Okey-Dokey's Carnevale: The Goblin Market

[Frost]

Asia sighs, relief flowing over her features. Her hands come up and begin to communicate in the manner she is most comfortable.

"Yes, thank you. Not many know this language. It can make life difficult. I was wondering if you had anything in the way of jewelry that would appease someone of Russian decent?"

She isn't sure about Katrin's Seeming and the woman was obviously proud of her heritage. Maybe something from the market to delight both aspects of her personality would be unique enough for the Queen.

[John Gears]

"I will keep that in mind Ma'am. Thank you." John responded as politely as possible. It was never EVER a good idea to anger the shop owners, even if they gave off the feeling of just two semi-normal wizened store owners. That was something he was not interested in experiencing. He nodded to the other changelings as he looked through the inventory.

Surprisingly for John, it didn't take him very long to find something that caught his eye as he walked around. It was tucked between a dress made of silver spidersilk and what looked like a suit made of darkness and fireflies. It looked a lot like...A trenchcoat. copper lining along the cuffs and collar, with complex twiling designs that seemed to be made of pure, hardened brass mixed with small patterns of gearwork and buttons seemingly made of Amber. He did have a quick feel of the materials. The patterns felt a lot like metal and seemed to match its hardness as well, but it seemed surprisingly flexable and light.

The fact it seemed to be roughly his size as far as he could tell and seemed to go with his scarf almost sealed the deal. There was just one more thing...

"Ma'am? How much for this?"

[Writer]

Sam Skrit knows exactly what he is looking for, but finds he is afraid to search for it. The smells and sounds and sights of the Market remind him of the Hedge camp, the slavers auction, in which he was once "employed". A knot in his stomach holds him back, cages his curiousity as he himself was once caged. He looks up at his two companions, Bert and Jonathan, and shrugs, letting them decide where they will be going first.

My business will come soon enough, he tells himself. I waited this long, I can wait a little longer.

He follows along close behind the Ogres, making sure no one nabs him, letting them forge a path through the crowd.

[skarecrow36]

Bert turns to inquire about the fruit Mr. Hinkle has and stops when he sees John speaking with him already about something. Deciding to wait, he looks back in the stall and peruses the other items Hinkle has for purchase. He starts to look at some hedgespun clothing, although he's unsure if he'd be able to find anything in his large size.

[West]

The feigned disinterest became real as the Fairest frowned; he could have lied about how the mirror worked, but who knew what 'occasionally' meant, and who's clothing would be shown. He waved apologetically as he left the stall, trying to figure out what stupidity possessed him to think he'd get normal gifts here. He watched other of the Freehold bustle about, procuring and perusing.

For himself, he wanted nothing. No matter how gilded the cage, or light the shackles, these possessions were chains to bind them all to what had been left behind. That it was so easy to find this which was left, and so hard to find that which was Lost, didn't escape him.

The Archer began his Lonely March, watching the Freeholders, ready to fend off trouble; the shopping was over.

[Marcus Evan]

"Thank you." Marcus hunkers down in the indicated seat and awaits his meal. "I've never had beehive stew... or google berries for that matter." Marcus looks around the stall for a menu or somesuch. If he doesn't see one, he politely inquires the price of a bowl of stew.

[Forn Clakes]

Erica

The dashing man laughs heartedly and deftly spins a wide brimmed hat in his hands before placing it on his head with a flourish.

“Girl, I'll show you what Okey really has to offer lurking beyond this striped façade,” he says, holding out an arm for Erica. “You can call me Harlon. What can I call you?”

Asia Merrin

The woman signs back, slit-like eyes blinking twice.

“Russian you request?” The merchant turns her back and looks behind the counter, finally pulling out a small display box with a neck choker inside. Laying it on the wooden top, she allows Asia to look as she signs.

“This was made from the blood of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia. It is rumoured that when he died, something turned his blood to rubies and even now, an air of nobility surrounds it.”

Choker

John Gears

The male shuffles over to John, presumably Punch, with an upside-down-smile on his lined face. He snatches the coat from the Elemental's hands and gives it a long, hard sniff turning it over in his hands as he does.

“I'd say it costs about several weeks worth of your life yet to come, and a single strand of that hair of yours,” Punch says in a gruff manner.

Jonathan, Bert & Sam Skrit

Hinkle wrinkles his nose at the shotgun. “That old thing? It stinks worse than a Yeti's happy sack on a steaming hot day,” he remarks to Jonathan, seemingly not caring about the fae's kith. “Although, it shoots straight and makes a large hole in whatever is before it.”

Rick & Terri

Terri seems to stall, then something takes over.

“Yeah, come on, it'll be fine.” She grabs Rick's hand and pulls him through the flap.

Inside is lit be a few large lanterns with several mirrors attached to one wall down a narrow path. The sounds of the fair flutter and die, leaving them in silence apart from their own beating hearts.

“Well, this is freaky,” Terri says looking at herself in the first mirror and spinning on the spot, her reflection stunted like a Wizened.

Fu

As Fu hangs by the entrance, he spots one of the gorilla-muscled hobs looking down at him nearby, apparently eye-balling him.

Marcus

The Ogre pours a bowl for Marcus and hands it over. "You've heard of Google right? Some bright spark thought it'd be good to grow a fruit based on the internet phenomenon." The stew looks purple. A sign nearby asks for a drop of bitterness per bowl.

Costs 1 Glamour

[Frost]

Asia inspects the choker closely before looking back up at the interesting Lost.

"Interesting. How much?" She also considered asking what else it did, but decided not to. The item does not appear to be malicious. She would also know the value by the price. If it was high, then it must have some other properties then a simple rumor.

[Marcus Evan]

"Ta. I wonder what a search engine tastes like... I suppose anything you want?" Marcus leans over the purple stew, inhaling the aroma as he reaches into his trouser pocket. Pulling out a penny, he holds it firmly between thumb and forefinger as he concentrates on the image of Rust Mane kneeling over Harry's dead body. His Brother had let their King die. Marcus knew that if he had arrived sooner, Harry would still be alive... or maybe it just would have been Marcus kneeling over his Sovereign's corpse. The Metalflesh focuses on the bitter taste in his mouth as his Glamour infuses the coin. The penny gains a dull, greenish patina and give off the faintest odor of cold, abandoned coffee. He drops it in the "Bitter Cup" set out for such transactions before taking his first, tentative spoonful of the stew.

[Writer]

Sam Skrit glances back, wondering what happened to Juno. His short stature does nothing to help him see through the crowd.

I need to go back to the docks and wait for Juno, he remembers.

Then, in his longing for his friend, he feels the need to get what he came for, and he speaks up.

"Sir," he says to Hinkle, "Do you know anyone here at the market that would be able to read the symbols on my skin?"

He holds out an arm, showing Hinkle the drifting alien letters moving ever so slowly from his wrist to his elbow.