The Shadow Carnevale (RP)

Ezmaray holds her ground, trying not to flinch at Humphrey's oozing eye.

"Humphrey," she acknowledges with a slight nod. "Funny, this twist of fate. Now you are saving me from angry mob... I guess now we call it even... ?" She tosses her head, trying to look casual, but the stiff manner in which she hugs her chest betrays her discomfort. The flameless poi hang from her hands.

Humphrey barks a small laugh, dismissing her comment, and advances forward a step. "The problem with you, Ezmaray, is that you are always breaking the rules, everywhere you go. You're very good at making people hate you. You break the rules back home -- now you can't go back. You break them in this new land -- now you flee me and those townsfolk you scooped me from. And now, now you come here, to our beloved carnival...." Humphrey gestures around them and shakes his head as he takes another step forward. "Yes, we have rules here, Ezmaray. And our rules are important. We cannot have you flying around, willfully defying them..."

This being -- whoever it is -- is obviously not Humphrey. Ezme stands her ground resolutely, looking up at him as he advances again, her body charged and ready for action.

The figure smiles rakishly, talking slower and growing more sultry as he eases nearer. "So I guess this leaves you with a choice, my dear Ezmaray... You can die here (such a shame, really).... Or... you can join us. We can make your dreams come true..." The trapper flinches as 'Humphrey' reaches out and brushes the back of his index finger against her cheek. For a moment his visage flits between that of Humphrey, Aarov, and Roald. His hand slowly descends down her neck to her shoulder as he continues his monolog. "Or... you can finally learn ... how to conform ... and how ... to submit!"

Ezme tries to pull away as the figure goes to grab her by the upper arm.

"We’ll come find you!" Lille calls back to Albeart. Though there’s no crowd to stop her, the walk back to Ezme seems to take an age. When she finally gets near Ezme, a low growl escapes Lille as she takes in the menacing figure towering over the trapper.

"Get away from her!" she shouts at the huge man. "Ezme, we need to leave! They are not real, don’t listen to him!" To emphasize her point, she swings her staff, trying her move from earlier to knock his feet out from under him.

Ezme's eyes dart back to the figure, hoping not to draw his attention to Lille. He seems unruffled, chuckling as if his failed grab for her arm were all part of his plan and some sort of silly joke. Keeping five feet between them now, Ezme narrows her eyes at him.

"Who are you?!" she asks louder than necessary, hoping to attract Lille's attention without alerting the figure as to her companion's proximity. She starts to edge toward the tent flap.

The giant tsks and shakes his head. "Wrong question, Ezmaray." Ezme whirls around as the figure suddenly vanishes and reappears directly behind her, blocking her from the tent flap. He now looks like a tall, winsome young man -- someone from her country, but not anyone she has met before. Smiling mischievously, he looks down into her eyes, speaking in her native tongue. "The real question is: what can I do for you?" As he finishes, he taps Ezmaray on the chest.

On the instant, the tent -- which was originally some sort of storage space -- begins to expand and fill with trees. The ceiling of the tent stretches high and thins until it is as transparent as Ezme's fading body, the light of glimmering stars shining through it. The song of familiar nightbugs dances through the air along with the delightful, sweet aroma of the needle-covered paths that led to home. Yes.... Through the darkness between the trees Ezme can see it now -- her childhood home, warm lights glowing from within, beckoning her. Gasping, Ezme walks toward it, the figure trailing silently behind her.

It feels so... real.... Approaching the house, Ezme steps tentatively up the creaky front steps onto the covered front porch. She glances to her left. A deer skin hangs, drying from the hooks. Hearing a chorus of laughter from within, Ezme steps forward and presses a hand to the chill window, peering inside. Her mother and three of her sisters sit within, working on their stitching. Her niece and young nephew sit by the fire on the grey-green braided rug on the floor. They are playing cards. It looks like Savris is celebrating and Tashera is playfully pouting and laughing (she had clearly let him win).

Ezme swallows back tears, her heart full of ache and longing.

