Re: Harvest Festival
Posted: Sun Nov 06, 2016 12:40 pm
((Thank you everyone who participated in the forum and chat up to this point. We've decided to post the log from the chat and open up the forum again so anyone who wants to jump in can participate. We'll meet again next Sunday, November 13th to wrap up the Festival on IRC - please join!))
[ Tennant ] The evening’s festivities are underway. The most skilled of participants are finishing their contests, with a particular commotion at the pie tent where a particularly malicious rhubarb pie has attacked the server and participants alike. Meanwhile, the tall redheaded dishwasher, and partial host, crosses the lawn, slipping quietly away from the crowd. Watching the spectacle until he has crossed too far a distance to make out anything but the crimson skirt of an attractive festival goer, he merely smiled to himself. There is a small tent on the far side of the field, no crowd, nothing of note nearby, and not large enough to be any manner of attraction. As the commotion continued he slipped inside with the barrel he had been carrying on his shoulder.
[ Genny ] On the outskirts of the pie-judging tent the tall redhaired Genny stands with her hand daintily placed on the arm of a large, but well-dressed, bearded man. Despite that he’d sent Daryl to fetch him wine he already holds a mug of ale. Meanwhile, Genny’s young messenger Daryl seems to have gotten himself into a bit of trouble, though it’s a bit different than the Rhubarb spray everyone else in the tent wears like a splatter of blood with a horrified expression to match. "He's in a bit of trouble I'd wager," the ale sipping man at her side notes. But Genny does not look so concerned, her eyes scanning over those gathered. Maybe worried about how this would impact the judging of her own pie.
[ Niabh ] The dark girl was surprised, almost amused at young Daryl's response--she had read him as too young and possibly too shy to actually lick her hand, but she had not expected him to kiss it either. Normally she might have been irked at the presumption but then, it was she who had initiated the gesture, and her spirits in general were too high to be easily annoyed. One expected a little presumption at a fire-feast, after all. "I am not a m'lady but good neighbor to you all the same." She peered up at his face, trying to place him. In her Niabh-seeming, she quite literally had to look up at almost everyone. A small smile played upon her face. "Do I know you?" she asked politely. This one was too young to play with, she suspected; it would be most unfair to dally. Ginny was noted as part of the general crowd of onlookers, but no particular attention was paid. She'd been meaning to cause a little chaos, and had successed. One expected onlookers with the more showy displays of troublemaking; indeed, one was disappointed if they did not arrive.
[ Maitiu ] Maitiu had crept out of the Dagger at the first sign of milling-about upon the lawn. It was very...peoply out there, and he was already developing a slight tic under one pale grey eye. As it was, it was the music that caught his attention. Music. It tapped into a place in his mind where he felt some comfort, some familiarity--he liked music, didn't he? Fine. Go out far enough to see where it was coming from. Like a cat inspecting an unfamiliar room, he eased down the front stairs, rubbing slowly at the back of his freshly-shaved neck.
[ Genny ] “You’re right there, I'm na' a lady,” he was all of thirteen, if one was generous in their estimation. A floppy, moppy top of brown scruffy hair and caramel eyes, his appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from his relatively respectable clothes and attempts at manners, he was like any other urchin of the small city. Daryl gave her a look over, glancing back to Genny and the man at her side, as if she had called out to him. Returning his attention to her he shrugged. “Do you?”
[ Niabh ] "It would seem I do not, more's the pity." Holding the very corners of her apron by the very tips of her finger and thumb--not that it was going to spare her getting any more rhubarb on her than she already wore--she crossed her ankles and dipped into a small, polite curtsey that befitted her current station. Too young to play with, aye, but too old to stir her instinctive urge to acquire him. If anything, he was just at the right age to remind her of her brother, which made her feel a little warm and protective of him. Straightening, she caught his glance backwards and quickly followed it to the red-haired lady--a chaperoning sister?--and her companion. It might not have taken it so long to dawn upon her if things were not so busy and were there not so many folks abroad. As it was, it was the red hair that clued her in, and the height, before the rest of the features fell into place, and her face brightened. So this was Tennant's mysterious sister! And twins, too. Twins were lucky. "Do you dance, young sir?" she asked Daryl.
