Jaime Elizabeth Davies (frogs_not_birds) wrote in carnaval_logs, @ 2013-09-02 21:04:00 |
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Jaime was on break, and the tent had a sash across the door proclaiming it temporarily closed. While she knew she should have found something more substantial for dinner, she had snagged a popcorn and a lemonade and was sitting outside the tent. It probably went against some protocol or another for their mystic to look normal, but she got a dinner break and she wanted to watch the passers-by. She could chat up potential customers, maybe get a feel for the ones that’d be visiting later so she’d know what kind of future to map out for them. Given that it was show time and things were live, she was behaving herself … mostly. Between bites of popcorn, she was humming “Fortune Teller” quietly to herself. It still amused her, though she was sure the novelty and irony would wear off quick enough. Shifting to cross one leg over the other, Jaime watched the crowd passing by. It was wild, really, kind of surreal, to be seeing people from the past. Like ghosts, but solid. They probably weren’t from her past, from her reality, but there was something kind of interesting about sitting in on history. She could pick out the ones that weren’t native, too, and she recognized more than a few from her captivity so far. Pale blue eyes continued to move over the crowd, though she glanced over to a woman apparently keen on getting her future told. “Half an hour,” Jaime promised her. “Then I’ll be opened up again.” When the woman moved on, Jaime resumed her perusal of the crowd. Her gaze caught on someone familiar -- sort of familiar -- and she stared. “Doctor Buckley?” She called out, standing up with the bag of popcorn still clutched in one hand. “Doctor Tom Buckley?” She called louder. She guessed if he didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge her, it wasn’t him, but the resemblance was uncanny. ______________ There was a large part of him that was convinced that he’d completely lost his mind. It wasn’t that far out there, considering the things he’d gone through lately. Sure, he’d decided to take some time off from the University and left town for a bit to try to collect himself and figure out what he wanted to do now, but maybe he was having a delayed mental breakdown. A mental breakdown where he escaped into a fantasy world of … a carnival. Well, he wasn’t going to examine that too closely yet. Apparently he was supposed to be making balloons, but right now he was wandering. Wandering, and waiting to wake up and return to reality. Maybe he was closer to that than he realized as he heard someone call his name. Turning towards the voice, he furrowed his brow slightly. The girl -- well, woman, really -- didn’t look familiar. A former student, maybe? Given the setting, it seemed more likely that she was a figment of whatever mental episode he was having. Shrugging slightly to himself, he changed directions slightly to head towards the fortune teller’s tent. A light smirk touched his lips as he regarded it before light blue eyes settled on the young woman that apparently knew him. “That’s me. Doctor Tom Buckley, balloon maker.” ____________ It was kind of funny how Jaime had all but turned stalker to find him, and now that she had, she realized she had no idea how she’d ever intended to proceed with this. Offering him help flat out seemed presumptuous, but there didn’t seem to be a delicate way to ask him if he really was the one that had fucked up Silver’s show. She was positive it hadn’t been her; she hadn’t felt anything, and her usual wind hadn’t been there. So it seemed easier, for now, to focus on the current situation than to worry about their home situation. “So,” she said, her brow furrowing as she shifted her popcorn to her off hand and wiped off the traces of salt onto her skirt. She realized then a handshake might be a little much for her; if he was real and her defenses were this down, she might get more than she bargained for. Or he would. So she tucked her hand down against her side, offered him a lopsided smile, and introduced herself. “Hi. I’m Jaime. I … um. I saw you at Silver’s show,” she began to give him context of how she knew him since it wasn’t at all likely he had any idea who she was. “Did you just show up here … today? Yesterday?” Her brows lifted slightly as she studied him. This was crazy, and a mad coincidence -- the odds of him showing up here when she’d stalked him so long back home? It was wild. ______________ Tom fought back a slightly bemused smile. It seemed like she had been about to offer to shake his hand and then changed her mind. Before he could wonder too much about that, though, she admitted how she knew him and his expression shifted. It wasn’t the first time he had been recognized -- half of the reason he’d left town was to get away from the media. He exhaled and it was almost a laugh, but one that lacked amusement. Even in a fucked up carnival, he couldn’t get away from what had happened at Silver’s show. “Today,” he answered shortly. “So, what? Do you want an autograph?” While he’d given some thought to checking into a few minds, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. If he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop it or worse. He didn’t exactly what to bring the carnival down around himself, despite not wanting to be here. _______ “No,” she replied as she glanced away. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, and she guessed she could understand hostility. He probably wasn’t thrilled to be here -- no more than the rest of them were -- and she wasn’t going to push. Ironically, she thought now she was glad she hadn’t actually managed to find him in their world. With her luck, he probably would’ve wound up taking out a restraining order on her or something. She really was venturing into crazed stalker territory. She realized, too, she couldn’t just blurt out that she was like him. Not on his first night, anyway. Besides, she didn’t even know for sure that he was real. She assumed it, sure; unless it had all been a spectacular act -- and she doubted insurance would cover an act that brought chunks of the ceiling down -- then he’d done those things in the auditorium. The same way she blew out windows and broke glasses as a child. “I can tell your fortune if you want,” she offered instead. If nothing else, it would get them out of the crowd and somewhere more private so they could talk without a worry of being overheard. ______________ He almost felt like a jerk. It wasn’t really her fault -- she was just admitting to how she knew who he was. He was just tired and he thought justifiably cranky. He wondered for a brief moment if he had just completely killed the conversation and he was thrown off a little by her offer. “All right,” he found himself agreeing, against his better judgement. Some part of him was amused, if only because he would be watching for all the tells that he was certain would be there when she ‘read’ him. For the most part, though, he wasn’t sure he should be throwing himself into that sort of situation. However, he wasn’t exactly sure of what else to do at this point … so having his fortune read it was. He gestured vaguely towards the entrance of her tent, intending to follow her inside. This would be interesting. __________ “Cool,” Jaime replied as she turned toward the tent to pull down the sash across the door. She picked up her popcorn and lemonade and stepped inside, gesturing him to follow. Once he was in, she let the flap drop and slid the sign out to indicate she was busy telling a fortune. Goddamn she needed a door guard or something. Maybe she’d suggest that to management. “Sorry about the smell. I’m still working on finding some candles or incense or something.” it wasn’t a really gross smell, but it was an old, musty sort of smell. “They need to air this shit out more,” she continued before she shrugged. It could be worse; she could be working in one of the animal tents. Gesturing for him to have a seat, she felt around in her pockets until she found the gloves. She wasn’t using them with actual customers because she wasn’t interested in explaining latex or why she was wearing them, but she just really, really didn’t want to start anything tonight that might end up with one or both of them having an explosive psychic moment. Given that her powers were stronger with skin to skin contact, it just seemed … better this way. Settling herself into her seat, she took the crystal ball off the table and gestured for his hands. “Palm reading okay, or do you want me to start with cards?” ______________ “I’ve smelled worse,” he assured her. Some people went crazy with incense and candles when attempting to summon spirits, combining scents that should never have been combined. Ice blue eyes flicked around the room as he took a seat before settling on her and he arched a brow slightly as she put on latex gloves. “Are you a germaphobe fortune teller?” He asked with a touch of amusement, curious if those had arrived with her or been supplied by the carnival. He was pretty sure some kind of rubber gloves existed in this time, but these looked like a pretty modern pair. Maybe latex gloves just hadn’t evolved much over the years. Extending his hands towards her, palm up, he nodded slightly, “You’re running the show here.” _________ “No,” she said in response to his question, but she didn’t elaborate on the reason behind them. “I was just lucky to have these on me when they jerked me here.” And that was all the explanation he was getting until they got to a point where she was ready to admit to what she was. It was so completely surreal though, having him here. Especially given where she’d been when she wound up here. Stalking him, looking for an address, only to have him show up here in this fucked up freak show that she’d been pulled in to. She hesitated to take his hands, even with the gloves serving as a barrier. The gloves worked fine on objects, and she saw no reason they wouldn’t also work on him, but she’d