"You find peace in the forest, pretending you need no one. But that is not really true, is it?" coos the figure from behind her. He steps closer as she continues to stare through the window, transfixed. "Always on the outside, looking in. But unlike the rest of the world, I feel no loathing for you," he continues gently. "You are strong and smart. You deserve to be accepted and embraced, just as you are..." The figure reaches out to her shoulder and gently turns her to face him -- his hand does not pass through her this time. "You understand, now? We can give you that -- give you a world that is worthy of you. You can finally be happy. All you need to do is... step inside...." He points with his eyes toward the door of the cabin, then looks back at her, raising his brows.

Ezme looks up at him, noting the bedazzling sparkle of starlight in his dark eyes.... It feels like his gaze is delving deep into her soul.

"Who are you?" she repeats, her voice now a hushed whisper....

Albeart is quick to notice what is quite obviously a trap. Only a clown would make it this easy to spot, really. Which seems appropriate to him, given the environment. He take a small detour to where the barrels and crates block the way. After using his large claw to knock two crates over, then pushes it with his head to line up with the entrance of the cage. Now all he has to do is push them in and wait for the trap to be sprung. The crates should prevent the cage from closing completely, giving him just enough room to squeeze through between the crates and the metal bars.

''They went inside that tent Daryl, hurry ''
Same as with the others, the crowd is hesitant to touch Roald and Daryl. They part way, but in a very reluctant manner.
When they reach the tent, Roald pulls away the entrance flap, there is a figure, Roald can't see his face but by the looks of it he is trying to strangle Ezme. She already has a glazed look in her eyes. She mouths some words but no sound is coming out. Her eyes stare into Roald's.
Without giving it another thought Roald jerks the man by the shoulder in an attempt to pull him outside the tent flat on his back.

Ezme feels color rise unbidden to her cheeks. Distantly, she notices the crickets have stopped chirping and that snowflakes have started gently falling. She shudders with a sudden chill. The hand on her shoulder feels solid, warm. He pulls her closer. "I want…" she starts, then falters, her breath floating between their faces. Thinking of Lille, Ezme’s eyes dart to the tent flap distractedly. The figure follows her glance.

"Let us go inside … to your room," he urges. "It is warm in the cabin, and we will have more privacy…" The figure presses his body toward hers, nudging her toward the door.

In the far off distance, Ezme thinks she hears a screech. Shuddering and hugging herself against the cold, she cocks her head with confusion, looking off into the trees. Had that been Wankle??

Roald's hand passes right through the shoulder of the man holding Ezme. He sees now that he's not strangling her but merely touching her shoulder, the spot where the hand and shoulder meet is a bit vague, blurry.
Roald claws at the guy a few more times ... To no avail.

The figure shushes Ezme. With his other hand, he reaches up, cupping her cheek and bringing her gaze back to lock with his.

He presses her against the door now, leaning his face in to place a kiss on her temple.

She takes a shuddery breath. "I would like you…" she begins again.

"Yes…?" he whispers into her ear…

Lille turns to leave with Ezme when suddenly she hears the woman’s voice.. from the *other* side of the tent flap. She looks back and forth between the ‘Ezme’ next to her and the flap before making up her mind. "I’ll be right there," Lille tells the faded figure in front of her. Spotting Roald and Daryl heading for the flap she adds, "I need to see what those two are doing."

Ignoring anything else from what she thinks is only a phantom, Lille slips through the flap.. except that alone feels like moving through thick syrup. After many extended moments and struggles, she is suddenly there, lifting the curtain. On the other side, a man is sidled up by Ezme, who looks.. hesitant? Confused? Her face seems to go through all sorts of emotions that Lille isn’t able to read well. Roald takes some ineffectual swipes at the looming figure, and Lille growls in sympathetic frustration as the attacks go right through the man.

Seeing that physical force won’t help, Lille speaks to the other woman as she starts to walk forward at an achingly slow pace. "Ezme, it’s us. It’s Lille. You can’t listen to him, he is only a dream. We are real - YOU are real. You belong with us. We must leave these shadows and go back to the real world. Please.." With the last word begging her friend, Lille’s voice dips low and a little husky with desperation. She reaches a hand out for Ezme’s shoulder but it feels like it’s a mile away.

