Day 4 - Wagon Trouble

[QuietLurker]

The novelty of the journey had long since worn off. A dark-haired woman wearing a light blue ensemble and a bonnet with a large white feather stomped tiredly from wagon to wagon trying to determine which was to be her new residence. Finally, she stopped in front of one with the name Mercy hastily painted on the door. She frowned at the smudged 'e' for a moment before motioning for the porter to bring her luggage to it from the carriage. The door's hinges creaked loudly as she let herself into the wagon. Assuming it was empty, she didn't bother to knock first, but much to her surprise there was what she assumed was an Eboniaan woman lounging about; written descriptions and a crude sketch of one was the extent of her experience with them. While Mercy knew it was likely a harmless mistake on the "her" part, she was dreadfully fearful of not being taken seriously as the new circus manager, so aimed to avoid appearing the least bit sympathetic. She stood up a little straighter, folded her hands in front of herself, and cleared her throat.

"What is the meaning of this, young lady?" Mercy asked, trying to sound much angrier than she was, but the uncertainty in her voice ruined the effect.

 

[Relent<]

Marcy rolled his head languidly against the wall nearest the back of the small tub in which he was seated. He'd just added a kettle of hot water to the otherwise lukewarm bath, and the luxury of warm water was not something from which canon-fire would dissuade him. At least that's what he thought.
The moment he heard a key turning in the lock, and the tumbler's clicking on the door, he feverishly grasped at any bit of fabric nearby to shield himself from intruding eyes. His hand fell on a window curtain, which he pulled across his bare chest just as the door creaked open. A woman stood there, indignantly. She began,
"What is the meaning of this, young lady?"

Marcy tilted his head, and replied, "And...who the hell are you supposed to be?"
There was a long, awkward pause, as the door remained open a chill gripped at Marcy's half-submersed body. After taking a moment's reflection, he realized that he'd just been referred to as "young lady" and began to titter uncontrollably. "Hold on a moment, you're not looking for Isis are you? You wouldn't be the first around here to mistake me for her; though I suppose that isn't your only mistake."

He searched for something less...attached to cover himself with, and finally located the towel he'd discarded beside the bathtub. Pulling it under the water to wrap his waist, he stood and released the curtain to engage his intruder with a bit more civility.
"I am called Marcy. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I hope you don't mistake me when I say I hope you won't be staying long? I'm rather under-dressed for formal introductions."

 

[Relent<]

"Why do I always run into some crazy person while I'm bathing? I swear I must be cursed..." Marcy groaned, as the chaotic scene unfolded in front of him. Taking advantage of her vacation of the wagon, however, he found a pair of leggings drying on the windowsill and stepped into them. Then a pair of slippers, and a large shirt that hung almost to his knees, but barely stayed on his shoulders, despite having used the top-most button in addition to the other 8. Who's shirt had this been anyway?

Marcy peaked his head out of the wagon, to find Mercy covering her face beside the steps.
"I demand that you vacate my wagon at once!" she shouted.
"Your wagon?" He looked at her, then at the door, which stood open beside him. It clearly read "M///rcy." Who else could it be for? After all he was one of only a select few male acrobats, and he hadn't the means to stay in the hotel alongside the others. This provisional housing had been something of a last resort, thrown to him at the last minute by way of a crudely typed telegraph. It hadn't even been properly addressed, though being that it was being sent to a place that hadn't an address, that much had been understandable. It had read:
"Mercy. stop. (they'd already misspelled his name). Hope you find your dwelling to be satisfactory. stop. If there are any problems, we will gladly find suitable local accommodations. stop. But they will be at your personal expense. Stop. Sincerely, Travis Blakeney, esq."

It was nothing he hadn't heard from the foreman first hand; stay in a hotel, or get what you're given in way of housing. The laborers dwelling was no different, but surely he couldn't be expected to live in a tent? A wagon was the only rational solution, and thus he'd taken the telegram to the foreman, who helped him find the wagon under his name. They'd misspelled his name there as well, though it had hardly been legible to begin with. He'd given the office his signature and been settled here now for three days.

He looked from the door, to the woman, and to the door again.
"Your name wouldn't happen to be Marcy as well, would it? Check in at the office, and they'll set you straight. Dreadfully sorry about the mix up, but these things happen. Best of luck." And with that he closed the door, and secured the deadbolt.

