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Bloom quickly realises the problem with his plan, too many people ignoring him to get to the faire.
While he was right in assuming there would be more sucker-...Customers than ever for him to tri- TO PERSUADE into giving him their money, it would seem none of them are really going to pay attention to his well-executed disguise and performance.
He almost thinks about giving up when he spots a man staring at him.
He does not stare back. (Mainly because he is suppose to be blind- that’s what the shades are for- but also because he does not want this man to a- AND he’s approaching him. Great. Time to perform like his life depends on it.)
“Excuse me sir, may I help you to the side?” The man asks with a french accent that is frankly atrocious to listen to. (Not because it’s bad but because Bloom never wants to hear it again.)
If the man could see behind his dark glasses he would see Bloom’s glare at him, instantly taking an instinctual dislike to the man. Why? -You might ask.
Because the man is wearing clothes that belong in a fire, or at least far away from Bloom or any other respectable person’s eyes. (Okay so Bloom is a tiny bit of a fashion snob, sue him, he takes pride in presentation.)
“No need, no need. I’m just collecting alms for the poor.” He says in a shaky voice he has been practicing for days. For some extra flare he shakes the metal cup he has in his hand, hoping the pitiful sound of its half empty status will ward away this colourful man. (Seriously, if he may only be pretending to be blind but right now Bloom wishes he was actually blind so he doesn’t have to constantly pretend to ignore the horrific eye-catching colour of this man’s red sash around his waist.)
“Well, aren’t you a fine fellow? If you’d just come with me, monsieur.” The man continues anyway, grabbing Bloom strongly by the underside of his arm and leading him to the side of the crowd.
The stumbling gate is not something Bloom has to put on as he’s partially swept off his feet. He almost drops his wooden stick and is glad the strong man can not see his wide eyes.
“Now isn’t that a better place to stand.” He is not asked but told, the man’s tone bordering on smug. If Bloom was an angrier man he would be seething right now at the treatment and manhandling but instead he falls back on his persona, nodding slowly.
“Alms, alms, alms for the poor.” He calls again as he watches the man sigh, glancing back at the crowd.
Bloom has an expressive face- at least he assumes he does, he doesn’t really like mirrors and they are- strangely- hard to find in the forest- so he hopes his face doesn’t show right now that he is thinking, “Oh? A rich man like you, dressed in such a nice and stupid outfit, can’t afford to spare a few coins? What a pity. Such a pity the spirit of these woods will be paying you a visit tonight for your lack of payment to the poor.”
To his surprise though the man places coins in his cup and walks away, leaving Bloom blinking for a moment.
He..did not expect that. He was- honestly- already planning how to follow this man home and rob him tonight. He….He should leave.
By the time the man looks back Bloom is long gone, teleporting in a flurry of leaves and appearing in a nearby tree.
“That was…weird.” He says, blinking a couple of times. He’s never been so wrong about a man and yet so right. He feels weird, a guilt in his chest but also a strange focus in his mind.
As he replays the moment over in his head a couple of times he notes, objective, the man was nice- saving who they thought was a blind beggar from being trampled and giving them money.
Yet something is wrong here- something Bloom has rarely been on the other side of.
“Bards.” He hisses with as much toxicity as a conker.
Fine. He was going to change his plan anyway, he thinks with a pitiful amount of spite, clicking his tongue and descending the tree, disregarding his disguise and pulling his hood up. If his original plan didn’t work because people ignored him then there’s only one solution: Give them a performance they can’t possibly ignore. (He still has an immovable rod and a lot of conflicting feelings to work out.)
As he flows like a single drop of water in the flood of people, indistinguishable from the hundreds of figures that make up the crowd, a trio move with him, lost in their own little world as they battle the current awkwardly.
“If this is your idea of a punishment-” One begins, voice as dry as a desert as he gets elbowed again and again. It’s bad enough to deal with people on a good day but today he’s being dragged along to this stupid event and he doesn’t even get a treat for it.
“It’s not. It’s bonding!” Megan explains, gesturing with her hands like that helps illustrate her point.
