Lili pushed her plate back, daubed her lips gently with her napkin, and settled back in her chair, wineglass in hand. The meal had been perfect. Dead. Solid. Perfect. Even the portion size: she had finished her last bit and retained only the slightest trace of appetite, just enough to make her anxious to hear what was on the desert menu. Her contented smile deepened.
"And desert you shall have, you poor lost Carnie," she thought to herself. "Even if you have to spend an extra hour all next week training. Dammit, you've earned it..."
They'd all earned a reward like this, she pondered further. Her troupe of lostlings, all proud members of the Carnival of Light, now cast adrift in a world which feared and mistrusted them, had been working so very hard. Already they had amassed a few small victories, caused a few grateful citizens to think differently about people dressed in Harlequin.
But it still hurt so much sometimes. Only that day a child had run screaming to her mother when Festival had walked near. She had been in a small greenway in Founder's Falls, playing with a stick, obviously transforming it into something magical and wonderful with her child's imagination. A fairy's wand? A princess' scepter? Lili had walked over to the child to ask, smiling brightly.
And the child had fled. Screaming. The poor little girl was obviously scared out of her wits. This was not the trepidation a small child sometimes evidenced at seeing the strangeness of their clownlike masks or at the size of the huge Strongmen. This was something else entirely, a deep and abiding terror, and it nearly broke her heart.
Back home, such a thing was unthinkable. There, despite the best efforts of the Praetorian propaganda machine, her Carnival was loved. The people knew...and trusted them, particularly the children. Every child was taught that if they were ever scared, ever lost, ever afraid someone was out to harm them, they need only find a Carnie, find a Ring Mistress. She'll help...always.
She felt the tears starting to return, fought them back. Then she saw one of the staff looking at her and was mortified. "What if they think I'm unhappy with this incredible meal? Oh, no!"
(OOC - I'll leave it to be determined which staff member might have seen Festival's reaction! 
And I'll be thinking about my own wine selection for the evening, a nice little Pope Valley Merlot...a real interesting little find)
"And in this moment, I will not run.
It is my place to stand.
We few shall carry hope
Within our bloodied hands."
"I'm sure that the heroes have plenty to do with Rikti running around in downtown Founders, let alone some penny-ante thugs in my neighborhood. I just call them in, write the City." Her tone indicated it wasn't any big deal. "I see heroes going in the building all the time, police tape for a day or two, then the Hellions are back in there. It's almost like it's a game."
She noticed the brightly-colored woman in the carnival outfit, looking contentedly at her plate. *Now that is style* she thought.
"If you ever think about getting a pet, don't get a smart one. My cat can get into almost anything, I keep waiting for the day I come home and she's using the can opener."
((OOC: Almost like a game, or almost like real life???))
Dark Basilisk's face remained an impassive mask throughout Betty's monologue.
"You may want to hold off replacing that arm. Clockwork bits have a nasty habit of coming back on their own. Besides, Freaks and Crey have much nicer stuff. Theirs ain't alive, either. Besides, nothin's more fun than stripping one of those Crey tanks of their armour before sending them to be someone's bunk buddy at the Zig. All in public interest, of course." Basilisk smiled briefly at his own small joke. The movement seemed unnatural, as if he was out of practice.
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
"The food is good, yes?" Gypsy was passing by, and paused when she noticed the woman dabbing her eyes. "I hope not too spicy."
She seemed about to say something else, a quiet that did not fit the situation, then reconsidered. She motioned, then gathered up the empty dishes. Before she left, she asked about the dessert menu, nodding to Festival that she would bring one.
When she returned, the menu in one hand, she did ask.
"You wear clothing that fits with the traveling life, excuse my asking. Are you been with a Carnival?" The last word came out slightly butchered, but there was curiosity in her eyes.
((OOC: Yes, Gypsy did mispronounce the sentence, she is not a native English speaker, and she bears no animosity against the Carnival. She is not accusing, only asking, and depending on the answer, she will explain. Glad the dinner was to your liking!))
