Armed with a camera and his journal, Lorcan is Ready to Record. This is the most interesting thing to have happened to him in a while and it needs to be documented.
"It won't let me capture it," he tells one of the new arrivals, snapping their picture on his instant camera like he's a park photographer. The photo is blurry, except for the them. "Isn't that interesting?"
"Oh, delete that, I look terrible!" Grizzy says, wrinkling her nose when he shows her the picture. The fact that they're at a meat carnival and the very setting itself seems to be an unphotographable cryptid doesn't seem to bother her nearly as much as that double chin.
Criswell should've known better than to open his door in the middle of the night but he'd been half-asleep and half-convinced he was dreaming when he'd heard the sound of cheerful, boisterous, familiar music. Now, standing in his doorway and looking out into the meat-themed carnival, it seems more like a nightmare. He can see animated meat creatures and meat games and a rotisserie ferris wheel. And a banner that seems to be poking fun at him, which seems a bit uncalled for. And that smell. Good God.
Stunned into stillness, he just stares for a prolonged moment before muttering, "Oh, fuck no." He then starts to close his door.
This is all, clearly, a dream. And probably one brought on by her scarfing down a few bites of Steak Surprise last night in a fit of hunger. Never eat the Meat Food. This adventure, likely, will culminate in a toilet adventure far more unpleasant than this one in a few hours.
For now, though, Aster glides through it, not quite brave enough to actually taste any of the concessions, but curious nonetheless. God, she needs a new job, it's seeping into her subconscious far too much. Still. A side of ribs as a trampoline does have a certain siren call. "I've read about these." She says out loud, not caring if there's anyone to actually to talk to, because why would that matter, in a dream. "Is it, do you think, still polite to take off your shoes?"
"Are they saying I talk too much?" Corrie muses, staring at the poster with her hands on her pajama'd hips. "Should I be offended?" It is by no means the weirdest thing about this whole situation, but it's clearly weighing on her sleepy mind.
Hugo shuffles over, the scuff, scuff, scuff of his slippers coming to a stop next to Corrie. "I don't see anything about 'too much'," he observes. "Just that you talk at all." Hugo leans forward to study the poster some more, hands idly tying the strings of his school hoodie into a loose and lazy knot.
"Still think you can be offended if you like, though." He turns back to her. "Made of 'normal meat?' Not 'extraordinary meat?' Not even 'above average?' Just 'normal.'" He shakes his head with feigned pity. "Sorry, mate."
"Any pie that can talk must be filled with extraordinary meat," Corrie agrees immediately, reaching out to tug his hoodie string. "UNbelievable. Nonsense. Rude. I've been shortchanged."
She points. "And yours! A regular man. Ludicrous. Poppycock. What even."
"Heyyy," Hugo whines as Corrie pulls his hoodie strings, but he does absolutely nothing to stop her. What's the point of hoodie strings if not to be pulled on by cute girls who live in your new apartment building.
"Regular?" Hugo follows Corrie's hand to his own poster. He can guess at the caption's meaning, but happily goes along with Corrie's disbelief. "Poppycock indeed! In fact, I'm wildly irregular. I mean, what are the chances the most brilliant witch of her generation would have a non-magic child? Seriously."
He spins around and calls out into the ether. "Hello? There've been a few mistakes! We'd like to speak to the manager!"
Corrie turns as he spins as if carried away by his momentum, her mouth pursing before she even knows why she's frowning. Something about his reaction feels kinda off, even though it's as loud and expressive as Hugo always seems to be, based on her couple weeks of knowing him. "Non-magic? No, I just meant you're..."
Wait.
"You're a squib?" Corrie says, squinting, nonplussed. Oh hell that makes sense. It explains everything. "That's why you actually learned history. At that school," she adds, nodding at his jumper which she now sees clearly has the name and crest of a school she's never heard of. Her voice drops. "Wow, I'm a dumbarse."
He thought everyone knew. And for the first time in a looong time, Hugo feels that familiar feeling of being trapped on stage, caught under a spotlight, unable to see an audience that he knows is watching him. He doesn't know what Corrie is thinking, and he's not about to ask. I thought you knew.
A half-second pause -- ripe with insecurity and perhaps perceivable to Corrie -- is broken by Hugo's familiar, easy laugh. "You're not an idiot! I'm just very good at blending in. Look..." He pulls out his phone. "Lumos." And turns on the flashlight.
"See? A natural." He points his phone at the posters. "Accio poster." It doesn't move. Obviously. He shakes his phone, as if it's broken. "Damn thing is acting up again. Making me look foolish."
