The Wheel


abby_icon.gif delia_icon.gif gillian4_icon.gif griffin_icon.gif luke_icon.gif lydia_icon.gif

maeve_icon.gif nadira_icon.gif odessa4_icon.gif samuel_icon.gif tess_icon.gif wiley_icon.gif

Also featuring:

hailey_icon.gif juniper_icon.gif lance_icon.gif mala_icon.gif


Scene Title The Wheel
Synopsis A revival of a carnival takes place as the Coney Island theme park is hijacked.
Date September 27, 2010

Coney Island

Despite it's name Coney Island is a peninsula, and only formerly an island. This small piece of real-estate is the southern-most point in Brooklyn, with beachfront property abutted by the Atlantic Ocean. A neighborhood of the same name is a community of 60,000 people in the western part of the peninsula, with Seagate to its west; Brighton Beach and Manhattan Beach to its east; and the Gravesend neighborhood to the north.

This area was once a major resort and site of amusement parks that reached its peak in the early 20th century. It declined in popularity after World War II and endured years of neglect. Since the bomb, Coney Island has fallen into a tragic state of disrepair, most prominently evidenced by the closing of the amusement parks on the island, notably Astroland and Deno's Wonder Wheel Amusement Park. The latter of those two serves as a rusting and monolithic ferris wheel that overlooks the decrepit state of the island. It's once bright carnation red paint peeling to reveal rusted steel.

Much of the amusement park areas surrounding the beach are now closed off by chain-link fence, though some portions have been battered down by vandalism and portions of the closed amusement parks are now used by gangs and other unsavory figures as meeting sites. With the NYPD stretched to its limits, police rarely have the availability to respond in a timely manner to this small and remote penninsula, making it a relatively dangerous part of Brooklyn.

Fire blooms towards the velvety twilight sky, out from the maw of the fedora-wearing tattooed man of thirty something, which is no remarkable feat. Breathing fire is a common stage show trick, save for the fact he bears no torch, nor limes his mouth with gasoline or anything more flammable than his own preternatural ability. Chris Bowman wipes the back of his hand across his parched lips, takes a breath, and does it again, orange-hot flames in a tornado spiral that prickles the skin of people standing too close. There's scattered applause, but mostly vocalised appreciation, in chuckles, hoots, for an open display of ability.

There is little that is cohesive about the gathering of individuals on a humid New York early evening. The sun is still staining the western sky, but to protect themselves against the dimness, tent-city style bonfires that bloom within trashcans make points of clarity across the priorly-abandoned boardwalk, though no one stands too close — it's not quite cold enough to need the heat. There are ramshackle tents, cloth-covered tables that display jewelry and fleamarket style wares, beer and soda sold a dollar a cup — but no rides. The rides are over there, lying like dormant dragons, still and abandoned.

Fairy lights have been strung through the diamond-wire fence that rings Coney Island's abandoned funfair, making a gateway of illumination where it's been broken and bent inwards.

There is music, buskers ringed in a circle, turning pickle buckets into drums, acoustic guitars, a crying violin, and there's a group of three brothers that lend harmonic voices that don't need lyrics to be beautiful. There is a note within the wall of sound that seems to beckon and invite, preternatural in its siren.

When he hasn't been playing with history, Samuel's been making friends in the present.

He's currently knelt with his back to one of the flaming trashcans with an open space of the boardwalk, a cigarette caught between his fingers and a comfortable slouch in his shoulders. His silhouette is defined in a brown suede jacket, buttons missing and patches faded from sun and wear, paisely in a print on his shirt beneath it. His jeans are scuffed in dirt and dust without actually being, in a sense, unclean — the earth is not filth, necessarily. Currently, he's swindling those who desire to be swindled with sleight of hand trickery with plastic beer cups and pebbles, as well as a dice game made from cubes of silvery rock — you won't lose your money if you guess wrongly or lose the betting numbers, but you will if you can't figure out the trick. He has a crowd of four to six, ever-changing.

Every now and then, dark eyes glance up, taking in the crowd while he pinches the filter of his home-rolled cigarette to his mouth, sucking in smoke.

The theme park that previously drew the crowd is currently a dead thing, and the shadows meld it all into a single silhouette of a sprawling entity that no longer lives for all that it retains its shape. The ferris wheel is a giant of rusted metal, remaining unclaimed and upright. A few minutes ago, a group of youths headed away from the gathering, gripping brown bottles of beer, and towards the carnival monument.

While Tess is grown up enough that she's responsible when it comes to bills and the like, part of her will always be a kid. And something like this? It appeals to every molecule of her lingering youth. She's come armed with her camera, her ratty black backpack on her back, holding who only knows what. Probably her camera when she's tired of holding it.

Like so many others she's impressed by the fire breathing, letting out a loud whistle of appreciation. "Okay, this is awesome," she says to no one, grinning as she looks around, and starts snapping pictures. The firebreather, the musicians, the rides. Anything bright or colorful or interesting, it earns a few pictures on that camera.

It's not unusual to find Luke at random places in New York, given his penchant for not liking to stay in the same place for very long lest 'they' find him again. Being paranoid has its drawbacks, certainly, and ever since he had his hand broken he's been in a very bad mood; he kicked a puppy earlier today. At any rate, it's to the abandoned Coney Island that he travels to this time, although he's unpleasantly surprised to find that it's been taken over by crowds. "Laaaame." he mutters, splinted and bound hand carefully inserted in a large pocket of his sweatshirt.

Hands shoved in the pockets of a light gray jacket, Wiley Schnook's wiry and short form cuts a lonesome figure as he wanders the boardwalk. Steel-blue eyes dart here and there with that rabbitish energy of his, but they never seem to land on anything for too long. Nothing seems to hold his attention for more than a few moments.

There is a cynicism that makes everything that once may have seem wondrous and magical cheap and tawdry — sleight of hand games might have gotten an appreciative grin in the past, may have even cost him a few bucks as he looked for the trick, took up the gauntlet that had been thrown to the marks by the carnies.

Today, Samuel's tricks instead just get a scoffing roll of his eyes, and he turns instead to something tangible, something he can hold and taste and smell — cheap beer. Doling out a dollar for the pale yellow brew, he nods his thanks to the vendor and brings the cup to his lips.

Abigail's the odd one out to the group around the fire breather, not shrinking away from the tornado, blue eyes watching it it swirl and turn in on itself with a fascination that perhaps borders on dangerous. She's mindful of Delia with her, the two of them gone to the rumored gathering of evolveds in a slightly old fashioned carnival nature. The kind you only really hear about and see in movies.

Blonde hair back, jeans obscuring the anklet and soft white long sleeve, she's smiling at the flaming tornado looking like she might reach out and touch it, but like other times when an opportunity has presented itself, she chickens out and turns to Delia, leaving the heat at her back. "Where next?"

It was Abby that escorted Delia to the amusement park. The redhead hasn't been here since long before it closed, perhaps before she turned ten when the best thing on earth was the yearly Mermaid Parade because there was a chance of seeing a real live mermaid. She never did.

Standing on the other side of the circle from the fire-breather from Tess, her eyes go wide when the flash of the camera goes off in rapid succession. With a glance to the paramedic, she grimaces and looks around, "Rides?" Taking a holdof one of Abby's sleeves, she melts into the crowd and comes out just in time to catch another flash near the old abandoned tea cup ride. "Oh hi, Tess, right? From the restaurant thing? You were with Mister Logan?"

One of the cloth covered tables, not far from Samuel, bears a sign: Tarot Readings, $10, Palmistry $10, Tea Leaf Readings $15. This particular table is decorated in a large red cloth and adorned with multiple lit candles upon it, the smooth smell of lavender wafting from at least one of the relatively protected holders. Behind the table sits the fortune teller, Lydia.

