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IC Time: Apr 16, 2523 - 08:34:24
It is Spring in Paquin. Of all the settled worlds of the 'Verse, some say Paquin in the Springtime comes as close as any ever will for rivaling the beauty of Earth-That-Was. The clear light that breaks through the diaphanous violet atmosphere turns the plaza almost neon tint, burnishing every surface to shine in copper, platinum, and gold hues. The flora content of the street consists only of flowerboxes in shop windows and a sparse perimeter of blooming dwarf maples along the side walkways, but the park grounds of the city, and the great rolling landscape surrounding much of it have burst forth with such sappy green growth; the sharp scent of renewal rolls like a tidal wave through the avenues and alleys, overpowering even the squalid vendor stalls selling fried inkfish, at least temporarily.
The fresh new season brings the citizens out to mingle with the tourists, and the Grand Carnivale is cluttered with a good number of shoppers and sightseers, as well as the obligatory cutpurses and opportunists. Everyone's here for a good time, may Buddha bless their lively hearts. And there's Lee, standing aside while it all goes by, with his shoulders back and leaning upon the sandstone face of a holistic healer's shop, and a long necked, gracefully curved string instrument resting across his midsection. The mandolin case lays open by the wall, the occasional credit coin glinting among the crumpled bills within. The gentle, understated melody is fingered from the humming strings, reaching a max radius of fifteen feet through the foot traffic.
You test your Entertain against a 50 difficulty. The result is successful (44).
Vondye tests his Listen against a 75 difficulty. The result is unsuccessful (-33).
Amongst the jumble of the lively, bustling crowd, Von wanders, footsteps slow and precise. The carnival attractions themselves doesn't seem to draw his attention much. In fact, there is a hint of disdain on his face, as he eyes them. Instead he hovers by the vendors and shops, lingering by the fried inkfish for a moment, then passing them on. Amongst the low roar aorund him, he thinks he hears some harminous melody, but its swallowed up by the masses. He continues moving down the row of the shops, peering into each window he passes.
A few more drifting listeners are caught and held in a loitering collective when Lee's voice overlays the melody, his lower register comfortable and husky, lulling. "..Many colours are the jewels that sparkle / Many pleasures I will hold and embrace / Still for all that this 'Verse has to offer / It is here that my heart will remain.." It's definitely a low-key, simple song - but it touches the personal sentiments of the lucky bastards who live on this picturesque world, and even those of visitors who've grown to love Paquin. Lee's focus drifts up from his deft fingers to scan the faces from beneath the shadow of his brow, sizing up the marks amongst them even while a bit lost in his own lyrics. Just short of spotting at least one familiar face across the way, his gaze drops again to his instrument, paying no mind to the coin that plunks down in the case. "..And I know from this place there is no leavin' / Still tomorrow silver wings fly me back home / To a valley in the spring time / I'll be there to see the new green leaves grow.."
Without a destination in mind, Von soon grows bored of idly looking at shops, and pauses to light a cigarette. He draws the sweet smoke into his lungs, savoring it, until he decides to keep moving. Some of the tourists draw his attention, and he watches them more carefully, the first stirrings of a smirk touching his lips as he amuses ways of entertaining himself. The song he thought he heard drifting on the air finally becomes louder as he keeps walking, and a voice cuts the air. The tourists are put on the back burner as Von draws near it. Hassling street performers was more fun then heckling tourists anyway. "Seems some privileged noble let their songbird out of its cage," Von comments loudly, pushing through the crowd. He earns some glares in return, but there's sitll bodies blocking him from where the singer stands. He elbows them, which turns the glares into vocal insults.
Lee's head tips from one side to the other, throat stretching as he enters his clearer, higher register to sing the refrain: "..And I'll wait for the day / When all my tricks / Fade away.." Eyelids slipping almost fully closed during, he's still left just a sliver of his vision out there - there is no absolute trust in this kid. Nobody even comes close to making an opportunistic grab for his things... maybe next time, though. For now, there's just some Cultureless Boor(s?) he'll have to endure, it seems. The last drawn-out line, "I just want to be free," is interrupted by the harsh voices of his erstwhile audience, and Lee's eyes widen alertly to check on the state of things around him. Several of those present check their wallets, then sidle hurriedly away. The spell is broken. "Hey..!" the boy utters abruptly, his gaze riveting on Vondye, just as a townie reaches out to give the scruffy shuttle pilot a rough shove.
Vondye grunts at the man who shoves him, despie that he'd been pushing through the crowd himself. The townie gets a once over, Von cocking his head so that he's favoring his better eye. But then he makes a flippant gesture at the other man, dismissing him. "Shove off," he grumbles and makes it to the front of the now dispersing crowd, sitll intent on giving the songbird hell. But the music's gone quiet, and as he looks at the familiar boy standing there with the instrument, his expression goes slack. He glances over his shoulder, looking around at the vendors and tourists again, then back at. "Ya the canary?" he asks, then snorts.
