Who: Marcellus and Izabela What: Friendly conversation with odd topics. Where: Around the tents. When: During carnival hours Rating: Low Status: Complete
Izabela loved her job in the carnival, she really did. Even if she worked in the "freak show." She got to show off the fact that she was entirely proud of who and what she was. Not to mention that the outfits were entirely spectacular. Really, she couldn't imagine anything else that she would rather be doing...aside from maybe having the same free reign with money that she'd had before. As it was, it didn't seem like that would ever happen. But that was life. She got to enjoy the environment of the carnival instead...and that was normally fun. The only times it wasn't were the times when her own act injured her. Lying on the bed of nails was normally harmless, but that evening she'd made the mistake of shifting her weight the wrong way getting up. So, as a result, she'd gotten a bit of a scratch on her wrist. It looked worse than it was and she'd had to leave the tent in order to get it cleaned up. That didn't really leave time to change, so she didn't even bother. And she didn't really want to spend too much time away from the tent, so she just opted for finding something to cover the small wound with. "So annoying..." she mumbled under her breath. Eventually she managed to find someone to borrow a handkerchief from, so she got to work on tying it around her wrist tightly in order to stop the bleeding. And somehow in that process, she managed to run right into someone. "Oh...wow...sorry! I wasn't paying attention." Damn knots were hard to tie...
Marc was usually more aware of his surroundings, but there's only so much one guy can watch, even so observant a one as the tall drifter. Hence the sudden jolt out of his off-duty wanderings as he people-watched. He wobbled at the impact, but stayed on his feet- you either get used to being jostled at a crowded place like a carnival, or you spend a lot of time flat on your back wondering which way is up. He had no intentions of it being the latter, and settled back onto his heels with an smile at his impacter. "Hey, no worries, Izzy." he assured her with a laugh, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Most of the guys around here are built like Mack trucks- it's almost a pleasure bein' hit by you." That said, he cocked his head at her wrist. "Everything okay?"
Normally there wasn't any problem with her navigating through the carnival. Her sense of smell was keen enough that she didn't usually have any problem getting through the crowds. But the stupid scratch from the stupid nails had thrown a wrench in things. Oh well. C'est la vie. Her sense of smell told her who it was before she actually looked up and she was glad that she'd run into Marc instead of someone like Gar. Of course, not running into anyone would have been preferable, but at least it hadn't been someone who was more wall than person. "I pride myself on not being built like a Mack truck. Guys don't tend to find that attractive...and I already have the scales and such working against me." She shrugged a bit, returning the smile. The question about her wrist, however, diverted her attention. She'd managed to finish the knot, though she pulled it a little tighter after he asked. "Everything's fine. Just got up off the bed of nails wrong. Shift your weight the wrong way and it doesn't balance right and you get cut." She shrugged again. It wasn't really a big deal. Or, it wouldn't be as soon as the bleeding stopped.
"Ah, you just don't know the right guys." Marcellus smiled, not bothered by Izabela's scales or the mention of the same, but winced theatrically at the mention of the bed of nails. He was a bit of a wimp when it came to pain, truth be told. "I've got something you can put on that in case of infection if you like." he offered, eyeing his own jacket with its nicely deep pockets. What, he's a bit weird about infection. Comes with the whole drifter territory.
"Maybe I don't. Such a shame." She didn't really bother with those who found her appearance off-putting. They were free to think whatever they wanted, but she liked her not all human self. And she highly doubted that she was the only one that did. What she didn't like, however, was being injured. That was kind of annoying. Could have been worse, but still annoying just the same. "Oh, you do? I mean, if it's not any trouble or anything, I'd appreciate it. Just didn't want to go all the way to my trailer to get stuff because I didn't want to be away from the tent for too long." She thought about it, and that meant that she'd have to untie the knot she'd been trying so hard to tie in the first place that it made her run into Marc. Oh well. Details, details.
"Not at all." Marcellus assured her with an easy grin. The drifter felt in his pockets for a moment and soon retrieved a tube of Neosporin, offering it to Izabela. The stuff was like gold to anyone who was homeless or drifting, especially outside of cities. Get an infection while you were twenty miles from anywhere habitable and you basically had to pray for divine intervention, or go through a few days of hell or worse. "If that doesn't do it, you know Vered, yeah?" he added.