[ Genny ] Genny’s expression towards Daryl was chiding and then a gentle smile, though she hadn’t yelled at him for being disrespectful in the exchange. Maybe it was best he handled his own affairs, especially with young women, else he’d never really understand how best to behave. As for the evening, it was peopley indeed. It wasn’t just for looks that Genny held onto her companion’s arm. Though the grip is feather light and their posture wasn’t really that of a couple, her distance enough to maintain a sort of professional air. As if she heard their conversation clearly, the corner of her mount rose into a small grin. “My lady knows lots of people,” Daryl shrugged, as if this explained how they might have met before, despite that he obviously didn’t know her. “Dance? Na… don’t really know how. Do you?” Couldn’t take a hint this one, but then it did seem to dawn on him, “Oh, you mean ta dance?” The back of his hand wiped at the rhubarb splotch still on his face, as if to make himself more presentable for the task.
[ Niabh ] She grinned at his gesture of wiping his face, then looked down at herself, feeling a little helpless. "Aye, to dance. With you," she clarified, "though perhaps not at present. I seem to be...jellied." Reaching behind her cloud of frizzy curls, she untied the knot at the back of her neck and let the apron's bib fall forward so that she looked a little less as if she'd been standing too close in a slaughterhouse. Now that he had mentioned her, she took it as permission to directly regard Genny, blinking in polite confusion. "Your lady?" She recognized that little distance; it was the precise distance that Moirin often took when Niabh was called upon to do anything formal--out of the way, but ready to intervene if necessary. She took a small step aside from Daryl and curtseyed once more, this time with her palm resting on her breast, to Genny and her companion. "How d'you do? I hope you are enjoying yourselves." Out of habit, she addressed herself more to the lady than to the gentleman.
[ Genny ] Jellied. “Maybe the pie didn’ like you.” he seemed about to laugh again but caught himself and merely smiled. At the question of the lady whom he served he nodded, “Miss Genny,” then looked her way. Seeing that the young woman now addressed her, Genny stepped forward, offering her own formal nod as if she were a station above or perhaps too fatigued to bother with a full curtsy. “Indeed we are,” the gentleman answered regardless of whom the young woman addressed. He seemed to look the girl up and down in a rather assessing manner, “fine young lady such as yourself, Daryl here doesn’t know his luck.” He gave a very fatherly sort of wink to the young man. “Indeed.” She sighed with a smile, “This is Walter, Daryl, and I am Genevieve Tolleson,” she gestured to each including herself. “Daryl would most surely enjoy a dance.” Throwing him under the carriage, so to speak, she offered a mild, amicable smile.
[ Niabh ] Bold as brass, she looked Walter up and down with the same sort of scrutiny, found nothing that immediately offended, and offered him a demure smile in return. "Well, I don't know about luck, sir, considering that already this evening I have been the victim of a rogue pie. But I do not step on my partner's feet." Even as she spoke to him, her eyes kept flicking over to Genny--Genevieve--about whom she was decidedly more curious. Finally she addressed Daryl. "You can beg off," she said more kindly. "I will not oblige you. There's too much else to do tonight, other than some dull dance. Besides, I've already promised a dance...if I can ever find the rascal." Hand on her hip, she tapped her toe on the ground and made a show of looking the grounds over.
[ Genny ] Walter seemed to like the assessing look that was offered in return, he is noticeably older, perhaps thirty-something with slight patches of grey hair above each ear. To her summary of luck he raised a glass, “a salut to you then, perhaps a drink as well?” Genny gave a look with a lifted brow to Walter but he merely shrugged. Daryl looked offended then, as the girl told him to sod off, not that he even wanted to dance with her. But before he could say anything in offended reply Genny faced him with a fairly placid expression. “Perhaps you can help Walter finish his business with Mister Treadwell, before he forgets,” her hand lifted from the forearm of her companion freeing the two men to leave them. “Perhaps I can assist, miss…” speaking to the young woman she waited expectantly to hear their new acquaintance's name.
