Clause loved to travel. Really - she was enamored by visiting new towns and cities. A personal challenge of hers was traveling to an area she was totally unfamiliar with, with nothing but the clothes on her back, and seeing just how much she could walk away with when the odds were stacked against her. Her personal record was set in Vilpamolan - she had entered the city that morning with only her high-scale outfit, and walked out the following night with three-hundred and twenty gold Argen in her pocket, a pack of cigarettes, phoenix down, and a night with a handsome elf who never got her name.

And now, she was in the magnificent city of Iria. She had brought nothing with her, and had earned a meager amount of Latun here and there to get herself started.

The sky had been clinging to the last remnants of daylight by the time Clause arrived in the city of Iria so that she could visit its wonderful marketplace. The bright canopies of the numerous stalls erected throughout the city streets and the pennants which had been hung across the rooftops in stark, block colours were now beginning to take on more muted hues as the early evening sun inched towards the horizon. The sun’s descent was setting one side of the landscape alight while the other was strewn with long, flickering shadows thrown across the pavement and plastered over the walls. The reddening light bled into the colors of the city, illuminating the grey stone and steel frames of the surrounding buildings with dusty shadows.

It was evidently not yet dark enough to activate the magic sparklamps that were suspended alongside the colorful streamers hung above them, but Clause could now see one or two premature lamps buzzing to life here and there above the stalls. Other stalls began to follow suit, and to the cynical observer it may have seemed as if the restless owners were attempting to recapture the drifting attention of their customers in the midst of the slowed business that came with daylight. It was admittedly getting harder to read the chalk writing on the blackboards displaying the prices as well as various offers and sales, and it was with no small displeasure that she took note of the "TODAY ONLY" written in scarlet block capitals beside the sign detailing the 20% discount on the meal and drink combo at the nearby food stand, which she had definitely seen on offer two days ago.

Clause made it a point to stare meaningfully at the stall owner as she walked by, taking a very slow, deliberate and withering bite out of the corn-on-the-cob in her hand in a manner which she hoped would clearly relay her deep resentment and profound disappointment at the owner’s failure as a trustworthy entrepreneur.

Moving right along, festival goods meant festival prices, and so Clause found herself in the position of not being able to justify her usual indulgent purchases. Every step she took through the marketplace made the dealer double-take. This man was selling deep-fried chicken for how much? She could buy a horse for those prices! A bag of pop-corn costs this? Count her out! And she'd usually try to haggle on the dumplings, but her wallet was so light, she didn't even want to look at the price.

While Clause made a point to avoid any further food or drink stalls, she always found herself drawn to the various games and attractions that had popped up throughout the day like moles that needed to be whacked. Clause had stopped by a small handful, but passed her prizes onto younger children who tried and failed. Clause watched the kids who she had given her stuffed prizes to, them chowing on their sweets and snacks, waving back when they waved at the "nice lady, mommy, there's that nice lady." Iced creams wobbled perilously over the cones and dripped down their small fingers as they melted; some munched on brightly colored balls soft sugar strands that dissolved on the tongue - sweeter than sweet and sticking to the teeth better than glue. A few ate too much and complained to their mommies and daddies. Kids were cute.

Clause smiled at the scene. The atmosphere of Iria was wonderful. The delicious smells, the colorful lights, the festive sounds. But she couldn't let herself forget she had come here to turn a profit amongst the merriment - she hoped that Iria wasn't where her winning streak went cold.

The good thing about being a professional layabout, such as Bianca di Giovanni, was the promise of an entirely flexible schedule. Even for things that should take days of planning, the most the affable airhead cared to manage was a short and nonchalant “I’ll be there.” The good thing about living with a wizard, such as Annibale di Giovanni, was the travel. To those that knew the trade well, wizardry was less glitz and more modest with less pay and more long hours, but you got to travel. Parlor tricks were insulting to some, to be sure, but it was a living, and carnivals and parties always needed some doves conjured.