Ah, Neosporin. So terribly helpful. She likely would have carried it around with her too if she wasn't so terribly confident in her skills with the bed of nails. Sadly, those skills had failed her this one time. "Thanks. And yeah, I do. But it's not a big cut, so it's not like I really need to bother him with it." It'd be fine after a little while, surely. Not a big deal. She set to work untying the knot in the handkerchief, instantly regretting the decision to double knot. "So..." she started, working at the knot with her free hand, "what exactly were you doing before I ran into you quite literally?"
"Not much of anything." Marc replied with a quirk of a smile. "Which basically means 'waiting around until someone yells for me to go catch the tarantula, bring this or that, or go make sure someone's not getting high in the portajohns'." He idly rotated his shoulders, stiff from a day of box-lifting. "What about you? I'm not holding you up from your show, am I?" he inquired, suddenly concerned. His amicably chatty ways could turn into unneeded distractions if he wasn't careful, on occasion.
"...someone's actually asked you to catch a tarantula?" She couldn't help but chuckle at that a bit. "I mean, I guess someone's gotta do all that stuff. But still." It didn't necessarily sound fun, but it did suit some people, she supposed. "It's more eventful than sitting around letting people ogle you. And I even get to lie down on the job." Literally. And the bed of nails was really much more comfortable than most people thought it was. It all had to do with balancing your weight! "Not really holding me up. There was kind of a lull anyway. And I was getting sick of this one weird kid who kept standing there and asking me to go out with him. He was like...seventeen. So weird." She managed to get the knot undone and the handkerchief unwrapped from around her wrist. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, so it made it easier to put on the Neosporin. "I was kind of afraid that marriage proposals would come next. And nothing I did freaked him out enough to make him leave."
"Comes with the jack-of-all-work thing." Marcellus laughed. "It keeps things interesting, and I don't really mind." His brow knitted just a touch as he listened to Izabela's tale of a lovestruck weirdo. "Get one of our security guys to hang around next time." he suggested. "That should stop any nuptial plans pretty quick, yeah?" Frankly, he was a little surprised one of them hadn't turned up at the first flirtation- Marc could swear that most of the guys lived to terrify those that bothered employees, especially performers. "Wish I could say yeah, that kid's pretty weird, but compared to some folks I've met in past years..." He chuckled, shaking his head.
"Well, it wouldn't be fun if you minded doing it, I guess. And it's kind of hard for things not to be interesting around here." As for the lovestruck weirdo...that was the not as wonderful side of interesting. "Normally they are around. But it wasn't too big a deal, I guess. But really, if Gar was around, that kid would have been running for the hills." She shrugged some. "I could have handled it, though. There weren't that many people around. Could have petrified him temporarily..." It wouldn't have been that hard, considering the kid had been making eye contact the entire time and then some. It was almost like he'd been begging her to petrify him. "Maybe he's not the weirdest, but it was still pretty weird. The average high school boy doesn't generally want a venomous girlfriend." She put the cap back on the tube of Neosporin, handing it back to him. "Thanks."
"Not a problem." Marc responded brightly, tucking it back from whence it came. "And I'm sure you're right." No matter how innocuous their appearance, virtually all of the carnival employees were more than capable of dealing out a lot more than you'd expect. He, of course, was one of the exceptions. He had to smile a little crookedly at the mention of Gar- the drifter had never done anything out of place, and Gar still made him want to run for the hills. "Still, you shouldn't have to put up with that kinda crap."
Most every type of creature had some way of defending themselves. Enhanced strength, fangs, magic and even, in her case, deadly venom and a gaze that could petrify or kill. It was definitely more than you'd expect just from looking at her, and quite honestly? Izabela liked to keep it that way. She was kind of glad that she hadn't really done anything to the kid other than hissing and telling him to leave. Petrifaction could get messy. Especially if it ended up being worse (read: more permanent) than she intended. Not exactly the best of things, to be sure. "I guess not, but it happens sometimes. Could be a hell of a lot worse." She shrugged a bit, running a hand through her hair idly. Her tongue still flicked out to test the air, but she didn't pay much attention to that anymore. It happened whether she wanted it to or not.
