Logfile from M3

Rigger

Hair a brilliant orange, though hardly the natural orange-red of a redhead, adorns this individual's head. The hair is a soft neon orange, almost translucent in it's strands which gives it an overly shiny condition. It's clearly not natural; a wig or reploid hair perhaps. The hair falls down to her shoulders where the ends curl outward attractively. Straight bangs cut across over her forehead covering her eyebrows. It makes her seem less expressive with them out of sight. Her skin is a rather healthy tan, though the color of the wig makes it seem paler. The fact that her eyes are a dark crimson red doesn't help that fact any. Orange lipstick is also worn of a shade identical to the hair.

The rest of this woman's attire is rather drab and colorless as if to make her face stand out all the more. A black bodystocking is worn from toe to neck. The arms are 3/4th sleeves that stop just below her elbow. Over this tight base outfit she wears a black leather vest buttoned up entirely. A skirt falls from beneath the vest around her waist in rippling folds of lacey black. On her feet are ankle high-heel boots, also black, save for the orange lacing. The only jewelry she wears is a simple silver chain with a bit of triangular marble as a pendant.

Wonderful, thinks the Fool. It will be a wonderful day. It's all about have the right attitude, after all...

The Historical District is, as always, a bit more crowded than the rest of London, frequented by tourists and other visitors who come to see the 'ancient' buildings or various performances in the street or eat the food or any other reason one could think of, including to see the many performers who also frequent the streets of the Historical District.

The Fool, of course, is one of these performers, or maybe just pretending to be -- who knows, really? He was working for the Tourism Bureau last we checked, after all... hm. Whatever his current purpose, Feste, clad in his odd, archaic red coat and other similarly strange accoutrements, is walking down one of the main streets as if he owned it. Confident, aloof, even happy. Yes, it -will- be a wonderful day, because he will accept nothing less.

Preformers. Ah yes, there were a great many out. Some even, that perhaps weren't supposed to be here. Leaning against an old iron work fence, with her feet propped up on the brickwork below, is one particularily gothic individual at the moment. Held in hand is a violin tucked up beneath her chin, and her fingers slide the bow over the strings gracefully to draw forth it's dulcet song. Toccatta and Fugue in D minor for the violin.

The other players of the game have always been of great interest to the Fool -- because that's what all this is, in his mind -- a game. It mostly involves wheedling money from dumb tourists, but hey. The people here have it down to a science.

Feste pauses as the sound of a violin reaches his ears -- and it isn't bad, either. No, not at all. Certainly merits a detour! This in mind, the Fool adjusts his path to find that excellent violinist...ah. There -- but just who is that? He's certain he's never seen anyone like that around here...

For now, Feste just observes from a slight, respectable distance away, face slightly hidden under the shadow of his hat. Of course, there's no mistaking a smile like that...

Rigger is caught up in her playing for now. Enough so that the brightly clad individual that comes to investigate isn't immediately noticed. She's gathered a small crowd of people. Hardly large by any standard, and most move on as they find violin to be antiquated music. But the steady stream causes gawkers none the less if only for her appearance. Soon enough she becomes aware one hasn't wandered off and her eyes flit over to stare at Feste. The light glints off her dark eyes making the red bright and vivid, almost glowing, as she watches silently.

Antiquated? They make it sound as if that were a *bad* thing. Feste remains unmoving, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed upon this particular, strange performer working her art. As she looks back (finally!) he smirks, and gives her a small wave. Hi! Just act like I'm not here.

The preformer's lips twist into an amused smirk. She doesn't ignore Feste, however. Quite the opposite: She continues to stare at him. She also continues to play though she shifts in a smooth transition from Bach to, of all things, 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia.' The faster fiddling ensures that the preformance won't be stretched out overly long. The final racey notes are squeezed out of the violin and she sets the bow aside for now while tucking the instrument into the crook of her arm. "Hello."

Is this some kind of challenge? Maybe. Well, if it is, Feste'll be damned if he loses. He, too, continues to stare. It's one of those nice things about cybernetic eyes -- you don't have to blink so much. It's great.

As the music changes, though, Feste cannot help but chuckle. That's just...amusing, really... Bach to that. Yeah. While he enjoys the music, he's glad for the pause, for it's then that the game begins. Yep.

"Hello," he echoes, tone reasonably warm and friendly. And amused. Always amused...

Again that sly little smile alights her face as she cants her head to the side. It's an almost childish gesture, really, and her eyes never waver from Feste. She does however blink on occasion. "It's been awhile," she offers as if she were meeting an old friend again. No doubt why her smile widens a notch as she waits to see if he can figure out who she is, or not.

"Really?" Feste mimics the gesture, similarly canting his head to the side. IT was something he did a lot himself, really. "You -do- look familiar..."

