Renaissance Faire - And A Partridge In A Pear Tree

Renaissance Fair (Temporary)

The Texas State Fairgrounds have been transformed into a Medieval Village for the Renaissance Fair weekend. Where there was once twenty first century Dallas, there are now colorful tents and pavilions where merchants sell food, jewelry, trinkets, toys and all manner of souvenirs for the Fair. From one end to the other, the grounds are two and three tents deep, with taverns, music, puppet theater and all manner of entertainment. Gold, green, purple, blue and red streamers flutter in the wind from atop pavilions where "knights" and ladies relax and chat with visitors. Jesters in tri-colored hats parade about, entertaining children and adults alike. There is a human chess board, jousting and other Medieval pastimes. Booths line the "streets," and performers sing, dance and encourage visitors to join in the rollicking fun. Ale and wine flow like water, and there's no modern traffic to take away from the ambiance. Day or night, rain or shine, this is a party like no other in Dallas. Come, join the fun. Come to the fair!


It's Sunday afternoon, the last day weekend of the faire. And things seem to be flowing as easily, and as busily as ever. The performers, who have been exceptional all weekend, are really giving it their all, and the crowds that filter through the streets of the renaissance village certainly seem to appreciate it. Of particular note, is the carillon, a musical instrument of all cast bronze bells and hand carved wood, massive and mystical, that's currently taking center 'stage' as it were, for the artist's 2:30 performance. There's quite a crowd, both standing and sitting, listening to the sometimes eerie, sometimes orchestral, sometimes otherworldly music of the bells. Paige is not far from the front of the group, having come early to try to find a seat, and she's dressed for the faire, so simply, and at the moment, quietly, with hands folded in her lap.

—-

Having been out of town Oliver never knew of the faire, until it was far to late to arrange an outfit. But that hasn't stopped him from attending, in fact he seems hardly to notice as with his usual confident grin he wanders, he comes across the carillon totally at random, but he somehow manages to make his way to the front of the crowd, he spots Paige, and identifying a friendly face in the crowd he makes his way over offering a friendly nod as always he's 'listening' for any interesting thoughts as he listens to the music.

—-

As for the thoughts of other people, who's to say, probably the usual mishmash of the sundry and the spectacular. Whatever it is when people are thinking about their days, their lives or whatever comes to mind. As for Paige she's all whitenoise. A static shield that's quite unlike anything Oliver might have felt from her before. Still, on the not so mystical side, she does notice the movement, as the equally familiar man makes his way up towards the front, and scoots over, just enough that he can probably squeeze in next to her. Which is about all the room that CAN be made on her bench.

—-

Oliver nods his head with a wide smile. "Thanks." It's said quietly enough not to interrupt the music too much. There's also no sign that he's worried about the static noise. He makes what he can with the space available to him. "It's a strange sound… not bad, but strange. It's good to see you again by the way Ms Logan, you're well I hope?"

—-

"Welcome," Paige offers, as Oliver sets down next to her, "It's quite beautiful, and I'm told, the only traveling carillon in the nation." Which is understandable. with somewhere on the order of 35 tuned bells of varying sizes, and weighing in at somewhere around four tons, its certainly an instrument that's usually reserved for bell towers and other permanent structures, "I'm been well enough, thank you, Mr. Marcos. You're looking well yourself." She too keeps her voice soft enough that it doesn't carry far beyond the conversation.

—-

Oliver can't help but smile at the explanation, he lets his mind focus a little on Paige, trying to find out how the whitenoise is happening, he tries to meet her eyes which should help get a read. "Please call me Oliver and thank you." He offers a mildly interested arch of his eyebrows. "I can't say I knew anything about it, but then this isn't really my area of expertise." He motions to his dress. "I only learnt about the fair at the last minute."

—-

"Did you visit the clothiers at the front of the village, just by the gates? They have outfits that you can buy or rent, and whatnot, you know, to make things more authentic. That's where I went. My friend Skylar lent me a dress for the faire, and I did wear it for the dinner they had on Friday, to open, but I sort of got into the spirit and bought one of my own." And it is rather nice, a deep sky blue that does well with her paler skin and dark hair, a more intense shade of blue than her eyes. "And you can call me Paige." The whitenoise is what Oliver would expect, a shield, something taught and perfected with training. Clearly, she's been a good student. But there's something else there, a haze or a fuzziness, that Oliver, either from experience or perhaps from his 'business' might notice as the sort of haze that comes from having something legal or illegal in your system.

—-

Oliver smiles nodding slowly. "Well outfit definitely suits you." He glances over towards the clothiers. "I'll have to see if I can track it down, but I think I'll wait until the music's done." He turns his attention back to the complex device of bells. He's curious about the haze, but he's not going to mention it until he can find evidence as to what it is. It's worth noting though, few people are shielded, and if she's got a habit it may just be worth his getting to know her.

—-

"Maybe we can walk over there and get you something nice, once the performance is over. Maybe something blue to match." That and the smile offered are a clear indication that Paige is grateful for the compliment on her dress. Her sense of fashion, well, is stunted to begin with, and all of the great fashion sense she picked up in the last few months departed with the regular presence of her housemate, so…there you are. Some girls have Neiman Marcus in their veins…others are K-Mart. Guess which this one is? But for the time being, she's content to watch the performance, which continues on for perhaps fifteen more minutes, all of which are as exciting as the rest of the performance.

—-

His attention remains on the music, although he does offer a wide and pleased smile. "I think I'd like that… blue sounds like a good colour." He doesn't speak until the music is coming to a close at which point he raises from his seat offering his arm to Paige. "I hear they've got period drinks here, wouldn't happen to have any suggestions would you?"

—-

Paige laughs, in answer to the arm, though she's not above accepting it, as any good period woman would, coming to her feet, "Well, then we will have to find you something in blue. Nothing too fluffy though, that wouldn't suit you at all." Once she's on your arm, and they can make their way away from the seating, she continues the thread of the conversation, "Well, I do not drink myself. But while I was at the feast, I heard quite a few people complimenting the honey mead. That's something like beer, I think. There's a place selling it not far from here, and it's on the way to the clothiers."

—-

"Yeah, I'm not fond of fluffy myself." Oliver frowns a little. "I think I'll avoid the codpieces as well, they always looked more than a little uncomfortable." He flashes an almost boyish grin. "Either way, let me buy you some mead first? I've also heard good things, I hear it can be quite strong." He sets a slow pace apparently in no hurry to get anywhere. He doesn't focus on learning more of Paige's thoughts although he does add. "That is if you're drinking of course?"

—-

"Well, I'm sure there's some padding that goes along with it. Or else the human race would have died off from a lack of good fashion sense." They clear the performance area, and start into the street of pedestrians moving along the street, Paige stepping carefully to avoid either knocking into anyone, or stepping on the hem of her dress. It's not really her standard attire, even when in more modern cuts. But she does head over towards the drinks seller, "I might try a sip, but I stay away from alcohol. I know, with my job, you'd think I'd be a fish, but I prefer not."