 

[Carnivore]

Isis Blackside walked along the uneven rows of wagons, inspecting the makeshift homesteads. Today she was clad in a pair of orange garments: a shirt that bore some resemblance to a shawl covered her shoulders and chest, loosely flowing to her lower ribs. Wrapped around her waist was a knee length dress of similarly bright color, little more than a length of spun cotton fabric wrapped around her waist and tight in a tight knot at her right hip. It was a typical and perhaps even slightly conservative dress for her tropical home, although she noticed she looked quite out of place in it here. The Aygomen dressed drably and very prudishly, covering themselves in complicated clothing. Isis couldn't understand why. She thought perhaps they were garments meant to be worn in the cold of winter here, although that wouldn't make sense for the warm early summer they were in now. She shrugged to herself, enjoying the odd and curious looks directed at her, returning them in kind.

Truth be told, the wagons here were making her increasingly jealous as she walked among them. These shelters were luxurious compared to her meager tent and belongings, now tucked away under a stump in the forest to hopefully deter petty theivery. Some had easily three times the space! Isis contemplated a way to procure some of these niceties for herself. Perhaps she could ingratiate herself with a handsome man or pretty woman looking for some company? The thought definitely had an appeal, as Isis again noticed the curious glances at her. The tall Eboniaan began to put more sway into her step, returning more promising glances with a flirtatious flick of her eyes. Despite her 'come hither' looks, no one seemed to approach her. She couldn't tell if it was her tall size, her race, or they simply weren't interested. Isis shrugged to herself again and continued her walk.

The wagons seemed to have names crudely painted on them. It didn't seem to be a very good system, all she could see were simple first names such as “Franchesca... George... Gregori...” It seemed to easily lead to confusion, although maybe that could work in her favor. Isis noticed that the wagons seemed to be in some semblance of alphabetical order, but failed to find a wagon with her namesake painted on. Frowning, she continued her walk, on the look out for an opportunity to self-betterment or simple entertainment presented itself.

 

[Relent<]

Marcy rolled his eyes, his back against the door as he silently cursed the misfortune of this wagon's proper owner showing up so late in the season's circuit. He knew that once the foreman was involved, he would be out on his ass, perhaps reduced to living under a rock until his own housing situation was rectified. He hadn't time for that; and folding his arms across his chest, he set his index finger against his temple, and began to feverishly tap thought after thought into his brain.
Aha.
"Have you proper identification? I have the paperwork somewhere inside here, but it will take me some time to organize myself. I know its an inconvenience, but due process is necessary in a civilized world." He called through the trailer door, as he began to move some of the furniture around the floor.
He was lying of course. There was no paperwork in the trailer; all papers, extra keys, and financial documents were kept in the management office, which was a rented space somewhere in town. It kept the risk of robbery down, but for the moment this disjunction in the chain of command would work in his favor.

He crept toward the other end of the wagon, where the horses were usually attached, and opened the cab door to sneak out onto the driver bench. Slipping quietly away from the wagon, with Mercy none the wiser on the other side, he absconded toward the latter edge of the little wooden wagon township, keeping out of site by ducking behind various barrels, and hanging laundry. In his capers, he bumped rather abruptly into a polish man, and asked him quickly,
"Friend, I've a favor to ask." He didn't even know his name. "Do you see the woman there, in front of the wagon? With the large, scary man at her heel yes? She is an old debtor of mine, and means me no kind deed. I need to buy a bit of time to put some distance between she and myself. Would you be so kind as to distract her? I always pay my debts--in due time, you understand--and I would be ever so grateful."
Unsure that he had made any headway with the stranger, as the gears in his head continued to turn, he realized that he needed a proper ally in these matters. Taking the polish man's hand in his, he gave it a brisk, curt shake with his thanks before disappearing between two wires of laundry strewn between two wagons.

He needed to find that scantly clad woman; the dancer with the sticky fingers. He recalled that Isis had been an acquaintance of hers. She would be essential in garnering the pickpocket's services. And as fate should have it, she was wandering the grounds not far from where he was hiding.
He reached out from between the two adjacent wagons where he'd tucked himself and squeezed Isis's barer-than-usual sides as he pulled her out of view and into the shadows.
"Sh!" He said to her promptly, using her momentary imbalance to turn her on her heels to face him. "I have a favor to ask, this is of grave importance. Do you think you can get to the promenade without looking suspicious?"

