vuulpecula

[vuulpecula]

⋆☀︎. county fair scenarios

feel free to combine prompts! add ' reverse ' to switch roles!

[ FERRIS WHEEL ] for my muse to join yours on the ferris wheel

[ COTTON CANDY ] for my muse to buy your muse cotton candy

[ PRIZE ] for my muse to win your muse a prize at a game

[ HAY BALE ] for our muses to sit together on a hay bale

[ FUNHOUSE ] for my muse to find yours lost in the funhouse

[ SNOW CONE ] for my muse to accidentally drop their snow cone

[ PAINT ] for our muses to get their faces painted together

[ RING TOSS ] for my muse to show off (or fail miserably) at ring toss

[ DANCE ] for my muse to ask your muse to dance to a local folk band

[ TICKET ] for my muse to give your muse one of their tickets

[ SNEAK AWAY ] for our muses to ditch the crowd and find a quiet spot away from everyone else

[ RAFFLE ] for my muse to win a raffle for something your muse wants

[ BALLOON ] for my muse to buy your muse a balloon

[ ROLLER COASTER ] for our muses to end up sitting next to each other on the roller coaster

[ PHOTO BOOTH ] for my muse to ask yours to take photos with them

[ TILT-A-WHIRL ] for our muses to ride the tilt-a-whirl together

[ CARAMEL APPLE ] for my muse to let your muse have a bite of their caramel apple

[ STAGE ] for our muses to get pulled up onto the stage during a show

[ SPILL ] for my muse to spill their drink all over yours

[ FUNNEL CAKE ] for our muses to share a funnel cake

[ DUNK TANK ] for my muse to end up in the dunk tank while yours throws the ball

[ KISSING BOOTH ] for my muse to be manning the kissing booth

[ KETTLE CORN ] for my muse to share their bag of kettlecorn with yours

[ PETTING ZOO ] for our muses to spend some time in the petting zoo

[ TUNNEL OF LOVE ] for our muses to end up on the tunnel of love together

[ FORTUNE ] for our muses to get their fortunes told together

[ BOOTH ] for our muses to man a booth together

[ HORSE RIDE ] for our muses to go on a horse ride together

[ LOST ] for our muses to get lost in the crowd together

[ LANTERNS ] for our muses to release lanterns into the night sky together

[ FIREWORKS ] for our muses to watch the night's fireworks together

[vuulpecula]

He had clocked out for the day less than twenty minutes ago, but hadn't unhooked his badge from his belt as he usually did upon arrival home. The change in ritual could've easily been blamed on the nuisance of the Harkonnen boy, but he was more inclined to believe his body had known. Something in his spirit had kept that badge hooked, warning him that the day wasn't done with him yet. A warning from God.

He was halfway to his cruiser, the motor still popping as it cooled, when Feyd's accusation stopped him dead. "Careful with your words, boy." He snapped. "I know what ilk like you do to those you think won't be missed." Only the lord knew how many coverups Alexei participated in--how many graves he dug. There were more than a handful he knew Feyd had caused. If he didn't loathe him as much as he did, Alexei might've been impressed.

Straightening, he continued toward the car. Scanning the street for any sign of his absent daughter. Absent. Not missing.

"When was the last time you heard from her?" He threw over his shoulder as he typed out a message to his deputies and dispatch on his phone. Half expecting the familiar pink of Fox's incoming message tone. She had an uncanning ability to reach out when he thought or spoke of her. A gift from God. "Or saw her--when was the last time?" He glared at Feyd's reflection in the window, knowing the boy could just as easily lie as tell the truth. He had met more criminals like that than he could count, but they were usually just afraid of getting caught, they never really thought about the lies that came through their teeth. Feyd wasn't like that, Alexei knew, they were far more similar than he cared to admit. "I saw her this morning, before work," a little give and take could go a long way. "Wasn't dressed yet, still in her pajamas." His stomach sank like a stone. If he was asked, he wouldn't even be able to tell anyone what she'd been wearing when she left for the day. He tried not to think of the red running shorts contrasting against the dead grass of a roadside ditch or the checkered dress, washed so many times the white had turned grey, mud-stained. Blood-stained. Bile rose at the back of his throat and he found he could not open his mouth to say more.

