The Carnival! (DAY ONE)

[friedeverything]

[Around 11:00am, the rides and vendors and stands suddenly appear, bustling with sounds and movements as the carnival spins to life. Throughout the day, all kinds of foods, rides, and games are available, but around the carnival signs are posted about a raffle that evening, with the items listed. Wait, did that belong to you? Well now it's up for raffle! Come buy tickets from any of the ghosts with said tickets slung across their shoulders like a sash.]

(ooc: There will be one section for the actual raffle - an ooc post will be up in a couple moments to claim the items- but other than that, go wild!)

Comments

[inafadingcrown]

[These chance encounters seem to be how they meet more oft than not these days. It is to be expected, she supposes, but she wishes it could be otherwise.

Galadriel had been watching the crowd almost as much of the events of the carnival itself, so it's no surprise that she notices Morgana fairly quickly.]

Morgana. [It's a deceptively casual tone, as if she were unaware of the tension between them.]

[scinlae]

My lady. [ A familiar pull tells her who is before she even hears her voice, and when she does the high priestess stiffens, her movements becoming more measured and calculated.

If she had her way these encounters would be happening far less. But you can always have what you want, she remembers, so she must endure. ]

[inafadingcrown]

Do you enjoy yourself? [Come now, Morgana. She has done you no wrong. Nor will she, if she can avoid it.]

[scinlae]

[ She has done no wrong, correct, but she brings forth things Morgana hates to confront. ] Well enough, there is an strange charm to spectacles like this.

[inafadingcrown]

[Something of which Galadriel is often guilty, whether by her design or no.]

There is. It is refreshing to see such contentment for a change.

[scinlae]

[ Morgana hums, almost as if her attention is else where. ]

Have you been well, my lady? [ Pleasantries for the sake of them. ]

[inafadingcrown]

Well enough. And you? [And pleasantry though it may be, she really is interested in the answer.]

[scinlae]

[ It takes her a moment to find the right combination of words as her hand reaches out to nearby stall, finger lightly dusting it. The motion is thoughtless. ]

I have been fine.

[inafadingcrown]

Good. [There is some hesitation on her side too. It troubles her that this had become so diplomatic, so distant.] We should speak more often.

[scinlae]

[ We should speak more often, Gods know that part of her wishes this could be. That same part which slips into the cracks, confusing her on who and what she is, or who and what she must be. ]

We should. [ A taste of honesty, laced with things she cannot name. Will not name. Fear? Longing? She will not say. ]

[inafadingcrown]

Perhaps some evening over wine? [Reaching out again. She just can't help herself.]

[scinlae]

[ The girl yearns to take the out stretched hand. She longs for comfort, to be forgiven. She has done so much she is not proud of, she has hurt so many─ ]

Perhaps. [ Not a yes, but not a no either. ]

[inafadingcrown]

[Comfort, she can offer. Forgiveness, she cannot. It is not her place. But that hand will remain out streched, an ever-present offer.]

You know how you may contact me, of course, should the inclination arise.

[scinlae]

I do. [ It annoys her, in part, but comforts her in another to know that hand remains out stretched. A constant offer, one that will not dwindle. ]

[inafadingcrown]

Then I will take your leave, unless you wish to accompany me. [The option's open, even if she doesn't think Morgana will take it.]

[scinlae]

Another time. [ She will not take it, not this time. ]

[inafadingcrown]

Until then. [And with another little formal nod, she'll walk on.]