((Ok, long one. But to recap--Beiseker: I intended Piotr to be the polish stranger, so you're cued in whenever you can spare the time.
Carnivore, I trust I made your involvement fairly obvious. 😛))

 

[Carnivore]

Isis's wanderings were abruptly brought short as she felt hands purposely squeezing her ebony sides. Before she could even let out a ticklish yelp she was being pulled and twirled around in a narrow alley between wagons. For a moment she feared the simple touch and movement was a sign of something much darker, until she saw Marcy's familiar face. He seemed to be in a terribly secretive hurry about something.

"I have a favor to ask, this is of grave importance. Do you think you can get to the promenade without looking suspicious?" He told her, prompting a curious expression over her face. Isis never was very good at masking her facial expression. Since she'd been wandering just about everywhere, his request seemed easy enough. Provided 'suspicious' did not mean 'un-noticed.' Her face took on a wry grin at the thought, and the realization that Marcy was asking a favor of her.

"I suppose I could, I've been walking just about everywhere lately. Just as long as you're not expecting me to blend in." Isis told him, her smile widening slightly, putting her hands on the back of her neck. "Just so you know, Marcy, I always call in my favors. So why exactly do you need me to do this?" She looked at him playfully but patiently, intrigued but confused as to the rules of this new game.

 

[Beiseker1]

A favour, one of my favourite words. Even though there was something fishy about the situation. I saw a Lady he was talking about and she certainly had money she could borrow, but did not look like she was going to collect anything at the moment. Primo well dressed ladies rarely go with bulky men for their money. Secundo even when they do there is no need to take half of their wardrobe with them. Still situation seemed innocent at heart and doing a favour to someone who pays he's debts is usually a good investment.
-No problem mate, off you go.

I looked at myself before approaching. Poor shirt, trousers with a patch on the knee, at least it was clean. There was not enough time to at least grab a vest. It wasn't a wardrobe to great a proper lady, but it wasn't my main goal either. And I had to remember that I was just a poor worker here.
-Raz kozie śmierć -I mumbled to myself and quickly went around the wagon. Happily I overheard her name before I started talking.
-Oh good day Miss Curtis, I'm so happy you arrived so soon, I hope that travel wasn't to unpleasant. -I started talking quickly. -There is a lot to do. oh yes there is. The show is today and you probably haven't even saw a main tent yet. I know, I know you would like to get some rest, take a warm bath after the trip. I'm sorry that I disturb those plans it's really rude of me, I probably shouldn't bother you straight of the road. -I looked at the luggage. -But maybe at least you could leave those baggage's to this fine gentlemen over here, he definitely looks trustworthy enough, that he does without a doubt in my mind. My name is Piotr by the way, honoured to meet you. -I bowed kissing her hand.
Stupid of me really it wasn't a gesture proper for a worker. And I forgot to make it at least sloppy, but maybe they won't notice it over the speech I made.

 

[Relent<]

"Why isn't important now," Marcy said dismissively as he pushed his sleeves up to the elbow, an urchin-ly display of honesty. "I need you to requisition that associate of yours to pinch something off someone on my behalf. I don't know her name, but i know she's a dancer and far too quiet. You know the one?"
he paused, gauged Isis's comprehension to be middling at best, and proceeded.
"There's a woman with a blue bonnet. She has a key that I need, and no reason to give it to me. When the dancer has the bonnet-woman's key, I need you to hold onto it until I come to take it from you. Don't speak to the blue bonnet woman under any circumstances, or else everything falls apart. Savvy?"
He nodded briefly, and waited for Isis to do the same.
"The promenade isn't far from here, and the dancer should be somewhere thereabouts. Whatever she charges you for her services, I'll repay to you with interest; and of course there's still the favor I'd owe you."

 

[Carnivore]

Isis looked at Marcy with a dawning realization as she figured out what he was asking of her. He wanted to find that quiet woman Isis had met that night by the fire. She remembered having too much to drink, feeling bold and hazy, and having an “interesting” time with her. It was an enthralling first encounter, but Isis couldn't seem to remember all of it. Which hopefully did not mean the woman wouldn't want to see her. Did she even remember her name? Ah well, Marcy looked quite insistent, and she didn't want to deny him in his moment of need.