Like a parasite, something had begun to worm its way inside. Straight for the brain, leaving his thoughts st-st-st--stuttering. Alexei was not a kind man, less so for the mongrel so often at his daughter's heel. He did not speak to Feyd unless it was required, a threat or a worse threat the usual chatter.

"Little over half an hour." Already, his fingers itched, drifting toward the ignition. "Why?"

Necessity for follow up fell through the pores of the earth, considering everything and nothing. Fox was always punctual. Always a step ahead of a clock, even for the likes of him. One domino falling into another, a chain-tied resurrection of understanding.

Phone in hand before any tactile predilection, a quick text to Irulan that, provided he'd finally been unblocked, could bloodlet a sweltering enigma.

Feyd swallowed. It wasn't out of anxiety.

"Something's wrong." An accusation, the way it flayed his mouth on departure. "What the fuck did you do?"

[vuulpecula]

✖ i've got family visiting again this weekend, so activity will be spotty . queue is running . hope y'all have a lovely couple of days !

[vuulpecula]

Fox shrugged behind the wall, blowing out her cheeks. "I don't know, any kind of game." She hadn't really thought he'd take her up on it. He hadn't been the first one to come this way, but he was the first to ask rather than say something like 'of course not, go on home, you shouldn't be out here alone' or 'where are your parents' or 'do i look like i have time to play a game'. Or meet her with silence and a brief stare.

"I don't have marbles but I have a lot of round rocks we could use instead." She didn't want to come off too eager, but couldn't help the grin pulling from ear to ear. Exposing missing teeth that were never going to get her any coins under her pillows. "Or we could play imagination games--whatever you want."

     He had thought this path would be empty, each step careful and deliberate as he walked along the once quiet road. Dust kicked up as the wind blew through and once, a few metres back, he had kicked a small rock and sent it scattering down the way. That must have been what alerted her to his presence, for he hadn’t said a word otherwise.

     She spoke and he stopped mid-step to turn and face the owner of the voice, violet eyes shining with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. “Sad? No,” he said quickly, not sure if he wanted to launch into an explanation of his feelings. Thankfully, the girl before him seemed content to quickly change the subject and he latched onto that. “A game? What kind?”

[vuulpecula]

Sipping at a coke that had long since gone flat, Fox smiled around the rim. "I'm excited for the lights. I don't know about the people." There was something comforting about the multi-colored hues lighting up the dark. Like for a little while they were somewhere else completely. Somewhere that smelled liked cotton candy and giant pretzels. It was a manufactured sort of magic, but that didn't make it any less magical.

"Ferris wheel, eh?" She bumped Genevieve back just as playfully. "You know I'm afraid of heights, don't you?" It wasn't really true. She wasn't afraid of heights. She was afraid of how much of the world she might see from the bucket as it made it's peak. As if it would show them all the world they couldn't quite reach. "I'd do it for you, though, if you wanted." There was something sheepish about the way she glanced over and she wasn't sure if it was her admission or a worry that Genevieve might tease her for it. "Are you excited for it? I'm sure you just can't wait to get to squeezing all those lemons." Fox laughed to herself as she took another sip of coke. Disliking the way it made her mouth taste. Sweet, but not like sugar. Sweet like decay. Like a tooth going bad.

Turning her attention back toward the cowboys and barrel racers, she couldn't help but envy them. There was something dangerous about what they did, something primal. Running horses so fast that one wrong move might end up in the hospital. Maybe that's why she liked the demo derby too. Not that she'd ever admit it. "I'm thinking of joining you in the stand, if there are any openings left. The ticket booth ladies never gossip about anything fun."

@vuulpecula leaves a letter in the mailbox [...] [ HAY BALE ] for our muses to sit together on a hay bale ⋆☀︎. county fair scenarios | accepting!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐄, 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐎 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓, 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖. A hay bale isn't always preferable, as far as places to sit go. But with a comfortable checkered blanket beneath the pair of them, they at least won't have to worry about itchy thighs later.

Genevieve smooths her skirt over her knees, watching as cowboys and barrel-racers prepare themselves and their horses for a night of competing for shiny new buckles and cash prizes. She glances to the concession stand across the way where she'll be spending the next handful of hours handing out fried foods and cold drinks to spectators, then shyly to Fox at her side from beneath her lashes.

