⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

[ringleaders]

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: October 1st - 7th, 2017
Where: Portland area, in the new reality.
What: Memories begin returning to the displaced as the fall gets chillier. How the hell did we end up here, again? Also, apparently, the fair is in town.
Warnings: Individually marked!

PORTLAND BY NIGHT↴ Memory regains will come into effect at the beginning of October, to whatever degree you've decided upon, and may be regained at whatever pace you desire from then on. For those with their full carnival memories, it will be like waking up in the body of someone else - for those with half and half, it will be like rapidly recalling sets of memories from a totally different life. Those with full amnesia will simply feel as if this is how it's always been. Unfortunately for you, memories aren't the only thing you have to deal with. The supernatural community of Portland is bustling all of a sudden - could your presence and these events somehow be related? ► THE OUTER CIRCLE: As of the start of the month, the Portland Circle of Enlightenment will find itself starting to get swarmed with members from other chapters. Most notably, it would seem that a small cabal of top mages from the North American Enlightenment Council will be making their home in Portland's HQ. For anyone but the highest of ranks, the purpose behind their visit will be unclear, but it seems like something is definitely up on a metaphysical level. The Circle will be buzzing with rumours of unique planar activity and threatening omens. It seems that it all started with an unusual flare of activity in the planetary ley-lines, starting approximately a week ago. However, even if you would usually be the type to keep tabs on such things, you will find that you oddly have no memory of observing this phenomenon yourself. ► THE ANIMAL FAIR: Good news, the fair is in town! Or, at least, it would be good news... if this was a regular fair. Instead, what's being observed is a bunch of nearly identical flyers, spread all around Portland - each of which bears only the words "THE ANIMAL FAIR", a seemingly bloody paw-print of unknown origin, and the directions to a vague forested location outside of the city. It's dated for October 7th, and all instances of its posting having been discovered with a scattering of rose petals, crow feathers, and pre-burnt matches laying on the ground around them. Most are taking this to be some kind of bizarre viral marketing campaign, but others may know better. ► THE EARTH SPIRIT: If you have connections to The Pack or any of its many variations, you'll probably hear whispers of something very odd that occurred last week - according to the elders, it sounds as if the Earth Spirit, the magical and spiritual center of the planet, has suddenly taken a wound. It's not clear why or how, but there is a fair bit of concern among spiritual types, as it is werebeast belief and nebulous magical fact that the magical forces within the earth are the source of all magic here, as well as the source of life. While many werebeasts claim to have felt the Spirit succumb, you strangely have no memory of such an event occurring. Though things do feel strange, if you know how to tap into the Spirit yourself. ► THE WAR CRY: Though Anath's rain of terror across North America lasted for the first fifteen years or so of the Severing, most independent demons have had enough time to start taking the arch-demon's relative inactivity for granted. For that first while, the warrior queen had seemed determine to rebuild an army on earth by forcing her scattered brethren into service - only for her to gradually settle down in a fortress somewhere in Texas and dig in her heels. Of course, this was too good to last - it sounds as if she and her demonic legion have begun tearing their way up the west coast, their goals remaining a mystery. Their destination, however, is almost certainly Portland.

Comments

[atouts]

Springing back up out of the shadow puts him behind the cafe bar, as though he feels having a barrier like that might do anything. It won't, he actually realizes, but it's nice to imagine otherwise. He won't take his eyes off of the faerie, but when he opens his mouth again, it's first to hiss at Lambert, "What are you doing, you idiot? Get out of here."

Lambert's human. Apparently, that isn't of any interest to this creature and that's a good thing. He should be taking advantage of that and running!

But to the figure on the table, he schools his tone to be slightly less snappish than when he was addressing the barista, if only out of fear.

"He's no master of mine," he makes that clear first thing (as he assumes she means the Count, not Strange), because it rankles him, deep down. The Rose Queen isn't much better, but at least he can live out here. "Why are you even here? This is a human cafe. There's nothing for you."

[npcarnival]

The fae spares Lambert a glance for the first time in a while, but if they have strong reaction to the weapon he's wielding, they don't make it obvious. There's something impetuous about the reaction, as if they're daring him.

Then, it's back to Childermass.

"They took down all my posters," they say with a fake frown. "I was starting to get offended. Don't you want to come to my party?"

[whattaprick]

Lambert's not even going to deign to acknowledge that unsolicited advice, bristling with irritation instead when the being responds. Breaking and entering over a bunch of paper and junk? Who the fuck does that?

