ORIGIN - On With The Show...

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Well, this was horrifying. Any sense of anxiety he'd held became suddenly amplified, intensified, at the stranger's drop into menacing. He tensed, fur bristling, at what he assumed was impending attack. And though Hades had until this point been gentle (not merely here, before Miriam, but his entire life), that fight-or-flight suddenly prepared him for a battle. Lips peeled back, his long fangs bared, and he leaned away; his eyes grew empty and staring. It was fear--there could be no doubt about that. It wasn't some misguided pride or ferocity. He was afraid, and he hated it--and when Miriam settled back into bright laughter, he was left with a twisted tangle of emotions. The fading adrenaline, fear, shame--distrust, writ large across the rest in giant letters. He wanted to leave, but somehow--apology..? Had made its way into it. Whatever Miriam's sincerity in her accusation, he'd taken it to heart, and felt like he owed her to go to the games with her, now.

The child--naive, easily manipulated--hesitated, blinking and clearly still afraid. "Sorry," he whispered, half a question, but he stepped away with ears twisting uncertainly in all directions. Some part of him, some distant, soon-to-be-adult part, took note of all of this: of what Miriam had done, of how it had made him feel. He could sense that there was power in it.

It was a lesson, unfortunately, that he would carry.

"I thought you were serious." A pause, hesitation. "We can... go to the games, if you want." He no longer felt sure of what he wanted, in the end.

@Miriam

"Hmmm?"

To successfully conquer, fully dominate another's will with one's own—such victory was the headiest sensation life could offer a being of Miriam's status. Each raised hair increased the pleased thrill sent along her spine. The sight of all willpower fleeing from eyes, leaving behind blank discs focused on survival over previous idle chit-chat, served to boost the amusement which bled back into hers. Yet the easy surrender brought the light press of fangs into her lower lip as she evaluated the fragility of this frightened cub.

Had she broken a new plaything already beyond repair in the rough pursuit of entertainment?

Below mayhem continued to ensue. The snake coiled in preparation for strike after strike while rats darted away, tails often a mere whisker's length from being captured in powerful jaws. Driven by panic, they thus far refused to organize themselves in any meaningful way against the threat.

"Tosh," she declared with a head shake. "My wants aren't important here, you politely silly creature. It's an offer, dear, entirely dependent on you. Have you seen enough yet? Or do you wish to drink in the sights more? Your choice leads; I only mean to be your useful game guide."

No point in pushing until the child snapped like a twig. Unnecessary force removed the fun in this interaction. Furthermore it would take effort to seek interesting replacements for Hades elsewhere. She loathed the idea of working to obtain a few precious moments of pleasure.

@Hades

His clear uncertainty lingered: in the flick of one ear, the hesitating almost-glance-away, the unsettled lift-and-replace of one large paw. The realization that he now had no idea what he wanted to do was... unpleasant. It was like his own will had indeed been bled away, like he suddenly wanted only to apologize to--and appease--this stranger.

For a long while the hybrid simply turned, semi-watching the gruesome show below, an ear and his profile given to Miriam but his eyes on the fiasco. Half his mind watched the brutality unfold, a bit interested and more uncaring for the fates of prey creatures, aside from noting it a little unnecessary. The other half pored over the possibilities--the games Miriam had mentioned, versus simply... leaving, going home. He'd had a lot today, after all--a lot to take in.

There was, however, a necessity that lingered. He pondered it, and then settled on it, seemingly still capable of making a decision after all--after some thought, at least. "Let's finish the show," he agreed; "then I will go and find some food. It smells like they have some, back in the booths," he added--and hadn't the carnies been barking something about rats on sticks, or something? He wasn't sure how that worked, but food was food. And it was half an invitation, ghostlight eyes flicking back to Miriam as he spoke, the fear mostly bled away: did she know if there was food; and would she like to join him..?

Anyway, the show was his priority. It wasn't a desire to watch it, though. It was the knowledge that he'd sort of interrupted Miriam's experience. No; they could finish this, and then he could find a meal to satisfy his stomach.

@Miriam

Ah, so some smidgen of independent thought did remain nestled between those feline ears. What a relief it was to hear and see the sign of such. A moment longer of shifting indecision and Miriam would have surely been convinced any spark which made Hades worthy of her generous attention had been banished in the midst of his startlement. Dead-eyed toys provided far less joy than ones that talked for themselves—lacked proper challenge when they bowed so easily beneath her paw. Absolute obedience, as useful as it was, proved boring over time; better to convince others into compliance and revel in winning a secret game only she was aware of playing.

"Oh, yes," confirmed the Tatzelwurm, purring as the malicious prank was placed well behind her, "there's morsels aplenty to cut your teeth upon. All sorts. Any shape or taste imaginable. I'd say many are quite different from the usual fare if you're keen on exploring them. Foods exotic compared to anywhere else."

