Renaissance Faire - A Shopping We Will Go

Renaissance Fair (Marketplace)

The Marketplace of the Dallas Renaissance Fair is a sprawl of booths put up by locals and visiting merchants and craftsman alike. The booths themselves, much like those who run them, are a riot of different designs, colors, and serving a huge variety of purposes. From blacksmiths to glassblowers to costume stalls to an apothecary or two, the Marketplace truly has it all when it comes to the sale of Period goods and anything that will enhance one's enjoyment of the Renaissance Fair as a whole.

After the heat and activity of the feasting and dancing tent, the fresh air is appealing. Night has brought a whole new wonder to the Ren Faire, with taverns and vendors doing a lively business. It doesn't take long for [[[player:desiree|Desiree]] to locate the Mead tent, and she orders three big bottles of the honey mead to be packaged and sent to her address. She also purchases two of the smaller bottles for drinking at the Faire. "Now, we go shopping!" she announces to Michael, giving his arm a squeeze. "I saw some wonderful leather bustiers and skirts and shoes— " She stops, laughing. "Is this anything like the real thing, I wonder? I mean, you must've seen marketplaces and all. How does this compare?"

Taking a look around Michael grins. "It's much better… it's more cheerful, brighter and much, much cleaner." He shrugs a shoulder. "I don't think many people really want to know what the places were like in the past… they like to think things were… quaint and they've only recently got bad… I suppose it helps us build the hope we can go back to the 'good old days'" He frowns a little. "I did quite enjoy the days of Elizabeth though good music, and art." He pauses as she buys the mead. "Well we'll have to see what we can get you." He arches an eyebrow a little with a sly grin. "Although if you're not careful with the mead, I think getting you home may be the problem… I'm afraid that even I can't be sure my behaviour would be…. entirely appropriate if that should be the case."

Desiree laughs, amused at Michael's final words. "Oh, I shan't drink too much, I promise," she tells him, eyes batting up at him flirtatiously. "I wouldn't want you to be … forced to misbehave on my account." She continues to walk, pausing here and there to look at some bauble or trinket. "So many lovely things," she ponders, studying music tapes and CDs at one booth. "I'm really considering this lute music," she muses. "I've never learned many Medieval dances, but I bet the music would be good for regular dancing, too." She finally decides, choosing three of the CDs, and pulling out her wallet from the small pouch she's carrying. "Expensive," she notes as they walk away. "Hope it's worth it."

Michael shrugs a shoulder looking to Desiree. "Oh, I still intend to misbehave… now you'll just have to share more of the blame." He offers his arm to her as they continue, taking in the marketplace with mild interest, it's always amusing to see what people think yesterday was like. He grins as they et to the lute music. "Well if you would like I can always teach you? I danced most of the dances you know? I can still remember them well enough I think." He shrugs a shoulder. "There are many that were designed for groups, but if you are willing I'm sure you could always hold an evening class? I'd be more than happy to teach your students."
From afar, Hugo murrs and feels really uncomfortable now. :P

There is a thoughtful expression on Desiree's face. "You know, that's not a bad idea. I've been wracking my brain to come up with an idea for the Winter Recital," she tells him after accepting the bag with her purchases. "How does 'A Night in King Arthur's Court' sound? I'm sure I can work out some routines for the younger students, and the older ones— well, if you teach me, I can pass it on to them. That way there's no one to complain— " She stops herself. "Oh, Michael, I'm sorry. Some of the parents are … well, they're sticks in the mud when it comes to vampires." She gives his arm a squeeze. "But … we're here to have fun, so fuck them /and/ the horse they rode in on." She doesn't often use that kind of language; perhaps she feels the topic deserves it.

Michael nods with a grin, he seems genuinely unconcerned. "It's fine, I didn't really expect much else… people fear what they don't understand… And of course our existance means humanities not quite as high on the food chain as it thought, that must be a hard pill for some to swallow." He looks at Desiree. "I definately draw the line before fucking horses though." He returns the squeeze. "And it sounds like an incredible idea."