"Should've advertised it better. Didn't look like much of an invitation -- just a lot of trash."

[atouts]

A faerie, Lambert. A faerie does that. He's beginning to regret not telling him a little more about the fae at this point, but who could have guessed a faerie would invade a cat cafe? Ever?

"Shut up," he tries, again, in absolute vain, to tell Lambert to stop running his damn mouth. He should know better, he's never shut up for anything before, not here, not in the medical tent— he frowns, briefly confused by the thought, but he doesn't dwell on it.

He just goes back to addressing the faerie.

"Please ignore him," he adds, as if it even needs to be said. They probably don't worry at all about Lambert. "They're rude creatures, I know, but they don't know any better. Though what about your party? Why throw it here?"

Also he is still supposed to investigate this thing, so...

[npcarnival]

So very rude! At least they seem mostly amused for the moment. They stay on the table where they're been standing - apparently pausing to talk is not out of the question. They ignore Lambert's trash talking for the time being. Mostly, anyway.

"I'll have you know, I'm very popular," they say. "You should see all the creatures coming to my doorstep, prowling around... they just can't wait!" They wink at him, which probably feels pretty uncomfortable.

"I'm declaring my arrival! The Courts won't throw me a party, so I'll throw one for myself. You should join me, little crow. The Wyld Fae welcome your kind with open arms."

[whattaprick]

Lambert doesn't understand anything about this conversation right now, but you can bet he's memorizing it to search on the internet (or pester Childermass about it) later. Assuming the whole I've dealt with these things before wasn't a load of bullshit.

But while the other man is busy occupying it, he'll mercifully shut up and reach back to shut the backroom door behind him. That's one of his boss's rules too, emphasized enough that it's probably important, and there is a hum of magic in the air for a moment when the lock clicks into place. Though if a witch's protective charms are enough to keep an offended fae out of there in the first place, well, who knows.

[atouts]

His first assumption is that 'welcomes your kind' is just another way of saying they enslave them. Could be wrong, could be right. Who can blame a changeling for being wary? Well, besides actual faeries. They don't seem to understand it.

"I may take a look," he'll give her that much if only to keep everyone here on somewhat non-violent terms for now. "I admit I have never heard the Courts mention the Wyld Fae." Or anyone else outside the Courts at all. "Which seems to be a failing on their part, but back to this matter at hand... They didn't realize how important you are, that this was for your welcoming party. Perhaps you could show you're better than them, that you're merciful? Let the flyers go back up instead? They'll know better now than to take them down."

Faeries aren't merciful, but they also like to be better than everyone else. It's a gamble.

[npcarnival]

"Unfortunately, I may be unique in this place. The Courts have no place for me, nor I for them."

Is it sheer vanity that allows this to appease fae, or is it the fact that it's an inherent act of submission? It's not clear, but the Wyld Fae seems entertained enough to go along with it for the moment. They look to Lambert.

Childermass isn't the one who actually works here, after all. He may have no stake in it.

"What say you, human?" they ask. "Your tongue has been particularly sharp, and I have my doubts that this one's assurances match your own."

[whattaprick]

Lambert's never heard John talk like that either, but it's distinctly uncomfortable to listen to, probably exactly because it's so out of character. However, he's listening enough to not be entirely surprised when it turns to him, and he lifts his chin, scowling and still holding on to the scissors like he means to do something about it. He isn't at all inclined to stoop to that level of ass-licking, but on the other hand, a not-smashed up cat cafe is probably a good bet.

"Fine. We'll put up one poster," he snaps, finally. "Same as everyone else gets." There are, in fact, a number of posters put up local advertising events. "And none of the feathers and the rest of that stuff. The cats eat them," he adds witheringly, in case the petty concerns of mortals who have to care for animal digestive systems is one of those things creepy shadow creatures don't have to worry about.

He holds out the hand that isn't gripping the scissors. "I'll tell the rest of the staff to leave it alone. We got a deal?" Not that he's in a position to bargain, but whatever.

[npcarnival]

They consider that for a while. Bold, for a human to want to make a deal with a fae so confidently. They kind of like it. Of course, there is something else they want out of this.

"Almost... However, there is one last thing," they say, easily. They raise a single digit of their hand, and then point towards the door leading to where the cats are. "I want... one cat. A peace offering."

[atouts]

If Lambert ever wants a quick way of making John — aka Childermass — look like he's about to faint, he's found it. Saying the word deal to a faerie. That gets him a stricken look from the changeling, but no protest. Maybe they can still salvage this without Lambert signing his damn life away or anything like that.