“Uhh, I certainly feel bonded to the kid who keeps trying to eat my sleeve.” Clark admits with a little laugh, raising his hand away from the kid and trying to push further through the crowd. It doesn’t work, the collection of people in front and behind and beside prevents any movement except the slow push and pace forward.
“If you need me to tell a child off I am more than ready.” Megan states in a hushed tone, though not a whisper as anything quiet gets dragged away by the atmospheric muttering of voices around them.
“No, I mean- I…I mean an actual kid. A baby goat.” Clark clarifies as he draws both their attentions to the family of goats behind them.
“Huh.” David hums, supposing you don’t see that every day. He nods and forces a smile at the farmer who has decided to bring said goats to the faire and wonders if he missed the part where the event was going to be a farm show. Yep, definitely not weird. Definitely a normal day.
They shuffle forward for a couple minutes in silence before one of them has to speak, bored out of their minds.
“What are you most looking forward to?” Clark asks of his friends, trying to cheer them both up. Megan is sad they’re stuck in this crowd and David is…David. (For a second Clark considers if they really should have left him home to ‘train’ but then he remembers the last time they did that and found him face-down with a boulder on top of him. David claims there were no lasting effects from that and he’d only been crushed down there for an hour, but Clark still doesn’t believe him.)
“Not being here.” David answers quickly in a characteristically tight voice.
“The fighting.” Megan enthusiastically states, clenching her fists and putting on- what Clark calls in his head and definitely not to her face- her ‘goblin face’.
“Cool.” Clark nods.
He steps forward with the crowd and misses Megan and David silently exchanging looks.
“Aaand what are you looking forward to, buddy?” David asks once they understand the knight is not going to tell them without being prompted.
“Oh, the swords.”
Yeah. That makes sense.
Already Megan and David are visualising how they are going to drag Clark away from every single sword-seller in this faire, planning the tricks they can use to get him to focus on them when they pass a stall with a nice blade, how they can distract him with discussions about the stories he’s heard from traders from distant shores.
It uses up enough time that when they have a concrete plan in place they are at the front of the faire and can breathe freely again.
“Oooh! Sword!” Clark immediately says as he goes running off, David just missing his arm as he moves too fast.
“Knew we should have brought the harness.” He mutters, shaking his head as Megan pats his arm and they begin chasing after their wayward friend. (It’s not his fault, it is hers, she said they wouldn’t need it.)
Clark’s excited running to a stall the other side of the faire does attract some looks as most don’t understand, however a martial-artist only smiles as the knight passes, mentally wishing the man luck on his journey.
Bensai knows what it feels like to be so enthused that you lose regard for how you present yourself in public, his enthusiasm getting him in exactly this spot as he sips his tea, preparing to fight.
“Mr. Bensai?” A tiefling asks, horns that only slightly curve like an Addax and a nervous look in her eyes. It makes Bensai smile, reminding him of a student who promised to come see him today.
“Just Bensai is fine.” He tells the woman who nods, bowing slightly before explaining her purpose, “I was told to keep you company and ask how you are.”
That is very sweet and he tells her so.
“It’s just my job.” The woman states breezily, waving a hand to dismiss the complement.
“It is still kind.” He tells her, not letting anyone get away with dismissing a genuine complement if he can help it.
She turns a brighter shade of red as she blushes before taking a deep breath in, eyes closing before she opens them again on the exhale.
Bensai tilts his head and hums as he wonders, “Who taught you that?”
He teaches his students that and while it could be a coincidence, maybe there is a reason this woman reminds him of one of his students.
“My brother.”
“Excuse me for asking but your brother wouldn’t happen to be Tenebris, would he?”
The tiefling’s eyes snap to his for a moment, scanning before narrowing as she nods, “Ah. So you are why he was so eager to finally use my free pass to the festival. You are his instructor.”
Bensai smiles and nods, happy to hear his student is going to fulfil his promise to see him today.
“Would you like some tea?” He asks the tiefling as he presents his own teapot. He rarely goes anywhere without it, the brew not tasting the same if he takes it from another.
“If you don’t mind.” The woman thanks him before introducing herself, “I’m Courage. Please tell me if my brother starts misbehaving in your classes.”
