2024-12-05 - Flynt the Terrifying Dragon

Considering it was December, it was warm at Spellbound. It was warm enough for Diana to get away with a pair of well-fitting jeans and a lightweight grey sweater that was just slightly cropped, showing off her toned midsection. Her dark hair was left down, parted in a deep side part with voluminous waves waterfalling to one side, and her makeup was fresh-faced and clean-looking. She didn't have to be anywhere for several hours, giving her an afternoon to wander and get acquainted with the park.

Diana's adjustment to Spellbound life had been clunky at best. She had not anticipated magic, actual magic, to be a factor of day-to-day life.

She wandered down the winding cobbled stone paths of the Fairgrounds, making her way through a collection of stalls and shops selling plastic and foam swords, cloaks, 'magic potions,' jewelry, and more. She chuckled as she spotted a few jugglers engaging guests, and a black bird stealing a french fry. Her eyes narrowed. That bird better not be anyone she knows.

The park was a place of wonders both invented and, it seemed, truly magical indeed. There were miracles, and mischief, and marvels, and...

Dragons.

In this particular case, however, the dragon in question is mostly made of fabric, padding, plastic and other synthetic materials. Flynt the Friendly Dragon is probably not terribly biodegradable, but who would throw him away anyway! No legitimate magic here, just costuming magic.

The great blue draconic-costumed actor emerges from around a shop, a chest of 'gold coins' cradled in his arms, tail swaying behind him.

Diana had grown up around performers. When she was a toddler, her pram was pushed by clowns. Her tutor was a sword swallower. Her parents were magicians. Her day to day life consisted of people in full costume, yet something about mascot style costumes gave her the heebie jeebies. Maybe it was that they could be hiding anything under that big head. She couldn't always figure out where there eyes were, and most of them were awfully fast and athletic from running around with that much weight on them all the time. It didn't matter if it was a menacing-looking devil or a bunny rabbit; all of them made the hair stand on the back of Di's neck.

So, when a dragon catches her eye coming down the cobblestone path, Diana's heart starts to race, and her face flushes to the point of the shopkeeper asking if she needs a glass of water. "I'm fine, thank you," she says sheepishly and backs out of the store.

In her haste, she hadn't realized that said dragon had drawn closer, and his swinging tail caught her foot, sending her tumbling.

At the sound - and feel, since someone just fell over the tail of the suit - of someone tumbling around, the cerulean dragon whirls around, giving a startled little jump. The chest of 'booty' is quickly (if awkwardly, given how he has to bend in the suit) set down on the sill of the window of the shop she'd just been in and he steps over, offering one big-gloved hand up with a cock of his head in a concerned sort of motion.

Which probably isn't really helping. It's a big, expressionless dragon head with unblinking eyes staring down at her.

Most people have as much control over their fears as they do over how tall they are or the color of their eyes, none. Perhaps some masking could be done to shield certain elements or outcomes, but the root of things is undeniable. Di laid on the cobblestone just cursing her life, staring at the sky while she worked up the will to peel herself off the ground and collect what little dignity she had left.

The dragon's head eclipses the sunshine beating on her face. Backlit, she hated the costume even more. "Uhm, hi," she says to the silent beast. Begrudgingly, in front of the performer who unknowingly caused the kerfuffle to begin with, she makes her way back up to her feet. "I'm fine," she tells the dragon again. But she's bleeding. She'd scraped her palms on the ground and she still looked pale.

The angle of the dragon's head as it tips down couldn't let those big, fake eyes look at her hands, but the subtle black mesh in the darkness of its mouth certainly does. There's a pause, as if he's considering how to handle this, and then he points at her hands - and makes a beckoning motion with one hand, stepping back a bit to see if she's willing to follow.

She works here, so might be able to figure that he's trying to get her out of the main drag to get looked at for her injuries. The magic must be preserved, after all! And bleeding people in public is bad for business.

Diana's employee ID is hanging out of the pocket of her jeans, confirming yes, she's an employee. She looks down at her hands, assessing the damage. Now that the initial adrenaline from the incident has worn off, it stings and she winces as she knocks out a small pebble lodged into her palm. Those big stupid cartoon eyes stare into her soul when she lifts her gaze from her hands... and she nearly freezes all over again.