He'll look between the two a few times, mind racing. Almost, but she wants a cat? Really?

"Ah, that... That. Aren't some of the cats up for adoption?"

He's stalked this place enough to at least know that much. Come on, Lambert, play along.

[whattaprick]

That's going to get him an annoyed look. Come on, John, is this his job or yours?

"They are," he says, already thinking about the cats in the back, mulling over the possibilities, before stepping over to the bar, directing instructions to the changeling behind it.

"Check the first drawer under the cashier, those should have the forms and the adoption agreement. Hand me a pen and a gift card, too." He glances over his shoulder, frowning as he addresses the being directly. "Does it matter what kind of cat? Any preferences for age or personality?" A beat. "Also, are you going to need a carrier, or...?"

Yeah apparently, he is seriously asking this question.

[npcarnival]

"I want to pick," they say, apparently content with this state of affairs. You bet they're going to take the time to read every bit of the adoption agreement, but they'll absolutely play along for the moment. It's all sort of delightful.

One poster, they think. Just like everyone else. Hilarious.

"No carrier is necessary." They grin, mouth filled with sharp fangs. "I have a way with animals."

[atouts]

John's pretty sure 'one poster' will end up being a giant poster to cover up all the other posters, but that technically fulfills the bargain, so, he won't say one goddamn thing about it. Listening to Lambert point out what to get and from where is a little more important right now, anyhow, though that nasty look just gets a shrug in reply.

He'll step over to the register and go digging through the first drawer under it, as told, having to stop and take a few seconds to make sure he's grabbing the right forms as he does. The forms and the adoption agreement.

That looks right. Once he has those, he's shoving them along with a pen and gift card to Lambert, all while stealing slightly nervous looks the faerie's way.

[whattaprick]

“Fair enough.” Lambert collects the forms from John, taking a moment to mark the adoption forms with a pen to highlight the information he needs filled in, and where signatures are necessary. The adoption forms look formal enough, but the adoption agreement absolutely looks like someone’s mother went nuts on the clipart, with squiggly borders around the edge of the paper and bold emphasis on how important! Adopting a cat is!!! And how this act of kindness is a very serious commitment because they're now responsible for another life!!!. It’s also on orange paper, for whatever that counts.

There’s wording about promising never to declaw the cat, to provide a safe and humane environment and a high quality of life, a clause that say the adopter should return the cat if they find themselves unable to take care of it, and probably some totally unnecessary verbiage that essentially amounts to the same. Lambert takes the whole thing over to the table and puts it down for the being to look over, and heads over back to the bulletin board where the cat pictures are stuck up. After taking a moment, he pulls down five of the pictures, then spreads them on the table as well for them to peruse. Helpfully, the information is written underneath, in a neat blocky script.

So now they have a choice to make between:

Lord Oedipuss, a large, middle-aged cat with a cinnamon coat and a squashed-in face.
Cookie, a small, old white cat with a long-furred coat and a lazy eye that even the flattering angle can’t hide.
Reaper, a brown tabby whose picture is slightly blurry like he’d been moving too much to get a picture of.
Bubbles, a muscular tom with short blue tabby coat that looks ready to fight everyone.
Catastrophe, a pitch-black cat with bright green eyes, and a spot of white above her lip that looks like she’s perpetually stained with milk.

C H O O S E Y O U R F I G H T E R

[npcarnival]

The fae reads the adoption agreement carefully, making sure that there is nothing that would be unduly binding in regards to contract - fae take this sort of thing very seriously, after all. After reading the sections about cat care, they nod their head thoughtfully, as if they are emphatically agreeing with the sentiment.

They take a long time to look at the photos, considering each of them in great detail. They are disappointed that they apparently aren't allowed in the cat room, but they'll tolerate it for the moment.

After a solid 15 minutes of looking at cat pictures (and that's discluding the time it took to read the actual contract) they will push a photo forwards and announce:

"I choose the Catastrophe."

[atouts]

It's all up to Lambert for now, which means he's going to stay nice and quiet, still lingering behind the counter because there's no need for him to be out there and near that thing. He leans forward against it, keeping out of the way, watching. Specifically, watching the faerie. He doesn't care what Lambert gets up to during the time they spend reading the fine print and looking at cat pictures.

Man, he really hopes they put a lot of thought into how binding that contract is... but then again, who expects a faerie to adopt a cat?