"You wear clothing that fits with the traveling life, excuse my asking. Are you been with a Carnival?"
Festival smiled brightly up at Gypsy. "Yes...yes I am. I have the largely undeserved honor to be a Bright Ring Mistress of the Carnival of Light. I have been with the Carnival for as long as I can remmeber..." Her expression grows wistful. "My maman was Carnival...a Harlequin Juggler. She raised me to the life."
An impish grin replaces the gentle smile. She lifts the napkin from the basket of rolls and plucks three similarly sized ones from their resting place. Without taking her eyes from Gypsy's, she juggles them effortlessly, changing from an "outside" to an "inside" weave as she continues.
"Some things you remember forever, no?" Without realizing it, she allows a bit of the country French to creep back into her voice. With a flourish, she tosses each roll back into the basket and solemnly draws the napkin back across them. Then she laughs merrily.
"Oh, I am not treating so superb a meal with the gravity it deserves, I fear! Whatever will you think of me?" She pauses, then raises an eyebrow. "So...I think I hardly need ask, but are you also born to the travelling life?"
"And in this moment, I will not run.
It is my place to stand.
We few shall carry hope
Within our bloodied hands."
"I am Romanes," she stated as though that explained everything. She unfastened several decorative buttons on her left sleeve and drew the thick fabric back, exposing a dark olive-skinned arm covered in intricate tattoos. On the inside of her forearm, near the elbow was one great emblem, prominent among the others.
A stylized wagon wheel, with 24 spokes done in exquisite detail, seemed to glow with it's own light. All the other patterns flowed towards, or away, from it.
"I was first daughter to the Kak," she rolled the sleeve back down. "My own mother birthed me, while we traveled. I learned the laws from my father's hand. And now, I am last of my tribe." She watched the woman juggle and thought back to some of the lessons her father had taught his sons, but not his daughters. She could recall watching with longing, but some skills were passed only on the male side.
"I remember the tents well. But how does your troupe come here?" The families were scattered, that in her history was clear, part of their survival strategy. Her Grandmother had lived through the Holocaust, literally hiding in the Carpathian Mountains for almost a decade as the Nazi's hunted them. Finding a like soul, especially here, was fate.
((OOC: The Kak is Romani for chief, and her family would have lived somewhere near Slovenia, hence the thick accent. Proud of her past, if she thinks Lili is one of her people, even in spirit, you can be sure the entire troupe will be invited for dinner. Nice story, Dollhouse. I love tragic figures, the misunderstood heroine, the symbolism of the children. Magnifique! 
Sorry, French is not a tongue I speak 
but certainly appreciate!))
Betty was still looking at her feet and grinning wildly. Unlike Dark Basilisk, it looked like she was used to smiling, but there was still something unnatural about the grin.
She replied without looking up. "See, that's the thing, the alive part, that's what makes the interface so much more... personal."
*It's also probably what makes you sleepwalk... no, no, no... I've always done that , it's just a coincidence...* She detoured the unwanted thoughts to what she might order off the menu. She thought what she smelled before was some kind of seafood, but she wanted to have a look at the full menu before deciding.
"Besides," she continued, "I have a special place in my heart for those little buggers - the big ones too I guess, and not just figuratively, either." She turned her attention to Dark Basilisk. One of the little shades behind the optics slid up and down in simulation of a wink.
Gertrude had returned from the kitchen, her tray empty and tucked under one arm. She took note that the rather...unique, looking woman was conversing with the tall gentleman with scaley arms. *Good tips* she chanted silently, *They leave good tips*.
She didn't want to disturb them, and Narshawn was paying close attention. Martin could have wheeled an elephant through in a baby carriage, dressed in drag, but Gertrude was not that skilled. She bumped Betty's elbow with the menu, then moved on.
((OOC: Curse you Board Maintenance!))