❝ Are you excited for the county fair in a couple of weeks? ❞ The event itself will be held only a stone's throw away from their current location—at the local fairgrounds just across the street. ❝ We could ride the Ferris wheel, ❞ she says quietly while playfully bumping her shoulder against Fox's. ❝ All the way to the top. ❞

[vuulpecula]

We never locked our doors before this. She could practically hear the true crime episode buzzing at the back of her skull. It'd be her elderly neighbor, Miss Evelyn, wearing her Sunday best for the cameras. What she wouldn't say is they never locked their doors because they never had anything worth taking. Or so they thought, anyhow. Fox knew better. She knew that there was always something more to take even when you had nothing to give. She knew she should've locked the door.

He wasn't from around here and there was never any reason for people to come by. It set her teeth on edge, like she could feel a storm coming, brewing in the overcast sky. She should've locked the damn door. Though locks didn't always keep people out who were intent on coming in, at least it would've bought her some time. A second to grab a kitchen knife. A minute to reach for the shotgun under the couch. A few more to scamper out the back windows, high-tail into the woods. It might've made her smile thinking of him covered head to toe in mosquitoes, choked by vines, drowning in swamp water. The land wouldn't take him though. It didn't like his sort of rot. The kind that came after people, home alone, tied them to chairs, pointed guns in their faces. The swamp didn't like cowards.

She braced when he came near, leaning down to her level. Digging her heels in. One sneaker still on, the other lost somewhere in the hallway. Sock still stuffed inside. Mismatched. It'd make for a good crime scene photo, something a documentary crew would eat up. The toes on her bare foot were painted in chipped red--her sister's bottle. Looking into his dark eyes, she thought that about that too. Someone coming in later, seeing those chipped pieces of red and if they'd match the blood he was sure spatter over the walls. She thought she'd be more scared. Maybe she was. Maybe it just hadn't sunk in yet. Or maybe she was just used to men who talked loud and demanded she beg for things. Had the 'what are you doing? why are you here? stop it, get out, get out, get out!' not already been enough?

"Beggin' ain't gonna change nothin'." He didn't seem to like what she had said before. About him dying. Men never seemed to like that, being told what was gonna happen. They sure liked doing the talking though. "You're gonna kill me whether or not I beg you not to, right?" It wasn't that she was trying to be brave, she was only trying not to be scared.

Scrappy that one, Miss Evelyn again, fanning herself against the heat. Kindest little thing, but wild too. We always said wasn't born right, could be like those feral dogs out by dump, y'know?. Just as like to rub up against you as she was to bite. Maybe that's what happened. Bit the wrong hand.

"If it's money you want, there's a coffee can in the kitchen, top shelf." It felt like a bargain, telling him that. A little to begging to be forgiven. "Otherwise, you best get to it. I got people coming around." She didn't, but she knew Miss Evelyn would be nosy enough to stop by if he parked his car on the street. Maybe that'd be enough to scare him.

@vuulpecula slides a note under the door [...] ❛ you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up. you know that, right? ❜ &. 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. | accepting!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌. She's trying to talk her way out of a situation she didn't even get herself into. As such, she should know there's no other way out. That it—this—just is. Same as all the others that came before her that he dumped in shallow graves, she'll be dead soon. And her begging, whining, and trying to figure out the unsolvable puzzle that is him at an end.

❝ Shut up, ❞ he hisses while rapidly swinging around—.45 gripped tightly in his fist.

He'd tried to refrain from doing this. From forcing his way in, tying her up, and holding her at gunpoint. He'd only been passing through town when he spotted her. And when he did, it just...clicked like a lock sliding into place that she was his next target.

Her life is of no value to him. But for the first time, he's second-guessing his own motivations and moves. He can't leave one alive. He'll suffer no witness to live. But if he does...the bloody trail behind him will finally come to an end.

Maybe they'll give him the chair and fry his fucking brains out for all he's done.

He knows he'll have deserved it. If he's lucky, a few of those corpses he previously created will have, too, even if he didn't know it at the time.

It's only been fellow men so far.

