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@moonwitchery Killing the Clown
Jun. 20th, 2024 01:49 pmThe crowd is, understandably, quick to disperse after the abrupt battle with Dribbles the not-actually-a-clown. The pools of blood on the pavement are still wet, but unless the redcaps mop them up in the next hour or so, they'll be drawing flies soon. About half of the performers are, like Popper, taking the situation in stride. Clown man dead, big whoof.
Not all of them feel that way, though, and Lucretious is in the midst of a heated conversation with a woman in motley and green who was selling sweets earlier (peanuts! popcorn! fairy floss with threads of magic glinting in the cloud of spun sugar...).
"What kind of necromancer are you if you can't even speak with the dead?" This is no way to speak to your employer, technically, but not only is the girl in green uncowed, but Lucretious seems to be taking her temper in stride.
"My conversations with the dead are usually very one-sided, sweetheart," she says. "I say jump, they don't actually need to ask me how high."
"So that's it then? All you're doing is hoping to get his bits back and make him work again?"
"What if I put the doppelganger's corpse to work mucking out Crimson's stall? Will that make you feel better?"
There's a pause, because evidently yes, that idea does help a little bit. The girl deflates a little, folding her arms across her chest, but her expression goes from outraged to murderously sullen. "I want to know who sent it. This is not their hunting ground."
"...it's hardly the first loss we've seen."
"Guests are different. This was one of our own. We have to retaliate."
"Tieve, if we were going to hunt someone down I'd hire a sellsword, not a candy-maker. Come on, you need to let this go."
The look on Tieve's face screams that she is not, in fact, going to let this go. But before she says something she'll regret, she catches a glimpse of the unfortunate hero of the hour out of the corner of her eye, and breaks off the conversation with Lucretious unceremoniously, to make a beeline for her.
Not all of them feel that way, though, and Lucretious is in the midst of a heated conversation with a woman in motley and green who was selling sweets earlier (peanuts! popcorn! fairy floss with threads of magic glinting in the cloud of spun sugar...).
"What kind of necromancer are you if you can't even speak with the dead?" This is no way to speak to your employer, technically, but not only is the girl in green uncowed, but Lucretious seems to be taking her temper in stride.
"My conversations with the dead are usually very one-sided, sweetheart," she says. "I say jump, they don't actually need to ask me how high."
"So that's it then? All you're doing is hoping to get his bits back and make him work again?"
"What if I put the doppelganger's corpse to work mucking out Crimson's stall? Will that make you feel better?"
There's a pause, because evidently yes, that idea does help a little bit. The girl deflates a little, folding her arms across her chest, but her expression goes from outraged to murderously sullen. "I want to know who sent it. This is not their hunting ground."
"...it's hardly the first loss we've seen."
"Guests are different. This was one of our own. We have to retaliate."
"Tieve, if we were going to hunt someone down I'd hire a sellsword, not a candy-maker. Come on, you need to let this go."
The look on Tieve's face screams that she is not, in fact, going to let this go. But before she says something she'll regret, she catches a glimpse of the unfortunate hero of the hour out of the corner of her eye, and breaks off the conversation with Lucretious unceremoniously, to make a beeline for her.