“I know her, though I'm not entirely sure of her opinion of me. I can try and find her for you and ask her services, but I don't know if she'll be receptive to the proposal. Since you're offering almost any price, I can only imagine what she might ask. Still, it seems like this needs to be done come hell or high water. Alright, Marcy, I'll do it.” She nodded solemnly at him. While Isis was a bit apprehensive, there was also a thrill running through her at the prospect. It was quite the game Marcy had going, along with the thrill of petty thievery. While Isis wasn't one to break the law, she reasoned with herself that she was only conveying a message. That by itself was permissible, wasn't it? It would also give her a chance to meet the quiet woman again. Considering how enjoyable the first encounter had been, hopefully a second wouldn't hurt...

“Well, it looks like time is of the essence for you. I'll do your errand, and hopefully no one will end up on the wrong side of the law for it.” With a final wry smirk at Marcy, Isis waved goodbye to the fellow Eboniaan and began to saunter off in towards the promenade at a brisk but still normal looking pace.

 

[Relent<]

"Champion." Marcy replied with a grin, and a tip of an imaginary hat before he himself was off.
Working his way toward the field office, he found himself on the reverse of the building, coming around from the back, and peeking around the first corner to see that the door was open.
It was closed.

He crept closer, and tried the handle. It was unlocked. He had a few minutes before whoever had left it as such returned. Which gave him just enough time to make a phone call.
Stepping inside and closing the door behind him, he found the candlestick telephone by following a cable from the wall into the bottom right drawer of the registrar's desk. He pulled it open and flipped through the pages of a sloppilly bound ledger until he found the number we was looking for scrawled in ink along one of the margins. He himself had written it there long ago on a similar errand.
Dialing the number, he let it ring as he carried the phone toward the door, placing his back against it to listen for footsteps.

 

[Beiseker1]

Thankfully Piotr could always count on people seeing what they thought they knew. Still Miss Curtis she wasn't as gullible as she looked like. "Good for her" thought Piotr "worse for me". A vest would help a little, he would look less like a begger, but it was too late.
-Oh I'm sure Miss, but the show sadly doesn't prepare itself. Of course we did a lot, tent is erected, showmen ready and all that good stuff. But I haven't seen a ring mistress lately and as far as I'm sure that it's something with me I have a worrying feeling that there might not be anyone around who would get the whole act. I'm just a simple ticket seller, but I was thinking if no one sees the big picture, then no matter how good are the parts of it it will just fall apart in the end. But It's just me Miss, it should be all right. I'm sorry that i took so much of you're precious time, I know that you have more important things to do than the delusion of a problem, so Good day to you too.
And the hook was thrown, not much more he could have done. Just turn around, start walking and wait for the fish to catch the wiggling worm.

 

[Relent<]

((*Knock knock** I'm respecting your contribution to the structure of narrative by informing you of the inconsistencies ahead of time, but asserting my authority as the GM by coming in anywayyy~ *BATTERING RAM*))

Katarina had been tasked with retrieving a colt that had gotten out of the corral last night, and had caused a great deal of damage in leaving. Not only was a portion of the construction team being pulled away from the showgrounds--work which they were already behind on--to fix the broken fencing and structural damage to the surrounding wagons and furniture, but they had to add to the existing structure of the corral to prevent future breakouts.
Katarina had just spent her entire morning following horse tracks, and finally tracked down the ne'er-do-well equine. It was tucked rather comfortably into a grove of trees, watching its tracks as if it were waiting to be found. It seemed rather pleased with itself, though it had apparently done fuck-all since its escape, but the moment Katarina tried to harness it, it began to give her chase and opposition. In the dense net of trees and brushes, it hadn't much place to run, but it swung its head obstinately and disallowed Katarina's harnessing of it, which caused her to become increasingly agitated as she crawled about on her knees trying to seize it by the snout long enough to affix the harness.

Finally, with a grunt, she grasped one front leg and one back leg in either of her hands, and with a lunge flung the animal over her shoulders like a shawl. A few moments of fidgeting with the legs, and she had all four of its legs in her grasp; the front legs in one hand, the back legs in the other. The horse was not accustomed to being a passenger, and as Katarina stood, it began to bray and struggle, quite discontent with the process of its capture.

