Some Gembound would have turned tail at the strange, twisting tunnel, filled with flora and so winding that Aviatrix could barely see a couple feet down its path.

Luckily—or, perhaps, unluckily for their continued well-being—Aviatrix was not one of those Gembound. They'd been sniffing their way down the tunnel, following the waystones on their continued search for the shiniest of treasures, when they'd stumbled across the path. Lined with ominously clawed trees and bushes a Gembound could disappear in, it looked like a good place to get lost in and never come back from.

So, obviously, it's perfect for an explorer (thief) like them.

And that's what they've been doing for the last five minutes—winding their way in and out of the ominous path, wincing a few times when branches catch on their pelt and leave stinging scrapes behind, but otherwise enraptured by the mysteries of the strangely forested path.

Their ears prick upwards at the sound of distant music. It's strange, and a little off-key—they make a face of displeasure at the sound. It's jovial, sure, and they think they could get used to it, but someone should really tell whoever's playing to get off the instrument.

They bet they could do better than that.

Still, it's a sign that something's down there—what, they have no idea, and the music bears no indication, but that's just another reason for them to quicken their step.

They come out blinking in the sudden colorful light. What was once a jogging pace quickly grinds to a halt—dark eyes snap wide as they take everything in. Weird creatures of varying shapes and sizes walk about, hard at work, dressed in the oddest clothing Aviatrix has ever seen; a riot of lights strung from poles and wired together with something dark stretches above them, providing the source of the color which bathes the place in a phantasmagoric aura.

And silvery mist rolls across the ground, the sight of which makes Aviatrix grin; that's free cover, and it dusts every part of the carnival that they can see. If they weren't already itching for something to steal in this shiny, glittering, crazy place, then the realization that this place is as good of an opportunity as they'll ever get to do some skulking around fills them with mischevious excitement.

Step one of any theft: scope the place out. They scramble over to the nearest worker, standing up on their hind legs to peer out of the mist at them.

"Hey! Hey! Where am I?"

A Carnival? Games? Prizes? Danger?

Say no more.

Or, maybe say a little more, because as exciting as this Carnival's shaping up to be—the thought of grilled spider puts a gleam in their eye. Spider, it says? Crunchy and tasty and… 'grilled'?

They've never had something 'grilled' before. Frankly, they don't know what a 'grilled' is.

But there's no time like the present to try, right? And maybe if they get away with their little spider-heist, they can try the carny's recommendation. Balloon-popping. How hard can it be?

They aim a lingering grin at the carny's back as it turns to go. Oh, they're going to have so much fun here!

They focus an idle whisper of magic as they crouch low to the ground, sniffing; once they catch the scent of something vaguely food-like through the fog and other, myriad smells, they forge on ahead, hoping the magic will catch what they can't conceal with slinking movements alone.

To the spiders!