The instrumental side of the tune trails off, one note lingering ignored in the suddenly unwelcoming air. After staring a resentful hole in Vondye's back, the offended citizen and his wife move on their way, muttering about the barbaric nature of offworlders. Like magic, the space that had cleared around the slight altercation fills back in, as peaceful folk are sucked into the vacuum to forgive all trespasses. Lee folds his grip over the neck of the mandolin, keeping it steady while he pushes away from the wall with his shoulders, regarding Vondye with a nonplussed air. He shrugs quietly, free arm extending from his side and showing an empty hand, and his head bobbing forward owlishly, the full effect of the gesture communicating: "Well, durr, yeh?" Then his posture springs back the other way, head at an angle, and expression gone casual. He finally responds out loud. "Already told you 'bout this, I thought. Then again, you were hung over at the time. Gotta complaint?"
"M'always hung over," he says with the faintest hint of a chuckle. He pushes the hat on his head back, scratching the hair beneath. He regards Lee for awhile, as if he's never seen the boy before, then takes the cigarette from his mouth. "Eh, no complaints, 'cept ya singin' ain't really to my tastes. Bit too, eh, wistful? Sentimental?" He exhales a cloud of smoke. "Bet these tourists eat it right up, though, the gorram fools." Von's eyes flicker to the open case filled with some coin.
Lee eyes follow the gaze downwards momentarily, then drift back up to the other man's face, staring steadily through the haze of smoke. If offense was taken at the offered labels for his vocal style, it remains hidden behind the blue shield. Shoulda said 'wimpy'. Then one might see an angry Lee. "Not the right time for somethin' more lively," he remarks matter-of-factly. "Afternoon, when bellies are full and the gorram fools need prodding. R'are ya lookin' for somethin' dark'n'shouty? Y'know you won't find that out in broad daylight." With a loop of his arm, he lifts the strap up and over his head, leaning to place the instrument into the moulded contours of its case, crumpling dollars and clicking against hard coin. While he moves into a crouch to secure the lid of the case, he comments, "Saw your shuttle in port a few days back, but you weren't in. She doin' okay, the Yunn? From your last wave, almost sounded like she was gonna come down hard." Some concern to be heard there, but he doesn't look up yet.
"Dark and shouty?" Von scoffs, shaking his head. "That gorram stuff gives a worse headache then an all night bender. Nah, m'more for the bar room anthems myself." Von puts his hands in the pockets of his coat, puffing on his cigarette without the aid of them. He inclines his head at the mention of the Yunn. "She's always threatenin' to come down. I mean, Yunn flies well enough. Just needs the occasional adjustment with a fist or foot. I think someone constructed 'er out of scrap metal and discount wirin'." He hunches his shoulder in a half-shrug. "She still gets me where m'goin'. So whadda 'bout ya? Weren't ya off to get ah job with that pretty broad from the Dregs?"
"Celise." The boy's tone approaches annoyed - after all, it is Von's doing that threw those two together in the first place. Now her name's apparently faded from Von's mind, while Lee's pretty well stuck with it for life. "We did come here t'gether. She popped back up on 'Sephone week or so after she split. I was doin' data entry work for one of the warehouses, an' it was already dull's to be painful." With a low grunt of effort, Lee straightens up with a closed case hanging from his hand, and it rattles a bit as he hauls it the strap over a shoulder. "So, here I am. 'Lise's boat's the White Star, 'zecutive officer one Captain Mantissa... weird lady," he says as an aside. "It's far from ready t'go commercial. Still blowing up parts of th'interior, last I knew. S'all right, though. I'm just fine right here for now." His easy remarks take an ominous turn as a bevvy of muscular circus canines burst through the plaza with their entwined leashes trailing, barking like hell after a desperately careening domestic pet. One can trace the path of animal chaos as different areas of the Carnivale erupt in mayhem.
Vondye's expression brightens at the name. "Ah, yeah, that were her. Easy on the eyes, wanted to cut off my extremities for that tattoo of 'ers. /Really/ liked ya, didn't she." Von seems to disregard Lee's annoyed tone, too amused by the memory. But then the mentio of data entry makes him cringe. "Ai yah. How borin' that must be. Ya have my sympathy." Von starts to say more, but the hellish animal noise makes him whip around, the cigarette in his mouth disloodging and flaling to the ground. "Ta ma duh, what in the gorram 'ell is goin' on?" The huge, snapping dogs seem to be barelling directly for them, as they chase the quarry. "Shit, those things look ruttin' rabid. 'haps we should git oughta here?"
What in damnation is that... a freakshow cat? An overgrown mutant space squirrel? Lee turns in the direction Von indicates after a perplexed glance around the plaza, and just stares for too long a moment at said quarry. "What is... oh Wong Ba Duhn," he breaks off suddenly, now seeing the big picture, namely five slavering hounds beyond the rapidly skittering creature, scattering tourists in their wake and leaving not a few tooth-related injuries behind. "Hells yes General, git!" And trusting the other man to go in the direction he thinks best, Lee bolts off along the wall, dismissing a decorative dwarf tree that doesn't grow tall or strong enough to be of use in this situation. With an amazing leap, the lemur flails in an arc at Vondye, big golden saucer eyes pinpointing the guy's head as a nifty safe landing spot.