Katarina ignored its objections and made her way to the edge of the grove to survey the grounds and decide her route back.
Nearest her, there was the ever-expanding circle of wagons and tents, crowded around the large bonfire pit. On the other side of that were the mobile offices, divided from the Showgrounds by the promenade where her construction work had been left unattended all afternoon.
In the opposite direction from the wagon-township, there was the corral...all the way on the other side of the vendor's stations. She'd grown weary of this errand, and decided it best to find someone around the offices with enough rope on hand to harness the horse and take this burden quite literally from her shoulders. From then on, she would return to her work on the showgrounds, and let the stubborn jackass be someone else's problem.
She trudged toward the offices, her legs feeling like stone. The crudely painted signs which she couldn't read regardless demarcated her destination, and she focused on it. Until her knee bumped something rather soundly, and she was met with a brief "Oof!"
Quickly looking down to make sure she'd not killed anyone, she noticed a man in a porter's uniform sprawled on his back and surrounded by baggage.

((Gave a vague bit of structure to the fairgrounds. One of these day's I'll get around to describing it in full detail.))

 

[erraticemphatic]

((*Knock knock** I'm respecting your contribution to the structure of narrative by informing you of the inconsistencies ahead of time, but asserting my authority as the GM by coming in anywayyy~ *BATTERING RAM*))

((This is one of the best things I've ever read.))

Erimosi had not been sure, entering this circus, what exactly her role would be, but it was becoming established that she was to be a prowler. It was the easiest fit for her. Even now, she sat at a distance from the commotion, observing and searching for areas and people ripe for scamming, swiping, or whatever else circumstance permitted. She was becoming comfortable with the woods and the solitude and secrecy they provided, so she sat at its edge, overlooking the gently downsloping landscape. Here, she could see everyone coming and going and most of what they all were busying themselves with.

((This is weak--I need coffee--but I'm here.))

 

[Relent<]

((Dual if not triple posting. Ready?))

Marcy saw from the office window that a phauxnorse was somewhere near where he'd just come from, and seemed to be in a frenzy over some commotion thereabouts. Perhaps the pole was faking a heart attack or something? Whatever the case, it was drawing the necessary amount of attention.
The phone rang for a 6th time before someone finally answered.
"Featherby and Barnes, provisional office 332. How may I transfer your call?"
Marcy cleared his throat, and threw his voice into the receiver from somewhere between the back of his throat and his nasal passage, using his very best English accent. "Uhnnyes? I am calling on the be-hoff, of a Mrs..." He paused as if reading from a form, "MMercy? Concerning the loss of a key to her dormitory? We don't seem to have an extra on hand."
"Oh that seems very serious. And she hasn't anywhere to stay until the new key can be made?"
"I'm afraid that is the case. She is a rrrather well-to-do employee, 'owever, and would not consider the use of a tent in the meantime. Is there any chance of procuring the lady a room at the Inn until the matter is settled?"
"Of course, sir. I'll make the necessary reservations for one Ms. Mercy...Curtis, is it? Or is this reservation for Ms. Marcy Ethers?"
Jackpot.
"Ohh, bother; I don't seem to have any surname in my records. Best to make two reservations just in case. And would you send a telegram to the office concerning the specifics of the matter once they've been settled? I'm sure she'd much rather some official statement than word-of-mouth, as it were."
"That can be arranged yes. Was there anything else I could do for you today, sir?"
"Oh no, that should be all. Oh, but if you would send a bouquet to the grounds for one Isis Blackside, I'd be much obliged. Charge it to the provisional account with my thanks, if you'd be so kind?"
"Naturally sir. Have a good day."
"Likewise, mum." He hung up, just as he heard footsteps outside the office. He left the phone on the desk, stashed the ledger in a drawer and made a quick escape through the window on the far side of the office.

As the notary entered the office and paused, as he zipped the fly of his trousers. He felt something was amiss...