"Yeah, your right about that. I can't tell you how many times I had to clean out the same buildings in Atlas Park when I first started out. Heck a lot of the time me and the crooks were all saying 'Oh man, not again!'. Guess thats just the way it is. If you want I can swing by there tomorrow and look at it for you, or maybe find one of the newer heroes and take 'em on a tour." he said with a playful grin.
"If you ever think about getting a pet, don't get a smart one. My cat can get into almost anything, I keep waiting for the day I come home and she's using the can opener."
"Wait, that would be a bad thing?" he asked laughing. "Wouldn't that save you a little work? Anyway, I've thought about it, but I don't see it happening any time soon."
"...But how does your troupe come here?"
"Ah, we have had quite the journey." Lili paused a moment, wondering how to answer this wonderful young woman without imposing on someone recently met by babbling about her troup's travails. "Not so easy a journey, at times. You've heard of the Portal Corporation, out on Peregrine Island? They maintain links to other worlds, other dimensions. My troupe is from one of those worlds. It is much like this world...but with some differences.
"One of the biggest differences is in the character of some of the most powerful heroes...or villains. Here, all Paragon City loves and honors your most stalwart heroes: Statesman, Positron, Swan, Mynx...all of them. In my world...." Her voice falters for a moment, then she takes a deep breath and continues. "In my world, they are the Praetorians. Under the leadership of the very-well-named Tyrant, they rule my world...and rule it very harshly indeed. Not surprisingly, they don't approve of any of the travelling peoples. That sort of freedom simply won't do.
"But they do not rule without opposition. Many of the people chafe under the tyrrany, and not all of us are powerless. Vanessa DeVore turned the Carnival of Light, once simply a troupe of travelling players and harlequins, into freedom fighters. This is how we came to be here.
"We had gathered several of the troupes to make a strike against the Preatorian forces controlling the portals. Vanessa wanted to be able to use them to find help, to find heroes on other worlds who might help us throw off the yoke of oppression. I was thrilled to have my troupe chosen to spearhead one of the assaults. We crushed the paltry forces surrounding the portal with ease.
"But they were waiting for us. Inside the portal building itself was a large force of Praetorian elite troops...and two of the Praetorians themselves. We never really had a chance. We cut through even their elite troops in short order, but Shadowhunter and Black Swan together were horrifying. Half the troupe fell in the first assault. People I loved like family...you understand, I have no doubt..
"Simulacra, my co-leader and dear friend, our Master Illusionist, was felled by one stroke of Shadowhunter's sword. I saw her fall just as I somehow managed to stagger Black Swan with a Mask of Vitiation. When Simulacra's phantom army dispersed, it was all over. Praetorian reinforcements were arriving, cutting off our retreat and I knew Black Swan would recover quickly. I was preparing to sell myself as dearly as I could, when Cotton Kandi (who is always being underestimated as a ditz) said 'why not run through the portal?' When Shell Game bought us some time with a flying drop-kick to Shadowhunter's temple, I ordered what remained of my troupe through...and here we are!"
Festival smiled up at Gypsy. "The Carnival are hated here...and with good reason. But we'll change that...I swear. That is, if I can stopp babbling long enough! I get carried away, I know..."
"And in this moment, I will not run.
It is my place to stand.
We few shall carry hope
Within our bloodied hands."
"Sure, save me some time, and knowing my cat she would eat until she couldn't move."
Maybe heroes weren't all about saving the world. From the way they ran around the city, you'd never know they had lives. Most of them seemed so one dimensional, she had seen more life in Gertrude's kids' Playstation games.
She heard it on the tram, walking to the restaurant, even at the grocery store. Some bulky guy in tights asking another about sidekicking for Expee. They spoke a foreign language, some of them, complaining about Debt or something she figured was a drug, this 'PL' they all wanted.
Well, maybe not all. Manion seemed like a really nice guy, she knew Gypsy and Gal worked hard for their living, Gal had arguments with her 'wife', Sibling, she had seen Falcon and Steve holding hands the other night. Some of them seemed like real people, even the brightly colored woman speaking to Gypsy now, she seemed somehow more alive than the mass produced heroes elsewhere.
