Time-traveling romance-novelist guardian-witch (tregardian) wrote in carnaval_logs, @ 2013-08-31 19:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~diana tregarde, ~sam winchester |
Who: Diana Tregarde and Sam Winchester
Where: Carnaval de la Lumière
When: Sunday morning
What: Diana recruits some help in setting up her vendor booth.
Warnings: Language, Sam being a total creeper
Status: Closed, Complete
tregardianThis weather was just horrific. Diana didn't think she was ever going to get used to it. It was hot and wet and Diana’s skin was sticky. Dirt and dust clung to everything it touched without discrimination, coating flesh like a gritty film and making white linens anything but. This is why Diana was a coastal girl. This Midwestern bullshit did not suit her in the least bit. Then again, neither did the 1930’s. Oh yeah, how did that work? It had not taken long for her to find out what year it was, and everything she had researched in her career about the era had confirmed this. To all those who had never lived through it, the Great Depression held a kind of tragic romantic quality (Grapes of Wrath, anyone?). This? Yeah. Not so much with the romance. Still, Diana had been quick to accept the utterly drastic shift in time as truth. The inexplicable was a thing, she knew that. Being a Guardian and a witch, Diana wasn’t the kind of person to cry that something was impossible. For all her opened mindedness, however, and even after accepting it, Diana had not quite come to terms with the fact that she had been ripped into the past. She also knew that she wasn’t the only one who didn’t fit in here. Not that there was much in the ways of in-common in the carnival, but there was a common denominator. After spending a while in quiet observation, investigator Tregarde had deduced that a handful of individuals weren’t exactly passing off as genuine 1930’s freaks. Be that as it may, living had to continue. Diana had been given a job, and she would do it while she continued to try and figure out what was going on. What was the alternative? Try and fend for herself in the wasteland that was the Dustbowl? Suicide. She knew that. No, better to just fall in line and make the higher-ups (who were more than just a little mysteriously mysterious) happy. And so, here she was. The carnival had arrived at Avery, and young Tregarde was doing her best to try and set up her vendor’s booth. She wanted a keen familiarity with her workspace, and thus had wanted to try and set it all up by herself. It hadn’t taken long to realize that this was a bit futile. She didn’t know much about construction and lacked the know-how to put up the signs and make sure everything fit in the proper notches and hooks. That’s what the rousties were for, so she heard. Right. Assistance time. Diana wandered the length of the carnival in a circle, watching in a kind of awe how an empty patch of ground became the realization of a kind of nostalgic fantasy. She got a few awkward looks, gaping like a child as she was in her modern clothes. Despite the daywear that she had been provided, Diana liked the comfort of the clothes she had appeared in. For private time, that is. Once the carnival opened and she needed to fit in, Diana would acquiesce. For now, she was dressed in a rolled-up pair of jeans and knee-high boots that snugly fit her calves. A black tanktop loosely covered her torso, exposing her slightly sunburnt collarbone. On top of that was a jacket, good versus wind and rain. Not so much against the heat, though. Dark brunette hair was pulled up and out of her face with one of the ties she had appeared in. Gradually, once she took in the sights, Diana got back to looking for prospective help. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she squinted as she watched for prospectives. Boo, everyone seemed busy. sammy_wchester Sam squinted his eyes against rain; the trickling wetness assaulted his exposed arms, now without the usual coverage of his over plaid over shirt, which was tucked away safely along with the rest of his belongings. He knew there was something weird about the carnival when it appeared; but he hadn't anticipated the extent of it. Judging by the equipment, the clothing, and the creepy carnie talk; looked like he'd landed himself somewhere during the Great Depression. So far he hadn't run into any obvious leads so he figured that he might as well get comfortable, because until he got to the bottom of this, he wasn't going anywhere fast. He moved into his designated area and grabbed his equipment along with his first assignment; not bothering to make small talk with his co-workers or any other passers-by on the way. The snack vendor booth would be an easy enough job to take on; he'd had enough experience tinkering with things in his background to probably figure it out no problem. Sam walked over to the designated station and dropped his equipment on the ground. Dampness clinging to his legs through his pants as he reached for his tools; narrowing down a list of potential creatures to hunt in his mind through process of elimination as he worked. tregardian No, no, too busy, do it yourself. How helpful. Nevertheless, Diana took each rejection with a smile and a "No worries, thank you!" Pissing off the locals was not on her to-do list, and even if they were going to be dicks she was going to keep her cool. Turning back toward the location of her booth, Diana begrudgingly made her way back. Her hands