Her royal blue halter top and white ankle-length skirt accent the ink painted upon her skin, exposed for the world to see. There's something wonderfully familiar about this space, even if her table isn't what it was in her carnie days. Her eyes narrow as she slowly scans the area, that dark fan of lashes twitching slightly with some nearly indiscernible emotion.

This space, this notion of family, allays all concern. This is what family is. For her, anyways. Fingers comb through her wavy hair as she slides the chair away from the table. She glances towards Samuel and then back to her table, always keeping an eye out for more potential customers. With the single arch of an eyebrow, her observation is smooth, "Quite the turnout."

Some people come to these events to relax— Gillian isn't doing a very good job of relaxing. Every so often she checks her phone, to look at the digital time read-out. The curfew is in the forefront of her mind, as she lingers around near the crowds, keeping an eye on a handful of young people that wander around. Juniper has wanted to go— and tagging along would be a handful of other youngins from the Lighthouse. After Juniper reaches for a drink, Gillian is suddenly at her side grabbing her wrist. "Yeah, I know, I'm one to talk, but you aren't going to be drinking this." And neither is Gillian, because as soon as she gets her hand on it she dumps it out on the ground. No cheap beer for the Lighthouse Kids. Or their wayward mom-big-sister-type. "Where did Lance go?" she asks, looking around for the silent boy.

"I think he's watching the firebreather," Juniper answers, not too upset that her beers been taken away. After all the last time Gillian had fetched her out of Brooklyn, the building got drug raided and she was arrested.

"I better go grab him before he tries does something to get him in trouble. Keep an eye on Hailey and Mala," Gillian says, as she moves in the direction of the firebreather, where a small young boy had been watching in silence with impressed blue eyes.

It's a lovely evening for a date, and for a night of potential busking. Griffin Mihangle has decided to combine the best of both worlds tonight. In his left hand is the large case of a Cello, worn from being travelled with so often. In his right hand is his simple cane, black wood with a silver handle, which he uses to assist with the slight limp that his bad knee causes.

Griff came out here this evening to join in the music, as much for a love for music as it is to potentially earn some money. He's also trying to impress a certain Egyptian bartender this evening, even dressing up: he wears a pair of black dress slacks, a deep red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows, and a black vest that matches his pants. He can still clean himself up, despite his living conditions.

Hearing her name makes Tess turn towards the voice, and she grins. "Yep. I am and I was. He wasn't a very good date though." And up her camera goes, snapping a few shots of Delia and Abby. "You're Delia, right?" Then she spots the sign for tarot readings. She does her own readings for other people, but she's always up for having someone do her reading. "Oooh. I wanna get my palm read. Come with me?" she asks, looking hopefully at Delia, and Abby as well.

Eh, what the heck. Luke heads into the crowds, cynically eying everyone using their powers out in the open. "I guess circus freaks don't care if you've got powers." contempt! He, too, ends up near the firebreather, watching him with narrowed eyes. Maybe there's even a little sadness there? Maybe he should've run away to join the circus too.

With Mr. Logan? Abigail lets herself be taken off to wherever Ryans' daughter wants to be going but when they stop to talk to Tess, Abby's smile wipes slowly off her face and she's looking the other woman over. One of Logan's flipskirts? Maybe, he did bring one to the D'Sarthe's opening. She turns her face away when Tess lifts her camera, all that she gets will be blonde curls beside Delia.

She keeps her lips mum on the subject of john Logan and offers a dip of her head in greeting to Tess. "Go with her Del" She nudges Delia. "Tell Lydia I say hello" When she spots the blonde hair and cards. She's not about to get her cards read, not and face Amato's continued wrath on the subject. "I'm going to go look around, maybe loose some money on the little rock game over there"

Spying Gillian, Delia gives her a giant greeting by lifting her arm up high and waving it around like a lunatic. She even goes as far as to jump up and down in an attempt to get some attention, without calling the other woman by name. There might be too many people around to be spotted, so she turns back to Tess and glances at the sign, then the painted lady. "Hey, yeah! Let's go! If you tell her you got a coupon in a dream you might get it for free." Sorry Lydia.

There are a lot of faces here. Maeve Buchanan's features are particularly distinct, with her strangely large eyes and elven small mouth and narrow chin, her starkly white skin and blonde hair. She's a woman into her 40s by now, bundled in denim and flannel, and sitting on a bench gripping her own cup of beer. She's close by the music, listening to it with a subtle sway in her body, and her bright eyes flick up towards the approaching Griffin, a subtle smile on her face.

For Lydia, she gains a wink, when Samuel is next turning a glance to her — but he's focused, currently, on cheating someone out of twenty bucks — that's like dinner for a couple of nights, at least. The turn of his hand reveals the missing pebble, his fingers then closing around crisp money when it's handed over. The lines at his eyes deepen, a hand out to clap the hapless carnival-goer's arm in good natured gestured.

"Not bad for a first evenin'," is his agreement.

"A coupon in a dream? Man, I wish. My dreams are pretty much normal dreams," Tess says with a grin. "Might try it though! You guys know her?" she asks, hooking an arm through Delia's to begin heading towards the painted lady. Still snapping away. Someone has an addiction to taking pictures.

The colorful woman does catch Wiley's jaded attention, but he stands aloof, watching her for a moment, his brows furrowing a bit as he glances down at himself. Faded jeans, tennis shoes, t-shirt beneath the jacket, and a beer in his hand — he is hardly the dynamic speaker of the (r)Evo-lutionaries Fellowship that she once found worth believing. Not that he was ever formal, but he was always professional in appearance. Heaving a lugubrious sigh, he pivots to head away — and runs into Lance standing half a step behind him.

Beer fountain-spouts out of Wiley's cup, but he manages to lift it away from Lance, dousing instead the bulk of it on himself, with just a bit of foam floating onto the top of the Lighthouse's resident sneak. "Oh, boy! I'm so sorry, young man, I didn't see you there!" Wiley gushes, mopping at his own clothes and waving a hand over Lance's head without touching it, as if realizing a moment too late he shouldn't go reaching for children in public places.

A tight-lipped smile is shot to Samuel before Lydia's gaze catches the figures approaching her table. She shuffles back to the chair and slides in, adjusting her position upon it before smoothing her hair and skirt. Yet as the figures come into focus one of them is identified as an MIA employee. Her lips curl into an easier smile as her shoulders relax, even in her straight-backed posture.

Her cheeks tinge a pale pink at the faces, knowing too well Delia's coupon-related wisdom. As the girls approach they earn a small shake of her head, "Why am I under the distinct impression I'm about not to get paid?" the teasing is punctuated by a further curl of her lips that only fades her her gaze flits towards Wiley, but he's turned before she can get a good look at his face, leaving her with nothing but vague recognition.

Delia is safe in the hands of Tess and at Lydia's spot, Abby content that the newly minted Ferry is not going to get in much trouble, she's giving a wave to before her steps carry her to adjacent the fortune teller with hands sunk in her pockets, purse tucked under her arm and head tilted just a bit to watch how Samuel runs his game. Watch money lost to the professional and try to avoid being jostled too much. She'll wait her turn to get conned out of money she's willing to be conned out of.

"Are you calling me short?" Lance asks, looking up as the barrier against sound drops from around him. He knows he's not invisible. In fact he'd like to BE invisible, but he's not. Instead, he just can't be heard when he stomps around the house in the middle of the night. That part is fun, but invisibility would be more fun, he's sure. He could sneak up on everyone so much easier—

"Yes, yes he is," a voice says from behind him, and he winces a little. Gillian's red hair looks unnaturally red as she looks at the poor man doised in his own foamy beer for the most part, as her hand goes down on Lance's shoulder as if to keep him from getting away. "You are short. Sorry about that, he wandered off."