She smiled at Manion, a satisfied smile that might not be understood, but fit. On further thought, she raised her glass, just recently filled by Martin who had swept away used plates and brought fresh bread unseen.
"Manion," she ventured, somewhat recklessly for her, "A toast to Real People." She held her glass across the table.
((OOC: Here is my tribute to you, the RP-ers of the world, for making this thread, and many others, fun. There are those who don't, and I say "To Halo with you!" I love this thread ))
"Portal Corp," the dark woman spoke it like a curse. In her home, she would have spit on the floor because of the ill omen the name carried.
"Then you are also victims of their foolishness." Whatever had aggitated Gypsy, her tone was not angry towards Festival. Here, she had found someone who understood the Carnival, she visibly calmed herself.
"Mistress Gal, she has partner who has been to this Portal, who is now missing because of them. You understand these things." The menu was forgotten, she went from aggitated to excited. "Would you speak to her?"
((OOC: Black Swan, aye lass, Sibling knows Black Swan. The witch's pin feathers hang in the twin's loft, she is one tough chick. She found out you do not mess with Angela, or you answer to Cliff.))
Manion was caught a little off guard by the sudden toast. But he recovered quickly and raised his glass with a wide smile.
"I agree, to real people." He took another sip of the wine. It was quite good. He wondered why he had never thought to try wine before.
"So what do you do for fun?" Manion was happy to finally have her sitting here talking with him, and he decided it wasn't an opportunity he would let go to waste.
((OOC: Don't forget yourself in that little tribute there. You gave us this haven away form the craziness outside to relax in. Actually I think this is the only thing keeping me on these forums. With all the craziness going on with regen, the usual threads I read are just too... stressful.))
((OOC: Awww, you'll make me blush. Besides, I just put up the sign, you keep the doors open.))
"Fun?" She thought for a minute.
"Well, I like to read...lots." She looked a little sheepish. "I pick up whatever looks good and read it through, you know. Classics, Sci-Fi, Fantasy...I read a really good one by Richard Clarke, some political stuff, but I try to stay away from that." Now her grin slid to one side.
"Don't get into politics with Gal, or Martin," she whispered conspiratorially. "Those two can go at it all night.
"Anyway, my favorite author is probably Cherry. She knows Sibling, I even got her to sign my collection of Foreign titles."
((OOC: No, her real name is not Cherry and the books are not titled that, but I don't want to get on her bad side. You Sci-Fi types know who I'm talking about, and she is without doubt, my favorite author in the genre. Baichi-Ji.))
Basilisk lifted his empty glass to his forehead in a kind of mock salute.
"Fine, you like 'em kickin', that's your business. Just don't be too surprised if you're off fighting ol' jar-head and your own arm beats you."
Replacing the glass on the countertop, Dark Basilisk stood as if to leave.
"Time to take a suicide break, I'd say." He motioned to the area surrounded by forcefields, "I'll be over there if sparky here wants to play."
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
"Okay, since you asked," Beth challenged, "what's the best book you've read in the last three months?"
She savored the really good wine, small talk and company.
After the waitress dropped off the menu she started scanning it and immediately could tell it was going to take a while to decide, all the descriptions looked so good. She looked up to see the diminutive bartender fixing her drink in a shiny chrome shaker that rapidly dulled with frost as she shook it.
[ QUOTE ]
"Fine, you like 'em kickin', that's your business. Just don't be too surprised if you're off fighting ol' jar-head and your own arm beats you."
[/ QUOTE ]
The statement coaxed a short laugh from Betty. "Ha, yeah, the funny thing is it wouldn't really be the first time something sorta like that..."
She trailed off as the man stood as if to leave, realizing that she'd probably been somewhat rude. If she'd ever had any sense of tact, it seemed to have been whittled away with the meat she'd given up. She felt her face flush again. Maybe she should've just turned tail and left the place as soon as she'd had her wits about her. A dissenting thought surfaced that she shouldn't really care... wasn't that the point of the reckless vendetta she'd started, that things like having friends wouldn't really matter anymore since it always seemed to end in tears anyway? She pushed the thought away and made an attempt to save face.