********
Katarina did a worried dance in place, her feet running in no particular direction as she searched for some sort of solution to her present blunder. The path's between the wagon's were scarcely wide enough for her to pass through without turning to her side, and there was certainly no place to put down the horse. The roofs of the cabins were far too flimsy to support its weight, and with so many people around, if she placed it in the tight space to kick about, it might cause another injury...not to mention the property damage. She couldn't even stoop to inspect her present amount of damage with the roofs of the cabin's angling so sharply inward toward her hips, and the horse on her shoulders broadening the width of her upperbody by another arm's length or so. She was trapped above the elbows, and could scarcely see far enough down to even make out the consciousness of the man she'd toppled over.
"Is he oh-right?" She called down, with a genuine concern in her voice. She noticed Piotr walking away from the scene as if to avoid assisting.
"Do-Nothing-Piotr-Wall-skee! Take harse to stay-bull; I help man and lady." She tried to take a knee, but her elbows caught on the roofs at either side of her, and she could only bend slightly toward her cause.
She resolved to loose her foot from one of its sandals, and extended her toes toward the man on the ground, rolling him onto his side, and picking him up with by the collar of his shirt. She tried to leave him on his feet, but he wobbled this way an that in a daze from their collision. She found herself supporting her weight on the cabin roofs, their eaves creaking under her own weight combined with that of the horse, as she used her ankle to support the man, putting the bulk of her own weight onto the other foot so that she stood somewhat like a flamingo.

The horse brayed in her ear, nervous that she was going to fall with him in-tow.

 

[Relent<]

((this scene is paused until i can find someone to replace beiseker's would-be role here. i'll send some PMs around later this evening when i have the time, but as far as scenes still in progress, we have isis and ee meeting up with some eventuality, and QL and myself (marcy, katarina) on standby.
Carnivore, can you perhaps spare your escape artist here to give the scene a bit of flavor?
Or actually, even Erimosi would fit here in her pick-pocketing caper. Katarina would certainly prove a big enough distraction for a bit of slide-of-hand.))

 

[Relent<]

Katarina trained her ear on the voice coming from below. Miss? Who was Miss? Was she referring to her?
She scooted her hips back, and tried to find her sandal with her foot as she rested the weight of one side against the wall of a wagon, which groaned in protest at her added heft.
"I don't re-choir anything...unless you like to take this horse from me?" She twisted at the waist, brandishing the horse like a stole as if there were any chance the woman could have missed it resting there.
She was growing tired of this damned thing wriggling against her neck, trying to force her to the ground so that it could run amok. Having lost all hope in finding her shoe until she could pass this creature along and reach down with her hand, she rested her naked foot behind the ankle which supported the bulk of her weight, trying her best to hide it from the properly dressed woman in front of her.
"Is he o-right, though? Check his chest for 'bruise dribs'. And his head for 'percussion'. " Katarina replied as she looked at the miserable looking man on the floor. She was attempting to repeat what the medics often said when she collided with people, but had the hands and wherewithal free to get them proper attention. She had no idea what those words meant, but they must have been important.

 

[erraticemphatic]

What more, really, could Erimosi have hoped for than a commotion such as this? There was going to be no better time to find an opportunity for something or other all day. She promptly rose and jogged to the scene, not noticed by anyone in her approach but still taking care to be inconspicuous, entering smoothly around the corner of a wagon.

"How do you feel?" she heard nearby.

"Like I got kicked by a giant." Splendid. There was an injury. The Phausnorse girl appeared flustered and disoriented, and the injured porter and the very upstanding woman tending to him were not going anywhere immediately.

The only remaining issue was the question of what she actually wanted. Erimosi was, at this point, committing dastardly deeds compulsively; she just wanted an opportunity for something, preferably something that could give her leverage or advantage later on.

It was at this point that Erimosi, innocently rounding the corner and carrying on about some made up business, spotted a key in the snoody woman's dress ((?)). Unrestrained access to property, privacy, and/or living space could indeed be advantageous. She didn't know what the key would be good for or who the woman was, but it couldn't hurt (if done right).

The commotion was wearing down. The injured man was not at all distraction enough. She needed more giantess-induced mayhem if any swiping was to occur. What better to cause a ruckus than another injury?

Erimosi strutted up to Katarina from behind, unhesitantly collided with the giantess's leg, and fell dramatically to the ground.

 

[Relent<]

Marcy sneaked back through the laundry hanging between his neighbors' wagons, and crept through the window at the rear. As he drew nearer and nearer the familiar abode, he noticed a growing clatter of rooftops and a shuffling in the street. Did he hear...braying? From a horse?

He entered, shuffled some chairs and drawers about and opened the front door to see what almost looked like a horse-cart accident. From underneath the canopy of his front door, he could make out the naked legs of a familiar giant, scuffling nervously about. Somewhere in the direction of her head, he heard the snorting of equine nostrils, and on the ground the porter lay on the ground teetering just on the edge of unconsciousness. What the hell had happened while he was away?

