19074/Spooky Season: The Troll Market

Spooky Season: The Troll Market
Date of Scene:	16 October 2024
Location:	The Troll Market - Brooklyn Bridge
Synopsis:	A Halloween trip to the Troll Market goes fine...until it doesn't!
Cast of Characters:	Atrice Duckstein, Meggan Puceanu, Elsa Bloodstone, John Constantine

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Atrice Duckstein has posed:
It is close to Halloween and lets be honest, whatever is going on in the real world for spooky decor doesn't compare to some of the things that are contained in the Troll Market beneath the Brooklyn Bridge.

The location is not overly known, but mystics and those that know the signs can find it.

It is filled with the stuff of dreams...and nightmares. The architecture is something that is out of some fantastical schematics and there are creatures of all shapes, sizes and demeanors. There are tall beings that look akin to the Slenderman, if he dressed in the bougiest knit fashion of the season incoming.

Ducky has come looking for a specific book and she has a friend with her in one Abraham Sapien, the tall fishman of the BPRD. He's wearing his special suit so that he can breath on this assignment.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Where else do you go shopping for Samhain presents other than a faerie market? It's not as if Chelsea teems with suitable gifts for the dryad in your life, and what kind of shoe store is going to stock the right kind of water-resistant wear suited for a glaistig. Meggan's list is long and unsuited for the mundane shops and big box stores spattered all around Manhattan. The stuff of dreams and nightmares very much suits the to-do list to celebrate the coming New Year celebrated far and wide across the Otherworld.

"Keep an eye out for nightingale tongues and weirdwisp essence. You know how hard it is to find at any other time of the year?" Though usually tidally locked to her season, she makes a conscious effort to maintain the least dreadful aspects of her autumnal self. Pointed ears announce a flavour of Tuath ancestry whereas John... John's human as they get, by comparison, on a date night-errand combo. The pair of them in a trenchcoat on his side and a comfortable camel coat that's definitely old, if not vintage, add a certain neutral palette for all the other strangenesses to revolve around.

"Fancy we get Ceci something? Not another luminary orb or one of those... sphere things," she nods in passing to a faun with delicate horns, the androgynous fae's white-dappled flanks and speckled freckles at odds with the absolutely street-cool fashion and a Whole Foods bag full of fresh herbs. The smell alone is worth savouring. What that now?

Elsa Bloodstone has posed:
The Bloodstones have long known of such things - Ulysees, Elsa's father, had lived for ten thousand years and walked the paths of every magical court, faerie and otherwise, at one point or another. Of course, he usually ended up there as an adversary. But he'd always had good relations with the goblins - like Elsa's father, their mutual interest in acquisition made them ready partners.

Elsa hasn't been to such a thing since moving to the New Word, however, and so she finds herself coming to see what the differences are and perhaps to find any trinkets that might be added to the Bloodstone family horde. She had currency of various types recognized throughout realms magickal, including good old fashioned credit cards.

She wears a crimson jacket with pronounced shoulders, white trousers, knee-high black boots in patent leather with steel toes and short heels. Almost fox hunting boots.

She also has a sword on her back, gleaming gems on the hilt, getting a few jealous looks here and there as she makes her way about, swinging a scarf over her throat as she stops to look at a few bangles at a makeshift cart.

John Constantine has posed:
Shopping trips. It doesn't matter if they're Otherwordly or not, John's typically taggling along for one thing - to help hold all the bags. At least here there might be a thing or three of interest to a petty dabbler in the 'arts'. Still yet, he doesn't look entire thrilled to be here, but when does John Constantine look entirely thrilled.

Meggan might be the only that's ever seen him in that state.

He comes as close to looking something other than bored or annoyed as he ever does when Meggan mentions they're daughter. "Aye, we should have just brought her with, ey?" Because there's nothing like having a magical child flitting about this place all willynilly. Still, it would have been fun.