The snake's quarries were still yet to wise up or find courage to fight back in the little arena they were forced to perform in. Backed into a corner, their beady eyes stared in shivering silence while a whimsical whistling song played over their plight. At last one of their number had been snagged, squirming, by its long tail. Barely a struggle was managed before it disappeared with a single despairing squeal down the hunter's gullet.

"Or you can stick with the familiar: your birds and mice." She giggled, a gleam of humor in her eyes. "And rats, of course."

Most of the description was speculation on her part. Mighty appetite only requiring satiation after a fair stretch of cycles, sampling the odd concoctions available here was quite the rare event. Treats would be unappreciated on a stomach busy processing a herd of tunnel runners. Nevertheless she conveyed this using her typical feigned worldliness, imparting the information with a self-assured nod and falling into regal silence to observe the conclusion of this show's segment.

@Hades

Some part of the cub--attention turned now to the gruesome spectacle below--paid twinned attention to Miriam and to the rats.

The childish, instinctive lust for blood and killing (only enhanced by Miriam's description of Carnival meat) was spiked, the predator in him sharpening its gaze on the show. His stomach briefly rumbled again. But some other part of him, a mature part that might grow or might diminish with time and experience, felt... pity. The creatures were scrambling, frightened, put on display in their terror.

Was he right to feel pity-? His big head tilted to one side as he studied them from the benches, and--after a long pause so as not to actually interrupt Miriam's enjoyment again--he asked an offhand question. "What do you make of this show?" he asked, carefully.

Perhaps Miriam--an adult, and far more worldly than he--could explain which emotion he should be feeling. Though he didn't quite know that was what he was asking, himself.

(also we can fade/exit whenever, up to you!)

@Miriam

Miriam's torso had slumped bonelessly over the foremost seat supporting her weighty coils as she'd settled in for observation of the torments on display. Though eyes peered down, oceanic and unblinking, they didn't betray the intensity of rapt attention. Rather, as a paw cradled the side of her scaled face, she took in the slow extermination of the rat troupe with the mild amusement befitting an occasional distraction from routine. Jaws parting, the caress of a soft pink tongue against an exposed fang tip interrupted the forming yawn.

Then she propped herself fully up on an elbow to entertain the question given.

"Oh," she offered, humming consideration, "I suppose the point of all this is—uh, dear, what's the word—a showoff? No, no. An egg... egg-something-in..."

Mumbles a mile a minute, completely incoherent, followed before curled ears perked upon unearthing the proper expression. Delighted by its discovery, a snap of claws announced its use.

"Exhibition! That's it. Fancy sounding. Don't get to use that one too much. A right shame since it rolls so well off the tongue. Their act is an exhibit. It's meant to show us something, to give a demonstration of it. And everyone's playing their parts quite perfectly in my little opinion. Oh, I have my own thoughts on what it might be, but giving it away ruins the excitement, don't you think?"

As Miriam lounged, she tipped her head just so to keep both the ongoing struggle and Hades in view. "Do you want to take a guess?" The suggestion slipped out of a mischievous smirk which dared an attempt. "It's an easy one, I swear."

((Maybe exit in a few more posts? Wrap up the show and fade out as either Hades or Hades along with Miriam go for food.))

@Hades

He glanced at her, uncertain, and back to the show. For a long moment he considered her question--as the rats scurried, as some succumbed to gruesome deaths. Just part of the show, but that was death: death was a part of this show.

Her question only stoked a sense of urgency into his own previous query: How should I feel about this? He'd asked her, and she'd turned it around on him. A more mature creature might have withheld judgment. Said that they weren't sure, yet. For him--but a child--it didn't occur to him that this was an acceptable answer. Instead he fidgeted with oversized forepaws, uncertain, ears flattening back as he felt faintly cornered. Panic turned quickly to a strange sense of resentment toward whatever had pushed him--in this case, his companion here.

"I don't know," he blurted, quietly dour. "That's why I asked." There was the faintest touch of a temper tantrum in it--nothing so dramatic, but a child's sulking nonetheless. And his immaturity left him unsure, guilty for snapping, annoyed at his lack of an answer--too many feelings roiling around in a too-young heart.

It didn't occur to him that the guessing game Miriam offered referred to the exhibition itself; if it did, he'd wholly misunderstood the question. But that, given his youth, might be something to be expected.

@Miriam

If Miriam's playful attempts at engagement had stemmed from a more kindhearted place, perhaps she would have recoiled at the possibility she had plucked the soft morose chord in which Hades spoke. Seeing as her blood could only be described as lukewarm at the best of times, the most response she gave to the unsurprising youthful lack of an answer was a subtle shift of expression few might read: her smirk shrank by a mere millimeter upon an otherwise motionless face. The source of this—options among them being displeasure, disappointment, disdain—would be unlikely to determine in such an incremental change. But perhaps it could be read in the following explanation she eased into, a tiny head shake and roll of shoulders marking its beginning.