To that end, Bianca and her niece found themselves in Iria City, the long trek south shortened by a charter airship ferry. Annibale busied herself with actual work, gods know what, while Bianca perused the marketplace stalls, the bazaar a buzzing hub of activity. As the days grew shorter and the nights grow longer, Iria’s seasonal frost fruits began to ripen. It was kind of a big deal for the town. So much so that the first crops were used in a fairly big jamboree, the Festival of Harvest.

Truth is, Bianca understood why the city revered it’s produce so much. The frost fruit, any other season, would be a small pit, hard as a rock and almost inedible. But nearing the end of Revaliir’s calendar year, the commodity ripened to bigger than one’s fist, it’s tough purple skin guarding a brilliant blue-colored flesh that was juicy and tart and everything a fruit should be. Bianca had a pie filled with the stuff once and was hooked.

Despite the Festival of Harvest only being on day one, vendors displayed foods of all kind with pride, kids of many races skipped and jumped and were merry, and the carnies were out in droves hoisting up tents and rigging fireworks. It’s one of these very men that flagged Bianca down as she ambled along.

“Oi, pretty little miss! Care te’ try ye’ luck ‘fore these roads get too busy?”

The man in question was shirtless, mangey, and had a lazy eye. He sat cross-legged on the path’s edge, balancing a plank of wood on his knees. His head did not turn as he called for her and his eyes appeared more and more fogged over as Bianca approached him.

“Hi, hi, good afternoon! What didja wanna talk to me about?”

“Och, by me beard or me balls, there ain’t a thing easier in all the lands. Three cups, one pebble, as you can see.” The peddler motioned forward at the plank in front of him, and indeed there were three wooden cups downturned as to hide their contents. Bianca noted that the man did not have a beard. She chose not to wonder about the second part. “Whatever ye’ give, ye’ get the chance to win twice as much back! An’ fer’ th’ beautiful little lady, I’ll make it FOUR times yer’ original price.” He cracked a smile, showing many gaps in his teeth.

“Hmm. I, er,” Bianca fished out how much silver she had, counting them out in her hands. Ten, enough for a good lunch, and maybe dessert. “I guess I could? Right, right, for sure. How much is custom-”

“Excellent choice, little lady!” The man bellowed, swiping all of Bianca’s coins from her hands and throwing them into a clay pot beside her. In an instant, he was already spinning the three cups up and down and all around. Bianca, caught off guard, almost went cross-eyed from the speed.

“I-er, uh-”

“Pick an’ choose!”

“I. Er. Uh. This one?” Bianca pointed at the left-lying flagon, the carnie erupting into giddy laughter. It hardly seemed fair, being taken for a ride like that when she didn’t even know how much money to give, but she did little more than frown at the exchange.

“Ooooh, sorry! Ye’ guessed wrong, no refunds.”

Bianca explained she didn’t have any coins to buy food now, and in response the trickster just shrugged. The nature of the game, he claimed. She stamped her feet.

“Another go then?”

“With what, though?”

Experienced eyes narrowed as that toothless grin erupted again.

“I see that brush there on ye’ side. It’s runed-infused, I can smell th’ inscriptions. Worth a pretty penny, no?”

Bianca instinctively gripped her treasure protectively. “I-I would have no idea, I’ve never had it appraised.”

“Och, fair, fair. Tell ye’ what. Look at th’ carts around ye’, lady. See all them shinies? I’ll wager whatever ye’ want against that paintbrush there.”

Bianca browsed the carts, indeed spying things that at least SEEMED valuable. A bag of gems, china sets, even knives embroidered with rubies. Nothing that particularly interested the g-did that cage just squeak? A small cage was lightly moving from one side to the other, covered by a small blanket. WAS THAT A PUPPY?

“I, well-”

“Terrific!”

The carnie shuffled his cups again, smirking all the while. Bianca felt as though she was gonna be sick.

*Crunch* *Crunch* *Crunch* 

The of dry leaves breaking underfoot was the only real indication that the small fairy gave as she paced back and forth along the treeline looking towards the city. The name of which she could care less to remember. All she needed to know was she doubted she had enough silver to stay comfortable and full while the winter months passed by. The crackling leaves beneath her feet only further reminding her of the impending cold, something Babble despised.
 