In the back of Ezme's mind, something insists this man isn't real. He certainly looks like he'd hopped straight out of one of her daytime fantasies. Ezme reaches out, sliding her right hand under his burgundy tailed coat to feel the perfectly chiseled body beneath. He feels real... but that doesn't say much. All she knows for absolute certain is that -- as scared as she is by this ... unusual ... encounter -- she really, really wants this. The real world is cold... He feels warm, inviting, exciting....

Ezme's curious hand pauses at the figure's hip, noting a whip attached to his belt there. The ringmaster's whip... or that of an animal trainer...?

"... I would like you to be..." she continues. She swallows. Panting slightly, she reaches behind herself with her left hand for the door handle. The handsome figure slides his nose along Ezme's high cheekbone, pausing with his lips hovering close to hers.

"Go on..." he murmurs. For a moment, time freezes. With a regretful exhale, Ezme twists the door handle....

"... to be gone from this dream world!" In one swift motion, the trapper swings the door wide with her left hand, dodges down, and pushes against the figure's body with her right hand to knock him through the entryway. Despite his forward leaning motion, he manages to stay on his feet and does not fall sprawled on the ground as Ezme had imagined he might. Nor does the floor dissolve him, trap him, or fry him in a pool of lava as she'd suspected it might do to her. The figure only stares back at her from the entryway, brows raised in utter surprise.

Ezme straightens as she looks at him. For a moment she is filled with panicky regret. Maybe it hadn't been a trap! Maybe she'd just thrown away the dream of a lifetime!

But then the figure's face cracks into a broad grin and his body shudders with a hearty chuckle. "Oh, Ezmaray! Ezmaray!" he manages through his delighted laughter. "I knew I liked you!" He shakes his head disbelievingly. With that, he strides toward the trapper's astonished form, places his hands on either side of her face, and gives her an exuberant kiss. He brings his lips to her ear, murmuring sensuously. "Guess I will just have to catch you -- on the flip side...."

And with that, he was gone.

With a click, swoosh, and a couple of cracking noises, the front and back gate of the cage fall onto the moved boxes. A few pieces of wood splinter off from the crates, but they manage to hold. All this leaves just enough room for Albeart to squeeze his way to the other side, and so he does.

Carefully he makes his way through. The backstage area proves to be a tunnel connected to the next tent. Not a very long tunnel, about 5 meters (16ft) or so. Another tent-flap separates the tunnel from the new tent. Noises can be heard from inside the tent. There's definitely people in there. Albeart pokes his head in, and it's exactly what he feared... Clowns! He sighs internally. Before him is a tent of a smaller size than the previous one, but at least 5 clowns are training inside. 2 small fat clowns are balancing on barrels while throwing wooden sticks to one another. A third clown is practicing his slipping on banana peel routine. The 4th and 5th appear to be having a smoke break.

Albeart blurs his vision again to spot the cords. On the far end of the tent, 2 large panels have been rolled up to give free access to the outside. And parked in front of this opening is a coach that looks like it could fit about 2 or 3 people comfortably. The shadowy strings run straight into the wood of the coach. It's impossible to tell if they come out the other side from where Albeart is standing.

Before anyone looks his way, Albert tries to hide behind a large stack of multi-colored hats.

One minute the figure is there. The next he is not.

Ezme blinks with surprise, and when she opens her eyes again, she sees Roald, Daryl, and Lille before her, looking similarly astonished, but also concerned. The trapper looks around herself. The house is gone, the forest, the sea of stars above... She's back in the storage tent, the poi still dangling limply from her hands.

He's gone. It's all gone. She'd probably never see the house or her family in such realistic detail again... Something inside her cracks open a little more as the dream figure's parting words still echo in her mind. Her shoulders slump.

"Ohhh...." she starts to groan with deep regret, but each word she speaks comes out incredibly soft at first, then crescendos to an audible, but very wet sound... almost like reverse reverb. She straightens with alarm, then lifts her arms to look at them, taking in her own transparency. Lowering her arms, she takes a deep breath to recenter, then turns to her friends.

"... I might be dying...." She speaks slowly, trying to be clear despite the weird audio effect. She is mostly successful at keeping panic out of her voice. "... Where is Albert??"

For the love of the Gods, Theo, you had better not be letting me freeze to death...