[ Niabh ] Daryl's look of offense was noted, and she gave him enough respect not to smile at the look on his face. Boys that age still had a soft belly, too easy to wound with a jab. Probably another reason why it was best to keep her hands off him: there was no real sport in it, and too much potential to be unwittingly cruel. To him she gave her back as she deliberately turned herself to face Genevieve and said, with as much a straight face as she could muster. "Tennant, actually, mistress." Tennant himself, much to her amazement, had actually slipped to a second priority in favor of his sister. She was not sure just why...but she was ever keen to puzzle it out.
[ Genny ] “Mistress Tennant,” Genny offered without skipping a beat. There were microscopic changes to her expression, perhaps an eyebrow lifted a half of a centimeter and lips tightened a near imperceptible amount. She wasn’t always to good at restraining her emotion, whether it was surprise or disgust, but in this instance she might have come away with an award for keeping a straight face. “I apologize, we’re not entirely close,” as if to explain why she had never heard of this woman. There was a small, almost fatigued shrug of indifference. However, her eyes lifted and surveyed the crowd around them with newfound purpose, perhaps to see if she might spot her brother and actually assist this young woman.
[ Niabh ] Aaaand there it was: a subtle reaction, but more of one than she had expected. There was the same small thrill of elation as she might have felt at successfully picking a lock. Still, it was enough to satisfy. The party must be kept hospitable...and now, at least, everyone had a speck of warning on where the other stood. Except for Tennant. She wondered if Genevieve's presences she needed to run ahead and warn him about. "Understood, Mistress Tolleson," she said, with a grave nod. "No need for apologies. We've been working together on the festival organization, is all, and I've lost track of him, but he's not needed at present." No need to bring these two into proximity if it was going to be volitile.
[ Genny ] Not finding her brother, who would likely be as easy to spot as herself, she returned her attentions to the young woman. Volatile? Hardly. The two of them would be entirely cordial, before she called upon a constable to check his pockets and lock him up regardless. He might not be a petty thief any more but it hardly meant he’d foregone his loathsome trade. “It is a lovely event,” she offered, the compliment genuine but her focus seemed distant. “He tends to slink off when night falls. The tent across the lawn, would be my guess” a long blink later her eyes opened and flicked the direction which he had run earlier. “That way,” she nodded, as if to offer the young lady a direction to start. Though it was far better than a guess, without a doubt he was there.
[ Niabh ] Settled. When next she saw Tennant, she would be giving him a look-out call. It was faintly irritating, as this mundane mischief was not the sort she had signed on for, but the lady seemed decidedly humorless on the subject. Better to cool trouble ere it could bubble over. She wondered if they could...or should...be steered apart. A faintly catlike, calculating look crossed the girl's sharp, dark features...but tonight, she was being Niabh, and Niabh's nature was nervous and subservient. She backed away from Genevieve with an apologetic and somewhat awkward curtsey, getting her feet twisted under her and half stumbling to rise from it. "Good neighbor, mistress. Do, please, enjoy the festivities." Another step backwards, then she turned, and started, without a hint of a hurry, toward the tent.
[ Genny ] Humorless, yes, that seemed about right. But then again this young woman and whatever fondness she held for Genny’s brother were of little concern. Genny had her own business and needn’t be wasting time with, but still, there was something. The girl was too clever and quick, perhaps Genny noted the calculating flash just before the sweet words and show of awkwardness. She didn’t bother stopping the girl, her eyes trailing after. But she watched until the crowd obscured her.
[ Tennant ] Tennant was in fact in the small tent, but emerged suddenly with wide eyes and a mischievous grin, looking back to the tent expectantly.