Bensai laughs before dismissing the veiled threat, stating there is no need for it. Tenebris has been a delight in his classes even if he sometimes gets frustrated with the rope when he tries to swing it in Heaven plane and his horns get in the way.
“Sensai- I- Bensai.” Courage amends before asking her real question, “Why are you doing this? I thought you used the hammer-thing?”
Bensai is happy her curiosity is a keen thing, happy- as always- to answer questions as he takes a deep sip of the tea in his hands, buying himself time as he think of how exactly to explain he came to the meteor-hammer through other martial arts.
“It seemed fun.” He settles on, the tiefling snorting in amusement but not pursuing any further line of questioning.
Bensai would tell her anything she wishes to know, if only she would ask.
He would tell her how, although he loves the danger-noodle, he also likes feeling the struggle of grappling one-on-one. He enjoys thinking about what a person can reach, how best to pin them and he enjoys the closeness- no joke meant- you end up getting from even one grappling fight.
But the woman does not ask and they sip their tea.
They stay like that until a small rock glows by Courage’s hip, alerting her time is up and Bensai should be brought to the field to fight now.
“Good luck, sensei.” She tells him, waving as he controls his breathing and takes off his shoes, placing clean clothes by the side of the ring.
“Hey, people are stripping over here!” Megan announces to her two companions, pulling them towards the field as David glances where she is leading.
“They’re grappling.” He states simply, not bothering to explain what that means. They aren’t stripping, they’re…de-robing for a reason. It’s not like they’re stripping for…other reasons.
“Come on, I’m hungry, we don’t need to see some men hug each other aggressively.” He tells her, Megan’s face falling instantly.
He feels a small pinch in his chest and sighs, “Go watch your men wrestle, I’ll save you a seat and food. Take Clark with you.”
They both glance at the man in question, looking at him like he can’t be trusted to be alone- because he can’t- and watch as he searches for money to throw, digging under his armour with his fingers.
“What?” He asks the pair before his arm is grabbed strongly by Megan.
“But the elf!” He objects but allows himself to be dragged anyway, David happy to be rid of them and waves once to bid them a fair and long journey.
The elf in question is our own resident Bloom, happy for such a loud and affectionate crowd even if it is- now- three people short.
He slides down the pole and bows, applause raining down on him.
The world is still spinning for a few seconds as he straightens up but luckily he manages to smile brightly, grabbing his shirt and coat and putting them both back on.
“One more trick! One more trick!” The crowd begins shouting and who is Bloom to deny them anything, laughing a little as he jumps back on the pole, cheers ringing out.
He goes for something upside down, not spinning this time as he wants a static view of the people here, eye seeking out his next targ- Investor.
He sees them going into the potion tent and smiles, flipping back the right way up and swinging around the rod to adjust his view and keep the trick going.
Using his feet to push himself up he closes one eye as he holds a flag pose, trying to see what might be going on in the tent but failing.
Oh well, nothing a good sneak won’t solve.
He spins down and bows once again, insisting he really needs to go now and gathering the money he has collected off the floor.
A good intake, far better than his previous, but that’s to be expected with such a big crowd.
Placing the rod back in his supplies Bloom heads off, once again disappearing into the crowd as he moves to the food tent to the side of the tent he really wants to break into. (Any good thief knows you don’t go directly for the target, you wait and case first.)
David sits on the table next to the elf, too focused on his food to note how familiar he looks. (Also because Bloom is very stealthy naturally)
He waves Megan and Clark over when he sees them looking for him. With what limited time he’s had to know them he hopes, with some nervous part of him, that he got their order’s right. (To be fair there aren't many options. Beef stew, some fired lamb, carrots and leek soup and a bread roll you’re better using as a rock than a meal.)
“How were the men?” He asks, not expecting the detailed answer Megan gives. He did NOT need to hear the graphic details of the sounds they made.
Checking his belt he briefly considers if knives make a good plug for his ears before deciding he could just zone out.
“The winner had a really cool weapon that he’s showing off now. Not as good as a sword but..you know…nice.” Clark notes as he digs into his food, sending David a small thumbs up to reassure him he made the correct choice when ordering. (David does NOT need reassurance but…he’ll take it if Clark’s just giving it out.)