You are an adult woman, Diana. Get it together! She berates internally as Big Blue beckons her to follow him backstage.

Begrudgingly, she obeys. There might be paperwork or some crap for tripping in the work place.

Just around the edge of that shop and out of plain sight, Flynt reaches out to push against what looks to onlookers like a simple wooden wall covered in faux-ivy; the passage opening up, and he steps in. Well, tries to. The head bonks softly against the top of the doorway, he staggers a step, ducks his head and does again.

Just inside, a small room with a counter with a first aid kit and microwave, a table with two chairs, and a ramp leading down into the tunnels. Once they're out of sight he reaches up to pop the head off his actual head, the dragon decapitated before her eyes. "Holy shit I'm so sorry I didn't see you there," erupts from him in a tumble of words as he thumps the head down onto the table, his eyes wide with concern, "Are you alright?"

Di shuffles along behind him as any onlookers moved onto one of the many attractions in the area. Even following the dragon, she's sure to give him plenty of room. Mustn't get too close, after all. Dragons bite... among other things.

When the head pops off, she instantly feels some relief. "It's fine," she's quick to tell him. "Just clumsy." Among other things. "Are you ok? Did I injure your.... tail?" Her eyes flick to the rest of the costume that he's still wearing.

Wesley's hair is a mess from wearing the suit, of course, a near-vertical chaos of hair that makes him look like Jack Nance in Eraserhead. It's an incongruous sight emerging from the neck of the suit. He shifts a bit to try and pull off the gloves of the suit, but they're not exactly the most dextrous of things in the world.

"You're bleeding," he points out, "And the tail's fine, kids jump on it all day long, you couldn't do worse without trying hard."

Meanwhile, Diana is still as pretty as a picture. Even with the fall, her hair had settled back into near perfection, and even the redness in her face had settled. Of course, her hands were a mess. Scraped and caked with dirt and lord knew what else that the tourist had brought in on their shoes. "Is there a sink in here?" She asks, a faint French accent hanging on her words.

When he mentions that she's bleeding, she chuckles. "Yes, well, I ate shit, didn't I?" She glances at the head he'd put to the side. It was looking at her. "Do you mind," she makes a turn around motion with her finger. "It's uhm... a little unsettling."

There is a sink! On the counter, next to the first aid box.

"Huh?" Wesley looks from her to the head, back to her, an eyebrow lifting-- but he reaches out, lands a gloved hand on the head and slowly turns it until it's facing the wall and away from her. "That better? And yeah, you should at least wash up, just let me--"

Finally he bites down on one of the 'claws' for leverage to pull the glove off, fingers wriggling free, rotating his wrist a few times. Then the other one, although this time he doesn't need to use his teeth.

The tiny space they are working with doesn't make things easy. Di moves toward the sink and nearly trips over the head. He moves to turn, said haid, and she has to dodge his tail. She turns on the water, and lets out a hiss as it hits her raw skin. "Gods, I haven't had a scrape like this in... gosh, years," she sighs, talking to distract herself from the sting of soap and scrubbing already angry skin. "Well, I suppose that isn't true. I've taken my fair share of drunken spills," she admits. "So more accurately, I haven't had a sober spill like this since I was a child." And just like that, she's drying her hands. But still bleeding, unfortunately.

"I'm Diana, by the way."

Now that he's been restored to at least the manual dexterity enjoyed by a raccoon, Wesley shifts to step around her - careful of his tail this time - and reaches over to open up the first aid box. He rummages through it before finding a pack of alcohol wipes, offering it over to her.

"Here, use this, and then-- lemme find the bandages-- I'm sorry again. Uh, Wes, Wesley. Sorry we're meeting under these circumstances!"

Di accepts the little wipe and gingerly starts to clean the little cuts. "Is there any ointment in that kit?" She asks, if there wasn't, she'd just take care of it once she got home.

"It's alright. I can't imagine you have great visibility under that..." she nods toward the head. "Thing." She is trying her best not to show her cards. "I also could have paid better attention. New and constantly lost I'm afraid."

"I should've been taking better care too," insists Wesley, finding some ointment in the kit and offering it over at her request, "What if I'd tripped some kid? Could've been even worse!"