"I'm sorry, Mr.?... see I didn't even get your name. I'm sure you know what you're talking about and i'll certainly take your suggestions into consideration as I haven't really made a decision about this particular aquisition as of yet." Suddenly she was completely mortified (this wasn't the first person to suggest that her actions were perilous at the very least) and folded one side of the towel over the severed arm in an only half successful attempt at putting it out of mind for the moment.
"Since I was such a heel, would you give me the opportunity to make it up? Next round on me?"
She looked up at him from her seat and grinned again, except this time there was a more natural quality to the expresion as if it were somehow more genuine than before.
--
(OOC: Sibling, I laughed pretty good at the bit about PL being some kind of drug.
Otherwise, hope I'm doing OK with this since it's my first time roleplaying on a msg board and I ended up making a character that's more than a few cards short of a full deck. 
I promise the next one I bring into this fine establishment won't have nearly so many "issues.")
((OOC: Girl, you bring your issues, that's what a bar is for!
Short of time, more later. You are certainly welcome, and I really Like Betty!))
Basilisk stopped in his tracks at the mention of a drink. His shoulders heaved in what could only have been a sigh, and turned to face the young woman seated at the bar. His face had softened, and for a moment, despite the scales, sunglasses, and hood, he looked like a very, very old man.
"No, ma'am. It was I who was rude, and I apologize. When you spend as much time as I do with the more unsavoury elements of society, courtesy is something you tend to lose."
His features hardened once more, and he smiled the bizarre small smile again.
"Of course, if you're still offering, I'm always up for a free drink." He resumed his seat at the bar, "I'm Dark Basilisk, but my name," he paused as if he were trying to remember, "is Dave." The last was spoken almost as an affirmation.
((OOC: Hey, nothing wrong with "issues." After all, heroes are a bunch of people who have to live with the knowledge that they're not only different, but in most cases better than the average citizen. Even the most balanced individual would get a few issues from that. And btw, you're doing fine. Don't be put off because Basilisk's an [censored]. He's got issues of his own.))
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
Buck tossed his cigar down on the ground outside the door, then strolled inside the bar.
He let out what seemed to be a combine sigh of pleasure and intensity. Buck Lawhorn was a large, muscular man. His clothes where dusty and a five oclock shadow was everpresent on his chin.
Buck Sat down at the bar and waved for the bartender to come over.
[OOC: argh! Falcon won't be able to be at Gal's this evening for certain reasons (related to roleplay), and already I see so many new interesting people she would so much like to see and know! welcome, all of you, both old customers of Ladies of the Lake and new arrivals! I am enjoying your conversations and roleplaying thoroughly! ]
Narshawn left Betty and Basilisk to their chat, refilling the dark man's glass and serving Betty her choice. A new gentleman had motioned to her, tall and looking like he needed a drink.
"Good evening, sir." The mist from her cold breath drifted with her words. "I am Narshawn, the bartender, and welcome to Ladies by the Lake. If you care for dinner, we serve the full menu. Gertrude will be by with one in a moment." She looked towards the pool room, where the waitress had just disappeared.
"Would you care for a drink, first?" She hovered, small waves of frost drifting below her to the floor.
((OOC: Welcome there Buck, pull up your stool, be careful of the living bar, and have a drink!))
Betty sipped at her drink, enjoying the cool, llimey tang of it and then returned the mock salute.
"Well then, what shall I call you? Dave or just D.B.?" She had an almost overwhelming urge to just start calling him "David," but forced it away just as she had when the host had introduced himself and she'd stopped just short of calling him "Marty."