“No, no, no. No more knives or swords or weapons, my turn to decide what we do.” Megan says and it is fair. The priorities thus far have been very oriented toward her two male companions and although she loves them dearly, she wants SOMETHING for her.
David hums in agreement, chewing and making sure his mouth is firmly closed before swallowing and asking, “So, what do you want to do?”
“Ooh! Magic! Right? You’re all about the magic.” Clark guesses and is rewarded with a nod. Ha! Take that goldfish memory!
“Well…” Megan starts as she wipes her hand on David’s clothes- earning her a glare that has no real danger behind it- and fishes out her spell-book.
Both her companions raise their hands as they object to her plan, whatever it might be. The last time she tried to magic anything that wasn’t an infernal demonic blast they ended up swapping bodies. (Does her magic specifically target and then use fanfiction tropes? It would seem like it.)
Clark can still remember what is was like…Ah the good old days of last week when he thought something was medically wrong with him because he actually wanted to workout. (Yeah, turns out your bodies retain the same wants despite the bodyswapping. It made for some strange conversations after the swap back because David could finally talk about the steamy romances Megan read.)
“I’m just saying, maybe not today? Maybe never again?” David tries but it’s already too late as Megan has opened her book and decided today IS the day she tries a new spell. (IN PUBLIC)
“Fuck.” The swashbuckler swears as the wind around them grows a little faster and he grips onto his knives for safety. (Excuse him not wearing his rapier out. He was not looking for trouble today.)
Megan’s magic is personal- like all arcana- and it is strange. It feels like her. It feels like the wind in a thunderstorm, filled with pressure and static with no thunder or lightning- just the impression of an actual threat- just the wind.
It feels like too late a night, like the draining of a bucket of water, energy being sapped as you fight to stay awake.
It tastes like lemon and ground dirt, like paper and ink on the tip of your tongue in a revolting mixture that makes you want to spit it out.
It looks like the pages of a book passing too fast for you to read, like a lifetime happening in seconds, words being written and erased and written.
It smells like something bitter, something wrong. But it also smells like licorice, like bark, like paper, like the dusty smell of an old hat.
It sounds like the beating of a heart, the whisper of a laugh, the sucking in of a breath like a gasp. It sounds like drums and a contented sigh.
It feels like…magic. -How else could you describe something so conflicting. It tastes and feels and sounds and looks like a number of things but all of them seem like Megan- all of them have something in the essence of Megan branded across them.
It changes for each spell and right now the spell tastes like eating paper, it sounds like the rushing of wind, it smells like the grass after rain, it looks like the smallest flick of blood turning in a cyclone and it feels like an accident waiting to happen.
The wind eventually dies down as David begins checking himself for injuries, letting out a deep breath as nothing has changed, he’s still the same old him and Clark is a cat.
….-WAIT WHAT!?
“What the-”
“Aww, he’s cute.” Megan coos as she reaches for the ginger tabby sitting in the place of their companion- or maybe friend. They’re friends right? Friends who turn each other into cats?
“Megan…did you TRY and turn him into a cat?” David has to ask as the Clark-cat is picked up and snuggled close to their resident warlock. He’s purring so maybe this isn’t SO bad. BUT STILL!
The face she makes tells him, "not exactly” before she can even get the words out.
Okay.
He is just a cat. A ginger tabby cat. Wait, where is his armour? Did it bond with him? Is this kitty-cat Clark WITH his armour inside him?
David does not know if he would have preferred the clothes to shrink with Clark or if he prefers this.
“And can you turn him back?”
Yeah, Megan doesn’t look confident about that either.
Some head-on-table time can be excused for David in this situation. It is a very stressful situation.
Bloom has already left the food tent and thus does not care or notice the chaos that is happening there for the Sellsword trio. Instead he is upside down, stalking a very rich man.
Bensai is, meanwhile, upside down for a very different reason.
“I might require some help.” He says eventually, seeing as this bind is not going to unbind itself.
“All-Mother, sensei, how did you even do this?” Courage, his new tiefling friend, asks as she comes rushing over to untie him, wondering where he went when he finished his performance and finding her answer now. It was lucky she was searching for him and she keeps cutting-implements with her. (Okay, it’s only a knife but in fairness, she was told she wouldn’t have to fight today.)