[ Niabh ] As she moved largely unnoticed through the merrymakers--and in general below the eyelevel of most of them--the girl made a quick effort of glamming over the worst of the pie-marks on her face and the little specks clinging to her hair. She arrived, looking mostly well-kempt but for the apron, at the flap of the tent just in time to catch Tennant coming out of it. She was so used to dealing with Tennant in her taller seeming that it was a bit strange having to look up at him; her neck twisted, and she felt ridiculous and faintly childlike. "Your sister is here," she announced without preamble. "And didn't her eyes spit sparks when your name was mentioned?" Curious, she tried to peek around him into the tent flap. "I do hope you weren't banging a barmaid in there."
[ Tennant ] Without reaction to her words he took her hand firmly, not making a choice out of it and pulled her out, literal sparks starting to simmer down small fuses set on the ground. “Glad she could come,” he almost yelled, excitedly pulling her along until they were a good distance away. Watching the tent expectantly his expression dropped when a moment later nothing happened. “No… no barmaid, not even,” BOOM! The tent shuttered and ripping out the top were several burst of colorful flame, trails of them up into the sky, high, high above the festival. BANG! The shot of light exploded, sending smaller sparks away in a an expanding circle of brilliant, colorful light. The sparks began to fall and fade and several others followed, erupting from the now flaming tent.
[ Niabh ] She did not object to having her hand taken and allowed herself to be pulled along, sensing with the instinct of a born troublemaker that there was probably some reason they were retreating...but the first explosion made her jump out of her skin, nerves sizzling as if she'd been struck by a bolt of lighting. The second burst of light and noise forced an unfeigned animal scream out of her. In the part of her mind not frozen in terror, she felt a sinking despair: she'd signed herself on to help him, and Tennant, for insane reasons of his own, had used her as a pawn in his scheme to murder the entire town. "What have you done?" Indecision snapped. She wheeled on him, teeth bared and eyes blazing, and flung her arms around his waist in a mad effort to tackle him to the ground. "You madman! You've killed us all!"
[ Tennant ] The fire in the tent continued but sputtered out as the last of the fireworks erupted. There were other screams, and then exclamations of delight from the Dagger and crowd. Perhaps he was surprised or let her tackle him, but he did drop to the ground his eyes wide on her. When she began yelling about the state of his sanity he grabbed her likewise and rolled until he had her pinned. “Loony girl, they’re for show.” He wasn’t laughing, at least not so much to really offer an insult. Turning a shoulder so she could see past, the trickle of sparks shimmered down from the sky. Brilliant colors illuminated the drifting smoke against the mostly dark sky. “Kind of violent I guess, but pretty,” he pried her off and eased up a bit so as to not give the entirely wrong idea. “Bit like a girl I know.”
[ Treadwell ] Meanwhile, at the pie table, a sated Treadwell sits in place, mentally mulling over decisions for the best three pies he has spent part of the afternoon sampling. He says nothing at all to the exploding lights and colors, his eyes widening and glasses slipping on his shnozz as he pales and quivers. Now, what, he wonders, is all of that?
* Niabh is now known as Fionnuala
[ Fionnuala ] The moment her back hit the ground, the tiny dark girl vanished--Tennant would find himself pinning a much taller, heavier creature with blazing red hair spread around her face, narrowed coal-black eyes, and enough upper body muscle to put up a more than decent struggle. One knee rose up and wormed between them, pressed against Tennant's stomach to shove him off...but he chose that moment to ease away on his own power, so that she was forced to actually listen to what he was saying. "Ah." Another firework crackled, and she let out a small, frightened yelp. But the shower of silver sparkled fixed her attention. She whipped her head to the side, looking out at the lawn; no one seemed to be panicking, and she was under the impression that this lot panicked at everything. Sheepishly, she reached up to pull a wild strand of hair from the corner of her mouth. "Right. So. They're...meant to be on fire. My mistake." Another pause. "Would you mind terribly getting off me now?"
[ Tennant ] When Tennant looked back from the shimmering spectacle to the girl, who became the woman he pinned, he hardly needed to be told to get off. Now it was his turn to jump out of his skin. Perhaps in the dark his eyes played tricks but he scrambled back, jumping to his feet, and an otherwise graceful creature, he awkwardly stepped, searching for purchase to stand and twisted his ankle. Falling straight back to his ass he stared. “Yeah… meant to be..” the breath was punched right out of him.