Let's see. Familiar face, talented violinist... hmm... where has he seen her before...?

"Mmmm," comes a soft purring tone as she continues to watch with obvious amusement. Perhaps he wasn't the only to think this a game tonight? She lightly hops down from her perch to land on her toes so that she doesn't damage the heels of her boots. Once settled her heels rock back to plant on the ground properly so she might begin to sashay on around the colorfully clad Fool. "You don't remember? I'm hurt." Finally her gaze slides down over his figure to examine idly. "Nice threads."

Feste's gaze follows his fellow player (even if only for the night) as she walks around him, all the while puzzling over who this IS. The voice is familiar too... now... where has he heard it before...?

"Thank you," he replies first, still thinking. AUGH. Come on. He knows it, it's on the tip of his tongue... "As for...remembering...well. You looked quite a bit different the last time I saw you." Might as well -guess- -- who knows, he might even be right!

"Did I?" Did she? A light chuckle rolls off her tongue far more relaxed than her normal laughter. This was only a mild amusement, and she was playing a part tonight. Not quite the overly energetic role of DJ Bounce, but then that was just to help out a friend. This one? This was just her going wild with shopping and the like. "Or maybe it's you that's changed."

Ooooooh. Now it's getting -interesting-. Feste grins at that last bit. As for him -- he's always playing a role. Who knows if Rigger will ever see even a glimpse of the actor behind the mask.

"Maybe," he murmurs. "Or maybe neither of us have, whilst the world has changed around us. There's really no way of knowing for sure, is there?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man transmits, "Hi, everybody!"

"Of course there is," croons the woman admonishingly. "Life's a dream, isn't it? If we begin to lose our place in it there's really only one way to fix that." She stops standing in front of Feste again still grinning. She holds the violin by it's neck carefully in one hand so she can raise the other to brush fingertips out against his cheek. "It's quite simple, really. You've just got to--" At this her grin widens, and her voice drops to a near whisper as if sharing some age-old secret. Her fingers choose that time to rather firmly squeeze his cheek between thumb and forefinger. "--Pinch yourself."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Doppler mumbles something that might be 'good evening'. Or not.

[Radio: (F) Public] Quick Man transmits, "Aww, the nice man doesn't sund happy, Top. Maybe you should cheer him up?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man transmits, "I decided to do this because Flash Man wouldn't, 'kay?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man transmits, "I have a song to sing! Ahem..."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Oh my."

[Radio: (F) Public] Rigger transmits, "Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Yay."

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man strikes up music. The music? 'I Feel Pretty.' From the West Side Story.

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste over the music: "Probably less than sixpence."

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man bursts into song! ... off-key, of course. o/` I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty, and witty, and gay! And I pity any girl who isn't me today! o/`

[Radio: (F) Public] Spin Cougar transmits, "What... the..."

[Radio: (F) Public] Snake Man transmits, "When did you get a sssessx change, Top?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Moloch transmits, "...I have literally no idea what to say."

[Radio: (F) Public] Rigger transmits, "Encore!"

[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Then dont say anything."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Doppler transmits, "At least it is an improvement over the budding novelist."

[Radio: (F) Public] Gemini Man claps.

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "You heard the woman! Encore!"

[Radio: (F) Public] Rigger giggles evilly.

[Radio: (F) Public] Moloch transmits, "No, no, this is way too freaky to just ignore."

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man just keeps on singing. o/` I feel charming! Oh so charming! It's alarming how charming I feel! And so pretty... that I hardly can believe I'm real! o/`

[Radio: (F) Public] Nistro reverberates on his grave, or maybe it was just static.

[Radio: (F) Public] Snake Man transmits, "Look on the bright ssside. It could be Gutsss Man sssinging inssstead."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Oh please."

[Radio: (F) Public] Gemini Man transmits, "Well sung, Top Man."

[Radio: (F) Public] Quick Man transmits, "Bravo, Top. Bravo."

[Radio: (F) Public] Hard Man clams.

Curiouser and curiouser, as they say. Feste doesn't so much as twitch as he's pinched -- as if this were completely normal and expected behavior. (oh yes completely)

"But what happens," says he, reaching up to touch that other hand on his face, "if the dream pinches me?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Hard Man claps, too.

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man o/` See that pretty girl in that mir-ror there?! Who can that attractive girl be?! Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty smile, such a pretty MEEE! o/`

[Radio: (F) Public] Moloch muffles a laugh.

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man is bustin' out them phat lyrics, yo. o/` I feel stunning! And entrancing! Feel like running and dancing for JOY! For I'm loved... by a pretty wonderful boy! o/`

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Beautiful, sir."