—-

That's part of the question answered if she doesn't drink there's a higher chance that Paige is a potential customer. He nods slowly. "Really? I never saw any reason not to drink… in reasonable quantities of course." He flashes a grin to Paige as he gets a drink. "Are you sure you won't let me buy you a drink?" He finally unlocks his arm from Paige's. "And I'm not sure, I've noticed not everyone wore codpieces, I think they were a primitive type of population control… possibly a punishment."

—-

"Well, I don't like to be out of control of myself. You never know what might happen, when you're not in your right mind." Which is just about the most ironical thing the woman has ever said, but there it is. "I could go for some apple cider, maybe, the kids stuff, not the hard stuff. They have both, and the stuff for the kids is fresh pressed." Paige releases Oliver's arm, as she approaches the tent in full, which does have a bit of a bar for resting at. Not large enough for extended seating, but large enough for mingling. "Knock up a few too may women and you wear the male version of a chastity belt?" See? And this is how she is with NO alcohol in her system.

—-

"Actually, they were a source of pride and masculinity," comes a voice, familiar at least to Oliver. Paige might remember it from the auction. "In fact, at one point in Italy and France, cod-pieces got so big and phallic, the church wanted to ban them entirely. They got their name because… oh, I forget." Desiree smiles and bows her head toward the couple. "G'day, m'lord, m'lady." The goblet she holds is lifted. "Here's to male pride and … and …" She pauses, looking just a little on the drunk side. "… ostentation." A toast-like gesture, and she's drinking. Oh, yes, she's into her cups, is our Desiree. "Come. Join me. I won't bite— " A sort of wink there. "— unless you want me to."

—-

Nodding Oliver gets Paige a cider, and then he hears the voice of Desiree, he turns arching an eyebrow a he turns to her. "Desiree, I tried to call you earlier, but I must have missed you. I was going to ask if you'd like to come with me." He nods. "Well if the pictures I've seen are anything to go by… I'd guess that they had to stop to prevent back injury." Oliver offers Desiree a bow, it's a fairly simple display as he looks from Desiree to Paige. "We were actually going to get me something more appropriate to wear, if you'd care to join us? I suppose more fashion advice can't hurt?" He sips his mead with an approving nod offering it to Paige to try. "I like it."

—-

"Thank you," comes from Paige, as she gets her cider, cold and fresh, just the sort of thing to make her happy on a day when she's probably praying she wore enough sunblock, "Well, then that sounds sort of like a medieval merkin." Desiree might be familiar with the term. It's a costume propped used to mask, usually female bits during nude scenes, but sometimes male ones come 'modified' to provide the view without actually seeing the 'genuine article'. She offers a smile, and a hand to Desiree, "Paige Logan. Nice to meet you. And he definitely needs the fashion help. He's certainly not going to get anything decent from me."

—-

"Of course. You know I have exquisite taste." Desiree laughs softly, taking another drink. "Mead's great. A little sweet, perhaps, but that all depends on the kind you get. This fine purveyor," and she nods toward a man behind the counter, "has several brews which I've been tasting. I find them … deliciously refreshing." She doesn't exactly hiccup, but she certainly makes some kind of noise. "Pardon. It's not bad manners, it's good mead." As Paige introduces herself, Desiree sets her goblet down. "Pleased to meet you, m'lady," she says. "Desiree DeVilliers— although, you probably know that already. I recognize you from the auction. You bid on Skylar against me." She gives a grin. "Congrats on winning."

—-

Oliver frowns a little. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me; I should have introduced you." He does nod to Desiree. "I like it myself." He frowns studying the woman for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I take it you didn't drive here?" He frowns seeming a little less than impressed. "It seemed everyone other than me was at the auction… maybe there'll be another, it sounds like this one was a success."

—-

"I'm sorry about that. I rather got into the spirit of things. And I did want him to get a good amount for charity. But it is actually nice to put a name to a face." A hand reaches out, touching Oliver's arm, just briefly, "It's perfectly alright. No need to apologize. you'd no way of knowing that we didn't know each other by name." Paige looks between the man and the other woman, "Well, we can certainly find her something to get her home, if it comes to that. But perhaps a bit of shopping might help to wear it off." Not that she knows if Desiree might actually want that, but hey…the day is still early. "I think I heard that they'll be doing a series of events, they might do a repeat of this one. Auctions are always a great way to get people to spend money."

—-

"It was successful, yes, but not really for me. I only went for $400, while everyone else went for over a thousand," Desiree says, pouting. It's a genuine pout, too, complete with pushed out lower lip and frown. "The penalty for going first, I guess. I /try/ not to take it as a commentary on my … worth." The goblet is drained. "Drive? Sure I drove. The Mustang's in the parking lot, top up in case it rains. "My keys are in my pouch." If there's one word in the world which will make Desiree perk up, it's "shopping." She offers a wide grin. "First off, Oliver, I've no intention of setting foot behind the wheel in my current condition. This is, after all, my last goblet for the day. Of course, you didn't know that." She gives him a smile. "Shopping is my middle name, and I'd be delighted to go with you two. My tipsiness /will/ fade as the day waxes, but if you want, you can hold my keys until you feel I'm sufficiently sober." The words are articulate and precisely spoken, as if Desiree was talking for the first time.

—-

Oliver shrugs a shoulder. "Well I was going to offer to give you a lift home. But if you're sure you'll be ok…" He shrugs with a wide grin. His next words are sincere. "I'm pretty sure that a low bid on you was in no way a sign of your worth." He flashes a grin. "I'd say that I'd pay an awful lot more than four hundred dollars for dinner with you, but I've already got the offer." He then turns to look at Paige. "Well I'm always happy to help out charities, maybe I'll check them out."

—-

"If you two will excuse me, I need to visit the ladies' room." Desiree rises, not without some difficulty in her costume. "I'll be right back. Then we shop!" And off she goes, determinedly, if not steadily.

—-

"The charity is called Bright Futures. They've been pretty good about advertising their events." Paige takes the time to finish her cider, as Desiree wanders off to make use of the facilities, "So what do you think of the faire, aside from the carillon? Have you had a chance to see much more of it? They've really managed to set things up quite nicely, especially for an event that's only lasting a few days."

—-

Shaking his head Oliver laughs. "I'd pretty much just arrived, it's an impressive set up though." He runs a hand through his hair once again sipping his mead. "As for Bright futures, I'll definitely keep my eyes open… I'd probably attend an auction if it happens again… though I don't know that my ego would stand it." He flashes a smile that's almost pure confidence in contradiction to the statement. "I'm a fragile soul after all." He nods to Des, watching the woman. "I think I'm glad I got a lift in now."

—-

"Well, you just have to think of it as being more about the bidders and less about the prizes. I mean, the people bidding don't really know that much about you, and most of the time, it's not really about you at all. It's about them winning. You could auction off a monkey, and probably get fairly good money for it, if you found the right crowd." Strange, perhaps, that Paige would know so much about such a high dollar event, given her background, but people learn the strangest things in the oddest places.