The last few minutes had been a bit of a roller coaster, from suspicious to friendly to confused, to shocked and embarrassed, to stab-in-the-heart guilty. And the ride wasn't over yet because as he spoke, Corrie shifted into rage.
"You're not fucking foolish," she snapped, though what did she know about that really? She barely knew him at all, technically, and that was fine or whatever, she wasn't mad about that, she was just mad generally, jumbled-up tangled-up mad like her brain was a mass of pissed-off pasta. And looking at Hugo's phone -- his Merlindamned phone -- and the poster, and in her memory, that moment of bare something-or-other in his eyes, Corrie wanted to claw something.
So she took her nails and her fury to the poster. She ripped it off the wall, messily, missing a corner up top and a bit on the side, turned and shoved it, mostly-intact, at Hugo's chest. "They're just bloody rude."
Edited (Corrie be dramatic) 2021-03-07 20:44 (UTC)
Suffice it to say, this was NOT what Hugo was expecting. He'd made a joke to lighten the mood, not incite this... sizable reaction. He watches in stunned silence as Corrie comes to his defense, tearing off the poster and admonishing the mysterious architect of this meat-space.
"Corrie," Hugo blinks, holding his poster loosely against his chest. "Remind me to never get on your bad side." Then a bemused smile spreads wide across his face and any lingering worry about how she feels seems to fall away. "And are you available for hire? I'd like to unleash you on any and all of my enemies."
The anger's still there -- it never fades fast -- but it's the exact right response to not set her off further. Corrie scoffs, but below the rolling eyes her chin rises, and she can't hide the twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Bargain rates for mates," she assures him. "Now help me pull the others down, I'm starting a collection."
As instructed, Hugo starts grabbing down posters. It's a rather satisfying feeling, the repeated yank and tear, until all that remains on the wall is the occasional, stubborn corner.
Hugo hands his stack to Corrie, keeping only his own poster for himself. "You know, when Forsythe's experiment is all said and done, these might be worth something."
The two stacks make quite a roll, more than she rightly needs, but tearing them down has soothed Corrie’s temper down to a mere sarcastic sizzle, and she can handle carrying a load of paper. And besides, they’re mostly funny, so it’s worth it.
“When we’re all turned to beautiful chickens, but we’re household names and they’re making a film about it? You think they’ll keep this bit?” She twists her mouth at the whole mad carnival, the trampolines and the broth and Meat Zoltar. “You think they’ll keep the clowns?”
"Oh, this will definitely be in the movie. No doubt in my mind." Hugo nods assuredly at Corrie. "I can picture it, clear as day, some studio executive reads the script and exclaims, These two! We need more of these two in the story!" Hugo-as-money-grubbing-studio-executive twirls the ends of an impressive imaginary mustache.
"These two will sell tickets!" Hugo laughs and moves to take the rolled up posters from Corrie and use them as a make-shift cane. The kind the ultra-rich have, usually with some animal head carved into the top, even though they don't actually need them. "The clowns? Eh, the clowns can stay if there's room. But these two are the stars."
Corrie laughs too, finally: he mimics well, and she can easily picture this super-rich, stereotypically posh executive with the flashy 'stache and superior taste. "We are the stars," she declares, though a few weeks ago she wouldn't have willingly shared top billing with him, or nearly anyone in his family. "To hell with the clowns!"
Grizzy is gaping. She's caught somewhere between horrified and awed. She had to go through her door to get that annoying music to stop, but whatever she had expected to be on the other side, this isn't it. That said, this popcorn chicken isn't bad and she's never one to turn down free food. Plus, this weird carnival called her a breathtaking beauty!
Corrie sees she's eating and sidles up to her, eyeing the popcorn chicken in its distinctive striped box. "Feeling all right?" she asks, trying (and failing) to sound casual. "Everything tasting normal?" Pause. "No overcoming urge to bawk?"
"To what now?" Grizzy answers, scrunching up her nose in confusion. "Anyway, I'm fine? I think. This is all pretty weird, but hey." She shrugs and then tips her container of chicken in the other woman's direction, a friendly offer to share despite the fact that meats to eat aren't exactly in short supply.
Corrie gives Grizzy a quick sideways once-over: not in pain, and all of her seems to be there so this probably isn’t a horror movie eating-yourself scenario. She helps herself to the vetted chicken. It tastes normal, and not even pickly - whatever else is going on, they seem to be outside that particular curse.
“When I was a kid I would’ve loved to have a whole circus or amusement park or whatever to myself,” she says, still chewing. It’s too early for manners. “Mostly to myself.”
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henhursthall2021-03-01 06:23 am
MEAT CARNIVAL
MEAT CARNIVAL: Lorcan & Open++ (The Entrance)
"It won't let me capture it," he tells one of the new arrivals, snapping their picture on his instant camera like he's a park photographer. The photo is blurry, except for the them. "Isn't that interesting?"
