Mere Coincidence

Mere Coincidence

daniel_icon.jpg finnegan_icon.jpg harper_icon.jpg

Where: The Market
When: 10/12/20
What: Once more, a trio of unsuspecting Fey wind up in a peculiar, if not entirely unexpected, situation.

When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? - Macbeth, Act 1 Scene 1


To market, to market, to buy… some information. Or, a check up on the market's leading lady and her small charges that Daniel had left in her care. The man isn't dressed as formally as today as his previous visit - it's Saturday after all - so just jeans, shirt and a light coat - it is California after all - cover him as he makes his way down one of the secretive dirt ramps leading to the main entrance. Also unlike his last visit, he is no longer in such a rush to find the faerie woman he'd dealt with. Once amongst the regular denizens and stalls, Daniel winds up unintentionally browsing.

Browsing is inevitable here, it seems, as a few stalls down from Daniel, there's a certain vampire musician fingering a necklace with a large gnarled-looking pendant hanging from it. It matches her current (and usual) attire. There appears to be some haggling going on between her and the faerie manning the stall.

Out of place — not because he's a werewolf and not because he's not faerie, but simply because he isn't browsing or looking enchanted by all the sights and sounds — walks Finnegan from the opposite direction. If anything he looks a little nervous, but not in the same way that the first-time tourists seem to be; they giggle and titter when something surprises them, while he looks anything but happy.

He stops a couple of stalls down from Harper, but with the Unseelie there, there is no haggling, simply a quiet exchange of one envelope for another.

It is certainly a busy night for the market tonight as most weekends tend to yield a larger number of curious come-and-goers who assume to explore the fey-side of reality within the confines of the somewhat familiar lands of Topanga Canyon. It's just far away enough from the city to feel like an adventure, but still close enough to run home to. At least, most think it so. So it is nobody's expectation that something is about to go wrong, until yet another few stalls down closest to Finnegan, a roar of someone taking deep offense rolls through the air overhead.

"HOW DARE YOU!?!" Tourists and vendors alike look towards the commotion, and most lack a reaction besides to stop what they are doing and stare.

Harper, too, turns from her find to look toward the voice. She seems mostly curious, perhaps a little annoyed, but when she spots Finnegan between her and the commotion, she lets out a sigh and sinks into her stance, weight moving to one leg as she props a hand on her hip.

Dropping the necklace, she strides forward, not to interrupt the yelling, but to stop at Finnegan's side to comment. "Who'd you piss off this time?" As if the noise must be his fault.

Nervous as he already was for whatever reason, Finn does look up, as if expecting the yell to be directed at him. The shady looking faerie he'd been speaking to slips off in the commotion, as might Finn if it weren't for the sudden appearance of Harper at his side.

"It's a long list, hard to narrow down these days," he says, eyes narrowing a bit as he looks in the direction of the yell.

As people and Fey become bystanders, those closest to the noise disperse as quickly as possible as one would if one suddenly discovered one walked face first into an Africanized honeybee's hive. When they do, a clearer view of the situation becomes apparent.

A much, much larger man with a would-be comically small tuft of hair upon his head and a large bulldog-jowled jawline has reached across his stall's table top and grabbed a thinner man with foxish features by the possibly customer's shirt. Despite his seemingly imminent demise, though, the thinner man seems unconcerned.

"I only wanted t' know what barb'rous salon would do such a thing t' your beautiful hair, and t' tell ye that style was in," says the thin man with unshaken calm. Face to face with such insult, the offended vendor's face is purple with anger. Someone tell the thin man his punchline is coming.

For those less distracted, though, and those in the know of an old bait and switch, see a pair of hands from a short man reach for an old, leatherbound book from the vendor's stacks piled on either side.

"Maybe you should get an assistant, write them all down for you." Harper smirks over at Finn, just for a second, because people scatter and give her a better view of what's going on.

She lifts an eyebrow, then takes a few strides toward the stall, winding around to see if she can't find who the hands are coming from, exactly.

Finn watches with some amusement as Harper goes to investigate; he noticed, too, but isn't particularly worried about playing white knight tonight. He'll leave that to her. Looking around — perhaps for the quickest way out and one that takes him past the least amount of "barkers" trying to entice customer — he notices Daniel, who has edged up closer to the spectacle.

The off-duty bartender raises a brow at the sight of the other werewolf, and gives a nod of recognition that seems a bit resigned to whatever it is that keeps pulling them into the same trouble spots.

Daniel winces at the zinger from the thin man, shakes his head at the exchange. He, like Finn, doesn't get involved but he does spot the other werewolf as well. He raises both brows, an unspoken 'Hello, you' exchanged. He approaches the other man, stopping beside him. A glance back to the scene causes Daniel to add in comment, "Nothing like a Saturday night fight." It lacks the humor or sarcasm that should accompany the phrase from a more calloused heart - instead, a small degree of concern put in as the man casts about for what he might normally expect as security and sees none coming.

The pair of hands belongs to a squat, older looking gentleman in a brown paperboy cap, and when Harper spots him, he smirks at her and starts to slip back, book clutched to chest. The thief doesn't appear to be concerned for the distracting thin man's welfare either. Perhaps for the better, as another snide comment seems to have made the vendor mad enough to lift the thin man clear off the ground by a few inches. "Why you…!"

The old guy backs away, but Harper strides forward still. And she does have a stride, especially compared to the smaller creature. She grabs for the man's shoulder, not just to hold onto him, but to shove him back against the earthen wall behind the row of stalls.

She also seems to lack concern about the thin man on the other side of the stall. Or alerting the owner. Not yet anyway.