"No I didn't! I wasn't wandering off I just wanted to see the firebreather that's all nothing's wrong with that," Lance says a little too fast.

"Kids should be put on a leash." Luke remarks, frowning down at Lance from where he was standing nearby. "That way they won't bother people, or get lost and start crying." was it mentioned he was in a bad mood? "Better yet, gag them too."

Giving Lydia her most innocent expression, Delia tries to hide her smile and looks up at to the right at the sky while giving an extremely out of tune, "I don't know what you're talking about~" Of course her singing voice is very off key, not just a little, but eardrum torturingly so.

"Sorry that I… uhm… I didn't call. I wouldn't blame you for firing me, if you did… But if you didn't, I'd love to come back if I ever can." The bridge might pose a little bit of a problem for the redhead, or a lot of a problem, depending on how Tasha's experiments go.

"Isn't it lovely?" Griffin offers that charming smile toward Nadira, halting near the group of buskers and setting that Cello case, which is strangely thick upon further examination, down on the ground. "I'm going to put on a bit of a show, when I get the chance, so keep your eyes open." This is explained as Mauve is offered a warm smile from the green-eyed man.

Then, Griffin is flipping open the latches on the cello case, revealing not one, but two instruments. One is the obvious cello; the other is a violin. The man picks up the violin first, smiling fondly down at the cherry-colored instrument, lifting the bow from the case. Then, he places his chin against the chin rest, promptly joining in the music with his fellow street performers, easily falling in with the music with skilled fingers. He sways along with the music, a soft smile on his face.

"Oh hey, I'll pay. I sympathize. I do readings too. Empathy makes it easier to do," Tess says, grinning as she plops down in front of Lydia, digging out some bills and dropping them on the table, then sticking out a hand, palm up. "Live in new Orleans all my life, but never had my palm read. Go figure."

"No, sir, you aren't short, not by a long shot, no pun intended, sir," Wiley says, amused by Lance's grimaces at Gillian's reprimand. "I'd say I'm the short one, but nope, I'm just vertically challenged." He smiles at Lance, and gives a nod to the redhead. "Nothing wrong with wanting to see a little fire breathing, but you know, next time make sure your … sister?… knows where you are. Sorry about the beer bath."

Wiley gives a little bow, and side steps to throw his mostly-empty beer cup into a nearby trash bin, shaking some drops off his hand. His gray eyes sneak toward Lydia's table once more, then back to Gillian. "Sorry again, miss. I didn't mean to run over your little ward."

Leaning back on his haunches in a comfortable crouch, Samuel goes to grind out his cigarette as his last customer and his friends move on, keeping an eye on where Lydia is being approached for all that he appraises the immediate crowd, casts a smile to a teenager who appears to be considering having a go at guessing the con. But his gaze switches to Abigail, and recognition is masked as neutral interest, even as it lingers on her for slightly too long before he has words.

"Looking for a game of chance? Don't be shy, now. Though y'look like one who'd have her fortunes told sooner than be swindled, but I suspect you've gotten enough of that from our Lydia, being a friend of her's."

The musicians readily make a place for Griffin and his musicianship, and as soon as he sinks into the rhythm, he'll feel a sort of pull that runs deeper than just his simple skill and enjoyment for his art. It doesn't dictate his motions or ideas, but it does seem to allow him to naturally sink into harmony with the motley band. Not unpleasant, but likely not natural. Maeve sips her beer, watchful and curious of this addition.

Nadira's gaze falls on both Griffin's cello and violin, grinning slightly as she thinks she has an idea what she's up to. Since she's no musician, she stands nearby, arms folded quietly over her chest as she listens.

There's a narrowing of Lydia's eyes at the singing, and slightest of winces. "Delia, you are talented in many ways." There's a distinct pause before she tacks on, "Maybe it would be wise to exercise your other talents." Aside from singing. "Jaiden came and explained everything." Pause. "And worked for free." There's another distinct pause as Lydia semi-justifies the reasoning for this, but the justification comes out rather ineffectively in nothing more than a bemused smile, "There were some really big boxes."

There's a small shake of her head and another smile, "If you can ever come back, then you are welcome." As it stands she could use the help. Her eyes turn to Tess with yet another tight-lipped smile, "Now…" she glances at the open palm in front of her and then seeks Tess's gaze, "I suspect you want a palm reading?" she raises both her eyebrows.

"She's— " Lance freezes, as if he's suddenly unsure what to say on this topic. There's an odd silence that falls over him, as he moves his lips but no sound comes out, that most people can hear at least. Gillian hears it, as she's got her hand on his shoulder. Her lips move too for a few moments, before she lets him go and looks back up at Wiley.

"It's fine. But he does need to learn not to wander off without saying anything first." And to say it where people can hear it too? "Know of anything besides beer and firebreathing that can entertain a kid?"

"I'm not a kid!"

Meanwhile, the Lighthouse girls have migrated toward the palm reader, all looking around shoulders. Only Mala seems interested in something else, pointing out Abby's presence to the others and tugging on Juniper's sleeve to make sure she notices too.

"Lydia's never read my cards and we've only met once. Friend would be pushing it" Abigail confesses to Samuel, a glance back to the fortune teller with an apologetic smile. "And my fortunes have been mixed enough of late, so I think I'll be satisfied with just letting them go unseen for now" She does lift her arm, digging around in her purse.

A twenty pulled out from her wallet, and laid down on the table, willing to loose it. For now, just this moment, she doesn't see Mala or Juniper. "You're only swindled if your ignorant of the fact that you're going to loose" She points out to Samuel. "You don't go to a casino, loose money, and call it swindling. It's chance. I'll take a chance and know that if I do loose my twenty, well… I'm sure you'll spend it on something good. Like maybe a new shawl for Lydia"

The question has Tess arching a brow and giving Lydia a "duh" sort of look. "That is why I stuck my hand out and said I'd never had my palm read before." So it's a duh tone too. But followed by a grin. "So tell me. Any other tall, dark and handsome men in my future? Winning the lottery?"

Luke was ignored, and that pisses him off even more, so he kinda stomps off to where a crowd is gathering, which just happens to be where the palm reading is taking place. Maybe he can pick a fight with someone, that always makes him feel better.

"You mean singing? I know right? I met a new friend that wants me to join some kind of a band or something. She wants me to sing… so I have to practice~" The fact that someone nearby dropped a cup of beer to plug his ears doesn't phase Delia at all. She's grinning from ear to ear, hands in her pockets and her shoulders hunched up sheepishly. "Oh… how's Tuzzy Bear? The little calico? I was wondering when she gets old enough.. Can I have her?"

The pull of the music prompts a slight hint of a smile to form on the hook-nosed man's face; if this is an Evolved ability, it's one he certainly approves of, and skill combines with the natural harmony to enhance his music. He glances toward Maeve, then offers a charming grin toward Nadira…

Then, his eyes change, turning that faintly glowing bluish white as he unfurls his Vectors. Unseen by the rest of the world, the telekinetic hands reach down, gripping the cello and its bow and raising them. As if a ghost is playing it, the cello joins in with the song as well, right next to Griff as it compliments the entire ensemble. All the while, Griffin has a faint smile on his face, his eyes trailing over the crowd to judge reactions.