It's not that he cares for the wiles of women, but they're like pathetic, wounded creatures just from their feminine nature alone. Lesser, weaker. He should be trying to convince himself that he's doing her a courtesy by cutting her life short, and putting an end to any misery she may have to look forward to in the future. As if he cares about the suffering of others. They never have him and all he's endured. Not like he needs them to. To need is to be weak.

So instead, all he can do is stare, with black at the edges of his corrosive eyes, wondering what he's to do with her now.

❝ You wanna fucking beg me? ❞ he sneers while leaning forward and gripping either arm of the kitchen chair she's bound to. ❝ Then best get to it. ❞

[vuulpecula]

✖ @resurrectedfiles cont.

During his entire outburst, she didn't move an inch. Even her chest seemed to stop rising with movement. Though her gaze stayed on him, lids narrowed like caged tiger without all the pacing. Fox didn't doubt his words. In fact, she figured he'd already have someone lined up to take her place. It wasn't like she mattered to him anyway, surely that was why they had always fought. Not in the way that couples usually fought on the television either. They fought like they wanted to do real harm, not with fists, but words. Fists would've hurt less.

"I didn't say I wanted to go," she said calmly. "I said you wanted me to." And oh, how clear he had made it. Like he was waiting on her suggestion to do what he'd probably wanted to do for weeks. She ignored the part about her father, though it stunk like a slap to the cheek. He would take her back. He would always take her back. Arms open wide. Professing that blood would only have blood or some other bullshit line about family. Maybe that was all she was good for anyway. Made to be a knife to be sharpened, only able to cut, to bleed, not hold gently. Softly.

Opposite to the way he had flown about the room, tossing her things, she moved calmly. A ghost crossing the threshold. Not bothering with her belongings. She wanted nothing that would remind her of him or the life they had led in this apartment. He had treated them with the same disrespect he was showing her. Never, had they been fighting at their worst, would she have thrown his things with such disdain. As if they were garbage. As if she thought him no more than trash. She had thought him better than other men, once, but now, she saw that he was just the same. He was just better at hiding it--at least when there was something he wanted.

"When you wake up in the middle of the night--," she paused in the open doorway, barely giving him a glance back. "--a nightmare burned beneath your eyelids; I hope you feel as utterly alone in this world as you have made me feel. Don't bother calling me when it happens, Emil. I won't pick up."

[vuulpecula]

It was her own fault, knocking that man's teeth in. She still didn't understand why the other girls had liked him so much and by disrespecting him, they had blackballed her from making any money on one of the busiest nights of the year. They'd all get over it, eventually, and if they didn't, well... She could always go to Saint Denis or Strawberry or any of the other backwater towns filled with lonely people and money to spend. If she made it past this night, that is.

When the relatively nicely dressed man had introduced himself, flashing a the smile of a salesman as he promised her gold and riches enough to last her a year, she knew it was a job too good to be true. Yet, she had taken it. Growing more and more worried the further from town they went. Girls went missing in places like this. And missing wasn't even the worst they could do. Still, she kept her chin high. Smiled at them all with her painted lips, didn't show that she was afraid. Though she felt it. As vulnerable as a fawn in a wolf den.

Then came the noises from the stinking sacks of shit leering at her like she was a bag of cash they just couldn't wait to get their hands on. She might be a working girl, but she had more class in her pinky finger than they ever would. Scared as she was of what they might do, she still looked down upon them as if they were no more than an irritating spot of mud on her boot. Clearly one of them hadn't liked it ( the other seemed too stupid to understand ). They scoffed, mumbled something about teaching a lesson.

Clearing her throat, Fox tried for the attention of the man who appeared to be in charge. "The deal was, you pay me up front. There will be no celebrations involving me until that is done." Micah didn't like that very much, spit on the ground near enough to her that it flecked against her skin. He stank. She should've demanded they bathe.

Of course, it was startlingly obvious to her that she was on her own here. They didn't have to pay her. They could've taken whatever they wanted and she'd be helpless to stop them--not that she wouldn't put up a fight. Hell, she'd turn tail and run right into the woods if she had to. Glancing around the camp, mainly looking for a nearby weapon and less for sympathy, her gaze found John. He looked about as scared as she felt, but from what?

