The Carnival (Picklepuss and Sherona)

[Sherona]

The carnival is a time of laughter and joy. Atleast on the surface, when one is just a visitor they only see the bright lights, the laughter, and the games. Once they all go home and the lights are turned off, its a whole new world.

One woman, Madam Zarrina was her stage name though her real name was simply Sam, was packing up for the night. She was teh fortune teller, though she was no real psychic, she was good at what they called "cold readings", where she reads the subtle signs from the patrons. today had been a good day, and it was winding down. The moon was bright, and not a cloud in the sky.

[Picklepuss]

"Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat..." came the familiar voice of a young woman.

Sam would recognize that sound, for this was a girl who'd earned quite a reputation amongst the carnies in the brief time she'd worked with them. Referring to herself only by the stage name of Picklepuss, the little clown was as mischievous and strange as she was energetic. No one was even sure when exactly she was hired, or even if anyone was paying her to remain with them; a free spirit, Picklepuss seemingly came and went of her own accord, like a cat.

Peeking through what still stood of Zarrina's tent, Picklepuss flashed a ragged red smile from behind greasepaint that none had ever seen her remove.

"Call in the spirits, wherever they're at!" she giggled.

[Sherona]

Sam gives a wry grin toward the young clown as she passes out of her tent with a box of goods. "Come Pickle...Put down that concoction and follow me. I need the use of your smaller hands putting away some of these items." Sam feels a certain maternal feeling toward the clown, one that does not often over take the carnival fortune-seeker.

Her blue skirts whisper as she walks, expecting Picklepuss to fall into step. "Are you hungry? I hope you did not skip dinner again."

[Picklepuss]

Sam gives a wry grin toward the young clown as she passes out of her tent with a box of goods. "Come Pickle...Put down that concoction and follow me. I need the use of your smaller hands putting away some of these items." Sam feels a certain maternal feeling toward the clown, one that does not often over take the carnival fortune-seeker.

Her blue skirts whisper as she walks, expecting Picklepuss to fall into step. "Are you hungry? I hope you did not skip dinner again."

Always barefoot (the girl seemingly owned just one item of clothing, a striped sweater much too large for someone her size), Picklepuss sauntered behind Sam and pitched in to help. Nothing was ever that simple with her though. She flipped a bottle up through the air only to catch it behind her back, rolled a crystal ball down along the length of her arm and bounced it into her other hand, balanced an assortment of decorations while swaying back and forth... one could have easily sold extra tickets to the impromptu performance!

"Dinner?" the little juggler asked as if she were trying to learn a foreign language, but after recognition hit her the only thing that hid the blush spreading across Picklepuss' face was white greasepaint. Sam wouldn't need psychic powers to divine the answer.