"No?" Despite a sigh, she maintained her mouth's amused curve. "Well, we can't know everything, I suppose. So I guess then it falls to me to surrender a tidbit of my own thoughts." Seniority didn't prevent the affectation of juvenile petulance as she whined, "But, oooh, I was so hoping to compare with yours. Much more interesting than boring you with a lecture of ideas."

"It really is a simple concept, my dear, as far as I can tell. We're watching a fundamental part of our lives play out in small scale. Prey and predator. Those unequipped to defend well being devoured by the one who is. Here it is a physical struggle. For the likes of us"—and there was slight hesitation putting the child on equal level with her—"it can be a battle of minds too. But let's stick to what we can see for now, shall we?"

Someone's hands, used to handling deadly creatures as well as harmless, plunged into the conflict and withdrew the largest of the surviving rats. When it was returned, although fear still quaked through its body, an odd addition had been attached in a far from humane manner. Secured by silver tape, a gleaming blade jutted from atop its head. Released back into the fray, the rat darted about, motivated by the foreign weight nearly as much now as the serpent threatening it.

"Mmmm. Or so I thought. Maybe they've decided a plot twist is an improvement."

Regardless, the pandemonium was bound to worsen.

@Hades

Hades watched the show.

It wasn't that he was ignoring Miriam: far from it; he'd heard every word, taken it to heart and was considering it, inserting it clumsily and piecemeal into his own worldview as any impressionable child would. Predator and prey, weak and strong. But, as much as there was satisfaction in the hunt and kill--even in watching the spectacle play out just below--there was, too, a strange pang of... something unfamiliar.

"It's a good show," he said at last, struggling to put any of this eloquently into words. "But it makes me feel bad, too." There; that was his opinion, offered in return, as a peace offering for Miriam to "compare" with. Unfortunately it was hardly as well-spoken as her own; the stumbling of a cub's oversized paws was an apt metaphor for his phrasing.

Hades pushed up, abruptly, and shook himself, scattering the bit of dust and pollen that had briefly collected in his ashen pelt. "I think I'll get some food," he said, more softly. "If you want to come with me." He paused, and glanced back. "If not, I'll probably come back, but it was nice to meet you." Manners, and all, but something dim in his demeanor suggested he was more disturbed by the day's events than pleased. Not that he blamed Miriam-... but the scent of blood from below was in his nostrils, and he still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

@Miriam

Blundering about due to the extra weight upon its head, the newly armed rat's return had refreshed a hunt beginning to go stale. After this change had been unleashed onto the scene and a few more naked tails had wriggled down the serpent's wide gullet, the sure advantages the predator possessed in fangs and swift strikes shifted to greater uncertainty. Wild flailing started to stand an impossible chance against deadly precision, shocked and agonized squeals from accidental nicks of fur and flesh as likely to be heard as sharp hisses when a soft underbelly was sliced. The danger in the arena no longer entirely one-sided, the already pungent stench of violence and fear doubled, a dizzying experience combined with the continuing loud, upbeat musical accompaniment whistling through the big top.

To Miriam, parting lips the slightest bit to better inhale, the dreadful mixture revealed itself to be mildly intoxicating. A vast improvement on the old formula of uninspired natural cruelty.

"That's to be expected," Miriam remarked towards Hades's conflicted stance, no more sympathetic or derogatory than her past couple of comments. "It wouldn't be nearly as interesting without the complexity."

She'd not been wrong with her previous assessment of the show, only observing it from a less than ideal angle. At least, that's what she would have claimed of the events unfolding below if prodded for further thoughts instead of being invited for a spot of snack-browsing. The point had not been the standard relationship of weak and strong: it was the advantage gained through the likes of innovation, dumb luck, or fantastic opportunity. An enrapturing potential twisting of fate, the Carnival ought to be applauded for the effort—and perhaps the creators of this storyline congratulated for not being content pleasing the base instincts of the lowborn crowd.

Would the end be worth the wait? Maybe, but disappointment could be just as likely. So unscripted, the preferred outcome might lose to a far less satisfying one, a boring confirmation of facts she already was aware of in explicit detail.

Arms pushed, and a groan announced Miriam heaving herself more upright and off the front seat her torso had lounged across. She stretched claws above her head, joints popping as she worked the tiredness from them.

"Oh, yes," she purred after lowering the limbs to her sides, "We did mention grabbing a bite, didn't we? Why, you must be famished by now! Best I come with; it wouldn't do if you collapsed before reaching the best stalls."

Even better, she'd be allowed more time to observe. Where else could she learn dramatic turns from than the very source known as reality? The chance to practice weaving believable tales and ensuring masks stayed firmly affixed to one's face couldn't be denied.

@Hades

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