Closed rp with @vuulpecula verse: AU without Abigail

A Very Special Day

A big, huge train heist gone just right, not just money, but many bars of gold. Most of the gang was excited, in the good and bad ways, and Dutch decided to reward everyone, in his own way— he heard suggestions and by sunset, most things were settled.

Loads of booze, food, music even— but it was Valentines' day and most saloons were full, most working girls were busy, most hotel rooms unavailable. Dutch with a cigar between his lips and Micah by his side returned to camp, bringing a very young woman with them. 'Gentlemen....' He chuckled a bit because of the gim he had already shoved down all the way earlier. 'We found...a magnificent company tonight.' Micah laughed out loud. 'The last one so everyone will have to share!' Dutch gestured so the men keep their laughing and enthusiasm a bit more under control— while Dutch himself was blushing at the young blonde woman who seemed so clean and perfect of everything. 'Remember all, respect. Behave boys, because tonight we celebrate!'

Charles and Arthur exchanged glances, uncomfortable with Micah and Bill and even Lenny who was already so drunk— slowly they left the group to go and gather with Hosea behind the tents— he was busy studying the paperwok and titles they had stolen and that needed to be done in little time, before the news of the theft spread and he couldn't sell the titles— they were away even before they had seen the girl. The women also had left, went to the local saloon to have some fun picking wallets amidst tons of drunk men.

John was also very uncomfortable already— Micah was a presence he didn't like, and the two men Micah had brought to the camp, for the heist, he also didn't like. Since he didn't trust those men, he didn't drink that night. What if them all decided to rob them once they passed out due to the drinks? John decided to stay on his corner, like a lone wolf.

And when Dutch and Micah came in with that young girl, he frowned. And frowned hard. The way they were offering her as if she was a piece of meat to be devoured...— it felt wrong and disgusting— he was still trying to understand. Was THAT what the gang had become?? His eyes were moving from one side to the other. Where was Arthur? Where was Charles? That was for real??? He could already see Micah's men excited for that girl, making pig and dog noises or whatever the fuck those animals were— John tensed all over and fixed his eyes in the middle of the camp by the campfire, trying figure out what was going on.

@vuulpecula

[vuulpecula]

The smile had not been anticipated--perhaps she was incorrect in her assumptions. However, the group of others laughing loudly, pointing and clearly making jokes, as they drank from open containers that probably weren't legal the moment they stepped outside had set her on edge enough to ask.

"Oh. Um, no, they aren't." They were. There probably wasn't a person in the vicinity they weren't bothering in one way or another. "Not yet, anyway." She chewed her lip, watching as one crushed a can and tossed it onto the grass. "Not a crime to be loud, I guess."

@vuulpecula​ said –>  “ are they bothering you ? ”

Eivor knew better than most how to rid himself of annoyances or problem people – he’d never strayed from just axing someone (or the century’s equivalent) even in the past 1200 years. To hear the concerned voice of a woman asking him if he was being bothered tickled him enough to make him smile at her.

“No. Are they bothering you?”

[vuulpecula]

"Exactly," Fox whispered as she glanced around them. Looking for any shift in the alien foliage that would illuminate that they were not alone. Call it human intuition. "Do you remember what predators are known to be here?"

He pauses and listens, noticing there's something distinctly lacking that would otherwise be in an earthen forest. "There's no crickets." It's too quiet. "Or fireflies."

[vuulpecula]

A shirtless man wasn't necessarily the last thing she expected to come out of their hiding place, but it wasn't the first either. She lowered the pistol, but only just. He was still a stranger, after all, a stranger within her home.

"You're in my house," Fox answered dryly, scanning over him quickly to visually check for weapons. He appeared to be telling the truth in that regard, at least. "What do you mean you have no idea how you got here? Obviously you broke in? Don't spin me a lie about an alien abduction dropping you off here, I'm not going to buy that."

      ❛ Woah! Wait! Wait! ❜ The steps had  alarmed him, but not as much as her words. Hands rose above his head pretty much showing how harmless he was. He didn’t want to die after all, though could he? If he was shot would he die? Go back to the Valley? Not the moment to think about that Izak…            ❛ Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot. I’m not armed… In fact, I have no idea how did I get here. Where am I? ❜ Too many drinks, and where was his shirt?  ❛ I’m sorry. ❜

[vuulpecula]

✖ twenty two star wars verses later....