"Not much that doesn't take your money and waste it, I'm afraid. Some games of chance, some palm reading," Wiley says, nodding toward Samuel and Lydia and the other carnies plying their talents. He feels a slight twinge for saying Lydia is wasting their money — it's not like he's had his fortune told by her. Maybe he should have.

"Probably not the most child friendly carnival in town. If you're looking for something for the kids, I know that there was a church carnival over in Queens, the Catholic church over by the bridge," the man says, trying to be helpful.

He kneels and looks up at Lance with sad faded eyes, no where near as bright as Lance's. "It's not a bad thing to be a kid. Don't wish it away. Make the most of it, sir." He pushes himself back to a standing position and gives a polite nod to Gillian. "Evenin'," he says, before biting his lower lip. "I've got to say hello to the painted lady, before I head out myself."

"Then thank you for your donation," is Samuel's reply, though he doesn't pick up the twenty so much as set it aside, a smirk defining his smile. He picks up a pair of die, made of granite with deeply black dots to indicate its numbers, rounded corners as if shaped by hand, and holds them out for her inspectation, to see that all the numbers are where they should be though the pips are not bored into the surface; that there is no strange weight of play to them than there shouldn't be. "Lydia is a girl that doesn't so much as need things as she does people."

More familiar faces — in a one sided sort of way. Samuel's glance cross to Luke, an eyebrow raising, but he has this game to focus on for now. "I don't think I remember your name. Mine's Samuel. Pick a number between seven and twelve and cast the die."

There's a soft murmur from the crowd around the musicians — Maeve's reaction is understated, a simple gasp in as the cello joins them invisible, and there's a delighted chuckle from one of the men on the guitars. Despite the political climate of the times, there doesn't seem to be anyone who balks at this display of ability. In fact, it's completely accepted. The blonde woman sitting near by sets down her beer enough to offer some mild applause, before she scopes out the wider area.

She smiles, toothily, to see that someone brought some children along to the renegade carnival. Maeve waves her pale fingers.

Nadira was expecting that Griffin would go for the two instruments, just like he was able to play a duet with himself on the piano. Still, she smiles, impressed in spite of knowing what was coming. She takes a moment to turn her gaze away, letting it flicker between those around to notice their reactions. Still, the blatant use of abilities seemed… natural. The Egyptian woman furrows her brow slightly.

"Oh look, look!" Mala suddenly speaks up, pointing over at Griffin and the one man band. "That's cool. Do you think I could put on a show too? I could probably lift a car right now, I bet. Everyone's so happy and excited and— "

"No." Juniper and Hailey echo at once.

"Aww, why not…"

"Cause Doyle will ground you for a week." Or a year. Or put her on Santa's bad list? Yeah. Juniper is going to have to be the adult here, even as Mala responds to the wave of the skinny woman.

"True enough, but one of them saw something for this and wanted to go," Gillian says, looking toward Juniper to catch an eye on her and the two girls near her. "And the Painted Lady— would you like to see the painted lady, Lance?"

"Yeah, yeah— but I'd rather watch firebreathing," he says, scuffing his shoes against the dirt as he moves. For a moment it looks like he's going to try to sneak off, but Gillian's hand goes down on his shoulder again. No sneaking.

Tess is shot a rather knowing smile as Lydia leans forward to trace the lines of Tess's hand. Her fingers graze the first line, and first touch granting her access to surface desires and fears. "This," she declares quietly contemplating what her ability yields her while focusing on the skill she's learned, "is your heart line." There's an unusual twinkle of her eyes as her fingertips follow it. "You love easily, but it's broken — you've been through some emotional trauma… something that was an upset."

Her gaze shifts to Delia as she raises a single eyebrow. There's little to say in response if she's to maintain some measure of tact and so she latches onto the bit about the cat, "Of course you can have the calico. They're about ready to leave their mother." She sighs wistfully before her lips curl upwards again, "Oddly, after all of the additional stress they've caused, I will miss them."

This is kind of unfair. If Luke blatantly used his power, things would get destroyed and people would get hurt. He catches the raised eyebrow from Samuel and frowns back at the man, then turns away to regard the palm reading. Maybe he can find some unpopped popcorn and get people to notice him that way? Carnivals always have popcorn, right?

"Then I'll be sure to go on by Hokuto's to buy another book and make sure she has company. Everybody needs people someone once told me" Abigail studies the dice, trying to figure out what number she'll choose. Mala's voice, is familiar and she looks over to hear the pint sized pipsqueak. 'Mala! Juniper, bring her over here, she can pick the next number" Abby will be playing a second time for sure. "nine, Nine and my name is Abigail. Abigail Caliban" The last nearly under her breath, hard to hear by anyone else outside the immediate vicinity. "Well, swindle me Samuel, I promise I'll do it with a smile"

Lydia's words have Tess laughing and nodding. "Yep, definitely love easily, since I love everyone. And my mom died a few months back, so I'd consider that an upset. But what about the money? The handsome guys? Will I have plenty of them?"

The slim, small man moves closer to Lydia's table, watching her interact with the two younger women. Even given his morose mood, Wiley can't help but smile at the fortuneteller's gentle manner. He pushes his hands into his pockets, waiting for a pause in the conversation, before he leans in.

"Pardon the interruption. Miss Lydia, I saw you and knew I had to say hello. I won't take long, just wanted to say I'm glad you seem to have found what you were looking for?" His brows raise as he offers his hand for hers, not in a handshake but to squeeze with affection. "Don't mind the stench of beer. Me and that young man over there had a bit of a run-in. I'm not a drunk," Wiley says playfully, winking, though the humor doesn't quite reach his eyes like it did in the past.

Glancing between Tess and Lydia, Delia settles in for the reading, looking more interested in the proceedure than the actual words delivered. "Heart line…" she murmurs to herself as she stares at the blonde girl's hand, then back to the gypsy. She smiles a little as she's granted the guardianship of the kitten, "Thanks, now that I'm all on my own, it'll be nice to have something to come home to."

Thankfully for all those around, she hasn't started singing and when Wiley walks up, Delia moves to the side. A quick look around and she's found Abigail again, this time over by a game. "Tess, I'm going to watch the game over there. Bye Lydia, thanks for everything… I'll try to come and see you soon… and get my boxes."

"Hi Abby!" Mala says, moving closer, with the other two not far behind her. With all the collective positive moods, she's in a pretty positive one herself, looking full of life and energy, even more than normal. Empathic strength can do that to a person. "You want me to pick a number? Is it a game? I like three. That's one of my favorite numbers." She even holds up fingers to demonstrate.

Meanwhile, Gillian moves near Wiley, offering a smile to the palm reader from the bookstore, and recognizing one of her bookstore clerks as well, who gets a small wave, even if she's wandering away toward the game. While her hand is off his shoulder, Lance lifts his shirt to smell it, as if trying to figure out what drunks smell like based on what got on him.

"Palms don't always display the future — often they tell us our lives as they are in their continuity." Lydia presses her lips together and manages to force a soft smile and a hint of bemusement, "….Although this double lined is often interpreted that you'll be married twice. One short and one long. I don't like to think lives are so hinged on destiny." A small nod is given to Delia, "Send Jaiden if you have to. He's good at carrying boxes." And she should know.

The reading is interrupted, however, by the appearance of a familiar face. Wiley earns himself a broad grin, complete with a flash of teeth. The squeeze is returned, "It's just Lydia. And it's always a pleasure, Wiley." Her eyes turn alight at him, knowing too well what he'd been through before, "It's good to see you. How are you?" The twinkle her eyes fades a little as she considers the question — her answer comes out cryptically, "I've found more than I expected."

