lostcarnival | wandering clown

Who: Allen and YOU
When: Day 90
Where: Throughout the carnival
What: Allen getting acclimated and being a tool

The Cookhouse

[Allen was in a bad way when he stumbled into the Carnival--literally fell through a wall and found himself here. Barely conscious and desperate, he signed a contract with the Ringleader, buying himself some time. If he had passed out, he would have woken as another person. Now, with her suppressing the memory of Nea, he can sleep. He can recuperate while he learns how to beat the demon inside him.

But first, he must eat. And, following his nose, he beelines for the smell of food.

For those who wander into the Cookhouse early in the day, they will find a young boy devouring a mountain of food. No, seriously. The precariously stacked pile of meats, desserts, pastas, and sweets towers high above the tables, almost touching the ceiling. It sways as Allen tugs a leg of lamb from the bottom and promptly stuffs it in his mouth. The speed at which he eats causes cream and scraps to go flying. It's a messy, terrifying affair that honestly belongs in a cartoon.

Will you stare in horror? Play Food Jenga? The choice is yours.]

Wandering Through the Woods

[If you want to understand something, you might want to go to the beginning. Allen decides he needs to get to know this new, temporary place at which he's staying, so he heads toward the woods.

What do you get when you combine an enchanted forest that turns you back around and an incredible skill for getting lost? A pathetic mess, that's what.

Allen sprints through the trees, emerging again at the forest's edge. He's irritably scratching behind his right ear, where two white feathers have erupted the skin, just beginning to grow. A bulbous golden orb with wings limps through the air behind him.]

Seriously?! [He shouts to the sky:] Is this really all there is?!

Recuperating

[Thoroughly frustrated with the failure that was the forest, he finally finds the lake. Finally, a place he can explore and rest. Taking a moment to clean himself up, he takes off his shirt, kicks off his boots, and rolls up his baggy clown pants. Allen gingerly lowers himself to the water's edge, dipping his bare feet in the shallows.

Anyone walking by may notice the old scar running from his shoulder to his opposite hip, mirrored on both chest and back. A newer wound festers in his stomach, twitching tendrils of white feathers emerging from it. They are made of a divine substance, and it's healing him from within.

Still, it's completely disgusting, and he's in obvious pain.]

Exploring the Mountains

[Once he's gathered enough strength to continue, he pulls on his shirt and trudges up that strange, warm path leading up the mountain. It's practically calling to him, the unknown.

It takes him about thirty seconds to get lost. In the mountains. Alone.

This is it. This is the end for him. RIP Allen Walker.]

((I'll match prose if that's your preference!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lives are an interest.

[Semantics! But not bad ones.]

We're soldiers, yeah. Soldiers for hire, even. But we tend towards social responsibility, if that makes sense.

[He smiles briefly. He's satisfied with that.] It does.

[At least until later, when he starts asking more questions. But for now! It works.]

I'm a soldier back home, so I think I can understand. There are good and bad sides to an organization like that.

Yep. I used to work for an organization too, so this is pretty familiar.

[Now he doesn't, though. It wasn't a good place for him.]

So... you have any other questions about the carnival?

Um . . .

[Allen puts a thoughtful finger to his lips. He has perhaps the Most Important Question of All]

Well, someone mentioned we can play the games between performances. Do we also get some of the carnival treats from the vendors?

Within reason, but it's better to use the mess hall. It's actually stocked for use.

[Plus then you actually eat healthy.]

[who needs to eat healthy when there's funnel cake?]

Fair enough. I don't think I have any more questions, then . . . [His eyes drift up to that twin spirit haunting Axel] Except, perhaps, one.

[insert ominous music . . . and Allen points just past Axel's shoulder]

Did you know there is a spirit behind you?

There's a what?

[He looks behind himself... and sees nothing. The spirit smiles, a little sadly. It looks just like him, except it's dressed in black and has no marks on its face.]

I don't see anything. Is this related to your eye? You seein' things?

wandering clown

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