Unfortunately, Desiree chose to take a sip of her mead right as Michael said that last line, and she nearly chokes. Coughing and sputtering, she laughs and grabs a paper napkin from the nearest food vendor. "Oh— ! Oh, that's funny," she says, her voice a little nasal. "You are really on a roll tonight, m'lord." They come to some benches beneath a lighted torch, and she suggests they sit. Once seated, Desiree looks at Michael. "You've been wonderful to me tonight. Buying me stuff, walking with me, putting up with me… I want to thank you, but how? Anything you want, you can afford better than I can. I'm afraid all I can offer is my company." She reaches for his hand. "I really enjoy being with you, Michael. I'm glad we came here together." She pauses. "Are you a lord? I mean, were you? Should I properly address you as Lord?"

Michael smiles at Desiree. "Thank you, I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself." He takes the seat and looks at Desiree as she takes his hand. "My dear, after all this time I'd have thought you'd have worked out that your company is all I've wanted. I find it worth far more than anything I've bought you." He nods at the mention of being a lord. "I was… for what it was worth, my people had a very unstable nation, the Kingdom barely lasted a century, but I was cousin to King Totila, as well as his personal record keeper… That is why I rode with the army while being a scholar, I was meant to write about his exploits, make sure history remembered them… or more accurately make sure history remembered the parts he liked." He shrugs. "But we lost and my work could never be released."

"Surely after all this time…?" Desiree says, her eyes on Michael's face. "Historians are always looking for truths to replace legends or 'history written by the winners.' Your scholarly works would likely be a sensation," she tells him. "I'll bet there'd be a lot of interest in what you've written. I know what you've let /me/ read has held my interest. Please … you should consider it." She gives his hand a squeeze. "Now that vampires are out of the coffin, you can do this, Michael. Maybe it would help others to understand where we all came from." As for him wanting just her company, Desiree smiles. "So you've said, but I can't believe of all the women in the world, you'd choose me. I'm really not much of anybody important. I don't write or anything like that. You do. You could be someone very important to the scholarly world."

Michael shakes his head, his words coming easily enough. "That's because you only see yourself through your failings, the same can be said for a lot of people. You see what you think of as your mistakes, when you should be seeing… more than that. Everything I told you earlier wasn't flattery it was the truth, you're intelligent, beautiful, funny, compassionate, and at times braver than is perhaps wise." The mention of his work gets a nod. "When my family died I left it. I left that place with nothing but the clothes I wore, I began to write about the world again after my death… and I'm currently having those works translated and edited, but the work I did before, that is lost I am afraid."

"Nothing's ever totally lost in the mind, Michael," Desiree says. "If you can remember it, you can tell it again, set the records straight. Tell the truth about King Whatsisname." She's pretty adamant about that. "Maybe that's true, that I only see my failings, but I'm far from perfect. I'm flawed, Michael. My bravery is less courage than foolhardiness or bravado. I'm terrified of my own shadow, sometimes." She gives her head a shake. "I don't like to be alone because I … I— " Whatever she's trying to say isn't easy, and she looks down at her hand on Michael's. "I'm afraid of my dreams. I don't like reliving the bad things, but sometimes my mind won't shut down. When I have someone with me, to hold or to just be next to— it's easier. I feel safer." She looks down.

Michael nods to Desiree. "I remember, but my memories are far from perfect… I may have a good memory but it was long ago, what I remember may be no less biased than what others would tell, I do research, take what I remember and try to find evidence of what I remember, but that's very slow going." He stops listening to Desiree, he waits until she's finished before he reaches out, intent on cupping her chin and raising her face so he can meet her eyes, he smiles as he speaks. "I said your bravery isn't always wise… and I'm aware that you've got flaws, but everyone does, it's not reasonable to expect perfection. If you think you need to be perfect before you get what you want, then you'll never even begin to be happy." He studies Desirees' face for a moment. "You might be frightened, you may even show it, but I've never seen you back down when you thought you should stand your ground, I've never seen you let your fear govern you. That is bravery." He smiles squeezing Desirees' hand again. "Well for what it's worth I'll be there whenever I can… Although I'm afraid that I'm somewhat limited in /when/ I can be there. I tend to burn easily in the sun after all."