[Radio: (F) Public] Feste transmits, "Poetry, i'faith."

"That," she remarks with another sideways cant of her head, "All depends on where the dream pinches you, and what's on your mind at the time, you naughty, naughty boy."

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man takes a break from singing... so a group of Sniper Joes can. o/` Have you met my good friend Maria, the craziest girl on the block? You'll know her the minute you see her, she's the one in an advanced state of shock! o/`

Feste cannot help but laugh, less than quietly. "Perversion is forever in the eye of the beholder, I'm afraid. Or maybe it's mutual. I could never remember," he responds, still laughing. "And what do -you- think about -that-, hm?"

Rigger rolls her head backwards so that she ends up staring at the sky while Feste gets an eyefull of her throat. Ooh, throat. "I think, that if we were to engage in activities of a perverse nature, that I'd break you."

[Radio: (F) Public] Top Man still remains quiet, but the Sniper Joes sing, o/` She think she-... o/` Topper! "Hey, where are you guys going?!" "We, ah, don't know the rest of the song." "Aww..."

[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Doppler golf claps.

Hm. He's been hearing quite a bit about that throat, too, what with the would-be Lestat on the radio and suchlike. Fortunately for Rigger, Feste is not secretly a member of the evil undead. (we think.)

"Probably. I'm really very fragile," Feste comments, almost offhand. (not that he's particularly interested in perverse activities, anyway. (we think.))

[Radio: (F) Public] Quick Man keeps humming the tune. "....awww. Get. *WHAM* Out *WHAM* Of *WHAM* My *WHAM* HEEEEAD!

[Radio: (F) Public] Dr. Doppler transmits, "Do you take requests?"

[Radio: (F) Public] Cut Man transmits, "Shove your head in a microwave and start it!"

[Radio: (F) Public] Quick Man transmits, "I'll pass on that, Cut. No, really."

[Radio: (F) Public] Snake Man transmits, "I don't think he knowsss the wordsss to that one."

[Radio: (F) Public] Quint transmits, "Want some help, Quick? I hear concussions are good for getting tunes out of your head."

[Radio: (F) Public] Quint transmits, "And I'd be more than happy to provide."

[Radio: (F) Public] Quick Man transmits, "Nah, I'll keep hitting this locker, thanks. I can't wait all day for you to find a stepladder."

Somewhere on the MUSH, Gabriel has disconnected.

[Radio: (F) Public] Quint transmits, "Hey!"

[Radio: (F) Public] Quick Man transmits, "Hay is for horses. It's got nothing to do with any of this!"

Rigger looks back down again with an amused glint in her eye. "Tougher than you look, I'm sure. But I've been told I can be voracious when I want to be. And it has been awhile since I've had a good, mm, mouthful." ... Oye vey the innuendo.

Feste listens quietly for a moment, then just -laughs- out loud. "I swear you just get more and more curious every time I see you." Avoiding the topic at hand -- that's our Feste... ruining the game, that's also our Feste. tch!

"I try. It's been awhile since I played dress-up anyway." She smooths a hand down her skirt, and smiles thinly at Feste. "I don't suppose you've any sharpies on you today, mm?"

Aha... Feste responds with a very sly look. Oh, you think you know what I'm about, don'tcha?

"Actually..." The sly look fades, replaced with one of suspicion. Still smiling like a loon, though. "...I do. You're not going to tackle me and try to steal it, are you?"

[OOC] Feste says, "And then follow me to my apartment, and then color my hair blue with highlighter? >_o;"

[OOC] Rigger says, "..."

[OOC] Rigger says, "Kinky."

[OOC] Feste dies. XD

Rigger shoots a speculative glance along Feste's form. Where would he hide such? The pockets are eyed, and then lower, as a grin again breaks. "Maybe. You could make it easy on yourself and just give it to me, though. I'd hate to make a scene in public." Oh yes, she sounds SO sincere.

"But m'lady," Feste answers, grinning as he puts a single hand into a single pocket. Yes. He's *always* got pockets. "Making scenes in public is part of what I do." He's carefully ignoring the obvious hints Rigger's giving him -- must always remain aloof... yeah, something like that.

Rigger spreads her hands in a wide shrug. "Perhaps, but I'd rather not risk harming the violin. Been in the family for ages." Mmhm, right. It's tucked back down to her side and she reaches out to try tickling at Feste's sides regardless. "Of course if you want to make a spectacle of yourself, I'm sure I can help."

Suuure. Feste shrugs right back, only to find himself tickled. hey! The Fool does his best not to laugh (a skill he's been working on for quite some time now). "Really? I'm sure you have a few ideas; care to share?"