also never held hands with someone like her. If he was like her. She almost couldn’t do it, because she was afraid of the confirmation -- whichever way it might go, if it happened. So her hands hovered over his for a moment, her expression shifting into something almost scared, almost sad, but not quite either before she curled her fingers around his. She braced for something, though she didn’t know what. A blast of information, a mind-meld, a collapse of her barriers … but nothing happened, and she relaxed. Her breathing was a little quick though, and she could feel a wind stirring up behind her, ruffling her hair and skirt, causing the ridiculous bunch of tiny bells dangling from her ears to tinkle. “Sorry,” she said before she tried to turn her attention to the reason she’d ostensibly drawn him into the tent. ______________ He wasn’t sure having a pair of latex gloves counted as lucky, but different strokes for different folks and all that. She didn’t seem to be volunteering any more information about the gloves and while he was curious, he wasn’t going to ask about them any more. There would just be a rubber gloves mystery for now. Her expression wasn’t the only one to change. His own shifted from curious amusement to somewhat less impressed. Why was she looking at him like that? His fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to just reach up to grab her hands just to put an end to the suspense he could feel building. At this point, he had started to expect something when she took his hands. His gaze shot up towards the bells. Had that been him? It was probably just a trick. Something to get the patrons going. He hadn’t exactly done a control check on the room; there was probably a string under the table she could pull or someone standing outside the tent for all that. Tom nodded, his shoulders tense. He was ten seconds away from getting up and walking away, but something else was keeping him seated. __________ It was turning out to be harder than she thought it would be to hold her control. Was it his presence affecting her? Or just her nerves? Whatever it was, it was driving pretty much everything she’d read about palmistry out of her mind. She could recall the big lines, and she guessed that would serve for now. She released one of his hands, turning her grip on the other so she could cradle the back of his hand while she traced the lines on his palms. The shift of focus to her job though made the rest of her focus slip and the breeze intensified. Her hair blew around her, the bells in her earrings jangled, and behind her the candles in lanterns lighting the tent blew out. “Fuck,” she swore as she jerked her hands back away from his. “Sorry,” she apologized again as she pushed back from the table to go relight the candles. Her hand was shaking, and the wind was still stirring in the tent, and she realized how badly this could have gone in their own world. How badly it still could go here. She should have better control than this, and she gripped the edge of the table as she tried desperately to center herself. If she could make it through tonight, she’d have some time in the morning to … to do whatever. Expel the energy, put it to use some other way, meditate. When she thought she had something like stability, Jaime opened up the lanterns in the darkness and lit a match to relight the still smoking candles. __________ Something about this felt fucked up. It didn’t feel like a bogus reading, like something he could poke holes in. At the same time, his mind was racing to explain what was happening and he felt his own control slip. He wasn’t able to tell what effects he was causing and which were … something else. Her? An act? It couldn’t … it couldn’t be her, though. “I have to go,” he said quickly as she relit the lanterns. He pushed quickly up to his feet stumbling slightly over the chair, knocking it over. He briefly considered righting it before abandoning the idea and making a rush for the exit of the tent. __________ She thought about calling out, trying to stop him, but she didn’t. It would just get worse. It had been … she shouldn’t have tried to talk to him tonight. So she just watched as he went, and she just hoped she saw him again -- after she’d had time to calm herself down -- and maybe they could talk. Actually talk, without her freaking out. And without him freaking out, because that could’ve ended badly. After giving herself a few more minutes, Jaime moved to the door of the tent and opened it up. Moving to the sign, she drew it back inside so she could entertain a few more customers tonight before things closed up. She peeled the gloves off and retreated inside to shove them back under the skirt over the table. As much as she wanted to keep them on, she doubted she’d be able to explain them to the people from this time. Half-hoping Tom would come back, and half fearing it, Jaime waited for her next customer. While she waited, she tried to think of some sort of plan of action for the next time they met, to try to make things not end badly. |