Getting into the city would be as simple as walking through the gate. The problem came when she wanted things, things costed silver and to sate her wants she need to resort to her behavior of screaming, stabbing, and taking. If past experience served her at all then that would be frowned upon and have her out in the cold once more. What the fairy waited for now was a break, tired eyes that wouldn't notice sticky fingers. However, it would seem a different opportunity would reveal itself as she heard something tumble through the through the bush behind her.

Quickly Babble flitted up the nearest tree taking cover in what sparse foliage it had left. From above Babble watched as a boy tumbled through the trees. His face was a mess as she could hear him sobbing to himself before lamenting to the wind.

*SNIFF* "Gods sh-she'll n-never ta-tak-take me as s-s-suitor!" 

The boy continued like that and after his tumble in the leaves his tear and snot covered face had managed to stick the crushed leaves to his face. Babble bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to laugh at the pathetic soul wailing to the wind. Unfortunately her attempts to muffle her amusement must not have been as successful as a snort escaped her. Hearing this the boy's head whipped around as he tried to wipe his face clean.

"W-what was that?! Who's there?! Brant if that's you I swear I'll.. I'll… you'll regret it!"

The boy about tripped over himself as got his feet under him as his head scanned from side to side as his face lit up red with embarrassment. Honestly Babble wasn't sure if she should pity the kid demand an encore for the show he was providing. Though as this went on Babble found her amusement quickly sour to annoyance as the child continued to stomp and yell half hearted threats. If this kid wanted to complain then she would give him something to complain about.

Babble cleared her throat as she fluttered down behind the boy and prepared to give her performance.

"YOU, LOUD ONE… YOU DISTURB GREAT FOREST SPIRIT…WHY?"

At the sound of her voice the boy really did trip himself up, falling to his hands and knees as he spun to face the fairy now hovering over him. For a moment Babble thought he actually believed that she was some powerful nature spirit. Which is why her jaw nearly dropped when the boy ground his face into the dirt in an apologetic bow, surely he couldn't be this dull?. 

"I HUMBLY APOLOGIZE O GREAT SPIRIT. I did not mean to rouse you. If I may could you help me?, the woman of my dreams waits beyond the trees behind me. If you could help me convince her to accept my love, I would do anything!"

Needless to say the fairy was stunned as she stared in disbelief at the dullard before her. However, one thing that did catch her eye was the coin purse now visible on the boy's hip. Thinking on the fly Babble decided to humor the boy. 

"You want make good time with lady friend eh?"

The boy looked up his face once more flushed.

"I.. I… yes…"

"Then close eyes."

The boy gave her a raised eyebrow before opening his mouth to ask a question. However the act had gotten old and Babble's patience for the bumbling mess had reached it's end. As the boy began to mouth his question Babble quickly cleared her throat before spitting in the boy's open mouth. Shock and disgust filled his eyes as his hands moved to his mouth as he coughed and spit. Using the distraction Babble quickly drew the dagger from her hip and dove towards the coin purse. 

With practiced efficiency she cut the small sack from the young one's belt and hefted it into the cover of the tree branches above. Snickering to herself the fairy could still hear him spitting away down below before yelling into the trees.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!"

"Powerful nature magic. Lady will think you big strong man now. Pfft, Impossible to resist."

Babble couldn't help but break her "character" as grinned at the coins now in her possession. Listening for the inevitable realization that he'd been duped the fairy waited. She waited and waited until finally she looked down to see the kid was gone. She shrugged, it didn't matter anymore, she had his coin and got a laugh out of it that's all that mattered. With her haul in hand she quickly found a tree hollow off the ground to stow it and herself for the night. Her eyes slowly closed the memory of the child's expression giving her one last chuckle before drifting off to sleep. 

"Rise and shine little one."

Babble raised her head as she blinked bleary eyes. Before she could get her sense back her whole world began to shake as she felt herself thrown into a set of bars. Bars?….. Babble felt her heart rate pick up as she grasped at the metal before her. Where there had once been an old tree around her was now replaced with what looked to be a cheap looking cage. A cage which sat in the hands of a rather short and portly looking man with a rather shiny head. 