[ Tennant ] The evening’s festivities are underway. The most skilled of participants are finishing their contests, with a particular commotion at the pie tent where a particularly malicious rhubarb pie has attacked the server and participants alike. Meanwhile, the tall redheaded dishwasher, and partial host, crosses the lawn, slipping quietly away from the crowd. Watching the spectacle until he has crossed too far a distance to make out anything but the crimson skirt of an attractive festival goer, he merely smiled to himself. There is a small tent on the far side of the field, no crowd, nothing of note nearby, and not large enough to be any manner of attraction. As the commotion continued he slipped inside with the barrel he had been carrying on his shoulder.
[ Genny ] On the outskirts of the pie-judging tent the tall redhaired Genny stands with her hand daintily placed on the arm of a large, but well-dressed, bearded man. Despite that he’d sent Daryl to fetch him wine he already holds a mug of ale. Meanwhile, Genny’s young messenger Daryl seems to have gotten himself into a bit of trouble, though it’s a bit different than the Rhubarb spray everyone else in the tent wears like a splatter of blood with a horrified expression to match. "He's in a bit of trouble I'd wager," the ale sipping man at her side notes. But Genny does not look so concerned, her eyes scanning over those gathered. Maybe worried about how this would impact the judging of her own pie.
[ Niabh ] The dark girl was surprised, almost amused at young Daryl's response--she had read him as too young and possibly too shy to actually lick her hand, but she had not expected him to kiss it either. Normally she might have been irked at the presumption but then, it was she who had initiated the gesture, and her spirits in general were too high to be easily annoyed. One expected a little presumption at a fire-feast, after all. "I am not a m'lady but good neighbor to you all the same." She peered up at his face, trying to place him. In her Niabh-seeming, she quite literally had to look up at almost everyone. A small smile played upon her face. "Do I know you?" she asked politely. This one was too young to play with, she suspected; it would be most unfair to dally. Ginny was noted as part of the general crowd of onlookers, but no particular attention was paid. She'd been meaning to cause a little chaos, and had successed. One expected onlookers with the more showy displays of troublemaking; indeed, one was disappointed if they did not arrive.
[ Maitiu ] Maitiu had crept out of the Dagger at the first sign of milling-about upon the lawn. It was very...peoply out there, and he was already developing a slight tic under one pale grey eye. As it was, it was the music that caught his attention. Music. It tapped into a place in his mind where he felt some comfort, some familiarity--he liked music, didn't he? Fine. Go out far enough to see where it was coming from. Like a cat inspecting an unfamiliar room, he eased down the front stairs, rubbing slowly at the back of his freshly-shaved neck.
[ Genny ] “You’re right there, I'm na' a lady,” he was all of thirteen, if one was generous in their estimation. A floppy, moppy top of brown scruffy hair and caramel eyes, his appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from his relatively respectable clothes and attempts at manners, he was like any other urchin of the small city. Daryl gave her a look over, glancing back to Genny and the man at her side, as if she had called out to him. Returning his attention to her he shrugged. “Do you?”
[ Niabh ] "It would seem I do not, more's the pity." Holding the very corners of her apron by the very tips of her finger and thumb--not that it was going to spare her getting any more rhubarb on her than she already wore--she crossed her ankles and dipped into a small, polite curtsey that befitted her current station. Too young to play with, aye, but too old to stir her instinctive urge to acquire him. If anything, he was just at the right age to remind her of her brother, which made her feel a little warm and protective of him. Straightening, she caught his glance backwards and quickly followed it to the red-haired lady--a chaperoning sister?--and her companion. It might not have taken it so long to dawn upon her if things were not so busy and were there not so many folks abroad. As it was, it was the red hair that clued her in, and the height, before the rest of the features fell into place, and her face brightened. So this was Tennant's mysterious sister! And twins, too. Twins were lucky. "Do you dance, young sir?" she asked Daryl.