The dice wheel out once Abby throws them, tumbling end over end across the wooden surface until they show up two single dots — a two, which is not much like a nine at all. Without a word, Samuel scoops of the dice, clasps them in both hands, shakes them to click against one another, before letting them drop. Though his gaze is sharp and watchful of both bouncing die, there is no immediate obviousness of tampering by the time they come to rest.

Five and four.

"You'd like a three?" Samuel invites, scooping up the dice, and offering them to Mala. "If it's your favourite number, then I'm sure they'll listen. Free've charge."

In the background of the park, there comes a deep groan of strained metal. It doesn't break up everyone's attention, although some stop to glance in the direction of the unmoving ferris wheel and the rest of the adventure park. If the abandoned themepark had been described before as a sleep dragon, it sounds vaguely like it's beginning to wake up. There's some laughter in the distance from the group that had taken off several moments prior, though the sky is too dark and they are too far from the immediate light of the place to be seen.

"Aww, leaving so soon? Oh well. I got your picture. I guess you can go. Bye Delia!" Tess says with a grin to the woman. Then she looks back to Lydia, then Wiley, and gives the latter a look. "She's buuuuuusy. Hold on a sec. I wanna hear what else she has to say!"

Meandering over to the game, Delia finds herself next to the flame haired Gillian and gives her a smile. "Hey, I was trying to wave to you earlier. I guess you have your hands full, huh? Do you babysit?" Glancing down at the game of dice, she dips her hands back into her pockets and rocks up onto her toes before rolling back onto her heels.

The Ferris wheel catches her attention and she weaves a little to the side to try to get a better look. "Are they trying to get that thing to work?" The question is asked mostly to herself as she takes a few steps toward it. With an over the shoulder smile to Gillian, she points in the direction of the Tea Cup ride, "I'm going to see if they're getting the rides running. I haven't ridden the tea cups since I was… A long time ago." Also, it's better to be close if someone hurts themselves.

Two is not between seven and twelve and it makes her cant her head till he rolls again and this time, when he tosses, they turn up nine. It prompts laughter from the blonde, her hand coming out to rest on Mala's head for just a few seconds. "Try Mala. It's like a game, just don't tell Gillian that I told you that you could do this. you should only do it with money that you can afford to loose, if even that" Gambling, she does not advocate. But it's fun to do, once in a blue moon. "THen maybe we'll go see if Juniper can make me smell pretty for Robert hmm?" She motions for Mala to take a try at the dice, hoping they work where it failed for Abby. To that note, there's a ten spot, put down, to cover Mala, even though Samuel offered it on the house.

Wiley's brows shoot up at the impatience of the small blonde, and he offers her an apologetic smile. "Like I said, just a quick interruption to say evening to a friend. I'm sorry to take up your time, miss," he tells Tess, then gives Lydia a bow of his head. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for. Home is where the heart is, after all." His hand in Lydia's will tell the empathic woman that his heart is still broken — for all intents and purposes, though he has a residence, he is homeless, if going by that adage.

"Back in marketing. It pays the bills. Got a roof over my head. Better than some." He shrugs again, his eyes darting to the creaking metal, frowning a bit. "I won't take any more of your time. Have a good evening ladies."

Wiley drifts away, brows rising at the small child "gambling" with some amusement. "Miss, I wouldn't go that way — that doesn't sound like a good noise," he tells Delia.

Luke hears something strange and looks around, but with all the noise from all these people around him he can't really tell where exactly it's coming from aside from a general direction. Absently he pulls his right hand out of his pocket to rub at his head, then remembers too late that his hand is broken. Cue a long string of colorful expletives, and he doesn't care if there's kids nearby. Goddamnit that HURT.

Griffin seems quietly content to put on his show, playing his violin and cello in perfect time with the other musicians, enjoying the sounds of approval from the crowd as he contentedly plays. Any money tossed his way is greeted with a warm smile and a grateful nod.

Then, the groan of metal draws his gaze. While he continues to play, his pupiless gaze is focused in what must be the general direction of the ferris wheel, his brows raising. What's eerie about the thing with his eyes changing colors, however, is the fact that it's difficult to determine exactly where he's looking. He could be staring at Nadira for all anyone else can tell.

The emotions from the man are enough to beg questions from the painted lady. Her eyebrows furrow in concern. However her thoughts on the matter don't formulate nearly fast enough, leaving her staring speechlessly for several breaths. At Tess' words her head tilts at him, apologetic in its own right, but the words are still stuck in her throat. It's not until he begins to drift away, that Lydia calls after him, "Wiley! Come visit me sometime — I'm at Ichihara Bookstore on Roosevelt Island. Please. I'd… I'd like to catch up." She shoots him another apologetic smile before her attention is returning to Tess.

"I'm sorry about that," her apology is smooth and rich as her fingers return to Tess' hand. "This one is your head line — it tells me the way your thoughts work. It's separated from your life line indicating that you like adventure and it has multiple crosses through it, showing some momentous decisions throughout your lifetime, likely ones that influence more than yourself."

"So I roll it?" Mala says, taking the dice and looking at them, and then listening intently to Abby. "Okay!" All she has to do is roll, and Gillian won't be told what happened. "Don't tell Santa either. I don't want to be put on bad list," she says, before she shakes up her hands and then tosses the dice. When they hit the table, though, something seems to have gone terribly wrong. The dice slam into it as if shot out of a gun, and the table cracks and breaks. The dice shatter. And Mala looks down all shocked and surprised, and then quickly looks up toward Abby. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, honestly I didn't." Then she looks up at Samuel, dark eyes extra wide as well. She didn't mean to!!!

Of course a certain set of ears hear the disaster over by the gambling table and Gillian's eyes narrow, and while she's casting narrowed eyes, Lance slips away. Again. In the direction of the ferris wheel. Next time she's putting a leash on him, really.

Nadira's close to the music, so the groan of metal isn't heard as well as those further away, but the Egyptian woman only offers a slight glance in that direction. She doesn't think too much on it, her gaze turning downwards, mostly in thought.

While Tess didn't really seem to pay much attention to the sound of metal herself, when others start looking towards it, she does too. "Huh. Wonder what that is…" She looks back to Lydia and grins. "Yeah, I do. Only got one life, may as well live it to the fullest. Besides, who wants to live to be ninty anyway? Can't move, gotta wear diapers, go to bed at five pm…What's the fun in that?"

There is a woman dressed in a lightweight, cream-coloured turtleneck sweater and an A-line burgundy-hued wool skirt. She sports a pair of four inch patent leather boots that must be at least knee-high, since they disappear beneath the hem of her skirt - but they could be thigh-high. She has shaggy white hair and a patch with shiny silver stars adorning its inky black surface over her left eye. And she seems to simply appear out of nowhere. Odessa Price is sneaky like that. Her arrival is also almost perfectly timed with the cacophonous noise created by Mala's roll of the dice, affording her a distraction from people perhaps immediately noticing her appearance.

The shattering of the dice behind him makes Wiley glance that way, eyes widening just a touch at the display of the mighty mite's power. "Well, that isn't something you see every day," he says mildly, to himself, though his lips curve in amusement. The powers on display don't bother him, even if he abstains from using his own.

Samuel reels back as the table seems to just buckle beneath the force of the dice roll, as if they were bullets from a high powered rifle as opposed to simple granite dice from the chubby hand of a little girl. No more dice, either, and Samuel doesn't even bother to look for them as he lowers his arm that had automatically shielded his face, staring at the girl with some shock and wonder. A grin breaks, however, which seems to ease the tension of those close by who had stopped to stare at the damage.

"What a remarkable talent y'got there," he says, his voice projecting, showy. "And in one so young. Child, you have so much time to hone your skills — I have the feelin' you'll be a powerful young lady when you're older. Think nothin' of the table."