"This is the spirit that convinced your forward behavior?"

"That's her sir."

Turning towards the familiar voice Babble was greeted once more by the visage of the whiny boy, who now seemed to be sporting a rather painful looking hand print on his cheek. Babble smiled to herself at that which only seemed to enrage the boy further. However, before she could further harass him the short man raised her cage to his face so as to speak. 

"It would seem that your behavior has caused quite a bit of discourse among my performers. My lovely Argi has decided to take her talents elsewhere due to some…brazen behavior recently. So I think a fitting repayment is to stay with us for a while. How does the name Miss Minature sound?"

With that Babble leered at the ring leader grinding her teeth before nipping at his fingers. The man quickly dropped the cage to avoid the tiny snapping jaws a few drops of sweat ran over his shiny head.

"That is not Babble's name…. Egg."

The ringleader stared down at the cage with a furrowed brow before nodding to a mangey looking man at his side .

"Put her with the rest of your prizes."

"Yes sir."

With that the fairy's world was thrown into darkness as a cloth was placed over her cage. It stayed that way for hours as Babble spent time kicking her bars, screaming at her captor and snarling like an animal. The next few hours she spent playing nice, hoping a few fingers would get too close. Finally she settled on the fact she was stuck for now and rested against the cage floor drifting once more to sleep.

"See all them shinies? I’ll wager whatever ye’ want against that paintbrush there.”
The mangey man's voice brought the fairy back to the world of the conscious as she could hear movement near her cage, but whoever was out their lacked the racid smell most of the Carnies wore.

 “I, well-”

Definitely a different person, in fact Babble could hear lots of goings on. People walking, chatting, things moving. She needed to find out where she was so that she could get out of this. Gripping at the cloth Babble pulled part of it up as she pressed her head against the bars to get a better look at who the Carney was talking to.

Clause scratched her head, trying to relocate a cafe she had passed by about an hour earlier. She had never been particularly gifted with navigation, and she had always found it a frustrating experience whenever she discovered that even the exact same road she had walked down mere minutes before looked totally different upon approaching it from the opposite direction. As she craned her neck to look over the heads of the crowds that were milling about her, she spotted a young boy out of the corner of her eye on a collision course with her elbow. She quickly managed to swerve out of the way, apologizing awkwardly as she did.

Smiling to herself, her attention was drawn to a somewhat thinner part of the crowd in the direction that the boy had just come from, and just beyond it, she could make out the sign of the same pop-up cafe she had been looking for. It was an unassuming stand in comparison to the brightly-colored stalls that surrounded it, but for the same reason stood out refreshingly in its lack of gaudy decorations and embellishments. It consisted of a stout wooden stand in which one of the sides folded out into a counter, with four tall stools lined up in front, two of which were occupied by a young man with a pair of downy wings poking out from the back of his jacket (what material was that? Leather, maybe? Clause was dying to know) and a girl with mint-colored hair at his direct right.

Taking the seat furthest from the other customers, Clause put her wallet onto the counter and said to the barista, "Milk, please."

To his credit, the poor man only gave the briefest of pauses before repeating, "Milk?"

"Yes. One glass, please. With a strawberry, if you have one spare, but you don't need to. Ooh, do you have one of those little paper umbrellas? I’d love that."

After confirming that he regrettably did not have any paper umbrellas on hand and receiving payment for the drink without a paper umbrella but maybe with a strawberry, the barista turned around to prepare the drink. Clause guessed, a little sheepishly, that he was most likely hoping that whatever the other customers ordered, it would be something actually on the menu.

"One glass of milk," the barista said after a short while (after all, it didn't take long to pour milk into a disposable cup) as he placed the drink in front of Clause. In the reddening light of the sunset, the milk had taken on a rosy, peach-colored blush, and to her great joy, she spotted a bright red strawberry floating atop the surface, glittering like a tiny speckled garnet.