"Actually, how 'bout this? The rest of your tab's on me for the evening. It's funny, back when I was a civvie in this town I worked my rump off for years just to make ends meet, even spent several years practically on the streets and homeless after the Rikti turned the apartment I'd scrimped and saved for over in Baumtown into a stand-in for the Leaning Tower of Pisa... but once I went and got a hero's licence, I'm hardly even to security level two and some complete stranger stops me in the middle of Atlas Park and just gives me 100 grand like it's nothing. Then I run into the same guy sometime later in Cook's and he turns me into a millionaire, just like that. Har! If I'd been a little bitter about tights before..."
She stopped talking abruptly, wondering if she probably shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. Besides, her 'mysterious benefactor' had been kinda scary - eyes she couldn't see for the green fire oozing out of the eyeholes of an iron mask and a twisted little army that had followed him everywhere of what looked like a life-sized barrel of monkeys game that had been spilled out and set on fire. He'd hardly said two words to her. Both times he's just handed her money and run off almost faster than she could follow.
"By the way, you got any suggestions off this menu? It all looks pretty good, certainly smells good. I know I want the salad but I'm having trouble deciding between the fish or the steak.
"But anyway... now that I'm actually stumbling through this hero gig, it's a lot harder than I thought it would be for the most part. Heck, just a a few minutes ago I was laid out on the sidewalk mostly dead." Her head swiveled in the direction of the arm under the towel for just a second. "Clockwork's just my particular...uh... pet peeve. What about you? You hold a particular grudge toward any of these baddies or are you just out for all of 'em?"
"Wow, I have to pick one?" He asked with a smile. "I don't get much time to read anymore, so the list isn't long. They've all been great books though."
Actually Manion already knew the answer to her question. "This may sound a little... odd. But hear me out." He blushed a little and took another sip of wine before he continued. "I have a book, it belonged to my father, the only thing I have left that belonged to my parents. I keep it on my bedstand and read a little of it every night before I go to bed. It's by far the best book I have ever read, and it's my favorite out of all the books I have read in the last few months. I don't know the title, the cover and the first few pages were damaged, but its a collection of poems by Robert Frost." He paused for a moment, waiting for her reaction. He knew how it must sound. A hero that enjoys peotry? He knew what most people thought about heroes. A lot looked at heroes, especially guys, like jocks, only smart enough to get the job done, and certainly not refined enough to be able to appreciate something so wonderfuly rich as poetry.
"I could probably recite it word for word, I've read it that many times. He talks a lot about parts of the country I have never been to. I grew up here and have never seen the countryside. Its a nice escape from the hustle and bustle of the city, even if I never leave."
He stopped again, lost for a moment in his own thoughts.
Manion laughed out loud, then stopped and looked to make sure he hadn't disturbed anyone. He leaned over and lowered his voice. "Have you seen some of those 'super-women'? I mean really looked?" he stopped and blushed. "Err no I guess not. Well, it's like someone went nuts in a balloon factory. Don't get me wrong they are great women, and do great things for the city. Some guys probably go for that look, but not me. It's too much." He stopped again, realizing that might be too much information.
"Look if you want to compare yourself to them, then look at the whole picture. A lot of super women... well... dont have super parts. You have nothing to worry about. So, that being said, you are still gorgeous, and this," he said taking a sip of his wine, "is the first wine I've had all night." He smiled in return, hiding the fact that in the back of his mind, he was worried he may have gotten a bit carried away.
He listened to her talk about her cat, laughing a little bit at its antics. "Exciting? Well I guess that a matter of perspective. Tell you what, next time I'll trade you my paperwork for your cat." he said jokingly. "Actually Im kind of jealous. I want a pet, but know that I'd never be home enough to give it the attention it would need. I'd like to get a puppy, but I know the poor thing would be crazy lonely. I can't do that to an animal.
"But what's this about a Hellion dive? Aren't there heroes out patroling that part of the city anymore?" He suddenly realized he had switched modes again.
*This is not the time or place for that Manny* he thought to himself. But the question was already out there. He made a mental note to look into it the next time he was on duty. For now though, he would try to get back to just talking to her as a friend.