[ Genny ] Genny’s expression towards Daryl was chiding and then a gentle smile, though she hadn’t yelled at him for being disrespectful in the exchange. Maybe it was best he handled his own affairs, especially with young women, else he’d never really understand how best to behave. As for the evening, it was peopley indeed. It wasn’t just for looks that Genny held onto her companion’s arm. Though the grip is feather light and their posture wasn’t really that of a couple, her distance enough to maintain a sort of professional air. As if she heard their conversation clearly, the corner of her mount rose into a small grin. “My lady knows lots of people,” Daryl shrugged, as if this explained how they might have met before, despite that he obviously didn’t know her. “Dance? Na… don’t really know how. Do you?” Couldn’t take a hint this one, but then it did seem to dawn on him, “Oh, you mean ta dance?” The back of his hand wiped at the rhubarb splotch still on his face, as if to make himself more presentable for the task.
[ Niabh ] She grinned at his gesture of wiping his face, then looked down at herself, feeling a little helpless. "Aye, to dance. With you," she clarified, "though perhaps not at present. I seem to be...jellied." Reaching behind her cloud of frizzy curls, she untied the knot at the back of her neck and let the apron's bib fall forward so that she looked a little less as if she'd been standing too close in a slaughterhouse. Now that he had mentioned her, she took it as permission to directly regard Genny, blinking in polite confusion. "Your lady?" She recognized that little distance; it was the precise distance that Moirin often took when Niabh was called upon to do anything formal--out of the way, but ready to intervene if necessary. She took a small step aside from Daryl and curtseyed once more, this time with her palm resting on her breast, to Genny and her companion. "How d'you do? I hope you are enjoying yourselves." Out of habit, she addressed herself more to the lady than to the gentleman.
[ Genny ] Jellied. “Maybe the pie didn’ like you.” he seemed about to laugh again but caught himself and merely smiled. At the question of the lady whom he served he nodded, “Miss Genny,” then looked her way. Seeing that the young woman now addressed her, Genny stepped forward, offering her own formal nod as if she were a station above or perhaps too fatigued to bother with a full curtsy. “Indeed we are,” the gentleman answered regardless of whom the young woman addressed. He seemed to look the girl up and down in a rather assessing manner, “fine young lady such as yourself, Daryl here doesn’t know his luck.” He gave a very fatherly sort of wink to the young man. “Indeed.” She sighed with a smile, “This is Walter, Daryl, and I am Genevieve Tolleson,” she gestured to each including herself. “Daryl would most surely enjoy a dance.” Throwing him under the carriage, so to speak, she offered a mild, amicable smile.
[ Niabh ] Bold as brass, she looked Walter up and down with the same sort of scrutiny, found nothing that immediately offended, and offered him a demure smile in return. "Well, I don't know about luck, sir, considering that already this evening I have been the victim of a rogue pie. But I do not step on my partner's feet." Even as she spoke to him, her eyes kept flicking over to Genny--Genevieve--about whom she was decidedly more curious. Finally she addressed Daryl. "You can beg off," she said more kindly. "I will not oblige you. There's too much else to do tonight, other than some dull dance. Besides, I've already promised a dance...if I can ever find the rascal." Hand on her hip, she tapped her toe on the ground and made a show of looking the grounds over.
[ Genny ] Walter seemed to like the assessing look that was offered in return, he is noticeably older, perhaps thirty-something with slight patches of grey hair above each ear. To her summary of luck he raised a glass, “a salut to you then, perhaps a drink as well?” Genny gave a look with a lifted brow to Walter but he merely shrugged. Daryl looked offended then, as the girl told him to sod off, not that he even wanted to dance with her. But before he could say anything in offended reply Genny faced him with a fairly placid expression. “Perhaps you can help Walter finish his business with Mister Treadwell, before he forgets,” her hand lifted from the forearm of her companion freeing the two men to leave them. “Perhaps I can assist, miss…” speaking to the young woman she waited expectantly to hear their new acquaintance's name.