—-

Oliver studies Paige, for a moment he seems quite serious as he listens then a boyish smile forms. "Well of course, who doesn't want a monkey? As for it not being about me… well that would /really/ hit my ego hard." He shrugs a shoulder. "I never really went in for auctions myself, it's fine if you know there's two interested people out there… or you know you're the only interested person, but the rest of the time it seems something of a honey trap."

—-

"Well, it all comes down to what matters to you. The goods, or the feeling of winning. I recall going to auctions with my uncle. And people would just buy the most horrid old nags, or heifers waiting to drop, at least as my uncle said. But they did it because they wanted a prize. People like to win things. Not many people are comfortable with losing. That's just a fact of life. You yourself don't strike me as a man who really takes losing very well. Not with such confidence." Paige finishes her cider, returning the glass, and waving off a refill.

—-

Shaking his head Oliver studies Paige for a moment. "Losing happens, I don't like it, but if you can take losing well then you'll grab the chance at turning it to your advantage, no gain from being a bad loser." He finishes his drink with a chuckle. "Still I do try to pick my battles so I don't have to become too good a loser." He offers a wide smile. "What about you? How do you handle losing?"

—-

"When you're at the bottom, there's only one way to go." Paige takes a moment, turning to pick up three bottles of water, one of which she offers to Oliver, the other two she keeps for herself, for the time being. At least until Desiree returns, "And I have quite a bit of experience in being at the bottom."

—-

Desiree returns in time to catch the drift of the conversation. "Losing's no fun," she says softly, perhaps even a little more soberly. "I hate losing, so I do my best to stack the deck in my favor." She clears her throat. "Thing is, winning or losing— it is what it is. You can choose to let it ruin you, or you can choose to let it make you stronger." She smirks just a little. "The whole thing about going for the lowest price?— it's an act. I know my worth. I may not be wealthy, but I know I'm a winner. And, just to let you know, I don't hang around with losers, so buck it up, and let's go shopping." She grins at both people and jerks her head toward Merchant's Alley.

—-

Oliver frowns as he looks at Desiree. "I dunno, I lost a game of strip poker once… that was fun." He nods a little. "But yeah, it's good to go in with a stacked deck on the table and one up your sleeve." He nods at the mention of the Merchant's Alley. "Just so long as we get to this clothiers. After that I'm happy to just wander and carry stuff… I'll accept my place in the shopping food chain."

—-

"Then we should head off to get Oliver dressed properly. And hopefully, we'll chalk it up to a win." There's a flash of a smile, at something, well, Paige's not about to say, but, she does step away from the drink seller, moving out back into traffic, "I'm the worst shopper you'll ever meet. I make a list, run in and run out as quickly as I can. There was the cutest stall though, they had these little animatronic sort of fuzzy baby dragons, sort of looked like that, you know in Return of the Jedi, that little cackling guy who sat next to Jabba the Hutt?"

—-

"Absolutely," Desiree agrees. "There're two or three clothing merchants over by that bright red pavilion. I was looking there earlier." She makes certain she has her pouch, then gestures them out to the marketplace. "This way," she tells Paige and Oliver. "The woman running the leather shop recommended 'Merry Stitchers.' She didn't steer /me/ wrong." A gesture to the black gown she wears. "And, I meant to say, that's a lovely dress you're wearing. Blue suits you," she says to Paige. Then in an aside to Oliver, "I hear there'll be more dancing tonight. Maybe we can join. They're supposedly going to /teach/ the dances, too."

—-

"Then we should head off to get Oliver dressed properly. And hopefully, we'll chalk it up to a win." There's a flash of a smile, at something, well, Paige's not about to say, but, she does step away from the drink seller, moving out back into traffic, "I'm the worst shopper you'll ever meet. I make a list, run in and run out as quickly as I can. There was the cutest stall though, they had these little animatronic sort of fuzzy baby dragons, sort of looked like that, you know in Return of the Jedi, that little cackling guy who sat next to Jabba the Hutt?"

—-

"Absolutely," Desiree agrees. "There're two or three clothing merchants over by that bright red pavilion. I was looking there earlier." She makes certain she has her pouch, then gestures them out to the marketplace. "This way," she tells Paige and Oliver. "The woman running the leather shop recommended 'Merry Stitchers.' She didn't steer /me/ wrong." A gesture to the black gown she wears. "And, I meant to say, that's a lovely dress you're wearing. Blue suits you," she says to Paige. Then in an aside to Oliver, "I hear there'll be more dancing tonight. Maybe we can join. They're supposedly going to /teach/ the dances, too."

—-

Oliver shrugs looking at Paige. "All I know is you told me they were selling outfits." He sighs a little. "I never knew I'd get pulled into shopping." He sounds like he's about to start more strenuous complaints when the mention of dancing is made. "Well I believe you do owe me a dance from earlier?" He smiles brightly to each of the women. "I'll let you lead since you both seem to know the place better than me."

—-

"I mentioned getting you some period clothing. That was the extent of our arrangement. It was Miss DeVilliers that extended that out to shopping, and you're to blame for agreeing to it." Yes, indeed, it's always the boy's fault. Always. That's why they get stuck with purse duty. But, Paige does continue along towards the clothing shop that's indicated, the three forming a loose group as they make their way along the street. "Ooh, I see the most perfect jester's hat. And i know just the right person for it."

—-

Desiree is still a little unsteady, the mead she's consumed (and bought bottles of) hasn't dissipated in such a short period of time. At the moment, they seem to be heading toward a huge, red pavilion. "This's it," Desiree says, beaming. "I think you'll look stunning in— " She studies Oliver for a long time. "— German Renaissance. It's fancy, but not so much as French or Italian. Or, if you want comfort, I'd suggest a tunic, trews, leggings and a pair of soft boots. Like that gentleman," she says, gesturing to one of the Ren Faire merchants. He's wearing a cotton tunic and pants, nothing fancy. "Sometimes comfort wins out over substance." Desiree grins. "Jester hats are wonderful. I like the ones with bells."

—-

Oliver shrugs. "Honestly it's all the same to me. I know nothing about any of it." He grins to Desiree. "I tend to like to find a balance between substance and comfort." He frowns at the jesters hat. "I'm not wearing anything with bells, anyway, I'm not agile enough to be a jester." He shrugs a shoulder. "The German suit sounds good to me."

—-

"Oh, the hat wouldn't be for you, you don't have to worry. I've been putting together a little care package for a friend, and I think it would be just perfect as the finishing touch. I think he'd appreciate the joke. And if not, well, I'm pretty sure he's not even in the country, so I have a head start on the running." Paige makes her way into the pavilion, moving immediately towards the hats, jiggling the bells for all she's worth. "Do I even dare as what trews are? Closest I've ever heard in thews, which is some sort of muscly body part, I believe. I read it in a book once."