Over the last of his words, there's another mechanical cry, and then, slowly, the shadow the ferris wheel begins to move. There's a whoop of victory from the group attempting to do so, and a subtle blue glow that climbs up over the skeletal framework of the ride, pulsing and obviously Evolved in nature. Slowly, almost too slowly to really catch sight of movement unless one devotes seconds to staring, the thing turns on its rusted parts.

There's a scattering of amused applause from those that had seen fit to notice, and Samuel gives a graveled chuckle, stooping to pick up twenty and ten dollar bill from the ruins of the table and pocket them both.

"Oh Mala!" Not at all meant to chastize but put her hands on the young girl, hold her close as if to protect her from breaking table and shattering dice. "It's okay Mala. Stuff happens. It's okay, it's not the end of the world, it was just an accident. That's all. Not your fault" Not her fault that there's an excess of happiness in the place. "See, Samuel here, he understands. It's okay Mala" There's a grateful glance to samuel, not a care to the pocketed money. "Remind me some day, to come over, when I don't got the anklet on, and just totally light up for you. You can roast marshmallows off me, deal?" Trying to distract her from the broken table and dice, steer her away from there and back to Gillian and Juniper, care given to look at the ferris wheel. It's when she's looking back that she has to double take as if she's seeing a ghost. Odessa's ghost.

Luke finally realizes where the sound is coming from, and his gaze goes to the ferris wheel. Well, that certainly looks interesting. Ignoring the throbbing from his hand, he starts in that direction. Seems like punks are trying to do something, maybe he can help. As a side note, whenever he walks under a lightbulb, it breaks. Stupid pain.

As life is restored to the giant ferris wheel, Delia begins jogging toward it, heedless of the warnings of Wiley. She slows down a few paced away from the entrance gate to the ticket line and gazes up at the ancient ride with awe. "Oh.. wow…" Never in her life has she seen it looking like that. Though, the only times she's ever seen it were during the daylight hours. Looking around for whomever is operating the contraption, she begins to pace the area. Perhaps even daring to ask if she could enter one of the buckets.

"You mean I'm not in trouble? I'm sorry about your dice and your table…" Mala says, with a pouty expression, though the mood is still elated enough around her that she doesn't look drained of energy so much as just embarassed. And scared that she's going to get in trouble. Santa might take her off the list.

"I really am sorry, sir, she's supposed to be careful, but she doesn't always know her own strength," the red head says, moving over to stand in support, while Hailey moves along like a little duckling. If only she could have brought her puppy! (But then Luke might have kicked it).

Meanwhile, closer to the painted lady, an outburst can be heard when Gillian notices a certain young man has gone and wandered off. Again. "Oh son of a— Lance! I swear one of these days I'm going to get a microchip put in his ear." Speaking of GPS tracker— "Hey Abby. Lance wandered off on me. Again." She looks towards Abby.

Juniper puts a hand on Mala's shoulder and looks over at Samuel. "We can help clean this up. I can't offer you much, though, to pay back for the table, though…"

Tess earns a quirk of a smile as Lydia moves on in her reading, fingertips moving in succession to the next line of relevance. "This one is your life line. It's long and deep indicating a vitality in and for life. The swooping shape shows that you have a great deal of enthusiasm." Then she moves to the last, "The fate line, which many attribute to destiny, tells me that you're a self made individual. You don't let fate guide you terribly — which is indicated by its connection to the life line. You're one of those that insists on making her own fate." She finishes the reading with one last tidbit, "Your palm is square in nature showing you're enthusiastic, optimistic, and at times downright impulsive." At this, Lydia retracts her own hand to the table.

Her head turns to glance at the ferris wheel, but her attention is soon being directed towards Gillian who she shoots another smile of recognition.

The next sound has Tess looking over at the ferris wheel again, and she brightens at the glow. "Oh that's so fucking cool! I wish my ability did something you could see!" Then she looks back to Lydia, leans in, and she grins. "Just a suggestion, but might wanna leave out the 'many attritute to' bits. Might make a better reading and give your customers more confidence if you just say 'this means'."

Normally, Griffin is loathe to even consider stopping his music for anything. However, the sight and sound of a long-dead ferris wheel coming to life is one of those rare circumstances that he will wilingly put down his instrument in the midst of a song. Silence reigns from the hook-nosed man's end as he stares at the lights, brows raising. Then, a smile is offered toward Nadira. "Well, that's something you don't see every night, isn't it?"

Nadira's eyes move from the ground to fixate on the ferris wheel for a long moment, watching the glow. She purses her lips as she studies it carefully, nodding a moment as it seems she almost didn't notice she was spoken to. "Yeah, I suppose it isn't. It's pretty, though." She murmurs.

"You want me to go find him?" Abby offers to Gillian. "Knowing him, likely gone off to the ferris wheel or some sort. I should head back to the city, I can drop him off at the light house for you if you like" The fire mimic offers, leaving Mala to be consoled by her housemates, keeping an eye on Odessa, reaching up to scratch at her back gently. "Or I can send him back to your way" Spoken while watching Odessa. There's no Malice, if anything it's just confusion, tinged with sorrow.

Luke gets out of the area with crowds, taking a deep breath and expelling it in a rush of air. Ugh, people. He hates them, sometimes. Well, ok, lots of the time. He carefully rearranges his broken hand into the pocket again, and his unbroken one gets shoved in his pants pocket as he trudges off. He pauses and turns to frown behind himself at all those people having fun, and then faces the other way again to continue his path.

Closer by the giant, glowing attraction, there's a woman in the group of young men, although it's the lankiest of the guys that seems to be manipulating the ferris wheel. His has an arm extended, fingers spread, the flicker of the gentle blue glow seeming in tune with the way his eyes flutter. A friend claps a hand down on his shoulder in some gesture of congratulations, the rest of the roustabouts breaking off to maybe summon people over near the moving ferries wheel, for all that its lights don't work, and its operating systems untouched save for that same eerie blue light.

One of them gives a broad grin to Delia, offers out his own unopened beer. "Hey honey," he invites, "welcome to the carnival."

Getting to her feet, sinuous and catlike, Maeve takes her leave of the musicians, although not before moving through Griffin's periphery. Her fingertips drag along his shoulder, leaving behind an ashy white residue that seems to emit from her pores, but she's slipping away a moment later, her flannel-clad self vanishing into the crowd.

"Please," Samuel is telling Juniper, a hand going out to touch her arm, "think nothin' of this. Go enjoy the carnival — there's only a wee bit more time before the curfew comes and scares us all away, aye? And maybe y'should help your carer look for one of your friends." A wink towards Gillian, before Samuel presses his palms together in a bid for their adiue, standing by the broken table. "Besides, it looks like the ferris wheel's in action."

A blur of motion follows Luke, watercolours bleeding off a damp canvas in the vague shape of a woman with no texture of her own. Her silhouette seems to flicker in and out of existence, more visible against simple backgrounds than complex ones — not unlike a tiger stalking through tall grass or a spotted leopard slithering between patches of dappled shades — and when Luke disappears into the crowd, so does she. Quite literally: the hunter melts away into nothing.

Wiley watches the now operational Ferris wheel with some worry in his pale eyes. Even if someone's ability fixed what was wrong with it or gave it a jump so to speak, the parts must be in disrepair, rusty with lack of use. He turns to look at the young children with Gillian, and he shakes his head. It's without thinking, something instinctive in him, that his power kicks in. "You don't want to go on that," he tells them — though the noise of their surroundings may overshadow his quavery voice.