Desiree's cheeks flame a little, embarrassed to be complimented so readily. "Most of that's just stubbornness," she admits. "I've this bad habit of thinking I'm as good as anyone else, human or vampire. I'm sure it doesn't endear me to anyone." She eases her hand from Michael's grasp, and toys with the bands which form the sleeves of her dress. "I know you'll be there for me, Michael," she says softly. "You've proven that a hundred times over. And I know you say I don't need to repay you, but I feel I should at least thank you someway. I just don't know how, other than to be … be what I am already." Eyes lift to meet Michael's "You're so good to me. I wish I'd met you before— " She stops, taking a deep breath. "— before I got married. Things might've been a lot different, if I had. But, I guess that's what made me what I am now, and you seem to like me as I am." She smiles then. "Well, even a faulty memory is more than historians have now. I would hazard a guess they'd find whatever you offered of interest."

Michael's tone becomes firm. "All courage is in most cases is stubbornness, it's simply such a determined stubborn desire to see your will exerted that you'll face any challenge. And you are as good as anyone else, /anyone/ can have the throne Desiree, they simply need the determination and the willingness to pay the price." He smiles as he looks at Desiree. "You had your heart broken Desiree, and you've taken the blame for it. I think you've done what many people do, you've convinced yourself that you somehow made him stop loving you, that there's something wrong that makes you unlovable, or at the very least makes it unreasonable to be loved." He shrugs. "Ryan was in the wrong… I don't know what happened, but I do know that. You deserve to find someone you can love." He shrugs a shoulder. "Perhaps, as I say there will be evidence of the truth buried somewhere… it may take time, but I suppose I have plenty of that."

Desiree's hand rests once more on Michael's. "You didn't know him when he was young and had his dreams," she says, a fondness in her eyes. "He was strong, handsome, smart— everything a girl could want in a boyfriend. A husband, even. Colleges were screaming for him, and the pros were looking at him, too. Football was his passion, and when that was taken from him, I guess it took other things with it." She shakes her head. "I know I'm not at fault, not totally. I do wonder if I could've done more, or less, or something different. That's it, Michael. I don't blame myself, but I don't want to face that pain again. I … maybe next time I won't be able to fight off the depression. That's what scares me, and prevents me from making a commitment to someone else." She pats his hand. "I'll help, if I can, Michael. I'll ask questions, or write down your stories. Whatever. I want to see you be everything you can be, not just a businessman. You were a scholar, and there's no reason you can't be that again."

Shrugging Michael sighs. "You are what you become. As I've said before, a man can lose /everything/ and continue… it's hard and it hurts, but it can be done." He smiles laughing quietly to Desiree. "I've never stopped being a scholar Desiree. I have spent my entire life recording the world I've seen, I've not lived a single decade without recording what I know to be true from it. I have an entire library dedicated to the writings I've completed… a touch egotistical maybe, but I've managed to fll the space at least." He rises taking the hand on his, he offers to help Desiree up. "But as you said we're meant to be enjoying ourselves. That is the secret you know? To being happy, you need to learn that it's /now/ that matters, there's too many yesterdays to let them drag you down… trust me, and even more tomorrows that could worry about going wrong. No it's now that's generally good."

Desiree allows herself to be lifted from the bench, and she's smiling. "Indeed, My Lord," she says, sweeping him a deep, respectful curtsy. "May this humble lass somehow put a smile on your lips and bring happiness to you this glorious evening." There's laughter and mirth in her eyes as she rises, tucking her arm into Michael's. "Someday, those scholarly works must see the light of day. There's so much truth in them, so much the historians don't know, you must make it happen. I don't know what I can do to help, but I will continue to encourage you in the endeavor." As they begin to stroll once more, she looks up at the vampire beside her. "Now … we were talking emeralds, weren't we…?"

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