Second Annual Holiday Fair

[handyplothole]

Nobody knows quite how it started, but soon it's unmistakable. Once again the stalls and tables have begun to cluster on the lawn, some of them bedecked with streamers and decorations, all of them laden with interesting things. The chilly breeze blowing up toward the Mansion brings laughter with it, and lively voices, and scents of cinnamon spice

Comments

[desfeuilles]

Feuilly has emerged once more to set out his collection of fans -- having little better to do with his time, he's amassed quite a few: flowers, birds, arabesque patterns; landscapes, strange monsters.

This time, though, there are also a couple of plain old paintings. They're quite small; one is a portrait of a dark-eyed girl, laughing, and the other is of Leviathan rising from the lake.

[tech_wizard]

Dairine lingers. "Oh, pretty."

[desfeuilles]

He looks over, standing a few feet away, and half-smiles.

[tech_wizard]

"How much are they? What do you take for them?" with a delighted nosewrinkle.

[morvydd]

Here then is a small table, apparently stolen from beside one of the Mansion's sofas, with a basket of muslin packets smelling strongly of herbs. Each has a label attached, in an antiquated hand:

FOR PEACEFULL SLEEP
FOR A COUGH
FOR A TROUBLED HARTE
FOR HEAD ACHE

Etc.

Morvydd will be back and forth, having a cousin to keep an eye on, but will likely be willing to answer questions if you catch her.

[dragon_dealer]

She stays well away from the Mansion, but the lawn is fair game. She smiles a bit. "Hey. How are you?" She glances over the packets. "Are they magic?"

[morvydd]

"Well, thank you." Morvydd takes her in with a swift glance. Undoubtedly she recognizes Cimorene, but she is far less prone to grudges than her cousins. "These-- no. Medicines only." This is the simplest answer.

[dragon_dealer]

She won't apologize in as many words, but her current civility is as close as the other woman will probably get.

Cimorene nods. "Do you have anything for a hurt leg?" she asks, a little quieter.

[inglewoodblues]

Ragnelle, more to cheer herself up than anything else, has chosen herself a little table and a chair--a soft chair, please the Lord, where she can be restful and withstand the pain of her burned extremities. Upon the table is a nice printed sign, the script upon which is thick with flourishes:

FORE NO COST: WISE COUNSELE.

[_hellblazer_]

It's a long shot, but John's desperate after the dibacle of his two year anniversary (long, awkward silences over glasses of wine never bode well) and he figures Why the hell not? Besides, it's free. John likes free stuff.

"Alright -- try this one on. Say a bloke's an utter bastard and has screwed over his husband a time or two, and now his husband barely speaks to him, despite this bloke's best efforts to fix things. What do you advise?"

[inglewoodblues]

"What hath he done? I must know what he hath done before I can tell how he may make amends," calmly."

[_hellblazer_]

"Well -- let's see. He's cheated on him a few times over, each time promising not to do it again. He's generally bad at the whole -- relationship thing, unfortunately."

[fingersofleaf]

VEGGIBLES. :D :D :D Despite the first frost, he has enough stored by, and all the extra is here upon the table, in neat baskets and clay bowls made by hand.

[allbutfreedom]

"Sir Percy!" Comes Rohana in green and gold, beaming at him.

[fingersofleaf]

He waves cheerfully. "Ma'am! Hi!"

[allbutfreedom]

She chuckles. "How are you?"

[greying_raven]

Upon Luther's table there is a spread of detailed, carved wooden animals: toys for children, but pretty enough that anyone might want them to look at. There is also a wooden chair, a few garden tools--all of wood--and a child's play table. He leans on his table with his palms flat and his old face quiet.