+ Somewhere a Grandiose Carnival Was Going on in the Sky +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The grounds of the Mansion
When: March 9-16
Rating: PG-13 (warn if you go higher)
Summary: The Red Queen has thrown a carnival for everyone!
The Story:


From Friday, March 9, through Friday, March 16, the gardens and grounds of the Mansion will be a sprawling a carnival. The masked, unspeaking vendors will be selling trinkets and running free game booths. Carnival rides, exhibits, and foods represent all of the various cultures of those currently residing in the Mansion.


Of particular note, and perhaps incongruously, everything is decorated with red hearts.

Use this log for any and all of your carnival needs!

Comments

i. last day

[nascensibility]

[She finds him loitering near the shooting gallery on the last day - unsurprising, given that people are less unsettled by pellet guns than they are by weighty firearms - and watches him for a long moment. The targets all go down easy, perhaps just as easy as they might were they people and not little pieces of plywood on hinges.

Shooting is a catharsis for him, even with its connotations.

When Frank stops to pick up another spring-rifle she sidles over, nudging his elbow with one of hers and hoping some of the tension will ease from his frame.]

Hi.

i. last day

[scoutsniper]

[Everyone having fun, despite the fact this shit is obviously, obviously just the calm before the shitstorm, is driving him nuts. Also driving him nuts...how much this reminds him of Coney Island and the street fairs he used to take his kids.

He doesn't quite flinch as she touches him, but it's very much a physical twitch, like he's returning to his body from somewhere else.

He manages a smile. It may or may not be convincing. ] You want me to win something for you?

[nascensibility]

[They used to have fairs, back in the village beneath the family estate, a couple of kilometres away. They were little things, mostly vendors and some games, but it was the kind of respite rarely known in the time between wars. She sees him startle to mindfulness, and does not mention it.]

I don't know. [Comes the airy response, clearly teasing.] Are you any good with that thing?

[scoutsniper]

[Was that some kind of challenge? He's up for it. ]

I'm okay. [It's not like he's going to brag.

Okay, maybe a little. ] Better than most.

[nascensibility]

[That Frank tries to play coy and subsequently fails to do so is perenially unsurprising to her. He is about as subtle as the handgun he's no doubt carrying under his jacket.]

Cocky. [Evelyn waves a hand.]

All right, impress me.

[scoutsniper]

It's only cocky if you can't back it up.

[He can back it up. He's just trying to be, you know, modest.]

Didn't know impressing you was my job. [But hey, he's here to impress. There's a line in the front of the shooting gallery where you're supposed to stand to shoot: Frank will just casually take five steps back, pause at a long exhale, and shoot, along the row of little tin shapes. ]

[nascensibility]

All right.

[Hands up in apparent surrender, Evelyn won't argue the point when Frank is intent on proving his mettle, going so far as to distance himself further from the targets. She already knows he is a talented sharpshooter, of course - it was his speciality during his time in the Marine Corps and he practises every other day out at the range.

Evelyn isn't surprised to see the tiny tin figures fall back on their springs, one by one, with frightening accuracy.]

Bravo.

[scoutsniper]

[ The list of things Frank Castle is no good at is long and seems to grow exponentially every day that he's here. Let him have this, Evelyn--something he's actually legitimately good at.

That, for once, isn't going to get him tossed in jail.

He looks up after the shot, grinning. ]

Had a lot of practice back on Coney Island.