of Serendipity was under seige. A travelling faire had descended sometime in the night hours a few days before. After successfully rooting out the proper authorities and getting all the necessary permissions, the proprietors had staked a claim somewhere in the middle class area. It was, preferrably, a spot that would draw those whose lives were hard enough for them to appreciate a good bit of nonsense and worked enough to have the money to pay for it. After all, it did no good to have the snobs snubbing them and the peasants merely peering at them, to the end of leaving their coffers bare for all their efforts. But it seemed to have worked out.
Well, for the most part. Down a row of stalls dedicated to various and sundry games, was one example of how fortune could turn on a whim. Painted wooden targets lined the back of the structure, their primary colored rings marking out the scoring areas, pockmarked from the efforts of previous contestants. It was the most noble game of darts. And it was presided over by a man of no consequence, somewhat scruffy in nature - though he had learned the fine art of pulling a comb through his hair and keeping his chin stubble to a minimum. He had long ago discarded his birth name, instead donning the simple moniker of 'Red'.
Red, at the moment, stood to the side of the targets, hopefully out of striking range, scowling with his beefy arms crossed. Things hadn't been going well. Not for the past ten or twenty minutes, at least. All of the darts had suddenly gained the ability to home in on the bullseye. It didn't seem to matter how badly thrown they were, or that they were slightly weighted to one side. He didn't feel a scrap of remorse for the uneven weight. It wasn't so much that a talented player couldn't compensate, it was just enough to keep the majority from making too many hits. After all, a game where no-one won was just as bad as one where everyone did. It tended to drive off the good marks, while drawing those who liked a challenge but were either too observant or too short-tempered to deal with.
Which really wasn't here nor there, considering he had the opposite problem. Red snorted as another dart hit home. He almost cringed at the sound of the metal point thunking into the wood. The squeaky little urchin that made the toss jumped up and down, demanding his prize. The scowl deepened, the man's thick fingers wrapped around the neck of a stuffed animal. He squashed the urge to throw it at the kid, managing to hand it over with only a moderately sour expression. How could a runty boy like that make such a throw? That question burned in the stall tender's brain. The boy didn't seem to notice or care, running off with his his new possession clutched in his hands.
Red didn't get much time to contemplate it. Another, even smaller child edged up to pay the fee and give it a try. A shy little girl that offered a single coin for a single throw. He sighed as another dart landed right on target. His boss was going to kill him. He could swear someone up there was laughing at him. He could practically hear it. Amidst the cheering of those nearby, the chatter of those further out, and the general cacophony that inundated the area, though, it was probably difficult to tell if someone really was laughing at him.
Even if someone was.
Up in the thin beams that formed the stall roof's underside, something that looked like a large bug rolled around in mirth. Crickety chuckles emitted from the green thing's mouth, and leathery wings flapped in an erratic attempt to control balance. What fun! What glee! Oh, the scowling and snorting and grunting of the mortal, that made him appear like a frustrated bull on a tether! The form came to rest on its stomach, just in time for deep red eyes to catch the approach of yet another customer. The lips stretched in a grin, revealing needle fangs. A tiny arm reached out and a claw-tipped finger wiggled.
Another dart found the bullseye. And the man made more annoyed noises along with his face twitching in the most amusing way. The chuckles burst out again. Only this time a bit too loudly at a second when the sound of the crowd dipped, and the tender's head cocked to one side, gaze straying to the shadows under the canopy.
Oooops. Best not to get caught. The creature suddenly stilled, locking into position, lids half closed, not daring to move until the man's attention had slid away. Once it had, the fae decided perhaps it was time to move on. He had tortured this particular mortal enough. Though he hadn't managed to really get the man riled. Maybe... just one more thing, a final goodbye before he took his pranking elsewhere. The sharp fingers tapped against a pointy chin while he considered possibilities. Finally, the grin brightened again.
Snapping the bat-like wings out, the Imp crouched. Hands and feet gripped the wood beam, and he scampered along the length. He travelled a few inches, stopped, and glanced down to the tender and crowd. Satisfied no-one was looking his way, the fae leapt from the beam over to where the back wall ended. A small gap spanned the space between the roof underside and the wall. A purposeful design that allowed wind to pass through, so that a strong gust wouldn't catch on a completely solid surface and turn the wall into a sail which could topple the stand.
Not that the Imp cared, or even thought about it. It was just a convenient place to perch. He sat there, peering down to the targets and prizes below. The grin seemed to split his face. Once more, he reached out an arm and wiggled a finger. A series of snap snap snap heralded the coming trouble. The strings that held up the targets broke one by one, sending them toppling down. The same happened to any prizes that were hung from the posts. The man yelped in surprise. Eyes widened, the set-upon mortal scurried, trying to save his dart boards from crashing into the earth and his prizes from being absconded with by less than scrupulous customers. Some of the crowd tried to help, while others milled around in confusion, while others laughed and pointed, and some did try to make off with ill-gotten gains and others tried to stop them.
The bruhaha inspired another fit of mirth. The imp wrapped his arms around his gut, rocking back and forth. So much fun, so much mischief, so much- Ack! A lean too far sent the fae tumbling backward. Screeching, his wings flared as he disappeared behind the booth.
