welcome to mayfield: day 3

[mayfield_mods]

[Those who wake up in the town on the third day will soon notice that something's definitely off. The cracks in the sky are appearing more frequently and lasting for minutes at a time, and there's a strange white fog drifting over the clouds.

For those who've just arrived, welcome to our new little town! We're sure you're glad to see your missing friends again; nothing to worry about here, they've just been too busy enjoying the upgraded carnival to go back home. Any bleeding limbs or serious wounds you may spot are obviously just a sign of how much fun they've been having.]

OOC: If your character damages or affects the carnival or town in a noticeable and normally permanent way, please comment here.

Comments

[hawkeward]

No? Hm. It could've appeared out of thin air, I suppose - and knowing this place, that is entirely possible.

[She nods slowly.] Right, don't drink the milk. They're poisoned. All part of a healthy and balanced meal.

[truffulacide]

Or that guy could've snuck past us while we were sleeping. Whatshisface. The Milkman.

[being that he hasn't even been here for three whole months, he doesn't understand what the big fuss about that guy is, but if all the stuff he's heard about him being a psychotic, baby-eating (debatable) murderer hold tall, he's sure he won't lose sleep over a chance meeting with him. you meet one psychopath and suddenly you've met them all.]

Healthy my butt. [and without warning, he chucks the bottle over his shoulder where it lands somewhere in the bushes nearby, shattering distinctly.] If this is there idea of psyching us out, it's not going to work. And if it's another trap, that's even worse. For a good one to work, it has to at least have a chance of fooling people.

[hawkeward]

The Milkman, bringing us milk! Imagine that.

[Hawke's been here for over a year, so she knows well enough to be cautious - but it's tiring, having to keep your ear to the ground all the time.

Smirking, she watches the bottle fly toward the bushes, and nods with approval. That's the spirit.] Indeed. They really should have tried something new and different. Wine, perhaps. I might have fallen for a poisoned glass of wine.

[truffulacide]

It's a good thing that's all he's doing. Do you think I want to go toe-to-toe with a freak like that? No thanks.

[he picks up another bottle, and then another. into the bushes they go.]

- Or a cigar that blows up half your face when you light it. I'd take that chance right about now. Who needs a jawbone when you can just start using straws?

[hawkeward]

I don't know. I'm sure I've faced worse, back home.

[Hawke joins him in the bottle tossing; it's strangely cathartic to send the damn things flying.]

Ooh, but only if it's one of those twisty straws! A red one, preferably.

[truffulacide]

Worse than a freak with freaky powers? [CRASH.] Do tell.

[he can't help but chuckle at that.]

I'd prefer green, but okay. Those are fun to blow bubbles through. 's been a while since I've had that much fun.

[it might have something to do with being stuck here. he's heard that nightmarish carnivals are notorious fun-suckers, but don't take his word for that.]

[hawkeward]

"Freak with freaky powers" sums it up nicely, actually. I just encountered a lot of them. Weekly.

[Those crazy carnivals, man. They'll getcha.]

Mm, I know the feeling. This place doesn't offer much opportunity for fun. At least I could go to the tavern at the end of the day, when I was in Kirkwall, let my friends buy me a drink. It's not really the same here.

[truffulacide]

Some people have all the luck. I haven't seen many freaky things before coming here, unless... [he hesitates, then shrugs. it's by his exhaustion alone that he's able to speak about something that would normally be a touchy topic like it's not a big deal at all.] ...Unless you'd count loud, annoying forest guardians to be one of them. I wouldn't.

[because, for all of his perceived faults, the Lorax wasn't mean. he wasn't cruel and he didn't lie, and the one time when he did hurt the Once-ler, it was a total accident and he could forgive that. if he thinks about him anymore he's going to start wishing he were here and that's -

stupid. pull yourself together.

...well. it's not important. it never was.]

I know what you mean. A prison's a prison; the white picket fences just make it look nicer than it really is. It's hard to have fun for very long when you're reminded of that every, oh, other day or so.

[hawkeward]

I don't know if I would call it luck... unless you mean very bad luck, in which case, yes, I suppose I do have a lot of it. I'd take a forest guardian over a crazy blood mage any day - that would definitely be different.

[She's imagining something like a talking tree, though, not... the Lorax. :|a]

It was nicer when more of my companions from home were here - then, at least, I could delude myself and pretend that we weren't all imprisoned. [a sigh] Alas, the fantasy wasn't meant to be.

[truffulacide]

People like us wouldn't have any luck at all if we didn't have bad luck, so don't take it personally. [he quirks a brow at what she has to say next and laughs again, albeit nervously this time.] Um. I think he's a BIG improvement over a blood whatsit. Whatever that is.

[he sets his axe down and crouches, trying to lift the crate up.]

Oh well. Plenty of other things you can - hrrnk - delude yourself with.

[hawkeward]

I suppose so. I miss having good luck, though; that was very nice, if rather short-lived.

[She can guess what he has in mind, so she crouches alongside him and helps lift the crate, grinning. This is fun!]

Well, no blood mages here, so that's an improvement. And I can entertain myself by destroying crates of milk. Take pleasure in the little things.