MEAT CARNIVAL: Lorcan & Open++ (The Entrance)
MEAT CARNIVAL: Criswell Nopes Out
Stunned into stillness, he just stares for a prolonged moment before muttering, "Oh, fuck no." He then starts to close his door.
MEAT CARNIVAL: Aster & Open+ (MEAT TRAMP)
For now, though, Aster glides through it, not quite brave enough to actually taste any of the concessions, but curious nonetheless. God, she needs a new job, it's seeping into her subconscious far too much. Still. A side of ribs as a trampoline does have a certain siren call. "I've read about these." She says out loud, not caring if there's anyone to actually to talk to, because why would that matter, in a dream. "Is it, do you think, still polite to take off your shoes?"
Her feet would get so sticky.
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
"Still think you can be offended if you like, though." He turns back to her. "Made of 'normal meat?' Not 'extraordinary meat?' Not even 'above average?' Just 'normal.'" He shakes his head with feigned pity. "Sorry, mate."
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
She points. "And yours! A regular man. Ludicrous. Poppycock. What even."
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
"Regular?" Hugo follows Corrie's hand to his own poster. He can guess at the caption's meaning, but happily goes along with Corrie's disbelief. "Poppycock indeed! In fact, I'm wildly irregular. I mean, what are the chances the most brilliant witch of her generation would have a non-magic child? Seriously."
He spins around and calls out into the ether. "Hello? There've been a few mistakes! We'd like to speak to the manager!"
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
Wait.
"You're a squib?" Corrie says, squinting, nonplussed. Oh hell that makes sense. It explains everything. "That's why you actually learned history. At that school," she adds, nodding at his jumper which she now sees clearly has the name and crest of a school she's never heard of. Her voice drops. "Wow, I'm a dumbarse."
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
He thought everyone knew. And for the first time in a looong time, Hugo feels that familiar feeling of being trapped on stage, caught under a spotlight, unable to see an audience that he knows is watching him. He doesn't know what Corrie is thinking, and he's not about to ask. I thought you knew.
A half-second pause -- ripe with insecurity and perhaps perceivable to Corrie -- is broken by Hugo's familiar, easy laugh. "You're not an idiot! I'm just very good at blending in. Look..." He pulls out his phone. "Lumos." And turns on the flashlight.
"See? A natural." He points his phone at the posters. "Accio poster." It doesn't move. Obviously. He shakes his phone, as if it's broken. "Damn thing is acting up again. Making me look foolish."
Re: MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
"You're not fucking foolish," she snapped, though what did she know about that really? She barely knew him at all, technically, and that was fine or whatever, she wasn't mad about that, she was just mad generally, jumbled-up tangled-up mad like her brain was a mass of pissed-off pasta. And looking at Hugo's phone -- his Merlindamned phone -- and the poster, and in her memory, that moment of bare something-or-other in his eyes, Corrie wanted to claw something.
So she took her nails and her fury to the poster. She ripped it off the wall, messily, missing a corner up top and a bit on the side, turned and shoved it, mostly-intact, at Hugo's chest. "They're just bloody rude."
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
"Corrie," Hugo blinks, holding his poster loosely against his chest. "Remind me to never get on your bad side." Then a bemused smile spreads wide across his face and any lingering worry about how she feels seems to fall away. "And are you available for hire? I'd like to unleash you on any and all of my enemies."
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
Hugo hands his stack to Corrie, keeping only his own poster for himself. "You know, when Forsythe's experiment is all said and done, these might be worth something."
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
“When we’re all turned to beautiful chickens, but we’re household names and they’re making a film about it? You think they’ll keep this bit?” She twists her mouth at the whole mad carnival, the trampolines and the broth and Meat Zoltar. “You think they’ll keep the clowns?”
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
"These two will sell tickets!" Hugo laughs and moves to take the rolled up posters from Corrie and use them as a make-shift cane. The kind the ultra-rich have, usually with some animal head carved into the top, even though they don't actually need them. "The clowns? Eh, the clowns can stay if there's room. But these two are the stars."
MEAT CARNIVAL: Corrie & Hugo - Sideshowsonas
MEAT CARNIVAL: Griselda & Open
Re: MEAT CARNIVAL: Griselda & Corrie
Re: MEAT CARNIVAL: Griselda & Corrie
Re: MEAT CARNIVAL: Griselda & Corrie
“When I was a kid I would’ve loved to have a whole circus or amusement park or whatever to myself,” she says, still chewing. It’s too early for manners. “Mostly to myself.”