“I was trying to chase a man to thank him but I got wrapped up….literally.” Bensai explains.
That…explains very little but the tiefling is willing to let him have this.
“The man tied you up?”
“A man tied me up.”
Bensai watches the woman blink, red pupils shrinking and then growing before she opens her mouth to speak, closing it again a second later as she places an arm around his arm.
“I…think we need some drinks.” She mumbles, Bensai telling her politely he doesn’t partake in alcohol.
“I don’t either, I meant tea.” She explains as she leads him back to a random empty tent. Why it is empty is anyone’s guess because no one knows. (Bloom knows. Bloom knows an awful lot.)
“Why are you caked in mud?” Courage asks the monk as she begins trying to pick off the dirt from him, slowly coming to realise what she thought was his shirt and trousers are actually just a vest and shorts.
“WHERE ARE YOUR OVERCLOTHES!?” -A far more important question in this moment as she steps away, eyes widening as she considers this man might have been attacked, robbed and left strung up in his own weapon.
“Where I left them, in the field.” Bensai states simply, not seeing what is wrong here. He can be a little dense.
“Just-...Start brewing the tea. I will be back.” His companion says in a stilted tone as she leaves, Bensai nodding because he was going to do that anyway. -She seems stressed and what always helps Bensai when he is stressed is tea.
He brushes the drying dirt off him as he waits for the leaves to steam and steep, humming a little tune that is stuck in his head.
He did not mean to cause such a fuss and he really did just want to thank the strange man who enchanted him as he was performing.
Though, with the benefit of hindsight, he can see why the man ran. He must have looked a sight. -An intimidating sight.
“Hey, do you have some tuna?” His companion returns to ask as she brings him clean clothes and a bowl with warm water in it. It’s to wash himself but he is more concerned about the tuna question.
“Not on me but I can take you fishing if you wish. There must be a stream nearby, cities are usually built near fresh water.”
The tiefling laughs a little, showing fangs before sitting beside the monk.
“No. I was just asking because someone asked me.” She explains.
True to her word, someone did ask her if she had tuna or any fish, mainly because neither David nor Megan can figure out if beef stew is healthy for a cat to eat.
“I mean…a little wouldn’t hurt.” David mutters, looking at Megan with a pleading face as he slowly reaches over the table to present a small piece of beef to their friend-turned-cat.
“No!” She objects, grabbing the meat from him as she sighs. He has been charmed by Clark's adorable kitty-cat eyes. Oh the horrors.
“That’s it. Time for some extreme action.” She announces and flips to a page inner spellbook she hopes is dispel.
“Megan, do-” David starts before the wind picks up again and the pages of the spellbook rapidly flip. Staring at the turning pages David’s world narrows before snapping like a whip back into focus.
“Megan, I said don’t.” He tries again before looking at Clark to see nothing has changed.
Well at least HE’S not turned into a cat this time, he thinks as he looks at his hands, pausing a second later because- despite an impressive workout regiment- his chest doesn’t usually stick out like that.
Looking back at Clark the cat and then at Megan, David thinks silently about what his reaction is going to be.
He could go with acceptance. -Objectively he makes an attractive woman, maybe…if Megan’s wide eyes are anything to go by and the cat version of a wolf-whistle.
Denial is also another strong option. -If he doesn’t look in mirrors or down or at any other physical part of himself he should be fine. He still feels exactly the same despite the difference in gender presentation.
But maybe it’s time to fall back upon the classics, the real centre of any person who would find themselves magically turned into the opposite gender.
Rage.
“Start running.” He warns Megan as he goes to grab her spellbook. Nonmagical ability be damned, he’s going to see how she likes it.
“I’m sorry!” She shouts as she grabs the book and sprints, David not far behind as he jumps the table, no real plan besides anger.
It’s after he vaults the table that he realises Clark has springed up and on his shoulder, joining in on the pursuit though it is unclear if he’s on his side or Megan’s. Whatever it is, Clark better hold on tight because David is not going to go easy on Megan if he catches her.