He offers her a wry smile, "And you get used to the park eventually. I could probably walk most of it blindfolded-- Spellbound, at least."

She thanks him as he passed the ointment. "You're taking on too much blame," she tells him, glancing up at him briefly. "Shit happens, yes?" It does. "No harm done." She gasps as she says that and starts muttering something in French. "You broke my nail!" That is unforgivable.

"Aren't you basically doing that already? I don't know much about being a..." she gestures vaguely. "Dinosaur." She settles on. "But I don't imagine visibility is great."

"Eh, more or less. You get used to it eventually, and I've had a few years," Wesley admits-- although he's wincing, "Oof. Sorry about the nail. But-- yeah, you get used to it. It's as much learning to move by vibes as vision, really, you gotta get all zen in that dragon suit."

"So you've been doing this a while then?" She asks curiously. "It seems like a pretty cushy gig, especially if you like kids," she states, just keeping the conversation going and him from putting the head back on. Before long, the bandages are on. Di lifts her hands so he can see. "Good as new, thanks to you," she smiles. Costume characters aren't that bad.

With that sorted, Di looks around the little room. "Is this where performers take their breaks? I'm a performer too... just more at restaurants and bars."

"Oh, yeah, I've been here since year one," admits Wesley, helping fetch bandages and other things from the kit until she's taken care of it - not directly helping unless she asks, that's rude. He leans himself against the counter, "Eh, short breaks anyway. This is really more for a breather, there's a full break room further down the tunnel. Just follow the lines and signs and you won't get lost, because man, trust me if you don't you really care."

His brows lift a little, a relieved smile as she seems to be well, "Oh? Singer, or something?"

"Wow, an OG," she whistles low. "Practically a celebrity," she jests lightly. Di moves across from him, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed loosely around her waist. Now that she's not bleeding and he isn't fully in his dragon suit, she looks him over more properly. Despite his insane hair, he isn't bad to look at. "The tunnels are impressive," she'll give the park that. "Like those ones they have in Disney World. I suppose that was the inspiration?" Why would he know? He might know...

"Illusionist," she tell shim. "My parents are too down in Vegas. They have a show called Enchanted," she tells him. It's well known enough that he may be vaguely familiar if he's interested in magic or has been to Vegas before, but not so famous that just anyone would know. "Right now they are placing me in bars and restaurants across the park"

The hair is probably better when he hasn't been stuffed in a dragon head for a few hours, to be fair. "Probably," Wesley admits, glancing down to the ramp further into the tunnels, "I mean, it's the most logical way to get around while not ruining the whole immersive aspect at least, and the people who built this place really spared no expense. Although I guess instead of runamok dinosaurs they got real magic, so maybe the next theme part -should- spare some expenses."

At the explanation of her performances, he gives her a curious once-over as if trying to decide if he recognizes her at all, "Sounds kinda familiar-- I think I might've seen a video review of it once. Pretty cool, though, always wished I could do those tricks."

"Like Disneyland," She notes. It made sense. She chuckles at his business analysis of the park builders and owners. "I still would really like to know how they figured out that this place is so magical. I'm glad no ones gotten hurt yet but it feels like we're due an Osha violation." Hopefully not though.

"Really? I hope they said nice things in their review." She tells him, but doesn't hover on the parental topic all too long. "What made you want to get into... character performing?" She asks, eyes flicking to that head.

At the mention of nobody getting hurt, Wesley's smile falters a moment-- a pause-- but then there's something else to take hold of, and he breathes out a chuckle, "Never planned to, really, I just needed something and I was willing to take up whatever was on offer, and-- "

He happens to glance at the clock, and swears, "Oh-- shit, I'm gonna be late for a show, sorry, sorry--"

The head's grabbed and shoved onto his own, and he turns that big head her way as he pulls the gloves back on, voice muffled, "Good meeting you. See you another time?"

Di glances at the small gold watch on her wrist and frowns. More time had passed than she'd realized. "Sorry for distracting you," she says. "Go! I'll clean up anything that still needs to be put away here." There were still a handful of lingering items that could be tidied up.

"Yeah! Hit me up!"