The human smiled slightly. "True enough. I won't lecture. You've been here quite some time, yeah?" Of course, Marc's a relative newbie, what with not even being there a full year yet. Some of the carnies had been present since before he was born.
"Quite some time...ish. I mean, if you count six years as quite some time. Been here since I was 25." Nobody who looked at her would think that she was 31. But hey, she wasn't going to complain about looking ten years younger than she actually was in real life. It was a good thing! "And still loving every second," she said with a grin. "Minus the injury part. But that's just me being careless. Maybe a little senile, too. I am older than I look."
A fact that Marcellus had gotten used to rather quickly, by necessity. 31 was nothing compared to the multiple centuries held by some of the carnival's vampires and miscellaneous carnies. "Ooh, don't say that." he replied with almost comic mournfulness in his manner, though a smile tugged at his face. He's a smiley guy, if it wasn't apparent. "I'm not far shy of my thirties myself. That is way too early to have to worry about losing it." He shook his head. "What's that they say, though- 'old age is always ten years older than I am'? Wonder if that works here."
She wasn't exactly sure if she'd make it to multiple centuries. Her father had to be ancient, sure, but she was also half-human. And they most definitely had expiration dates. "Well, just in case, just try not to be anywhere near a bed of nails if you do start to lose it. Things can end up in injury that way." She chuckled some, not able to help smiling. "And I'm not sure if that really applies. I mean, there are people here that are what? 2000 years old? That should definitely count as old age, with or without an extra ten years." Her weight shifted a bit, sending the beaded tassels on her skirt to clicking against each other. "By the way...not far shy of your thirties still standing, you're still really cute. Just thought I'd share."
"Call Arkady an old geezer and be sure to tell me how that goes over." Marcellus suggested almost impishly, chuckling at the thought. And the 'cute' comment surprises another smile from the tall drifter. "Aww, thanks. See if you still feel like sayin' that when I'm on duty and hauling around trash bags and so forth, though." And he's blushing. Maybe. Juuuust a tiny bit, though. Or it could be the summer heat still lingering in the air. "As for beds of nails, well. I've slept on rocks enough times that the idea almost sounds comfy, tetanus risk be damned."
"See, I would, but I think that could get me kicked out. And the rest of the world isn't as accepting of snake-girls, sadly." She knew that well enough. And she wasn't intending on leaving the carnival anytime soon. And besides, it was fun to play around with the boys. Getting a rise was always fun. "If anyone can make hauling trash bags cute, it would be you, Marc. Rest assured." Was that a blush? Maybe. It surely did seem like it, but maybe it was a better idea not to bring attention to it. Besides, didn't guys like to deny blushing whenever it happened anyway? It was a man thing. "It actually is comfortable. People think it's all sharp and whatever, but it's designed to distribute your weight evenly so it's just not a big deal." She shrugged some. "I'd bring a pillow in there and sleep on it sometimes if I could."
"And the world is worse off for it." Marc replied gallantly with his easy smile, enjoying the conversation. He cocked his head at Izabela's comments about the bed of nails. "Yeah?" Marcellus squinted one eye as he tried to envision it. "I guess I can see how the weight distribution thing would work to make it nonpainful, but what makes it more appealing than a normal bed?" he inquired curiously.
"Isn't it just?" It really was, though. Normal girls got boring. Sometimes you just had to have one with a bit of something extra. "Well, I mean, normal beds are all fine and dandy. But mine's too soft a lot of the time. The bed of nails doesn't have give. And...I guess I'm kind of cheating because in some places I can't even feel the nails." She held up her arms, showing off the blue-green scales running down her arms. "That, or I spend so much time on it that I'm just naturally biased."
The lanky human nodded as he looked at the displayed reptilian scales. "Fair enough. Suppose I can get the 'too soft' thing to some extent- I'm used to roughing it. Lumpy ground, rocks in the small of the back, that sort of thing. Not quite the same thing, though." he chuckled. "No one would pay to see some shmuck sleeping on rocks."
The mention of sleeping on lumpy ground or on rocks actually made her nose wrinkle a bit. Even if she was mostly getting over it, there was still a nice bit of spoiled brat in her. And said spoiled brat could never imagine actually sleeping on the ground like that. "Yeah, that doesn't sound so fun. But I'm sure someone would pay to see some guy sleeping on rocks. You just have to put the right spin on it." She nodded as if she knew exactly what she was talking.about. "Some nice special effects and a bit of word painting and you could sell a guy sleeping on rocks to be any multitude of things."
