Carnaval de la Lumière

[Peter waits by the cookhouse entrance, pacing nervously just outside. He hasn't slept at all and it shows, though his haggard appearance isn't helped by what's coming. Conversations like this make his insides feel all knotted and sick. Amy had been depending on him, and in doing so, she'd sealed her own fate and there was absolutely nothing Peter could do about it. Now he just had to find a way to break the news.]

Fuck this carnival, and fuck loup garous, and fuck fucking Louisiana... [Frustrated and miserable, he keeps up a stream of cursing under his breath, ignoring everyone else who passes by.]

[Amy gathers her plate and takes a seat at a table across from Steve Rogers. She looks tired, but still smiles a polite smile.] Morning. [She says, trying to seem casual. There's something on her mind. She and Steve had come across one another the night before in wolf form. Now at least she knows someone shares her secret.]

[Peter is seated neatly at a table, back straight, face neutral. His appearance is immaculate, stage costume on and ready for the afternoon's show. Looking at him, you wouldn't really be able to tell immediately that anything's off. He has only a mug of tea in front of him that he's stirring patiently, as though waiting.]

[Roman wasn’t particularly looking for privacy, but he gave a quick look around anyway before he ducked between two tents to get away from all the damn noise. Just on this side of getting a headache what with all the ‘work’ they were forced to do along with the crappy schedules. Glad enough to at least be in his normal clothes for the day since they hadn’t made it to the next place yet. Los something or another, which gave him time to sneak off and take out a cig he’d tucked away this morning. Not sure what exactly had come over him this last trip, but glad for the little stockpile. Hand bringing it up to his lips while the other fetched out a lighter, striking a flame in one go and savoring the first hot inhale.]

At least everything hasn’t gone to shit. [It was scraping at the bottom end of the barrel of the shit they were all still caught up in, but it was something]

Who: Carl Sinclair and Korra
Where: Carl's truck on the back lot.
When: Backdated to Saturday morning.
What: Korra arrives.
Warnings: None.
Status: Complete, logged conversation.

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[Ned is noticeably more cheerful as he helps to serve breakfast this morning. He'd been quiet since their ..dramatic exit from Empire City, but his endeavour to leave the tent the day before to wash his clothes appears to have done him some good. Or maybe it's the pecans. Ned has plans for those pecans beyond the porridge he's currently serving. There's some molasses in it as well.]

Enjoy. [He smiles. It's not a completely happy Ned smile, but it's an improvement.]

[As has become custom almost since his arrival at the carnival, Ned can be found in the kitchen area of the Cookhouse preparing for another night of pie making. He is reminded of his time at the Longborough School for Boys where he also spent lonely nights baking pie. This is not a time he wishes to be reminded of, however, and perhaps as an indirect result of finding himself reminiscing on such a time, the piemaker absently knocks a stack of pans to the ground. Not really one to curse, he simply sighs and goes about retrieving the fallen pans.]

[Dropped into town by other carnival roustabouts, James had a little over an hour or two to purchase some of what was on a small list before the truck would return to collect him. He'd had mostly small requests from fellow carnival dwellers His volunteering was mostly due to attempting to assist in the recovery of those they hadn't yet seen, some hadn't been seen since the dust storm. Not that he really expected to see them, but he hoped, perhaps there might be something. Not caring for the looks it might warrant, in addition to his dusty clothing James had donned his navy coat despite the heat, mostly to hide the cutlass at his belt

He lingered outside the little town's general store with a long sigh out, examining the list in his hands before tucking it away in a pocket. Glancing up again idly he looked out to the main street, which was littered rather sparsely with people.]

[Deucalion had survived his first dust storm, met a few rather exceptional people and managed to persuade a good number of civilians the freak show was worth watching even as he cringed inside. He found his job easy at the same time that he wanted to do the exact opposite of it.

He didn't like the road either. He preferred those times when he wasn't on duty, when he could wander the grounds, listen to the radio, think. Perhaps meet interesting people and avoid too many unexpected catastrophes. He did dislike a scuffle.

Now they were in a new place and he felt the need to explore it. It was noisier than the last town he hadn't bothered to learn the name of. He rested the tip of his cane on the ground and struck off.]

[The wind outside was howling. It had been a long time since she'd seen a dust storm, let alone been caught out in one. Of course being inside her trailer protected her and the others from the worst of it. Still, Anna could feel it in her lungs and throat, and frankly there wasn't much she wouldn't have done for some damned bottled water right about now. She knew she has an advantage over most, though. The dust wouldn't do too much damage to her lungs. She was much more concerned with the harm it could do to someone like Jeremy. She watched him with worried eyes, though she remained silent for the time being.

Then she shifted her gaze to the others. At least dust storms tended to blow over quickly enough. She was patient enough when she had to be, but she was looking forward to moving on, and hopeful that the next town would be a little bigger. That it might be a little easier to find supplies and things they needed.]

[She'd just returned from reading the notice board, and she was actually kind of happy for once. A card game. That was her speed. Except she'd gotten a peek at what they called cards around here, and they were completely unfamiliar. Only two colors and frakking hearts and people...? No clue. Maybe her roommate could shed some light on the situation.]

Hey, nugget. You know how to play cards?

Where: Diana's Tent
When:The day after this
Warnings: Partial nudity

[Diana stirred awake, blinking away the light that spilled into the tent. Her bed was considerably less crowded than she remembered when she fell asleep. Sitting up slowly, she ran her hands through her hair and looked around.]

Sam...?

[Julia found that during her breaks she often returned to the same scorched patch of dirt where she'd burned the last physical traces of her past on her first day here. Always lingering, looking out and wondering what would happen if she just kept walking. Would it be something truly terrible like the rumors said? Or would she be able to escape? And if so, what would she escape too? They were questions that constantly plagued her, but each day she turned back. Today was the same as she weaved herself back into the crowd of the carnival. Eyes looking forward, but seeing nothing. Not until she saw him leaving what she guessed was his tent. Remembering his name written on a piece of paper, but her mind supplied simply; there is Mr. Nowhere.]

No one to welcome to the carnival today?

[Stiles stood outside his tent. His 1930s tent. In the 1930s. He had put on the clothes he'd been given. They felt like a costume and, if he imagined he was on a film set it was just a bit less overwhelmingly weird.

He ran a hand through his hair and paced back and forth. He closed his eyes and opened them again.

Nope. Still 1930-something. Damn.]

[Castiel had started looking for Dean since he arrived. It wasn't the time-travel that was the shock but the isolation. What he couldn't hear. What he wasn't needed for. He'd started looking for Dean since he arrived but, having only his eyes to search with and many tasks to do, it took him some time to find him. When he did he wasted no time and didn't pause for consideration that Dean have been busy. He simply did what he always did when he had an urgent message and appeared behind his friend.]

Hello Dean.

[Deucalion used his ears and his cane to find an empty space at the breakfast bench, settling beside Diana, her scent unfamiliar but, then, almost everyone's was.]

Can you pass the salt please? [He asked politely]

Evening Carl! [Munching on a corncob, Art wanders over. Pausing only to shove Carl in greeting] Why the long face, my friend?