[vuulpecula]

The wideness of her eyes lessened. Oh, thank goodness. "Exactly!" Fox exclaimed, a bit too loudly. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder toward the manager's office before leaning back over the counter conspiratorially. "Sometimes I wonder if the manufacturer is a sadist or if the person ordering them is." Either could make sense. "Sometimes I daydream that someone will come in and try to rob this place and all I would have to do is throw a bunch of these their way." She laughed, shaking her head slightly. Despite his earlier attitude, she was deciding that Marc with a C was one of her favorite new customers.

He then did something she wasn't expecting. Pulling out a few coins to place in the tip jar. Fox found herself wanting to tell him not to, that he was the one being too kind now, but every little coin did help. As long as she took it out before the lover-of-sharp-cards came out of his office and took them for himself. Mumbling whatever version of 'I'll divide these up' he decided to use that day. Fox was pretty sure that he used the tips to fund his smoking habit or to buy the losing scratchers she always saw in the office wastebasket. Instead of telling him not, she smiled again. Softer than the grin she had given over there sharing of a joke. Hoping that it conveyed her appreciation. "Thank you," she added. Also thankful that this was not the type of place that required her to ring a bell or sing any time a tip was added to the jar.

As Marc spoke about his friend again, she wished she could figure out who he was. Maybe if she knew his drink order... Of course, he could be someone who came only on her off days. Though they were few and far between, it was possible. There was a man her other coworkers always raved about, some dark-haired business man in a fine suit. Tall, good-smelling, apparently rich, and with a gold tooth that gleamed whenever he offered his swoon-worthy smile. She'd yet to see this fellow either despite having worked there for months, but something told her that was not Marc's friend. Though she couldn't pinpoint why. "I won't lie, it does sometimes depend who is working. I do know one person who consistently burns the beans." She blushed with the sharing of the secret. That person also happened to own the shop, funny enough. "But you'll smell when he's working." The acrid scent of burnt coffee beans took hours to disappear and usually they propped open the front door on those days.

Following his gaze to the cup and the picture she'd drawn there. Fox chewed the inside of her cheek. A lot of people didn't like bugs. She could tell him she had thought he was someone else, but that only felt like an excuse. She'd have to admit to herself that she didn't know her customers as well as she thought she did. It had only been the dark hair that reminded her, she was sure. Though maybe an Egyptology magazine wouldn't look so wrong in Marc's hand either. If he came back when she was working again, maybe she'd ask him what he did for work to better tailor his next cup to him. If he came back, she'd draw a cartoon C, that she had already decided.

"Maybe next time, you can come together," she offered. Not wanting to be nosy, but also wanting to learn more of the small world around her. Picturing others' lives, imagining what they must be doing beyond the walls of the shop, it was a lot more fun than living her own. "It's a pretty nice place to hang out when the weather is bad." She nodded toward the tables and couches. Mostly empty currently as the weather was not all that bad today. "The chairs in the corner are the best spot, you can see the whole street from there."

A little surprised, but also a bit amused, Marc feels some of that depressive tension fall away from sore shoulders; Where the young lady's almost shocked about her own humor presenting itself here, perceiving it as too dark to be voiced out in such a professional setting, Marc himself isn't minding, not at all. A lopsided smirk manages to stretch across his lips as he takes the card back with as nimble fingers as he can, then stuffs both of them now into his wallet...

"...Honestly? Those cards are made from hell. True torture-devices." Dark gaze having previously fallen down to look at his task at hand, they flick back up now, smirk persisting. "My friend cut himself on them in the past; Bet you could use those things for threatening-purposes, really - 'leave the venue or I'm going to use this on you', that kind of thing."

... They are sharp, really sharp, after all - Marc wonders if he could slice a tomato with them... ---anyways. A soft exhale slips from his nostrils and he closes his wallet... but then opens it back up, once a thought seems to have crossed his mind. A few coins are pulled out, weighed in his palm, before he takes in the sight of the counter, looking for something...

Ah, there. Finding the tip jar he's been looking for, he pushes the coins through the slit and then he closes his wallet, slides it into the back pocket of his jeans. He'd feel bad now for not paying anything, honestly, even though the barista had been so kind to offer him his coffee for free here.