were placed staunchly on her hips as she renewed her determination to get this mess dealt with. Once she figured it out, Diana hoped it would get easier and faster with time. Rounding the corner from a different booth, the young woman was taken by surprise as she found a man already working on it. Diana let out a silent HUZZAH! in her mind and instantly perked up, beaming from ear to ear as she made quick work on closing the distance. "Hi there!" Diana called out as she came up on Sam, "I was just out looking for someone to help me with this. I got all the equipment hauled out here but I have no clue on where to start putting all the pieces together. The owner's manual to this thing is woefully absent. Whew. Good thing you came along, haha." Spotting her messenger bag sitting on top one of the building blocks, Diana moved forward to retrieve it. As she lifted it up, one of her novel samples slipped out and fell to the ground, the bound pages landing on top of the man's shoes that had come to help her. The words "Blood and Roses by Diana Tregarde -- Sample" stared up at him from the laminated report folder. sammy_wchester Sam stopped what he was doing and looked over at the woman addressing him. He turned his head towards the cheery woman; undaunted by the sweltering heat or general surliness of her surroundings. She was friendly and grateful for help; as though this wasn't his job in the first place. She must be new here too. "Hi" He said raising an eyebrow at her and returning a grin. Sam grabbed a handkerchief from his tools, wiped his hands, and rose to full height as the pages fell to his feet. He looked down at the laminated folder for a beat and then picked up slowly. He touched the plastic carefully in his fingertips and flicked a narrow gaze back up at her. He and Dean weren't the only two who had travelled through time recently. "Diana Tregarde? Is that your alias?" He asked with a hint of mocking. "What are you?" tregardian He seemed nice, Diana thought thankfully as she caught sight of his face. Handsome buck, too. When the man stood, she watched as he rose up and up and up, practically dwarfing the short woman. Tilting her head, Diana snaked her hand through her ponytail, feeling the texture of her pride-and-joy brunette that seemed to be getting a little too oily for her liking. "You are such a doll for helping me out. I would seriously be worthless at this." Setting the bag aside and out of the way, Diana watched Sam's face as he saw the words on the front of her novel sample. There was a familiar pit of nervousness in her stomach. She had been at this almost a decade now, but it never got any easier when she saw someone completely new pick up one of her books for the first time. It was desperation, probably, though Diana hated to admit it. Desperation to be accepted, liked even. Wasn't that the truth with every writer? They all wanted their art validated with approval. Even still, this very tall, very manly dude probably was not hiding a library full of romance novels. "Yes," she replied with an amused scoff, "it is an alias. My real name is Wonder Woman, but in order to protect my identity I use this mundane nomenclature. Or, wait, is it supposed to be the other way around...?" Diana plucked the folder from Sam's hand, her entertained grin from ear to ear, "Good thing you didn't peek inside. This has the top secret blueprints for the Justice League headquarters." sammy_wchester Sam let the folder pass from his hands easily, keeping his eyes steady on her face as she spoke. She had easily deflected his blatant accusation and without any signs of nervousness or discomfort. Clearly, she wasn't just some innocent woman who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got dragged along for the ride. If she was a trickster; she would've changed her angle by now and most creatures he came across didn't write books. Whatever she was; she was a professional liar. He lips pursed when she mentioned Wonder Woman and the Justice League. She was a comic book geek and it didn't look like an act. "You're a bad liar and you're about ten years before your time. You gonna tell me you're a time traveling romance novelist?" tregardian Diana looked fondly at the folder for a few seconds, flipping through the pages as he eyes drank up the words she could so clearly remember writing. New York. It seemed like a distant dream. Oy vey, what a time that was. Folding the cover back into place, she turned for a moment to slip it back into her bag. Her face looked over her shoulder at the man who looked non-too-amused. What was this all about? "See, in common parlance, we use the word 'joke' instead of 'lie.' Due to the strictly harmless and fun-having nature of the material." Turning toward him fully, Diana crossed her arms over her chest. Her weight shifted onto one leg and she stared at him, rather confused. "So, you're telling me that they don't have H.G. Wells where you're from? By my count, that came out, like, thirty-five years ago. The concept of time-travel isn't exactly, you know, original material." Diana didn't like how defensive this was making her feel. Who was this guy, anyway? All she wanted was some damn help with this stubborn-as-hell candy cart. "I'm gonna tell you that my name is Diana Tregarde and yes, I'm a romance novelist. Time traveler isn't exactly on my resume, but then again, I don't exactly think I'm the one to blame for jumping backward across a century." |