—-

"The landsknecht it is, then," Desiree declares, beckoning to a middle-aged woman. "Our friend here would like to try this on," she tells her, grinning from ear to ear. "In … blue or green, I think. If you have it in his size, of course." Desiree indicates which "suit" she means, and grins. "Relax and enjoy. It's like dress up and pretend for adults. I really enjoy the history behind Medieval things, which is why I like going to the museum and coming to things like this." She nods to Paige. "I'm going to wander over to look at those daggers. I saw one I'd love to have, now that I've got the money for it. My 'date' didn't come cheap." She winks at Paige.

—-

Like a child taken shopping by his elders Oliver nods and when given the choice goes with the blue, which is selected because the shade matches his eyes closer than the green, he's about to disappear when the mention of daggers is made, his attention turning to them for a moment he smiles. "I am enjoying this as it goes…. Usually when I wear tights I'm made to feel ashamed for it… despite having excellent legs." He's then gone to get changed into the garb.

—-

Paige sends a smile in Desiree's direction, as she looks up from picking a hat that she likes. Double the bells! And wanders back to join Oliver, who's being 'fitted' or rather prefitted, before he goes to try things on, "Oh, it's just because it's so difficult to really pull them off. They show off everything, trust me, as a woman, I know." She settles the hat into her hands, waiting to pay, in case anything else catches her eye on the way to the register. And waiting for Oliver to come out of the dressing room.

—-

Desiree's attention, too, is on the blades. She peruses each one, reading the literature provided by the merchant. She's torn between a simple "hunting style" blade, and something a little fancier. "What about that one?" she inquires, indicating a small, sharp dagger in a black leather sheath. "Could that be tucked, say, in this?" She indicates her leather stomacher. "I mean, I don't want anything obvious. Discretion /is/ the better part of valor, after all. No sense advertising I'm armed." She gets her answer from the merchant, but decides to go with a slightly longer version of the same blade. Both are very sharp, so she's careful to peacebond it as it's tucked into her belt. "Oliver, you'll need a rapier or a sword. Come see these after you get dressed." She also beckons to Paige. "You ought to see these stilettos! They're lovely."

—-

As soon as he's changed he's over with the women arms stretched out he looks at them. "So m'ladies how do I look?" He makes a show of turning so they can get a better look. "I quite like, it but what do you think?" His own weapons are safely concealed in his normal clothes, now safely in a bag, he does glance at the daggers again though.

—-

Paige heads over towards the weapon display that Desiree is looking over, offering, in answer, "I don't really know anything about weapons, honestly. I mean, I can use a hunting knife to field dress an animal, that's the extent of my knowledge. I wouldn't know a good dagger from a bad one. And the only weapon I carry is a pocket knife. Although…it does have a whole bunch of accessories." Once oliver announces his arrival, she turns back, giving him a good going over, "I think it suits you very nicely. Not too over the top, not too conservative."

—-

Desiree is, perhaps, a little critical. She steps away from the blade-smith, and starts to make small adjustments to the garb. Straightening something here, puffing something there. Just little details. Once she's satisfied, she grins and nods. "There. It looks great— especially the tights. Nice legs," she comments, eyes sparkling. With some proper boots— and there's a cobbler three tents down— you'll quite take everyone's breath away." She looks then to Paige. "So, does he look a proper German mercenary?" Of course the saleswoman agrees; she just made a good sale, and also suggests he visit the cobbler. (He's her husband, after all.) "At least he wears it well," is her last remark as she pulls out a small bottle of mead from a leather bag she carries. "Here's to living on the edge." As for daggers. "Well, I'm no expert. I just know the pointy end goes in the other guy." Cheeky grin and old movie references aside, she points to a nice one. "That one's pricey, but worth it. Multipurpose: hunting, carving and everything else."

—-

Oliver quickly begins to handle the daggers once Desiree's finished pulling about his clothes, he flashes a grins a he works through the balance, sharpness and design of a number of the daggers with the keen eye of someone with a genuine knowledge. "Thanks, I'm glad you both approve." He looks from one woman to the other. "I think once I've got some boots I'll be ready to learn some of these dances." flashes a wide grin.

—-

"If you say that's how a German mercenary should look, then I'd say he looks quite dashing." Paige…not a history buff, at least not of anything that has to do with germany, sadly. "I think he just wears it well." Paige doesn't make any move to examine the daggers. Probably content with her pocket knife. And her hat! Which she still has to pay for, and moves off to do just that, "But we should get you some shoes. I think you'd get tired of going around barefoot after a few hours, especially considering the state of the ground around here." Once she's finished paying, she returns to the pair, "Whenever you both are ready."

—-

Desiree has already paid for her daggers (buying one for a gift), and nods to Paige's idea of getting Oliver shoes. "Well, shall we check out this cobbler that comes so well recommended?" They obviously wait for Oliver to pay for his new garb, and then she's pointing westward along the same "street." The ground /is/ rather hard, and no telling what all's mixed in with the soil; this is where they hold cattle and horse auctions, after all. "Just wear your regular shoes until we get you some boots. Those are liable to be expensive, but most of the merchants here will haggle over price. Don't be afraid to make 'em an offer they can't refuse."

—-

Oliver pays with a nod as he slips his usual shoes back on. He runs a hand through his hair as he follows the others towards the cobblers. "So, what sort of boots did German mercs wear?" He shifts the blade he'd selected a little. He grins at the compliments he's getting for how he wears the garb. "Thank you ladies, I'm glad you both think it's a good fit."

—-

Again, the clueless one, Paige allows Desiree to go over the specifics of period costuming, as she jingles her way down the lane, not having gotten a bag, she has to settle for plopping the jester's hat on her head, but she won't lie, there's a big of head jiggling to make as much noise as possible. "That's all the two of you. But you're welcome. Maybe once you're done, you can get a turkey leg to finish off the red faire look. It could sub in as a club, sort of like a makeshift melee weapon."

—-

"Not sure, personally. Ask the cobbler, he'll probably know. I bought these slippers from him Thursday. None of my shoes suited the gown Michael had made for me." She smiles fondly at the memory of seeing that dress. "It's gorgeous, but not what you'd want to wear every day. It's made of velvet, after all." When they arrive at the next tent, the cobbler grins and greets them heartily. "His lordship here needs boots, or shoes suitable for his station and clothing. Prithee, can you be of service, my good man?" All right, so she's playing it up a little. And then Paige pipes up with her suggestion of a turkey leg as a melee weapon. Desiree nearly chokes on the mead she was drinking. Handing the bottle off to Oliver (and hoping he doesn't drink it all!), she begs a moment to catch her breath. "That makes for a very interesting mental image."

—-

As the cobbler begins to show Oliver different boots he does haggle, there's nothing more important than a comfortable pair of shoes after all, he's quick to dismiss a couple until he finds a pair he seems to like both the appearance and the fit of, he also seems to find a price he likes, he pays happily enough slipping the new footwear on with a chuckle. He takes a long swig from the mead before giving it back to Desiree. "Well a turkey club would definitely be an unexpected weapon." He grins a little. "So ladies what now?"