"No, I'll go find him," Gillian says, shaking her head a bit as she offers the other woman a smile, though the red hair makes her feel a little safer from certain eyes, it also makes her stand out a bit more in a crowd. Since it's such a bright red. "Thanks, though," she says, catching Samuel's winking eye as she looks toward Juniper, and makes a motion to call her over.

"I think we're needed over there, sorry again. Come on," she says, taking Mala and Hailey with her as she goes to join Gillian, who begins to move off toward the Ferris Wheel, the most likely place that the boy would have wandered off to.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Mala speaks up, "I don't want to go on that."

"Yeah, me neither."

"It looks dangerous."

Thanks Wiley.

Smiling at the young man, Delia reaches out to take the bottle but she leaves it unopened. "Thanks, I can't believe you guys got this working… Are you letting people up?" It's a stupid question, but she's too intrigued to not ask. Her blue eyes are wide with wonder as she eyes each of the buckets as they swing past. Looking back toward the tea cup ride, she lets out a small sigh before eying the enormous wheel again.

Finally there's the fssst of a bottle being twisted open and Delia pockets the cap, preferring not to get a ticket for littering and end up being captured or something horrible. Not that underaged drinking is any better under the circumstances.

"I'll keep that in mind next time," Lydia replies quietly to Tess with a warm smile before sliding her chair away from the table. She pivots to face the ferris wheel, her own curiosity piqued. Her lips press together into a thin line while her eyes flit from it to the people operating it and then to Samuel in turn.

While she may not say as much, there's a touch of skepticism at the state of the ride, indicated only in the crossing of her arms over her chest and raised eyebrows.

When Lydia glances away Tess shrugs, whips up the camera, and SNAP! Another picture added to her collection. She rises and looks towards the ferris wheel, chewing lightly on her lower lip for a moment before starting in that direction.

When Lydia glances away Tess shrugs, whips up the camera, and SNAP! Another picture added to her collection. She rises and looks towards the ferris wheel, chewing lightly on her lower lip for a moment before starting in that direction.

The Cello putting itself away for the time, Griffin reaches out to gently place his hand on the small of Nadira's back, not too high and not too low. He really is gentlemanly almost to a fault. All the while, his eyes are focused on the ferris wheel, his head tilted to the side. "That thing can't be safe. I hope those kids aren't thinking about riding on it…" He murmurs this more to himself and to Nadira than anything else, his brows raising and wrinkling his forehead.

Then, he blinks as Maev is running her fingers over his shoulders, peering after her, before turning to peer down at the powder left on his shoulder. He arches a brow down at the powder for a moment. Then, he straightens a little, his brows arching high and prompting a wrinkled forehead.

A wider than normal smile is turned down toward Nadira. "Want to go check it out?" He gestures toward the ferris wheel with his cane, even as his violin carefully puts itself away…shortly after any money he earned is scooped up by those invisible hands and placed in his pockets.

Nadira glances back towards Griffin as she feels the touch at her back, leaning in slightly to it before she gives a small nod. "Not sure about people getting on it… but it's pretty at least. I wouldn't mind a closer look."

Odessa holds Abby's look with a cold sort of neutrality. She doesn't share the regret or the sorrow - any of the confusion that Abby holds. Unceremoniously, she turns her attention to the Ferris wheel even as she approaches the broken table and the man who operated the game that was played there. "Do you think it's safe?" she asks Samuel.

"Okay, be safe" Making sure all the kids are with Gillian, a glance for Delia to see where she is. Somewhere, some place where the blonde can't see her. Satisfied that the woman isn't with her, Abigail's stepping to the side, heading for Odessa when she comes towards SAmuel, reaching out to attempt to put her hand on Odessa's arm, jerk her head over towards a more quiet area of the small carney set up, unhappy all over her face. "my apologies Samuel, I need to talk with my friend" Frowny face. Big frowny face.

"We are," the carnie says to Delia, putting out an arm towards where the wheel is slowing, presumably to allow people on, one of the buckets lining by the grafitti'd railing that the girl of the group moves to squeak open. "What say you and me be the first ones on?" At least, that monstrous, metallic groan has died down, and the ferris wheel is slowing without tension or judder. It appears to be functioning. If only for a night.

From the carnival ringleader, there's a look from the children— who for some reason don't want to ride on the huge glowing ferris wheel— to Wiley, a speculative lingering stare from Samuel that skips over this exchange. Says nothing of it, of course. Not tonight.

Catching Lydia's gaze, Samuel's eyebrows arch in innocent arcs, hands upturned, palms skywards — don't look at me — but compulsive grin fairly belies this notion that he had nothing to do with some Evolved rousterbouts and their dares. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he then meanders over, a final glance back at the broken picnic table as he makes his way. The flash from Tess' camera writes pale exposure over his graven features, but he doesn't deal her glance — well out of the way of frame, anyway.

He steals a look to Odessa, glancing over her features, lingering on that eyepatch, before that stare hopskips to Abby, a small shrug. Sure, talk to your friend. "It's perfectly safe. Beven is a fantastic mechanic," is a little facetious, answering anyway and swinging that query, as it had come from Lydia originally, just unspoken, to the painted lady. "Where's your sense of fantasy, Lydia?"

Watching the children and Gillian head off to find the beer-splattered wayward Lance, Wiley furrows his brow. The little thrill of using his power still tingling through his body, he's unhappy at just how quickly that instinct welled up in him. Not having deliberately used his power for years, he's used it a few times since late July. But only for things that matter, he tells himself.

Gray eyes sweep back toward Lydia and the Irish ringleader, and he nods once more for the colorful inked woman before striding toward the far-off road, to head back to his lonely apartment, without friends or family. He's glad Lydia found what she was looking for — something he'd thought he'd had.

Tess cocks her head, then takes several pictures of the ferris wheel. "Hmm. Wonder where the cotton candy is…These things always have cotton candy," she murmurs to herself, before going in search of the sugary treat, and paying more attention to the things than the people. No doubt she will end up plowing right into someone.

"Uhm… sure?" The redhead has never been on a ferris wheel before. Even if she doesn't know the carnie offering to ride with her, she's a little too curious to say no. Taking a few steps toward it, she looks back toward the mechanical genius working the contraption before actually entering the cage.

Taking a seat, she hangs onto the guard rail tightly like a panic handle. Normally, Delia's not as foolhardy as this, but these aren't ordinary circumstances. The bottle of beer? Held with an iron grip in her other. The liquid courage sees its first taste and the bitter beer face that results is of comical proportions.

Samuel? Odessa knows that name, - granted, it's a reasonably common one - but she isn't given time to dwell on why it's ringing a bell in her mind as she's dragged aside by Abby. "Don't give me that face," she tells the other woman, a tightness to her lips.

Smiling to Nadira, Griffin does not remove his hand from her back. With his eyes still white, the violin / cello case quickly closes itself up and begins to float after the pair as he begins to gently lead Nadira toward the ferris wheel. He doesn't even mind using his ability in public here; after all, he's certainly not the only one.

Once the pair reach the end of the ferris wheel, Griffin peers up at it thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. "It's not doing too bad, it seems." He glances toward Nadira, a faintly dopey smile on his face. "What say we give it a shot? I promise, I'll rescue you if something goes wrong." He winks to the woman. He normally would be a bit less gung-ho about it, but he just got a whiff of some pretty insane poison-powder courtesy of Maeve, and is feeling fairly good.

Speaking of, Griff reaches a hand up to brush that powdery mark off of his crisp black vest.