Marcellus grinned at the imagery. "Never said I liked sleeping on rocks, mind you, so my dreams of stardom will probably have to wait." he noted with a theatrical sigh. "You're right about just needing the right words, though. I mean, the right speaker could get someone all hot and bothered about, I dunno, a fruit basket." God knows he'd had to fast-talk his way out of enough situations to have some experience of that.
"Ah. Well then, maybe they will have to wait. Or you could always try your hand at the bed of nails? It is pretty big. Plenty of room for two." She couldn't help but chuckle some, though the was a distinct, yet soft, hissing undertone to the sound. "Exactly. Masters of words can have the world at their feet. Or, you know, get everyone all hot and bothered about fruit baskets." And who wouldn't want to be hot and bothered about a fruit basket.
"Tempting." the drifter chuckled. "But since I am not half so skilled as you, and probably twenty years behind on my tetanus vaccinations, I think I'll have to pass. If only so I don't have to crawl to Vered with some very embarrassing injuries, yeah?" He grinned. "And don't diss the fruit baskets, darlin'. Artists have been relentlessly painting portraits of the things for centuries, must be something to that."
"Yes, my incredible skills of lying still. It's obviously something to aspire to. And you wouldn't get tetanus! The nails are clean and everything. I made sure when I volunteered to do the act in the first place." Tetanus was definitely not on her list of things to get. Nice new pair of shoes, yes. Tetanus, no. "But I suppose we should spare you from ending up with some embarrassing injuries." She chuckled some. "Obviously there must be something. Some sort of appeal that's beyond ordinary understanding. Or something like that."
"Or it could just be as simple as 'fruit is tasty'." Marc opined with another chuckle. "But then you'd think there'd be more still-lifes of bacon."
"That too. Fruit is quite tasty. As is bacon. I wonder why there haven't been more still-lifes of bacon. It's quite the question." She chuckled some. "Maybe because fruit is more attractive than bacon."
Marc grinned again in his easygoing way. "Hah, I'm inclined to go with your initial thought- there's some things mankind just wasn't meant to know." He paused, thinking of something, and shook his head sadly. "...how'd we go from talking about creepy reptile-fetish weirdos to old age to whether sleeping on rocks could be a performance art to the merits of fruitbaskets in the space of about five minutes? And, more importantly, why is this not the weirdest conversation I've ever had?"
"...you know, I don't think I can actually answer that first question. It astounds me." It was kind of hard not to laugh just thinking about it. "As for this not being the weirdest conversation you've had, that would likely be because of where you are. Weirdness is not in short supply around here. Whether that means the people or the conversations." Having a completely normal conversation? It was kind of hard if everyone around you was out of the ordinary in the first place. And there were definitely those around the carnival who brought extra weirdness to their conversations.
"I wasn't even referring to my time here, believe it or not." the tall human informed Izabela, amused. "I've had much stranger ones prior to my joinin' up here. Speaks to the company I keep, yeah?" he added with a chuckle.
"Just a tad. But hey, at least strange company can keep things interesting a lot of the time, right? Weird, but interesting." It kind of made her wonder just who he'd been running around with that he'd had such strange conversations before, but that was a question for another day...maybe. "And as much as I'd love to stay and keep talking, I should probably go. Hopefully weirdo who's in love with me has gone away and the lull's over. It's not all that fun lying on the bed of nails with no one to watch and freak out."
"Bring that pillow you mentioned, for the dead times." Marc suggested with a smile. "And yeah, I won't keep you. Should probably go make sure no one needs me, anyways." He rolled his shoulders, banishing the lingering stiffness. "Great talkin' with you, Izzy. Specially when we get this kinds of conversation."
"That is a good idea. Why haven't I thought of that before?" She returned the smile, because honestly, it was pretty much impossible not to. Marc was just that cute. "It was nice talking to you too. Hopefully next time it'll be for more than five minutes. I'd say that it could be less all over the place, but that's half the fun." Izabela tucked a bit of her hair back before giving a bit of a wave. "I'll see you later."