Despite him having acted the way he did - annoyed, gruff, impolite. ---And Marc's mood still resides somewhere in the negatives, but he's at least able to keep it away for now, for the sake of not stressing the poor lady out any further. She's not done anything wrong, after all, and... seems like Steven's been around quite often in the past. He'd be a massive ass for ruining this for his partner, so... he can clench his buttcheeks for now, right? Endure his own mood and swallow most of it down.

"And... as the many punched-out holes in my friend's card seems to tell, whatever you've sold to him in the past seems to be worth it to come back again and again, so - I bet the coffee's being drinkable, at least." His own try at offering some humor here, followed by that smirk widening briefly, accompanied by a shrug. He does wonder, however - with Steven having been here for a damn seven times already, wouldn't she be curious about... this? About her regular customer acting the way he does? But then, Marc assumes they're doing shift-work here; Perhaps the barista had only spotted Steven once or twice... would make sense.

Clearing his throat, Marc continues to hold onto his paper cup, glancing down at the Scarab. Hm. At least she'd connected his partner with a Scarab, for whatever reason...

"We, uh... yeah. We spend a lot of time with one another, so... he trusts me. I wouldn't just, you know, take his card and get myself a free coffee." A chuckle, a little sheepish. "And since he's almost there, I figured..."

[vuulpecula]

She smiled at him slowly, like the edges were heavy with the same humidity that hung in the air. Then she stood up from the porch, brushing dirt from her clothes as if that would actually rid them of it the way a good scrubbing would.

"You got a look about you that makes me believe that. C'mon, I'll make you some ice tea and you can get out of the heat." The steps creaked under her feet as she ascended them. Only three, each one less rotted than the next. "Tell me about what brings you down here," she cast a glance over her shoulder to see if he would follow, "and how I can help."

Chance sighed, lowering his glasses so they rested against his chest and running a hand through his untidy hair. It was always blood, it seemed. Undiscerning swamp or not, very little changed. Except that the humidity was making him itch.

"That's not what I meant," he mumbled awkwardly. "I ain't tryin' to say I'm special, I just... I just know what I'm talkin' about. With death magic, n'stuff. Long family history, that's all."

[vuulpecula]

The tension in her shoulders eased somewhat. It was reassuring that not only others might feel the same, but even Rogue. "I guess it's a good thing to be scared, sometimes." She shrugged. "Keeps us from doing something that we shouldn't." Though there didn't seem like there were a lot of things on the grounds that were inherently dangerous. Unless one encountered an ill-tempered student with life-ending capabilities. Yet, that wouldn't happen here...right?

"I suppose it'll get easier, yes?"

Rogue lets out a slight chuckle, an amused grin on her face. "I sure do, sugah. I'm just real good at hidin' it." The grin on her face shifts to something more sincere and reassuring. "Everybody gets scared. It's just part of livin'."

Her expression becomes somewhat more playful. "Anyone that tries to tell ya they dont's a big fat liar." she remarks lightheartedly, trying to make the other woman feel more at ease.

[vuulpecula]

⋆☀︎. county fair scenarios

feel free to combine prompts! add ' reverse ' to switch roles!

[ FERRIS WHEEL ] for my muse to join yours on the ferris wheel

[ COTTON CANDY ] for my muse to buy your muse cotton candy

[ PRIZE ] for my muse to win your muse a prize at a game

[ HAY BALE ] for our muses to sit together on a hay bale

[ FUNHOUSE ] for my muse to find yours lost in the funhouse

[ SNOW CONE ] for my muse to accidentally drop their snow cone

[ PAINT ] for our muses to get their faces painted together

[ RING TOSS ] for my muse to show off (or fail miserably) at ring toss

[ DANCE ] for my muse to ask your muse to dance to a local folk band

[ TICKET ] for my muse to give your muse one of their tickets

[ SNEAK AWAY ] for our muses to ditch the crowd and find a quiet spot away from everyone else

[ RAFFLE ] for my muse to win a raffle for something your muse wants

[ BALLOON ] for my muse to buy your muse a balloon

[ ROLLER COASTER ] for our muses to end up sitting next to each other on the roller coaster