He does have the good manners to nod a greeting to the passing faun. To be perfectly honest - the Otherworld makes him a bit nervous. As it should any mortal, even those that have a handle on most of the rules and regulations. Even with Meggan at his side, he's a little wary.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
"What exactly is it we are looking for, Atrice?" Abe asks the woman with the weird eyes that's walking with him. He greets people like he might be a regular here...and knowing Hellboy and others, then it is entirely possible for that scenario.

"Looking for a book on blood magic that one of my contacts forwarded to me. Or we'll just find you a new book to take back if we can't find yours, deal?" Ducky asks him. There is a nod of agreement as they move to one of the built in shops that host a very impressive amount of old tomes and scrolls.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Blood magic, Bloodstone, and Blood Moon Metalworks. It's the latter that Meggan halts at, circling back a few steps to peek inside the dark entrance for a better view of the contents. Whether the shop has a permanent space or merely the illusion of one, the shelving stretches back some distance, strewn by objects that range from prettily twisted bracelets and pendants to weapons of unnaturally elegant and mercurial design. Just the sort of sparkly display to catch a magpie's eye.

Far be it from her to browse with her fingers, since that invites all manner of things to go wrongly. Dipping beneath the ivy-shrouded lintel, she casts a look briefly back over her shoulder. "It's so much to ask of her to behave," she replies to John, shaking her pomegranate-red head. Loose curls skate off her shoulder and instead, she turns to consider glossy, nacreous stones that practically drip onto the velvet beneath them. The weapons are another story, practically murmuring, hissing, crackling to the sight. Enchanted mildly, maybe. The Otherworld hasn't totally escaped from the connivances of trade and capitalism; price tags are generally a thing. Seeing the number of digits displayed for even one of the smaller necklaces is enough to send her reeling right back out into the cool night, head shaken.

"Want a secondborn for a bit of dross. Not a snowball's chance." Wending on through the thickening crowd comes as par for the course, and she's bound to be attracted by any glittering bangles shining on a wrist, or a particularly fabulous scarf. "Not worth *that* cost. I'd demand the whole market at the first. Now, which way?" Elsa's shiny sword isn't so impressive as that scarf, her gaze lingering. Ooh!

John Constantine has posed:
John loops his arm around Meggan's shoulder and gives a little peck of a kiss to her cheek. "C'mon now, luv," he murmurs quietly, "You know I'm here only too look good and hold the bags. Maybe if the price was the first born?" He's obviously teasing. Despite their 'not quite normalness', it's sure that the Constantines are like any other parents - often times completely exasperated with their children. Likely more so when ones with a child who, at such a young age, is likely more capable of causing magical mischief of those at least thrice her years.

Maybe we can find something for her Halloween costume?" He's still wishing they'd brought her whtn them - there's always a next time.

Shiny sword - it's noticed but not much mind paid to it, at least not outwardly. It's something that might be filed away for later pondering though. Scarves? Well, they're just so much not a John thing to note. Man can't even tie his tie properly.

He does have to rip his attention away from a small stand selling something that smells just *delicious*. Tempting as whatever's turning on that small rotisserie, he knows better."

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Come on, John! Eat the food!

Okay eating things from the Troll Market miiiiight not be good for humans.

Atrice wanders around a corner of the book store and runs into a hooded figure that asks what they are looking for. "Oh umm, Manny said that you had a book on blood magic? He said that he'd contacted you, I'm Atrice." she offers as she extends her hand.

The shop keeper recoils from the the offer, "Nothing personal, I don't touch...whatever it is you are." they states as they turn and head for the counter.

Abe gives a look between them, "That's odd." he states quietly to his fellow SHIELD agent.

"You're telling me, people keep freaking out." she frowns to that as she follows after the keeper of tomes.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
John might not trust the food, but none of it is bound to inhibit Meggan much. She only needs to figure out the bartering system or currency preferred, whether a pretty greenback or a bill of another nature. The flicker of a smile takes on an edge as she admires the object turned on the spit, looking up through dark lashes. "And it is?"