[whattaprick]

In the time it takes for the faerie to look over the forms and the cat pictures, Lambert ... is going to step towards the table where they keep the things for customers who don't want fancy drinks and food. Needing something to do with his hands, he fills three mugs with hot water and dumps a green tea packet in each, waiting for it to steep. When it's done, he brings one first over to John -- he considers talking to him, but with the monster around that feels weird -- and another over to the table, setting it down along with some of the individually-wrapped biscotti bars he grabbed from the cookie jar.

"Local specialty," he says, by way of explanation, and a shrug. "Since it doesn't sound like you've been here before." The bird only gets a single plain almond one because he said no chocolate. Ha ha.

After that, he'll sip at his mug idly, back against the counter. When they announce their choice, he nods, setting the drink down and heading for the back again. "Give me a minute." His scissors remain in his apron pocket, not far from his reach, but it feels shitty turning his back to the room anyway. He aims to quickly slip into the back room and close the door again behind him, but whether he's able to or not without incident, well, that depends.

[npcarnival]

Childermass winds up alone in a room with the fae - which actually ends up being pretty anticlimactic, over all. Instead of paying any attention to him what so ever, the fae just sets about meticulously filling in blanks on the form with the point of her claw, the letters forming as if with scratchy black ink. Obviously, a lot of the blanks are irrelevant to a fae and get somewhat nonsensical answers. Their home address is simply listed as "The Wylds."

They get everything filled in besides the actual signatures as they wait, looking fairly content, and take a moment to smell the tea as they wait. A suitable offering for their mercy, clearly.

[atouts]

It's a relief to be ignored. It makes enough sense, anyway, since they aren't here for him. Hopefully, they won't change their mind. While Lambert vanishes into the back to see about the cat, John just keeps on watching them as he waits for the tea in his own mug to steep. Eventually, he'll add actually drinking said tea to keeping an eye on the Wyld Faerie, with some vague hope it'll calm his nerves a little. He's not openly shaking or anything, which would be silly to do, but he can't really help being on edge.

His gaze flits back towards the 'Employees Only' door at least once as this goes on, though, after a few minutes, he'll brave breaking the silence out of sheer curiosity.

"Why won't the Courts throw you a party?"

[npcarnival]

"Because I'm not one of them," the fae responds simply. "I'm not wanted here, and I don't come in peace."

They smile grimly at that thought.

"The offer to join me was not a threat to you, changeling."

[atouts]

"It's hard to tell with your kind..."

They're dangerous. Better to run and hide than end up stuck with a new master, even if, being fairly hypocritical himself, that is what Childermass himself did.

"Is your Animal Fair a declaration of war on them, then?"

[npcarnival]

"More or less," they admit. "However, nothing I do is entirely for their benefit. I live on my own terms, and its that declaration of independence that they see as a battle cry."

Its at this point that they casually start eating the biscotti.

[whattaprick]

On that note, it’s at this point that Lambert comes back with an armful of cat, shutting the door again behind him. Catastrophe isn't pleased to be carried, obviously, as she's digging her claws hard into his arm, ears pinned back. Who knows how cat eyes can perceive the respective forms of the non-humans in the room?

“This is Catastrophe,” Lambert murmurs, taking a few steps forward before he crouches on the floor to gingerly detach the cat and let her make her own meandering way over to the fae -- assuming she isn’t directly compelled to. Time to see if they’re really as good with animals as they said. Catastrophe’s young, and eventually curiosity is enough to overtake fear. If cats truly do have nine lives, she may have lost a few by now, and it seems she’s looking to lose another. Fearless, or pretending to be, she saunters right up to the table and meows once, inquisitively, before flopping on the ground and staring up expectantly.

In the meantime Lambert, sporting a few new scratches along his cheek and along his jaw, is going to take this opportunity to go through the paperwork and make sure everything’s in order. The handwriting is deplorable, but not the worst he's seen.

[atouts]

A declaration of independence? From a changeling, that would be offensive, sure. He would understand that. From another faerie? Did the Courts just dislike free agents or...? But his chance to ask anything further is cut short by Lambert's return with Catastrophe. He pries his attention off the faerie, gaze darting to the cat as she saunters up to them like it's nothing in the world. He frowns at the cat, but what is he going to do? Warn an actual animal?

Nah, he's just going to drink his tea and eat his own biscotti, the one sadly lacking in any chocolate (because Lambert's being a jerk, just so everyone's clear on that).