—-

Paige doesn't look in the least repentant, as Desiree snorts her soda, as it were, but she does at least do the friendly thing and pat her on the back. "It was just an idea. It doesn't have to, you know…I guess you could go with a beef on a stick. Of course, you might need two. One for each eye." Which is really just sort of like kebabs, only it's a strip of steak like london broil. "Thankfully, I didn't have to buy new shoes." And yes, if one does look down and catch sight of Paige's feet, she's wearing a sort of modern take on ballet shoes, very hot in fashion. Now very dusty and covered in the whatnots of walking on dirt streets all day, "Well," Paige looks over, taking in Oliver's full…look, as they stand in the clothing pavilion, "It's very…they look as if they must weight a ton. But, you know…nice leather." And then, as the questions comes, "I believe you said Desiree owed you a dance."

—-

"I recognize those shoes," Desiree says, nodding at Paige's feet. Some of my students wear them when we're doing outside dance demos. They have soles that grip concrete better than actual ballet slippers. A wise choice for here." She lifts the edge of her skirt to show off the slippers she bought from the cobbler. "These are really comfortable. I was surprised, since my feet have such a high arch. Most shoes kill me after an hour or so." She sips mead from the bottle she's reclaimed from Oliver, just standing at the edge of the tent. A jewelry merchant catches her eye, but for the moment, she's content to lean against the solidity of a support pole of the pavilion. Yeah, she's tipsy.

—-

A return visit is made to the place that she's honestly not all that fond of. There are things and people here that need to be addressed, and atop all of that? A certain witch is rather bored. Fresh from a staff meeting she arrives, completely not joining in the festivities at all. A freshly pressed woman's dress suit is what she wears, none of those silly dresses that everyone seems to be fond of. That's old had and she failed so miserably at it the first time around anyway.

So Quinn very likely sticks out much more than she even intends to, but the frequently angry at the world woman doesn't seem to take it poorly. There are so many about that she doesn't take the time to look at all of them properly, not just yet. Somewhere along the way she stops to grab a drink containing some sort of alcoholic beverage. It's unknown and as of yet untouched. Currently she's on her way to a jeweler's tent to examine something that caught her eye a few days prior.

—-

Oliver nods to Paige at the mention of the dance. Then he looks to Desiree. "Yeah, I'm not sure Des is in the mood for dancing anymore?" He smiles a little. "So, I suspect for the moment we should continue the window shopping. Is there anything people would like to see?" He glances to Desiree again. "The Jeweler perhaps?"

—-

Paige flounces down the hem of her dress, hiding her shoes, jingling her jester's hat as she goes, which, with all of the bright black and white plaid, is a total clash with her dress, "Not unless it's the sort of dance you can do while sitting down nursing a cup of coffee, that's for sure. But I do think the jeweler's are in order. She seems to be looking in that direction." A moment, as she steps closer to Oliver, "Perhaps you could give her a hand over there?" The person or persons milling around the footwear store are, as yet, unnoticed.

—-

Michael wanted to get her emeralds, but didn't find anything he liked at the Faire. Desiree, on the other hand, found something quite nice, but not for herself. She meanders toward the jeweler's tent, determined to purchase the necklace she saw. The proprietor said it was designed after an Ostogothic amulet worn by many to ward off evil. Not that she believes Michael needs to worry about much of anything, but it's made of pewter (not silver) and it's got a beautiful opal triplet set in the center. With that sliver of onyx behind the opal, it makes the stone look dark and mysterious. "You're sure it's from that period?" she asks. "Because the man it's for will know if it's a fake, get my drift? I want to give him something he can relate to. She glances to her companions. "What do you think? I mean, what do you get a 1400 year old vampire?" She shakes her head and ponders. "Maybe I should get him something of more value? That quill pen and ink set is exquisite, and he was a scholar, after all."

—-

Just as she reaches the jeweler's area, she notices that there are a few others around. This isn't an issue for her as she simply prefers to ignore everyone anyway. As she looks over the crafts a drink is taken of the mystery substance. It's just then that the words of Desiree are overheard. Instead of spitting out the drink in dramatic fashion, Quinn instead swallows quickly, the act enough to make her openly choke. It's less than lady like, far from graceful, but at least she recovers rather quickly. Now that she's caught the attention of a few that she'd rather not, the witch slides a few steps away to look at some amethyst earrings for her collection. Even though she's keeping a good eye on Desiree when she's able to.

—-

Paige may not know much about the world, save what she learned in her small town home, and then during her forays into school, but she does at least know a bit about the things that go bump in the night. And Desiree's comment gets a sharp look, as she moves closer to the woman, who's looking over the amulet, "A bit of discretion, I would say. I'm not sure that sort of information should be public knowledge. Lord knows what could be done with it in the wrong hands." Paige doesn't mean to sound, well, upset, because she likely isn't, but there is a sort of intensity in her tone, "Between the FotS, drainers and people who generally dislike vampires, not a good idea, to discuss that sort of thing in public." And in the middle of that, she looks up, at the sound of choking, zeroing in on the source, and there's a moment of recognition there, though she also makes no move to act on it. Recognizing a face, and walking up to someone are two completely different things.

—-

Oliver does offer his arm to Desiree, he heads over with her letting her question the proprietor, he's actually interested. "Well it's nice." That's said once he's asked what he thinks, then he hears the words that almost give him a heart attack… a fourteen /hundred/ year old vampire, this leads to two things, firstly he begins working out how much he can get for blood of such an old vampire, but he's nothing if not practical, and so he begins to also consider just how deadly such a vampire must be… that gives him pause enough to catch a woman choking, he's no reason to think it's related, but it does get enough attention that Oliver 'listens' for any interesting thoughts from the woman, all the while not letting his features shift at all. He nods at Paiges comment. "Yeah, it's not good to talk about such things… and I'd say it's the same as anyone else, get them something you think they'd like… don't worry about the age, or the style." He grins. "Although the quill set does play to his interests by the sounds of it."

—-

Desiree's face turns a shade paler than it was before Paige spoke. She looks horrified at herself, and her loose tongue. "Oh, my God," she whispers, realizing she needs to stop drinking. "Here, please, don't let me have any more." She holds out the leather bag. "Please. Just don't let me drink. I've gone from straight to stupid with three bottles of that stuff. It's sneaky." She quickly agrees to a price for the amulet, and steps away from the tent, a hand to her throat. "Yes, the … the quill set, too. I'll get Mi— my friend those two things. I'm sure he'll enjoy them both." There's absolute fear on Desiree's face now. She turns back to the tent, making a second purchase and then says, "I'm going to find a tavern that serves ordinary food and drinks. I need to … to sit for a bit. Please … excuse me." It's fairly obvious she's upset to the point of total distraction. She neither notices the choking woman, nor anyone else as she heads back the way they came.