[ Niabh ] Daryl's look of offense was noted, and she gave him enough respect not to smile at the look on his face. Boys that age still had a soft belly, too easy to wound with a jab. Probably another reason why it was best to keep her hands off him: there was no real sport in it, and too much potential to be unwittingly cruel. To him she gave her back as she deliberately turned herself to face Genevieve and said, with as much a straight face as she could muster. "Tennant, actually, mistress." Tennant himself, much to her amazement, had actually slipped to a second priority in favor of his sister. She was not sure just why...but she was ever keen to puzzle it out.
[ Genny ] “Mistress Tennant,” Genny offered without skipping a beat. There were microscopic changes to her expression, perhaps an eyebrow lifted a half of a centimeter and lips tightened a near imperceptible amount. She wasn’t always to good at restraining her emotion, whether it was surprise or disgust, but in this instance she might have come away with an award for keeping a straight face. “I apologize, we’re not entirely close,” as if to explain why she had never heard of this woman. There was a small, almost fatigued shrug of indifference. However, her eyes lifted and surveyed the crowd around them with newfound purpose, perhaps to see if she might spot her brother and actually assist this young woman.
[ Niabh ] Aaaand there it was: a subtle reaction, but more of one than she had expected. There was the same small thrill of elation as she might have felt at successfully picking a lock. Still, it was enough to satisfy. The party must be kept hospitable...and now, at least, everyone had a speck of warning on where the other stood. Except for Tennant. She wondered if Genevieve's presences she needed to run ahead and warn him about. "Understood, Mistress Tolleson," she said, with a grave nod. "No need for apologies. We've been working together on the festival organization, is all, and I've lost track of him, but he's not needed at present." No need to bring these two into proximity if it was going to be volitile.
[ Genny ] Not finding her brother, who would likely be as easy to spot as herself, she returned her attentions to the young woman. Volatile? Hardly. The two of them would be entirely cordial, before she called upon a constable to check his pockets and lock him up regardless. He might not be a petty thief any more but it hardly meant he’d foregone his loathsome trade. “It is a lovely event,” she offered, the compliment genuine but her focus seemed distant. “He tends to slink off when night falls. The tent across the lawn, would be my guess” a long blink later her eyes opened and flicked the direction which he had run earlier. “That way,” she nodded, as if to offer the young lady a direction to start. Though it was far better than a guess, without a doubt he was there.
[ Niabh ] Settled. When next she saw Tennant, she would be giving him a look-out call. It was faintly irritating, as this mundane mischief was not the sort she had signed on for, but the lady seemed decidedly humorless on the subject. Better to cool trouble ere it could bubble over. She wondered if they could...or should...be steered apart. A faintly catlike, calculating look crossed the girl's sharp, dark features...but tonight, she was being Niabh, and Niabh's nature was nervous and subservient. She backed away from Genevieve with an apologetic and somewhat awkward curtsey, getting her feet twisted under her and half stumbling to rise from it. "Good neighbor, mistress. Do, please, enjoy the festivities." Another step backwards, then she turned, and started, without a hint of a hurry, toward the tent.
[ Genny ] Humorless, yes, that seemed about right. But then again this young woman and whatever fondness she held for Genny’s brother were of little concern. Genny had her own business and needn’t be wasting time with, but still, there was something. The girl was too clever and quick, perhaps Genny noted the calculating flash just before the sweet words and show of awkwardness. She didn’t bother stopping the girl, her eyes trailing after. But she watched until the crowd obscured her.
[ Tennant ] Tennant was in fact in the small tent, but emerged suddenly with wide eyes and a mischievous grin, looking back to the tent expectantly.
[ Niabh ] As she moved largely unnoticed through the merrymakers--and in general below the eyelevel of most of them--the girl made a quick effort of glamming over the worst of the pie-marks on her face and the little specks clinging to her hair. She arrived, looking mostly well-kempt but for the apron, at the flap of the tent just in time to catch Tennant coming out of it. She was so used to dealing with Tennant in her taller seeming that it was a bit strange having to look up at him; her neck twisted, and she felt ridiculous and faintly childlike. "Your sister is here," she announced without preamble. "And didn't her eyes spit sparks when your name was mentioned?" Curious, she tried to peek around him into the tent flap. "I do hope you weren't banging a barmaid in there."