"Singing, dancing, making merry? Public spanking? Perhaps skinny dipping in a vat of Godiva chocolate?" Here she pauses to let her tongue lap out over her lips with a cheshire smile. "I could help you clean up afterwards. Be a shame to let such a delicious dessert go to waste."

Perfect. Feste laughs despite himself, and -- if allowed -- reaches out to gently cup Rigger's chin in a hand. This done, he leans in... and stops, to whisper.

"You're almost as incorrigible as myself. I daresay I'm impressed." A chesire smile to match Rigger's creeps across his face. Hah!

"Don't get too close," comes the quietly murmered response as Rigger allows her chin to be held, and allows him to lean in so close. "I just might bite." That warning delivered she lifts her chin upward rather abruptly while sticking her tongue out. The very tip runs over the tip of Feste's nose in a quick lick. At least she didn't go for the lips? "Not to mention I'm as hormonal as a rabid wilderbeast in heat right now. I might not be able to control myself."

Oops. Feste blinks quietly at that -- how shall we put it -- 'rather odd gesture', yes, that sounds nice and vague -- finding himself caught a bit off his guard. Certainly wasn't expecting that, and now that it's happened, he's unsure what to feel about it. Tch.

The Fool withdraws after a moment, taking a full step away. Not because he's now thoroughly confused, but rather out of respect. Or at least, that's what he'd like you to think.

"Then I won't," he says simply. His rather roguish smile seems to lack quite a bit of the sincerity it had before. "...wait, -rabid-?"

"Quite. Ravenous, even." Rigger takes a step back to lift her violin again. A few jaunty notes are played out before she speaks again, still playing. It was possible to do both; just highly irregular. "I think I may be losing my mind. Moreso than usual. Oh, the urge to hunt is strong lately."

"So I see," Feste murmurs in response to the first comment. Ooh, violin again. His hands go back to being clasped behind his back, where he won't be tempted to do anything rash. No, no, can't have that.

"...the urge to hunt?" Very curious choice of words, there. Mildly disturbing, due to their raw truth. "I am sorry that you should lose your mind, as I do think you might need it," he continues, after a moment's pause. When in doubt, spew nonsense.

"Just going with the theme. Wildly insistant animalistic urges, and all of that," Rigger responds while tipping the violin up for a slightly faster pace. Her eyes glaze over just a moment as she wistfully remarks, "...I swear I can feel a power in the air, an undercurrent of latent energy, when I play. If I could only *harness* it..." For what purpose? Oh, who knows. She's a scientist and lives with the nuttiest bunch around.

Feste nods quietly. "Of course, of course." Does he understand, really? Yes and no, but that's...an entirely different story. And -- ah, a distraction. He finds himself rather thankful for it.

"Harness it? But you can. You create it when you play already; it's just a matter of wielding it correctly past that." He closes his eyes briefly. "That is what performing is all about, anyway. Except here--" He gestures to the Historical District behind him, "--we use it to weasel money out of people."

Rigger shakes her head minutely as she continues to play, the melody raising to a fever pitch. No doubt to match her own fevered thoughts currently. "Not that way. It's an old project of mine. Kammas... Ah, Kammas. I should visit. It's been awhile." Now she's just babbling.

And he can tell.

Having failed to impart anything upon Rigger, Feste just shrugs helplessly to no one in particular. Yeah okay whatever. Although... "Who's Kammas?"

"Never f*ing mind." Well! That was abrupt. The music stops suddenly and she gazes at Feste as if she'd suddenly grown angry. Or at the least, highly aggitated. "Sorry. I should really go down some sleeping pills before I get out of hand."

No kidding. The Fool recoils slightly, at once hurt and confused. Hey! Wait! I hadn't even gotten around to making fun of you yet! You're not supposed to -do- that.

Oh, -figures-. "Terribly sorry," Feste mutters. "Perhaps you should, for your own health." And my safety, is the silent addition.

Rigger nods in utter agreement at that while reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Yes, I should. I keep thinking how nice it'd feel to have my teeth sinking into that coat as I tear it off of you. Probably best you get a head start."

Uh...huh. A quiet, single *blink* is all that shows of the surprise that generally accompanies statements like those. Feste folds his arms across his chest -- a secondary method of securing his precious jacket. (mine! you will please not rip it off.)

"At least you're straightforward and honest about what you want," Feste says quietly, as he turns to begin his retreat.

Rigger chuckles quietly as Feste makes his way off, only to call out, "I tried subtlety and being a good girl for over a decade and what has it earned me? I'm getting too old to not be blunt."

Feste pauses some distance away to look over his shoulder. "I wish you luck in that endeavour, m'lady." He could be unduly mean, but... the feeling just isn't there. No, really -- good luck. Feste pauses once more to tip his hat, and then starts back off again.