—-

The sudden attention isn't fully noticed as she's busy trying to cover from her less than graceful performance. A vampire that old is shocking, to say the least, and she suddenly is concerned if Desiree rightly knows what she's getting herself into. This causes an interest, but she is not about to approach the subject with the woman, especially with others around. In the process she does see Paige, however, a face that she's seen before.

Paige is studied for a moment longer than she should be, not out of jealousy but curiosity. Certain people need friends and she appears far better suited for the role than Quinn. Only once she realizes that she may be caught looking, mixed with the sudden desire for Desiree to bolt, the witch turns back to the merchant to complete the sale. Leaving might actually be best in this situation.

—-

Paige accepts the bag, tucking it away, to prevent any further imbibing, shaking her head, as she tries to calm Desiree. But she's also not the best suited for it either. Sure, yeah, you know, ghost hunter, medium, should be right up her alley, yeah? Ah…no. And adding to that that she hardly knows the woman at all, having only met her once before and that only in passing, Paige turns to Oliver, "Let me go ahead and see what I can do here. I think she might need a friend to sit in with her, and, frankly, you're a hell of a lot closer to that with her than I am. I'll try to see what sort of damage has been done here, see if I can smooth it over." She's really got a knack for reading people, and picking up on little quirks of expression and conversation. And spinning a story, well, you'd be surprised what the right training lets you do. Whether or not she notices Quinn's staring, and the answer is likely yes, for the moment, well, discretion is the better part of valour.

—-

Oliver glances over at Quinn, he then turns his attention to Desiree. "Yeah, I think it's a good idea for you to slow down." He runs a hand through his hair. "And about the car, it might be an idea if you let me drive you home? I got a lift here, so when we leave it wouldn't be out of my way to take you home." He frowns a little. "Relax, your friend can take care of himself. At that age he's gotta be." He attempts to wrap an arm around Des to try and comfort her. He's picking up on those people who feel strong reactions, Quinn gets another glance, but he quickly turns his attention back to Desiree. "Take it as a learning experience, we know you're not to have mead again right?"

—-

Desiree evades Oliver's arm, and starts walking away. She has some difficulty maneuvering through the crowd. Not only is she still slightly drunk (albeit Paige's words sobered her up a /lot/), but her eyes are getting blurred by unshed tears. No one really pays much attention to her as she mumbles, "Excuse me, pardon me, I'm sorry," and other things to those she bumps into. Still, she has a vague idea where she is, and it's not long before she arrives at the tavern. Finding a seat in the back, she orders strong, black tea. Coffee? No, all you have when you feed coffee to a drunk is a wide-awake drunk. "Thank you," is offered to the server, and Desiree begins to drink the hot, bitter tea. She heard Oliver, and knows he wanted to comfort her, but this is something she must work through alone. «How /could/ I have been so stupid?» The picture of misery, that's Desiree.

—-

To pursue or to leave, that is the question. It would be easier to blend if she were not dressed as she is and had there not been at least one face that is semi-recognizable. Vampires aside, it is a fact that Desiree should not only not be driving but also should not be left alone. These are the states that people are most vulnerable, and evil is everywhere. Still, Quinn doesn't /really/ care, as caring for anyone is beneath her. With her new jewelry purchased she begins to walk, her stride natural, her eyes everywhere but the group she'd just been around. All the same, those steps lead her in the same direction, unless someone blocks her advancements. More information is needed and she can't just leave an opportunity like this go so easily.

—-

With Oliver moving off after Desiree, whether she wants to company or not, Paige takes that as a go-ahead, and she returns to shopping. Not that she was to begin with, but it's easy enough to pick up the thread of wandering around the stall, picking up this piece and that as she moves around the people who were in the tent at the second Great Revelation, eavesdropping and scanning for emotive cues.

—-

Oliver doesn't leave Des entirely alone of course, but he does give her space, he makes it obvious that he's there without making it too insistent that she speak to him, he spots Quinn and he does head to block her path. "I don't know why you're interested in my friend, but I think it's best if you let her friends handle this." He suspects that the interest could be another drainer, this is his find though, he just needs Des to think of the vampires name.

—-

After half a mug of the strong tea, Desiree is a lot more sober. She vaguely remembers Paige saying something about doing damage control, and just buries her face in her hands. Oliver's presence is noted, but she makes no move to speak with him. Not at the moment, at least. Not until she hears Oliver confront someone. Looking up, she sees the woman who was choking at the jewelry booth. "Oliver, no … please. You don't have to protect me from everyone." She looks at the woman, offering a weak smile. "Are you all right? I heard you choking. Do you need to sit for a bit? Maybe have some tea, or water?" There's genuine concern in Desiree's tone. Even in her current state, she can think of others. "Feel free to join me, both of you. I'm … I'm fine, now."

—-

Oh-ho, what is this? Someone indeed cutting her off at the pass, yet she's not overly impressed. It's nothing personal, just the way that she is. Unfortunately for Oliver, she doesn't wear her mind on her sleeve due to running into Chloe just days before. This particular witch is aware of telepaths. "Excuse me?" This is said with lack of emotion as she merely eyes him up and down.

"Your friend says interesting things while inebriated." That could be a warning, or an explanation. "It also is not my fault if she so happens to be in the direction that I'm heading. You can 'handle' her all you like, but I 'd advise that you move out of my way." Apparently conflict is not something that she cares to avoid.

Then Desiree decides to offer input and Quinn turns to look at her. Glare would be the more appropriate word. "The drink is a little strong here." A lie, but honestly, who is to know this fact? "Which is likely what's causing you to say the things that you are. You'd be best to let your friend here take you home."

—-

When her kindness is met with such a cold rebuff, Desiree's eyes widen. "I'm. Drinking. /Tea/," she says slowly, each word articulated clearly. "I realize what I did was foolish. There's no need for you, or anyone else to chastise me." She sits up straighter, spine erect. Giving her head a shake, she trades glare for glare, and then simply goes back to drinking her tea. "If your conversation continues in that vein, you'll hear some more /interesting/ things from me. You can take that to the bank and cash it." Her attention moves to Oliver. "Don't worry about it, hon. I'm fine, and there's dancing tonight. Irish black tea will perk me right up." A deep breath is taken, then she looks back to the "choker." "You should try to enjoy yourself instead of walking around like you've got a corncob shoved up your butt. Sorry I was concerned. Have a good life."

—-

Oliver doesn't get out of the way until Desiree comments on it, he joins them with a slow nod to Desiree. "You should get away from the scene." He takes a look around. "We'll get some distance from the Jewelers' and then we can relax a little, but getting you home's not a bad idea." He glances at Quinn again, he's willing to leave the topic for now, although he does smile at Desiree's comments.

—-

Smiling at the comments from she who says too much may seem good at the time, but the comments mean little in the end. They are words, and she is not a woman of words. Quinn Niveus is a woman of action. "Oh, is that so? I wasn't aware that drinking myself into such a stupor that I admit to things I shouldn't and stumble around a large group of people was considered socially acceptable. Pardon /me/, but I'm not about to consider such forms of relaxation."