[ Tennant ] Without reaction to her words he took her hand firmly, not making a choice out of it and pulled her out, literal sparks starting to simmer down small fuses set on the ground. “Glad she could come,” he almost yelled, excitedly pulling her along until they were a good distance away. Watching the tent expectantly his expression dropped when a moment later nothing happened. “No… no barmaid, not even,” BOOM! The tent shuttered and ripping out the top were several burst of colorful flame, trails of them up into the sky, high, high above the festival. BANG! The shot of light exploded, sending smaller sparks away in a an expanding circle of brilliant, colorful light. The sparks began to fall and fade and several others followed, erupting from the now flaming tent.
[ Niabh ] She did not object to having her hand taken and allowed herself to be pulled along, sensing with the instinct of a born troublemaker that there was probably some reason they were retreating...but the first explosion made her jump out of her skin, nerves sizzling as if she'd been struck by a bolt of lighting. The second burst of light and noise forced an unfeigned animal scream out of her. In the part of her mind not frozen in terror, she felt a sinking despair: she'd signed herself on to help him, and Tennant, for insane reasons of his own, had used her as a pawn in his scheme to murder the entire town. "What have you done?" Indecision snapped. She wheeled on him, teeth bared and eyes blazing, and flung her arms around his waist in a mad effort to tackle him to the ground. "You madman! You've killed us all!"
[ Tennant ] The fire in the tent continued but sputtered out as the last of the fireworks erupted. There were other screams, and then exclamations of delight from the Dagger and crowd. Perhaps he was surprised or let her tackle him, but he did drop to the ground his eyes wide on her. When she began yelling about the state of his sanity he grabbed her likewise and rolled until he had her pinned. “Loony girl, they’re for show.” He wasn’t laughing, at least not so much to really offer an insult. Turning a shoulder so she could see past, the trickle of sparks shimmered down from the sky. Brilliant colors illuminated the drifting smoke against the mostly dark sky. “Kind of violent I guess, but pretty,” he pried her off and eased up a bit so as to not give the entirely wrong idea. “Bit like a girl I know.”
[ Treadwell ] Meanwhile, at the pie table, a sated Treadwell sits in place, mentally mulling over decisions for the best three pies he has spent part of the afternoon sampling. He says nothing at all to the exploding lights and colors, his eyes widening and glasses slipping on his shnozz as he pales and quivers. Now, what, he wonders, is all of that?
* Niabh is now known as Fionnuala
[ Fionnuala ] The moment her back hit the ground, the tiny dark girl vanished--Tennant would find himself pinning a much taller, heavier creature with blazing red hair spread around her face, narrowed coal-black eyes, and enough upper body muscle to put up a more than decent struggle. One knee rose up and wormed between them, pressed against Tennant's stomach to shove him off...but he chose that moment to ease away on his own power, so that she was forced to actually listen to what he was saying. "Ah." Another firework crackled, and she let out a small, frightened yelp. But the shower of silver sparkled fixed her attention. She whipped her head to the side, looking out at the lawn; no one seemed to be panicking, and she was under the impression that this lot panicked at everything. Sheepishly, she reached up to pull a wild strand of hair from the corner of her mouth. "Right. So. They're...meant to be on fire. My mistake." Another pause. "Would you mind terribly getting off me now?"
[ Tennant ] When Tennant looked back from the shimmering spectacle to the girl, who became the woman he pinned, he hardly needed to be told to get off. Now it was his turn to jump out of his skin. Perhaps in the dark his eyes played tricks but he scrambled back, jumping to his feet, and an otherwise graceful creature, he awkwardly stepped, searching for purchase to stand and twisted his ankle. Falling straight back to his ass he stared. “Yeah… meant to be..” the breath was punched right out of him.