Vondye tests his Run:from_dogs against a 65 difficulty. The result is successful (1).
Vondye's eyes go so wide its comical. He moves to break into a run before either him or Lee can become dog chow, but suddenly things are happening too fast. All he can see is huge, golden discs aiming for him, and then something warm and furry is covering his eyes. Dainty, sharp claws scrable over his skin and he staggers back, yanking at the critter, getting a handful of fur. Sharp teeth to rival the claws sink into his skin and he lets out a little yelp, feeling something at his back give way. He topples over just as manages to pry the animal from his head, and the five beastly canines are just a few feet away. Letting out a much louder yelp, he scrambles to his feet and takes off, jaws snapping at his heels, catching the bottom of his pants but not bringing him down. He's still holding the lemur, which is shrieking as well.
Lee gets a fair distance before glancing over his shoulder, and then slamming his hand hard against the wall to halt his progress, the rucked brick surface scraping a layer of skin from his palm, while he stumbles into a full pivot. Sheer incredulity claims his expression as he watches Von narrowly evade being torn to pieces, the howling chase now moving away from his own position, while excited spectators begin to flood into the gap, blocking his view. "Outta th'way!" Lee yells, suddenly dashing forward to push his way through the murmuring collective. "Von! The cat! Throw down the gorram cat! Von!" He's swallowed up momentarily by the obliviously shifting crowd, then breaks through again, trying to intercept the mad flight. Along the way, he meets the kennel keeper, the other man nursing a twisted arm as he stumbles vainly after the pack, shouting orders that are ignored by the incensed dogs.
Vondye breaths hard as runs full tilt. The crowd parts around him like he's the great buddha himself, come to bestow them all with his grace. if he had the bretah to laugh at the thought, he would've, instead shouting. "Hu li jing, m'too gorram old for this kinda exercise. Wish I had a bloody doggie treat." Then he hears Lee shouting ahead of him, and he hefts the lemur in front of him, eyeing it as he runs. He shifts it to one hand, grabbing it by its fur, and winds up to toss it behind him. The animal's frantic cries rise to a crescendo, and... "Nah, s'too cruel." Instead he spots a vendor selling some kind of sausage type food and doubles his efforts. "MOVE!" he bellows at the panicked proprietor and grabs the cart, hefting it and knocking it over. It crashes to the ground, spilling its meaty delights. Hoping the dogs' appetities would persuade them to give up the chase, Von doesn't hesitate, continuing to sprint until he's caught up with Lee. He looks behind him to see if it worked, noticing the dogs had slowed enough to sniff the food on the ground.
Just a little disconcerted to find that he's somehow managed to get himself back into the path of danger, Lee stops short, and makes warding gestures at the audience around him, shooing them out of the way. The instrument case, bouncing hard against his back, is disengaged with a tug of its strap, and he pulls the long-necked solid housing around front and into his hands. Lad's probably thinking of using the precious thing like a club, rattling coinage and all. He's also a little put-out to see that Von is still carting the flailing lemur around. "I said...!" he starts, then trails off when his friend pushes the meat stack over. The sounds of highly amused cheering (and a few boos) ripple through the crowd - the gambit has paid off, at one vendor's expense. The cart owner stays well back while the hounds gnosh down several pounds of the smoked sausage each, before their keeper can even approach to get hold of the leashes again. Lee straightens up from his caveman impression, case lowering to rest against the interlocking stones of the plaza grounds. "You lucky-ass sonova bitch," he sighs in relief to Von as the man draws near. The lemur is spared a narrow-eyed glare, 'cause, hey! If Von's gonna be champion for a weak, pointless critter, it's gonna be /him/, gorrammit!
Scratched up, battered, and bleeding from tiny claw and fang marks, Von feels all the breath leave him in a rush, as the dog owner claims and leashes the beasts. He closes his eyes, sagging against a holo-post as the rushing blood thundering in his ears slowly subsides. "Luck," he says, opening his good eye and fixing Lee with it, "has very 'lil to gorram do with it." The lemur squawks in protest and Von realizes he's still clutching it. He sets it down on his shoulder, the only logical place for now, and it claws its way down his coat, ducking into one of his pockets. "Gorram circus monkies," Von comments about that, oviously having no clue what the animal is. "Gorram Paquin. Evr'time I come 'ere, somethin' goes wrong. I hate this rock."
The meatisserie is righted by a couple helpful ruffians, but the sausages are a write off, which necessarily leads to the sheepish kennel keeper writing a promissory note for the cart owner. He decides to drag his bloated charges back towards the tent from whence they came, before any other plaintiffs, like Vondye, decide that they also require reimbursement. Then it's business as usual in the colourful plaza.
Lee watches Vondye carefully for a minute - from his wondering expression it may be deduced that he's seeing "the General" in a slightly different light now. Like maybe the poor bastard really is cursed. "That so.." he murmurs bemusedly in response to the latest remarks, and offers, "Think I'll write up another version of that song. The Von Dyetrich version. Wait'll you hear it, it'll be, hmn, cathartic."