As Clause gave the drink an obligatory stir with a straw, she thanked the barista gratefully, hopped off of her stool, and marched off and away from the cafe as quickly as not-spilling-her-milk would allow.

It was then that Clause may have caught a flicker of chestnut-colored hair somewhere in the crowd, but her attention was more immediately sucked to the blur of hands over a trio of cups, and more specifically, the way those cups moved. It was the work of a master of his craft, really, and it wasn't every day that one found themselves witness to a master swindler practicing his craft.

Clause pushed through the crowd, as gently as she could, and as politely as she could. She tried to minimize human contact the whole time. Sorry, I'm not interested in the candy, Mr. Shopkeeper. No, I don’t want to hear about how your business is going. Don’t tell me how the wife and kids are doing, because I'm quite on my way to somewhere else. And when is the next festival happening, you ask, Mrs. Stranger? I don’t know. I can't honestly say I visit Iria too often. Sorry, I'm just passing through. You know how it is.

And… Ah-ha! There! She'd arrived, and could now see the scene clearly. The flash of chestnut she saw in the crowd was, in fact, the victim of this unassuming little goblin of a man (without a desire to be rude, Clause genuinely assumed there was some goblin mixed into his ancestry one or two or five generations down the line).

“Tell ye’ what. Look at th’ carts around ye’, lady. See all them shinies? I’ll wager whatever ye’ want against that paintbrush there.”

Oh, no you don't.

Clause shoved forward, moving out of the crowd and into the shorter woman’s personal space like a well-dressed guardian angel.

“Excuse me, miss? Do you mind if I take this?”

Clause turned so that she faced her in full, standing parallel to her. This close to her, Clause could see how she was played so easily. She was no child, and though there was no shortage of baby fat, (Clause mentally reprimanded herself for her rudeness at that remark) though her expression bore a childish innocence to it. Clause doubted the girl approached this carnival game herself. It was more likely the gambler behind her sniffed her innocence out of the crowd like an opportunistic bloodhound, and she couldn’t refuse.

Furthermore, she was cute.

Clause put her index finger to her lips, silently telling the girl to keep quiet and allow her to handle this. The gesture was entirely hidden from the swindler by her back, and he saw nothing. Perfect.

Clause turned around, a polite smile on her face.

“May I?”

The question was rhetorical - to him, it made no difference who played, and Clause knew it. All that mattered is that they did play.

“O’ course, lassie! Keep yer eye on th' cups, now…”

The ball disappeared under the leftmost cup, and Clause drank as loudly as she could out of her straw, a wordless display of dominance.

Clause watched the cups. Left. Middle. Right. Left. Left still. Left again. Right-

There.

As he moved the cup to the right side, it tipped forward slightly. There was just enough of a gap for the ball inside to roll out and into his lap, leaving his victim none the wiser.

But Clause was not his victim. She sent her will forward, isolated the ball, identified the game of chance. Her smile widened just a mite, and she pushed. With her will, the ball returned to the original cup that he had placed it in, with the swindler none the wiser.

There was probably wordplay to be made about swindling the swindler, but Clause was too focused to make it. But the thought crossed her mind.

“Pick an’ choose.”

Clause sat for entirely too long, deciding which cup to choose. Her mouth had not left the straw for the entirety of the session, and she could tell the man was tiring of the noise. With a pop sound, she pulled away from the straw and pointed with her free hand at the right-most flagon.

“That one.”

And the carnie laughed. And the carnie laughed.

“Ooooh, sorry, missie! Looks like you went and cost yer friend her brush! For you see,”

The carnie lifted the flagon. His eyes fell on the ball.

The carnie dropped the flagon.

“What?”

Clause turned over her shoulder, and she shot the girl a wink. She gestured at the man’s selection of prizes, then turned back to the man directly. She retrieved her wallet from her shirt pocket, tossed it into the clay pot. Coins scattered everywhere, none of them hers. He looked at her, incredulous.

“Another go, then?”

Finishing the last of the milk, she speared the strawberry in one swift motion with her straw and popped it into her mouth.