There's another upturn of her eyebrows at Samuel's conjecture. Lydia's arms remain somewhat defensively at her chest while her head tilts as she watches the ferris wheel turn. Whether her faith is in the machine or not, there's an odd pull of her lips, not quite mischievous, but certainly mysterious with an unspoken secret all her own. The smooth cadence of her voice takes on the smallest lilt, so easily dismissed as nothing more than a sore throat, or dryness in the actually humid air, "Maybe my sense of fantasy was killed somewhere in the past."

She shoots him a more serene smile before stepping closer to the ferris wheel; she hasn't been on once since the carnival broke up. When she closes the distance her steps are weighter than normal, heavy with the reminiscence the ferris wheel brings.

"Don't shoot you that look? Oh, I'm sorry. I tend to look twice when I see dead people alive and walking through a carnival Odessa Knutson" Abby hisses, letting go of the woman's arm. "I'll give you whatever look I so choose, dead people don't get a choice in what emotion their living friends give them" The eyepatch is noted, arms crossed and the straps of her purse tight against her shoulder. 'Just where are you now? And why didn't you see fit to let me know that no, the woman you gave refuge to is very much alive. In light of hiro running around and dragging people off willy nilly Odessa"

Staring at the ferris wheel up close, Nadira looks from it back to Griffin. "You know… maybe it's not so bad. We could give it a shot." The Egyptian smiles warmly, watching the way the wheel moves. Really, all things considered, it did seem to be a lot better off than she'd thought at a distance. "Let's go."

When Tess spots Delia heading to the ferris wheel, she pauses for a moment, then gives up on her hunt for cotton candy. She heads over that way herself and grabs the carny's shirt, giving it a tug. "Hey, out. This ride's mine. And don't make me pull the girlfriend card!" And then she's pulling harder and giving a grin to Delia. "You don't mind, right?"

Yeeeeahhh going off to ride with a pretty lady— hrrk. The carnie is halfway into getting into the bucket by the time Tess's mischievous hands are gripping onto his shirt and levering him back. "Hey!" is his protest, but he concedes with a huffing sigh, hands up. Customers first. "Alright alright — you girls have a good time." He closes up the cage behind Tess, and does gunhands at Delia with a hopeful wink— it's kind of cute, if really insufferable— before he's hopping down to help herd people over.

Lesbians. Sigh.

Samuel's mouth twists as he watches Lydia pace for the brightly glowing wheel, glancing out over those in the crowd who move off in that direction themselves. There is satisfaction in that assessment, before his steps hiccup forward enough to keep in pace with Lydia. "Anythin' can be revived," he tells her, as they move for the wheel. "Especially fantasy."

Abby's lips draw thin. Thin. Nostrils flare. "Yea, cause the company went phhhbbbbt right down the crapper there Odessa and you're on the run just like any other one that I'm sure has fled from whatever hole they're in." Killed by someone in the Ferry is frittered away and shoved into the same dark hole that susan ball is shoved in. She shakes her head and turns on her heel, heading away from Odessa like she'd prefer, hand gripping the strap of her purse, digging for her keys. "Forget I saw you" She mutters under her breath. "right"

While a certain someone is looking in the wrong place, a small voice can be heard behind Samuel and Lydia, "You have a lot of tattoos," Lance says, looking at her with wide blue eyes, seeing different patches of skin. "Gillian used to have a lot of tattoos, too, and she'd sometimes dress where you could see a bunch of them. She even had a dragon right here, but I kinda got glared at when I'd try to look too closely." Considering his hand is pointing at Lydia's breasts, one might know why someone would glare at him for trying to look closely at a dragon tattooed there.

"Mind, not at all," Delia grins at the blonde as she clambers in beside her. "A little golden guts?" she asks, offering the bottle of beer, minus one sip, over to Tess. A smile is offered to the carnie and letting go of the rail for a brief moment, she gives him a small wave of her hand before resuming the panic hold of death. Though she knows if anything were to actually happen, she'd most likely end up with an arm missing off her body before her life was spared.

Griffin, enjoying the strange buzz he got off of that weird powder, smiles graciously to Nadira. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll happily rescue you if anything goes wrong." He reaches for the woman's hand to help her into the seat, before following suit and joining her. His cello case conveniently places itself on the roof of the control console, where if someone wanted to steal it, they would have to work for it; then, his eyes fade back to their typical green, and another warm smile is fixed on Nadira.

Tess beams at the carnie before she settles herself down next to Delia. "Hi! Thanks!" she says, taking the bottle and having a long drink before offering it back. "Sorry for kicking your guy out, but I wanted to ride and didn't wanna ride alone. Do you mind if I rock the car at the top?"

Settling into the seat with Griffin's assistance, Nadira can't help but smile. "I'm not used to having to be rescued, so lets hope you don't have another chance to try." She murmurs in response. "But it does make me feel better, for the record." She settles fully into the seat as Griffin sits, giving a small grin. "I don't think I remember the last time I was in one of these. I would have had to have been very young…"

"I have a lot of tattoos," Lydia agrees with Lance. The pointing at her breasts earns a momentary gaping followed by a good-natured grin. "You probably shouldn't be looking for a tattoo there. Just… for future reference." While it might not be the most effective way to revive fantasy, the child's words bring a glint of hope to her eyes, a refreshing of sorts.

Finally, she reaches the ferris wheel. Fluidly, Lydia slides into the bucket, the metal elucidating those same reminiscent feelings, with just a touch of anxiety mixed in. She sucks in a quick breath while anxious butterflies press against her insides. She shoots Samuel another tight-lipped smile, this one more with more warmth than the last, but more haphazard with no planning or pushing forward. "And how is fantasy revived then?"

Instead of trying to weasel in on the ferris wheel, Lance suddenly drops his hand and moves away, to avoid the gaze of a certain red haired woman looking for him. If he listened to Lydia's advice, one might have to wonder. He might for for the next two years. And then puberty will change his mind.

Just when he seems to think he's home free, a hand grabs his sleeve and turns him around. "Caught you." Gillian never was the best 'mother' type, but apparently she found him this time. "Next time, Doyle is coming along." And he can puppet him back when he wanders off.

"Can I go on it once? Please?" Lance asks, not under the influence of a certain charismatic ex-cult leader.

"Will you promise not to wander off so we can go home afterwards?"


"Alright, then," Gillian says, as she leads him back to the Ferris Wheel, to wait for a car with him. Juniper stays off to the side with the other kids.

"What happened to the dragon that you used to have there, anyway?" he asks, pointing at Gillian's boob. Maybe he didn't learn. His hand gets smacked down. "Ow. Okay, okay… I won't point there anymore." Til he's older.

Odessa watches Abby's depature, her indifferent facade eroding. She'd come out hoping to find a distraction, or something fun. A place she might fit in where others use their abilities freely. Instead, she found a reminder that she community just isn't for her. People around her just end up hurt. With a heavy sigh, she throws her hands out to her sides, and vanishes.

"This ain't a good enough attempt for you?" is just as teasing as his last words, mirth encouraged by the interruption that is Lance. Samuel hesitates, before he's climbing into the magicked ferris cab alongside Lydia, resting his elbows against the railing once it comes down. There's a lurch, and the contraption moves again, shifting them up a level in the slow climb for the top. New York stretches out before the wheel goers in a glittering blanket of black and electrical grid and glistening bodies of water, with a big dark patch where the crater still carves its mark into the city.

The air is quickly colder, since the humidity of the day, especially as one gets higher and higher. Blue light glances off the spokes of the wheel, shimmers occasionally over the cages. "All I ask is that you trust me, you know that, and keep your eye on the big picture. Because I can promise you, this…"

Samuel tips his head to the carnival, the fairy lights and the churning crowd only beginning to thin as curfew creeps up on them. "This is just the start."

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