[ PHOTO BOOTH ] for my muse to ask yours to take photos with them

[ TILT-A-WHIRL ] for our muses to ride the tilt-a-whirl together

[ CARAMEL APPLE ] for my muse to let your muse have a bite of their caramel apple

[ STAGE ] for our muses to get pulled up onto the stage during a show

[ SPILL ] for my muse to spill their drink all over yours

[ FUNNEL CAKE ] for our muses to share a funnel cake

[ DUNK TANK ] for my muse to end up in the dunk tank while yours throws the ball

[ KISSING BOOTH ] for my muse to be manning the kissing booth

[ KETTLE CORN ] for my muse to share their bag of kettlecorn with yours

[ PETTING ZOO ] for our muses to spend some time in the petting zoo

[ TUNNEL OF LOVE ] for our muses to end up on the tunnel of love together

[ FORTUNE ] for our muses to get their fortunes told together

[ BOOTH ] for our muses to man a booth together

[ HORSE RIDE ] for our muses to go on a horse ride together

[ LOST ] for our muses to get lost in the crowd together

[ LANTERNS ] for our muses to release lanterns into the night sky together

[ FIREWORKS ] for our muses to watch the night's fireworks together

[vuulpecula]

The weapon he passed to her felt heavier in her hands than her own. Fox held it out, low, poised toward the golden light that illuminated Spock's silhouette. Bathing him in near holy light. She tried not to focus on his form as he wedged it between the door and the wall. Muscles tensing as he pushed the mechanism open. It was unprofessional and in their current situation, it was dangerous.

"It's freezing in here too." She noted, passing his weapon back to him after it became clear nothing was going to jump out. There were signs of life, left behind, forgotten. As abandoned as the houses she had seen on Earth. As if they had left in a hurry, but to where? From what they'd been able to tell, nearly all escape pods were still intact. There weren't enough missing to carry the full crew. "The energy readings we picked up...there must be somewhere else that is drawing more power."

Carefully, she entered the compartment. Checking the brightened corners. Seeking out signs of life ( or signs of death ). Fox walked around the back of the half-circled sofa, careful not to step on any of the papers that had found their way onto the floor. They'd need to go over them, check each word for evidence, but that could come later. After they finished searching the rest of the ship.

"--There are Petri dishes on the table." She paused, nodding toward the table. From their previous angle at the door, they would not have been able to see the small circles hidden beneath the pages and other containers. "Does that seem normal to you? Petri dishes in the main crew compartment?" It wasn't like taking work home. The entire spaceship was both work and home. It didn't make sense to her why they'd be overlapping here; it was not a coffee cup in the lab.

THE SHIP HUMS, THE DERELICT noise of an empty stomach, and all around him every sound becomes an echo, loud and vacuous. It is the sort of cold welcome that he expects from abandoned spaces. But the ship is quick to take on an unfamiliar malevolence the further they move into it, creeping into his awareness like the emotional aura of a person, not a place.

“ Indeed. The ship’s systems do not appear to react to our presence either, ” he comments, shifting his attention to Fox’s callout. Nothing of the hallway changes. The lights remain dim, the corridors filled with shadows. The only noises are their own beyond that of the ship’s unconscious breathing.

Whatever occupied this vessel before them, is no longer here, no longer tangible. Instead, it looks empty, the air, cold like an uneven breath around metal bones. Coming to a doorway, Spock's fingers slowly curl into fists at his sides to dispel his tension, unfurling again when he glances at Fox. He suppresses a shudder and the impending sensation of dread this journey brings.

“ Here? ” The shaving of light brings enough adequate distraction. Spock still poises over the holster of his phaser, shoulders taut and coiling, ready to spring. But the door doesn’t fully open at his approach. It’s ajar, the inside, an inch wide long line of gold that casts against them, honey colored over the sleeves of Spock’s uniform.

“ The opening mechanism will not activate. ” He says. Spock removes his weapon and hands it to Fox, pivoting until he’s aligned with the wall. He clips his fingers into the gap and pushes, met with a thunk and scrape of metal on metal. After a moment, the door relents, sliding clunkily into the frame.

Spock straightens and looks around. A half-circled sofa sits in the center, table littered with abandoned containers and papers strewn on its surface. “ This appears to be the main crew compartment. ”