He growled, low, under his breath. He hid the ball under the cup once more, glaring daggers into the gambler that outplayed him.

“Beginner’s luck, lass. Nothin’ else.”

Lady Luck smiled. The cups moved. The game was on.

Just to assure herself that she wasn't going to ball up and cry Bianca gripped her treasure until her knuckles were white. While the old man had swiped her lunch allowance without her knowing, he'd get a palm to his stupid face if he tried doing the same with her paintbrush. He was elderly, probably blind with how discolored and clouded his eyes were, and probably hadn't even taken a shower in the past month, but he was asking for it. Stupid geezer wouldn't be trying half the stuff he was if only Annibale wasn't busy.

Still, yet, a childlike, wistful aching pulled Bianca's gaze from the clay pot currently holding her coins to the wooden cart of valuable goodies. She bit her lip and set her jaw as she mentally flitted about between 'I'm going to run away and find someone who can get my money back' and 'I'm gonna win that dang puppy and his jaw's gonna be on the floor'. It was a terrible idea, to be sure, but Bianca seemed practically stuck with the way this carnie was stringing her along, and how sweet it would be to throw it back into his face. From what she had gathered, the cup game was one of luck and focus, so all she had to do was concentrate on where the ball was and the odds had to be in her fav-

Wait was he already spinning the cups? Where was the ball in the beginning? Where was it now? Why was this guy bullying her so much, come on now! Now Bianca could feel the stinging bite of tears well up, for real this time. Her only saving grace happened to be the distraction of a woman approaching her and the man's stand. Bianca got a good look at her as she walked, much to close to be cordial. She was muscular for a lady, as though she had been in more than a few scuffles in her time. Her unkempt blonde locks framed her face well, a dazzling smile stretched across her lips. Bianca couldn't decide whether to deem the new arrival cute or handsome, so she settled on a combination of the two.

More jarring than her appearance was the fact that this mystery woman wanted to bat for Bianca, a total stranger. She all but pushed the small girl out of the way, smile still very there, as she turned to face the old carnie. She was up to something. While the uncertainty of it all made Bianca nervous, she felt a twinge in her stomach whenever she thought of picking a cup herself, like she would need to hurl afterwards. Might as well be someone else who does the deed.

Before she prepared to choose, the girl shared a glance with Bianca. Her pointer finger displayed the universal signal of shush, and she was more than happy to oblige. She was more than powerless in this scenario, but Bianca still spied that coy smile on the woman's face. She had to be up to something.

The carnie shared the grin, spinning the cups again for good measure. He seemed supremely confident, as though he was fully expecting the magical payoff he was due and that it made no difference whether Bianca or anyone else made the blunder. Only that a blunder would be made. To underline his aplomb, he cackled as Clause picked the right flagon, clewing noisily on a strawberry. Bianca's heart sank as she heard that noise, the combination of the confident munching and the confident snickering. She loosened the grip on her treasure as she prepared to relinquish her prized possession until her eyes fell upon the same ball from earlier resting underneath the right-most cup. What.

"What?"

A wink was shot her way, but Bianca hardly registered it. This girl, this mystery saint, had just won. The small girl rushed forward and smothered the woman in a big hug before giving a wet kiss on the blonde's cheek. It would be easy enough to wrestle her way out of if she wanted to, but the childlike paint slinger found it an adequate way to display her gratitude. She was practically off the ground with the way she pounced on the built woman, almost expecting to be swung around or something.

"You did it? You did it! Oh my stars, that's so good! You're so good!"

Once that whole ordeal was over, Bianca got to work blowing a raspberry at the carnie in question, humming an offbeat tune only she knew as she positively skipped over to the wooden wagon, throwing in a twirl or two so her dress could billow into beautiful curves. She made a show of mulling over her decisions, a fat finger massaging her chin as she looked at her options.

"Hmm hmm hmmmmm~ Hmm hmm hmmmmm~. What to get, what to get. The bottles? The, erm, goo? Those ruby slippers look gooood!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Bianca grabbed the covered cage and twirled again, raising it high above and laughing joyfully.