A sale might be on the line or not, but anyone looking sidelong too hard at John or other mortals under mild enchantment who came in, stumbling or intentional. "Autumn wine or firemead goes better than a spot of cider with that. Though if it's from anything other than a hart or a deer..." The trailing timbre of her voice fades away, letting the grillmaster consider whether he wants to crawl under the coals or throw faerie venison their way. If he opts to give them food, so be it, a pair of sticks acquired to nibble on, one shared with the mortal Constantine. Either way, they're within arm's reach.

"Hallowe'en costume? Bloody night, what sewing skills've we got? That might take a minor miracle." The sauntering waltz of her walk barely leaves a mark on the ground. Doesn't, actually, because she floats alongside John, pleased to be assigned to that familiar corner.

The grimoire shop is probably a food-free place -- one assumes, unless writing on the deerskin. Temptation? She glances at her partner, to see where he wants to venture.

John Constantine has posed:
"We could just put wings on her, let her float about like her mum. She'd be the most realistic little fairy princess ever, ey?" Because, she kind of is isn't she? A little fairy princess?

Risk taken out of partaking in a little sustenance, John's more than happy to share with his wife. And what of it if he wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his trench coat, the garment's seen much worse. Where does John want to venture? Well, that grimoire shop would really be a fine place to browse. Perhaps not buy, considering prices stem to possible second born levels. But a browse might be fun.

It's just not worth giving up the meal at hand. "All I know, luv, is that I'm suddenly missin' a strong willed little lass that'd probably enjoy a bedtime story from her dad."

Even if the prices were too high or there was little time to sus the currency, it hasn't been a wasted trip. A little down time with the women he loves and some damned good - whatever it is he's eating.

Atrice Duckstein has posed:
Atrice gives a bit of a worried look to Abe when things start to get odd with people pointing out whatever she is.

She doesn't know. So it's not like she can make any snappy comebacks.

What does happen in the following moments while the tome keeper goes to dig up the book for Atrice are two things:

One, there is something that feels like it 'snaps' in the mystical sense. Something being disconnected from its purpose. A disappearance.

The second is that Abe looks to his left where Atrice was standing and there is no redhead to be seen. She has simply /vanished/.

"Oh that's no go, Atrice?" he calls. "We'll take that book to go as quickly as you can." the fishman states to the tome keeper...because apparently some redhead went AWOL.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Bit onna nose, yeah?" Meggan asks over the act of taking small bites of the grilled skewer, enjoying the meat or fruit that has the taste of meat and a rather heavy texture. The Otherworld is never normal in that way, not trustworthy about what you see being what you get. She seems to be entirely unbothered by the fact facing her, savouring the flavour as it pools on her palate.

Risk without consequences, as it may be, she scrunches up her nose. "She *does* need something special to go with her for the most special night of year. High bar to reach, love. We might have to get extra creative to find her that."

Her head tilts when she feels something of an outbreak in the direction of the store they were both gazing at, browsing halted by the oversharp snag. Her faded bronze eyes lose their focus, pupils submerged beneath hammered metal, and she mutters, "Ward?" Trust the warlock to recognize things better than she does at an intuitive level, but not the same way more seasoned casters can put words to things.

John Constantine has posed:
"Maybe a witch?" A little on the nose there too?

John's extra creativity mostly applies to just magic, but it's not like magic can't do the deed when trying to come up with something extra special for his daughter.

He does more than just tilt his head, he stops mid next thought. His nose wrinkles just a little bit and the corners of his mouth turn down into a frown. If he'd felt the same while not in the Otherworld, his first instinct might be to run toward the feeling, dive in head first to figure it out. But here? Where one can't even tell if they're eating fruit or meat, he's not in such a hurry to do so. In fact all he does is offer a quiet, "Yeah," in response to Meggan that's quickly followed by, "How 'bout we just head home, ey?" If it comes to it over the next few days, if he finds out it's something he's meant to deal with - he will, of course. But for now, he's just going to hope that isn't the case, go home and spend some time with his family.