Verbal matches with Quinn likely never go well, because she is not afraid to fight back. "And when you're up to actually fighting with more than words, maybe I'll concern myself with what you're saying. Until such a point, little girl, I suggest you listen to the sensible one here before anything happens to you." The flash of a vampire, Michael ironically, comes to her mind. He is the last one that she remembers seeing. "You deserve what's coming to you." She's more than content to walk away at this point, but only because she was able to actually speak her mind.

—-

Desiree doesn't bother paying much attention to the other woman. She said what she was going to say, and that was it. Nonetheless, she has ears, and hears what is said. Her expression remains impassive, as if she heard nothing. Her mind, however, is another story, and thoughts, images, bits and pieces of conversations all jumble together. No, she's not entirely sober yet, but she's a lot steadier. It's that last which makes Desiree's blood boil. She slowly stands up, giving Quinn a cold, indifferent stare. "I sincerely hope life brings you everything you so richly deserve," she says, her voice even, without inflection. It's a blessing and a curse her aunt's black housekeeper once told her. "And may you be able to face that which comes with as much grace as you can muster." With that, she looks to Oliver. "Where's Paige? We shouldn't let her wander the Faire alone. It's not polite of us." Without another word, Desiree picks up her styrofoam cup of tea and nods a cool farewell to the other woman. Unless, of course, Quinn says something in return. Then it's anyone's guess as to what happens.

—-

As for the missing investigator, well, she's on her way back, that's clear enough, as she's stepped out of the tent, having done what she could do. Separated the heards from the heard-nots, and managed to try to spin the heards into believing that Desiree falls into the category of 'planted visitor', the sort of in costume worker at faires such as these whose job it is to wander the faire and try to make things more realistic for the people visiting. And with vampires being not only at the faire, but a hot topic, well, it might be reasonable to get them to believe they were meant to here what they heard, but that what they heard was all part of the ambiance and the act. But there's no mistaking the body language of the trio who look to be getting ready to square off, and that's going to take a little more fixing.

—-

Oliver nods to Desiree. "Yeah, it might be an idea. We should probably consider breaking this up. Why don't we agree that we all deserve horrible things to happen to us?" He looks at Desiree. "But we should wait for Paige.." It's then that Paige seems to make her way out of the tent and Oliver offers her a quick wave. "We should think about getting out of here, we can't be sure who might be upset."

—-

The only retort to Desiree's words is a snort. There's no need for a comeback since in Quinn's mind she was faced with weak words. It's more than easy enough to shut the woman out, at least for now. Her knight in shining armor turns out to be nothing more than a peacekeeper so the witch shakes her head. "Pathetic." That said, she turns on her heel to rid herself of the plague called these people, only to find that Paige is returning to the group. Again the woman is given a look of mild curiosity before Quinn attempts to walk right past her. When she begins to be paid for social interaction she may actually attempt to not be so rude.

—-

Desiree's jaw is tight, and her posture is that "fighting Irish" mad. Fueled with just enough alcohol to stave off her usual inhibitions, her temper flares. She's not Irish and Cajun for nothing. Fortunately, she has enough control not to crush the styrofoam cup in her hand. "Yes," she says in a hiss. "We should find Paige and leave … others … to their own pettiness. Pathetic, am I? Well, at least I have friends who give a damn about me— which is more than you've ever had, I'm betting. If you did, you probably drove them off with your Bertha BetterThanYou attitude." Taking a huge swig of the tea, Desiree swallows, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Pitiful. Just … pitiful." The cup is tossed into a trash can. "I'm ready for that dancing now. I need to work off some of this … annoyance. Might as well do it artistically."

—-

Paige could do quite a few things, as Quinn moves to walk past her. Stop her, quip to her, stick a foot out and trip her. But instead, she does none of those things. What she does is just…what it is. A nod, slight, of acknowledgement. Which could be as complex as one opponent acknowledging the presence of the other and paying the minimum respect required, which, given the battlefield that's been drawn….or, as simple as, 'yes, we've seen each other before. I know your face.' But stop her, no, it's clearly neither the time nor the place, and there's still a dancer to get away from the fray, and the few eyes that are still looking on, hopefully seeing all of this as Act Two of the play, "Dancing might not be a bad idea for you. I'm sure Oliver won't mind taking you, though…perhaps not here at the faire." That's about as far as she'll go to suggest that Desiree does indeed depart the fairegrounds.

—-

Oliver nods with a grin, he offers a hand to Desiree. "I'll be more than happy to drive you back to the studio? We can dance if you'd like, but getting out of the fair's not a terrible idea…. prying eyes and such." He offers a wide grin. "Anyway, that way you get to pick the music and the dance… Find something that suits your mood."

—-

That is completely original, it is. She's never in her life heard that she has no friends. "The world is a better place without friends," Quinn notes without even looking at Desiree. "I don't have to feel embarrassed when one gets drunk and acts a fool in public." It isn't until she passes Paige that Quinn hesitates, but only to get a better feel for the woman. There's an odd feeling that comes with this, one that she's all too familiar with. Recognizing a witch for what she is, Paige is given a surprising look of understanding before Quinn is well on her way. There's no longer a point to linger, but she does have some interesting information.

—-

Desiree watches the woman leave, green eyes blazing. She actually takes a step forward, as if to follow her. "I need food," she says firmly. "I haven't eaten all day, which is probably why the mead went to my head. And, I want to get out of here. I have regular clothes in the car. I want to go someplace totally … totally modern. Denny's, Burger King, IHOP. Someplace /real./" This miniature tirade is said in a soft, determined voice. "Here." The car keys are removed from the pouch, handed to Oliver. "Silver Mustang. Third from the end, Row 16. Paige and I will meet you at the entrance, all right? I have just one more purchase to make before I leave." This is likewise said firmly. Turning to Paige, Desiree says, "Please. Come with me. There's a … a magic shop three tents down. I want to pick up some … well, gifts for friends." Not that the magical items are likely to be real, but one never knows.

—-

Oliver frowns at being sent away to get the car, but he doesn't say anything instead he's going to try and get a look in Desiree's mind as he nods slowly. "Sure. Whatever you want." He's not going to argue as he takes the key heading for the car. His smile returning quickly enough. "Sure, I'll see you there."

—-

There's a saying, 'Like follows like.' But in this case, well, it's just a matter of like recognizing like, and is left at that. With Quinn continuing on into the faire, and Desiree seeming mostly alright with leaving the faire, things seem to be taking a turn for the better. And she'll even agree to Desiree's request. Who goes to a ren faire and doesn't buy some little magical doodad or thingamabob? "Thank you, Oliver. We'll make the stop as quick as possible, and then I'll get her back to the car for you." With Oliver manning the keys, Paige settles in next to Desiree, "Let's go finish up the last of your shopping, and then, heck, he might even buy you dinner first." Because that's what gentleman DO.