"I...should...go get help." Marcy said hesitantly as he closed the door in front of him.
With that he returned to the rear window, and escaped again. If he happened to see a medic, he would point them in this direction; but he needed that key taken from Mercy sooner than later...
Also, he had a telegram to intercept.

 

[erraticemphatic]

To Erimosi's dismay, no one seemed to notice her whatsoever, not even Katarina. It was evident, after several moments on the ground, that something more would need to be done. Erimosi reasoned that one of the greatest downfalls of the giantess must be knee-jerk reactions, particularly in close-quarters. That would be some nice, mild destruction to open up a window for her.

And so Erimosi rose and began rubbing her hands into the tender underside of Katarina's left knee.

 

[Relent<]

((EE, I don't know how you managed to sneak that post in there without my noticing for 2 days, but i have to say I'm impressed with how you made your entrance so gradual. At any rate, I didn't mean to ignore you {XD ))

Katarina had felt something like a "tap" on the back of her calf some number of moments ago, but assumed it was a bit of wayward dirt being kicked up by her heel in the midst of her fidgeting prances. As she felt a significant amount of pressure behind her knee all of a sudden, though, she knew something must be there and trying to get around her.
It was a dangerous pardon to be certain, as her leg twitched forward, her shin shattering the handrail on the nearest wagon steps to her right. As her knee was tucked behind the other, the sudden spasm had almost cost her her balance.

"EEK!" She squealed, only an instant before the handrail was destroyed. "I can't get out of way; go around it!" Katarina called over her shoulder, though the horse got more of an earful than whoever had offended her poor bare knee. She felt a sudden dread, as the injured man before her barred her progression forward, and whoever was behind her hindered her backward escape--which hadn't occured to her, because she did so much damage when she could see where she was going--the thought of navigating such a narrow space with no visual to guide her but a stubborn horse's flank was simply out of the question; but even that now was hindered by some impatient presence located behind her. She felt like she was trying to balance on a stump.

Her naked foot--which was attached to the offended leg--had been tentatively trying to find the ground again, since Erimosi's last aggression, and she gingerly touched her toes to the ground, making sure no one was underneath her as she tried to restore her balance.

 

[Relent<]

((I loved it XD Though i have the feeling Katarina is about to end up between a rock and a hard place...or in this case a horse.))

Katarina froze, widening her posture and standing on her toes as to take her elbows off of the roofs. The authority in her voice informed her of something she herself hadn't been aware of: the woman before her was the new manager rumored to be arriving today. And Katarina stood before her with a horse over her head, and a splinered handrail at her feet.
"I...I cannot." Katarina replied, looking for anywhere at all to place the horse as instructed. The space between the wagons could scarcely accommodate the swing of their doors, let alone a thoroughbred.

As her startled brain began to reassemble the bits of information that had entered it only moments ago, she realized that the manager had been frantically yelling at the person behind her as well.
She craned her neck over the back of the horse, and saw the pointed ears of someone...a labrynthian. It wasn't her magician that was making such trouble for her was it? No...He'd never.
It had to be the other one. That woman.

To make matters worse, she had nothing to fear in reprisals from the well-dressed woman in front of her; she didn't even work for the circus. She could press all of Katarina's buttons until she kicked down the entire encampment, and nothing could be done. Or if anything were to be done, it would be to take the cost of the damages from Katarina's salary.

Things did not bode well...

 

[Taj]

Alex had not made much progress over the past few days. Without the presense of a ring master, he had to settle for amusing the staff with his tricks in return for necessities. However after this short amount of time, he had already used most of the tricks he knew, and his "audience" were starting to complain about his repeated routine. Instead he had taken to doing meanial tasks, most requiring him to run to town for supplies. A job that was far beneath him as far as he was concerned. Such things were assigned to runaways and vagrants, not talented performers such as himself! But he convinced himself that survival took priority over performance, so he lowered himself to such doings until his time in the light came to pass.

