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strangetrip2017-04-12 11:02 pm
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[GP] Midnight Carnival
Once, back at the beginning, Songrans had started the Carnival at midnight and ended it an hour later at one minute past. At least, it was reasonable to suppose they had, but, in truth, it had been such a long time ago, it was an article of faith rather than fact. Nowadays, Midnight Carnival began when the sun went down and ended when it came up again. It had been wryly suggested by many more than one Songran that it ought to be renamed "All Night Carnival," but somehow it never was. It made for convenient fiction on the Day of Kosal that all licentiousness had taken place in a single, short, non-existent hour, and so it remained as it was.
What it was depended on who did the describing. It might be wild twists of fortune at games of chance tended by sloe-eyed men and women in brilliant costume. Or it might be fine rice wine sampled from one end of the street to the next until the world spun like Samnang's wheel. For lovers of the Youngest, it might be greasepaint and cartwheels or blindfold-tag in a crowd or blowing soap bubbles at passersby. Chanda's devotees spent the night in sexual revels or romantic trysts under firework strewn skies, while enterprising followers of Vanna might find selling candy or trinkets or operating currency exchange more to their delight.
As soon as the sun set, buildings vomited forth a brightly festooned sea of humanity lit by colored silk or paper lanterns. The night smelled of sweetened puffed rice, rich and salty fish dumplings, spicy chili-fried insects. Turn a corner and chocolate, sugar, cinnamon, gave way to sweat, smoke, wine and sex. By midnight, the Carnival resembled nothing so much as a bejeweled caterpillar comprised of myriad masked and painted faces, in wild distortions of ecstasy, agony, and joy.
What it was depended on who did the describing. It might be wild twists of fortune at games of chance tended by sloe-eyed men and women in brilliant costume. Or it might be fine rice wine sampled from one end of the street to the next until the world spun like Samnang's wheel. For lovers of the Youngest, it might be greasepaint and cartwheels or blindfold-tag in a crowd or blowing soap bubbles at passersby. Chanda's devotees spent the night in sexual revels or romantic trysts under firework strewn skies, while enterprising followers of Vanna might find selling candy or trinkets or operating currency exchange more to their delight.
As soon as the sun set, buildings vomited forth a brightly festooned sea of humanity lit by colored silk or paper lanterns. The night smelled of sweetened puffed rice, rich and salty fish dumplings, spicy chili-fried insects. Turn a corner and chocolate, sugar, cinnamon, gave way to sweat, smoke, wine and sex. By midnight, the Carnival resembled nothing so much as a bejeweled caterpillar comprised of myriad masked and painted faces, in wild distortions of ecstasy, agony, and joy.
Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
He shook his head and pressed the mask into her hand. "Masks are freedom. In one, you can be anyone you want. Take it as my gift, and may your eyes shine bright from beneath it."
The mask would have to be telepathic to turn her into who she wanted to be, since she didn't know herself. But the word 'freedom' stuck in her craw. She had longed for it since she first learned the word and had but rarely had it. She took the mask with gratitude, then settled it on her face, and tied it behind her head. She didn't feel freer immediately, but she did drift closer to the crowds.
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
When he saw her he didn't recognize her immediately, but as she moved closer he was almost convinced that it was Regina.
Curious to see what she made of the party he retrieved a second drink, and walked over to offer it to her.
"You're missing one of these."
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
Regina extended her hand to take the ale, even though it wasn't her preference. She could be anyone she wanted, right? Whether he knew her or not, she could be a woman who drank ale with a handsome man and smiled prettily at him. "Thank you. I set my last down, and I seem to have lost it."
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
"not the best I've had, but not the worst either."
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
She turned her gaze up to his and let herself ask questions she wouldn't acknowledge not knowing the answers to, usually. "What makes an ale good or bad?"
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
Personally he liked a dark stout rather than the more bitter taste of an ale.
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
"Unless, of course, someone was willing to guide me," she suggested, only mildly flirtatious with the mask containing the usual smolder.
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
And if there was a double meaning to that, well she may or may not get it.
Re: Regina - tag Dyson, OTA
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In truth, she was hunting at the moment. This was the perfect place to find someone to feed on and it would allow her to go a longer time before she would need to feed on Sam again. It would give him a little more time to recuperate and she thought that was important.
Her long blonde curls cascaded down her back when she lifted her chin, sorting through the sounds in hopes of finding someone who would be a good target. Maybe someone causing trouble? There was always one or two in a crowd like this. Someone she wouldn't feel all that bad feeding on.
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Regina's upper lip curled in a snarl of frustration. She'd bent her pride enough to let herself enjoy him and she got 'next week'? He'd probably been mocking her. The whole thing was too... fairy tale, with masks and kisses, and pretenses, to be real.
She snatched an ale off a nearby table and dropped the appropriate coin in its place. She didn't care what it was. She needed a drink. Or three.
As tangled up inside her head as Regina was, she didn't see Rebekah until they were nearly face to face. So much for her efforts at avoiding her ex-lover who didn't know her from Eve. (Lillith, who was she kidding?) "Rebekah," she said with a nod and tried to keep several years worth of friendship and affection out of her voice.
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"It's Regina, right?" She asked before the woman could even move on and she arched a brow while tilting her head to the side. "Your name, I mean? Is it Regina?"
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"Regina Mills," she said after a minute, and then, because she'd had enough of this night already, "If you're looking for a meal, I'll feed you." It was hardly the first time she'd done it.
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Tilting her head a little again, she watched with the same sense of curiosity as before but it swiftly turned to surprise. Then she scowled, stepping closer. "How..." Then she pulled herself together. "What are you talking about?"
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"Friends?" She really didn't have a lot of those but she was still a touch wary as she looked the woman over. "If you know Hope, who is her father?"
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She paused to let that sink in, knowing it would be as close to proof as she could get without reciting intimate details.
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Yes, it could still be a trick but she was going to keep an open mind at the moment. "Well, this is all very interesting. You do seem like my type, though."
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Her heart warned her this wasn't what it felt like and she was reacting to Dyson's rejection, but no evil came from this connection in Gotham; it had strengthened them both, and right now Regina needed all the extra strength she could get.
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"Perhaps a quiet corner for right and a dance later?" Rebekah suggested with a slow smirk that would look familiar even if it existed on a different version of the woman Regina knew. It was still Rebekah, after all.
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"Permit me the liberty?" she asked, stepping in close enough that Rebekah would feel the warmth of her body against her skin and see the strong pulse in her throat.
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