—-

There's a soft snort from Desiree at Paige's comment. "Dinner /and/ dancing. We've done all that before, but he's never made a pass at me. At least one where I /knew/ it was a pass." She shrugs. "Anyway, he's probably one of the best dance partners I've ever had. It's like he's inside my head with me, and knows exactly what I'm gonna do next." She chuckles. At least "Ye Olde Magick Shoppe" is on the way out of the Faire. It's a fully enclosed tent, with mysterious, arcane symbols painted on the outside. Desiree slips inside, heading directly to the counter. There she purchases several pewter talismans: protection from evil, warding, protection from werewolves— all manner of amulets. About a dozen or so. And then there's the oils. She purchases some of those, too, and perfumes. The "witch" running the shop is pretty happy with Desiree, and even throws in a beautiful blue crystal which is supposed to "…help keep you calm and serene." And, with that, Desiree shrugs and heads outside. If Paige follows, Desiree is heading toward the exit. "That's it for me. Besides, isn't the fair over, like at midnight?"

—-

"Isn't that the best kind? I mean, who wants date number two with Mr. Grabby-Hands?" Paige allow Desiree to go about her shopping, touching this or that, her expression thoughtful, but she doesn't buy anything herself, seeming content with her still jingly jester's hat. "Yes, we should be heading out before they lock us in. And trust me, no one likes day old faire food. or trying to open wooden casks with their teeth." It's the least she can do to try to keep Desiree's mind light, or her mood amused. No need for her to get agitated yet again, not with the deep watches of the night closing in around them, "I'll walk you to the car, make sure Oliver's got you."

—-

"Oh, please join us? I'd love the chance to just get to know you," Desiree says, smiling. Apparently, the "crystal" is working, because she is calmer, more serene. That's likely because Desiree believes the magic works, not because it's actual magic. The mind is a very powerful thing, after all. "My treat. IHOP makes the best Belgian Waffles in town." The smile is genuine, as is the invitation. "It's not all that late, so even if you have to work in the morning, we can get you back to your car before eleven." They're approaching the gate, where even as they walk past, workers are beginning to take down fencing. Others are heading out, too. Very few give Desiree a second look, but one or two check her and Paige out for some odd reason. Once outside the gates, Desiree pauses. "Goodbye fantasy land. See you next year." And then she's looking for the car.

—-

"Are they made with real belgians?" Okay, so it's a bad riff on an oddball movie, so sue her. "Sure, I could use something to eat. Since I haven't either. Although…I've always been more partial to chicken-fried steak." It's not far now, from the gates to the place where the car is parked, and thankfully, the crowds that normally turn the place into a nightmare have mostly all dissipated. It's an easy enough walk back to the car, and Paige is thankful for that.

—-

"We can change in the ladies room, if you brought other clothes— or, we can all just invade and enjoy the stares. Someone I used to know in college called that 'freaking the mundanes.' He was a member of that historical group. The SCA, that's it. I always wanted to join, but just never had the time." That short walk to the car is nice, and Desiree takes a deep breath. There's the usual city scents, plus just a hint of the exotic in the air. "Here we are." She grins as she approaches the car. "Hope we didn't make you wait /too/ long. I tried to be as fast as I could without forgetting anything. Let's head to the IHOP. Paige's joining us."

—-

Oliver's in the car, ready to go, he's on the phone. He hangs up as soon as the others return. He nods. "Sounds good to me. I don't know if I'll be able to take you up on that dance though, I got a call from work, they might need me to handle a deal."

—-

"I don't mind just going like this. Seriously, it won't be the first time people look at me funny." It's just a fact of life when you're a 'kook'. So, you know, it's all good, "The SCA is just a bit too intense for me. I mean, dressing up and going to a faire is one thing, you know? But actually getting elbows deep in it? I'm not sure I have that much interest." Paige will go ahead and sit in the back, she's good with that, and she settles in once she opens the passenger side door and slides the seat forward, pulling it back after, so Desiree can get in, "Do you need to go now? I'd hate to think we were keeping you from your work."

—-

"Oh, what a shame. Well, you'll at least be with us while we eat, yes? My treat tonight, yours next time." She slides into the passenger seat, unlocking the doors. It's a convertible but the top is up. "Paige, just shove all the stuff over. Most of it's fabric and wood samples for the studio renovation. Nothing breakable— well, except for those bottles of mead in the satchel. THanks /so/ much for carrying that for me. I can't believe I was so stupid. I know better. I really do." She's quiet a moment, then, "Did … did your diversion work, Paige? I really don't want anything to happen to Mi— my friend." She pauses. "If you need to go now, I think I'm sober enough to drive… or, maybe Paige can drive?" She glances over her shoulder at the woman. "I don't even know if you drive."

—-

Shaking his head Oliver grins. "I'm the boss, so they'll try and get it done without giving me too much trouble, but they might need me." He looks at Des. "I just thought I'd let you know." He grins a little. "Your friend's not likely to have much to worry about… I mean they get stronger as they get older… surely the young vampires are the ones at the most risk?"

—-

Paige is certainly not the smallest girl at the prom, but she doesn't need to do that much shoving, and she tries to be respectful of Desiree's property, even if it is samples and such. "It's one of the hazards of being involved in or with things like vampires. You have to be just as careful as they do. And things that impair your judgement, drugs, alcohol, they can be quite dangerous, to you and to them. But you're welcome, I'll give them back once you're on your way back home." I know, mean, right? "And I do drive, but I usually don't. Just a quirk, I suppose. But regardless, whatever's necessary." A nod to Oliver, "Well, onward to waffles and steak, I think."

—-

"Exactly— onward to the waffles and steak!" Desiree seems much more herself now; no longer angry, no longer upset, no longer judgment impaired. "I do know better, Paige, I just … I don't know. It just came out. I mean, what /do/ you buy a person that old? He's likely got everything he needs or wants, so—" She shrugs. "I don't know that, either, Oliver. Really, I only know a few vampires. I volunteer at the AVL, but I usually work during the afternoon when the vamps are still asleep. If you want to know more about vampires, I suggest you go to Bloody Mary's. It's where I met a few." She pauses, then, "I do warn you, not all the vampires here are friendly. There's one or two who scare me to death. I wouldn't want them to find out about what happened tonight. I'm not sure what they'd do to me."

—-

Oliver shrugs. "I don't think so. I know enough about vampires for my tastes." That's all he says, driving mostly in silence, once they're at the IHOP he gets out of the car, apparently he's being the gentleman again opening the door for the ladies he grins a little. "Anyway, I know enough to know that old vampires are stronger… I'd think they're generally avoided by anyone who's looking for a fight. He heads into the IHOP taking a glance around, it's been a while since he was here.

—-

And from the the middle of the renaissance, to the middle of the modern day, our three intrepid adventurers, still dressed in period garb settle into a booth at the most american of american eating establishments. Waffles are eaten, steaks are consumed…with extra gravy, and the conversation turns from the mystical to the mundane and back again. But in the end, it's all in a day's, well, work?

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License