He was aimlessly wandering the campsites in hopes of picking up some spare tobacco, when his sensitive ears picked up a commotion not far from his location. Multiple people seemed to be in distress. Plus there was the distinctive voice of Katarina, and someone who seemed to be ordering her to put down a horse. His brow furrowed and with curiousity getting the better of him, began to follow the distant rukus to it's source. His pace quickened as he detected the concern and confusion in his new friend's voice. It was obvious to him, what with his past dealings with Katarina that she didn't fully understand the human english language.

He began to worry that as Katarina continued to question the words spoken to her, the crowd might grow frustrated and start yelling at her in anger, which would only upset and fluster the Phauxnorse more. He also began to worry about her temper. Although he had never seen a Phauxnorse angry in person, he could deduce that it wouldn't be a pretty sight as images of Katarina swinging the horse like a club and walloping the crowd about the fields like baseballs the humans sometimes played. His pace soon turned to a slight jog as the voices got closer...

 

[Relent<]

Marcy, seeing the labrynthian supposed by the rumors to be a magician, jogging in the direction he himself was coming from, decided he would do him a kindness and save his life.
In passing, he extend a crooked arm and impeded the showman's progress.
"Have you ever seen an elephant on a tight rope?" he questioned casually, placing a hand on the magician's shoulder. "Sure, it sounds amusing. But now imagine that a mouse is on it with her. Savvy?"

He began to walk again, leaving his hand on the labrythian's shoulder and trying his best to pull him along.
"What damage will be done over there you can't hope to stop on your own. And there's already been once casualty--I suppose we should be more worried about him. Tell me, have you seen the medic in your wanderings? If anyone should be of use in this situation, it would be him; he's seen these kinds of injuries before. In the war, of course."

 

[Taj]

Using his ears more then his eyes, Alex completely failed to notice the Eboniaan completely. Coming to an abrubt hault startled him out of his trance like state and he turned to focus his surprise on his captor. "Have you ever seen an elephant on a tight rope?" he questioned casually, placing a hand on the magician's shoulder. "Sure, it sounds amusing. But now imagine that a mouse is on it with her. Savvy?" Alex shook his head in confusion at the man's strange words. Elephants? Tightropes and mice?

To Alex it was as if the man spoke in code. 'Why do these lot always choose to speak like a spy? Just say what you mean man!' he muttered under his breath. He looked between the man running interference and his destination. He was deciding on whether or not the new face was genuinely trying to help him...or prevent him from helping at all." He tried to focus on the conversation not less then a hundred and fifty yards from him, but was having difficulty with the Eboniaan speaking over them. "What damage will be done over there you can't hope to stop on your own. And there's already been once casualty--I suppose we should be more worried about him. Tell me, have you seen the medic in your wanderings? If anyone should be of use in this situation, it would be him; he's seen these kinds of injuries before. In the war, of course."

Of course Alex was worried. But not just for the injured man...for all involved. If you didn't speak with Katarina in a certain way, she would take you very literally for your word. He gently tried to push past this road block, but the more he tried the stronger the Eboniaan seemed to become. Finally deciding a physical confrontation would not bode well, Alex finally spoke. "The medic wagon is south west of the tent. Perhaps fifty yards or more." His voice took on a more persistant tone as he continued, "I can certainly help the damage from becoming more chaotic than it already is..." he said with polite firmness, gently trying to tug free of the man. "Please sir...release me. I can help..."

 

[Relent<]

"Mark me, long ears; it isn't the type of situation one can hope to pacify with words or I'd have done so myself." He let go of the man, physically, but still held him in his gaze for a moment hoping to convey his meaning as clearly as possible.

"Say the elephant is Katarina--the phauxnorse girl--and the tightrope is the very narrow passage between that assortment of wagons. Now let's say there's a mouse--or a horse, or a Labrynthian woman--who is causing her some form of physical distress--not hurting her, mind you, but... "taxing her nerves." The cruelest thing you could do at that instant is to make the tightrope more narrow than it already is. The people around her are already impeding her progress in or out, and another person there is just going to hem her in more tightly. The best thing we can do is to get the injured man out, so that the other still-able-bodied stepping stones can clear her a path."

He looked for the large tent, obvious enough to see on the showgrounds, and to the left and down a bit there was a white tent with a little red flag on top. It was still quite some distance away, but if he hurried he could inform the medic of the trouble and still get to the road to catch the boy with the telegram...Unless the medic asked for his assistance in retrieving the downed man.

"In the case of the tight rope, do you worry over the elephant, or the mice?"