"I'm not fighting anyone tonight," is probably the most optimistic thing Finn's ever said in Daniel's presence. He watches Harper go for the old man with some amusement, and keeps an eye on the big guy going after Fox-face. Since the thin man seemed to be the distraction in the bait-and-switch, the werewolf doesn't seem too inclined to try to put an end to impending violence.

Thief though he is, the older guy doesn't particularly expect Harper to make a grab for him. So with a startled yelp, he tries to dodge but her fingers latch on to the padded shoulder of his unassuming brown coat. Neither, it seems, was he expecting her to be as strong as she is to hold him against the wall. His eyes stare up at hers, searchingly. Is she really going to try and hurt him, an unassuming old man?

The sly-faced man up front kicks his legs a little - the first sign that he might be experiencing slight discomfort from being held aloft - and struggles out a short, "Oi! 'ave you got it, Hobb?" He doesn't get enough time to hear an answer, though, as the large man holding him shakes the foxish man hard and then throws him in a righteous rage out to the crowd… right towards Finnegan and Daniel's spot.

For a vampire, her intentions are downright benign. Curiosity, amusement, and a general sense of entitlement, but she doesn't seem to harbor much in the way of violent desires. But she is holding him there firmly.

Harper lifts her eyebrows at him when his partner shouts, and she uses her free hand to pluck the book out of his clutches. "What's your friend willing to get the shit kicked out of him for, huh?"

"Incoming," is a quick warning from Finnegan to Daniel as he tries to leap out of the way of the human missile coming their way. He's not intending to be a soft landing for the fox-faced man. He bumps into the stall they stand closest to, unfortunately sending some of its wares to the ground.

Daniel manages half-formed query for the quick warning's intent, but he too notices the thrown man hurtling head first their way. He's not as swift, however, as Finnegan - this he seems to recognize within those few moments and smartly braces for impact. The thin man crashes into Daniel, missing Finnegan, and the momentum carries Daniel back into the spectators and onto the packed dirt floor. The vendor who had thrown the man is already coming around the side of the stall to follow up on his manhandling, though Harper and her catch are in the way now.

Hobb, as the thin man had called his probable partner, doesn't let the stolen property go without a struggle. As Harper tries to wrest the book away, he clinging arms tighten and he lashes out - by latching his teeth right on to her arm. And sharp, needly teeth they are!

Harper doesn't have time to notice the large man barreling her way because this old man is biting her. And frankly, she doesn't appreciate the irony. Her hand lets go of the book — although not his shoulder — and punches him in the face. There may be a snarl, and a show of fang, but it's coincidence.

It's an irony Finnegan would appreciate, if only he wasn't distracted by Fox-Face running into Daniel. He sighs a little — so much for his sanguine dream of not having to fight tonight. He moves toward the fallen men to grab the man from the collar, pulling him backward off of Daniel. He's not particularly gentle, given the fact that it's really Foxy's fault he got thrown in the first place, and he's not about to get in the big guy's way.

He will, however, happily serve the thief's accomplice up to the vendor — no silver platter, but then werewolves don't do silver.

Slightly disoriented by the impact, the fox-man groans a little as Finnegan reaches and grabs him up onto his feet. Daniel meanwhile gets back up on his own, grumbling under his breath and dusting his backside off. He looks around again - where in the heck is security? Do they even have it around here? Someone should put in a word… with… security. Hm. "Hang on to him, and I'll grab security," Daniel says to Finnegan. Maybe the other werewolf wasn't intending to be involved but Daniel seems to be riled a little more now that he's had someone thrown on him.

"Out of my—" The vendor starts to growl, but stops as Harper just punches the old man biting her arm. Her strike is hard enough to dislodge the jaws (and leave a few sharp teeth in her arm in the process) as well as causing the old man to drop the leatherbound book to the floor, and Hobb hisses an unearthly sound back at the vampire, with no small amount of blood and spittle spraying in small droplets. The volume dropped shows a number of swirling glyphs stamped into its cover for any who care to look. The only one who seems to look is the vendor whose merchandise is now on the floor; he is definitely not happy about that, either.

Book be damned. Harper might have been curious about that moments ago, but now she's got anger pumping. And blood. Out of a series of holes in her arm. Her hand moves for grab Hobb's neck, squeezing no small amount as she shoves him back against the wall again. Higher up this time. No demands or insults or growled threats just now. She's practicing her nonverbal communication.

Security? Finnegan casts an incredulous look at Daniel's back — where does he think he is, Staples Center? "I ain't hanging on to him. Let the vendor deal with him," the Southern boy says in his slow drawl. He's not about to get in between the vendor and Fox-Face.

"Here, I caught him for you," he says, jerking his free hand's thumb toward the man still collared by the other.

"You okay there, Sharptooth?" he calls to Harper.

He may have grown up on Land Before Time movies…

Even if there's no words exchanged, the threat of violence, murderous bitey violence, emanates from old man Hobb. The large-bodied vendor is the one who bends down to gingerly pick up the hardbound book from the dirt and blows the dust off the cover. The vendor tucks his property back somewhere into the stacks before turning to regard Finn's capture. "Wiggins'll deal with him," intones the vendor with a rather ominous rumble. And the mention of the name of Wiggins causes even Hobb to pause with a fearful widening of his eyes and whimper, "Red, 'e's goin' to call Wiggins?"

"W-wait, 'Loky. We di'n't mean t' let it get as far as Wiggins!" stammers the Foxface.

The murderous bitey violence goes both ways in this exchange, as the vampire's showing teeth as well, at this point. Her grip tightens around his neck.

"Feeling hungry," Harper growls out in response to Finn, although she doesn't take her gaze off the redcap in hand. It may be a general warning to the area, but she seems pretty focused. Or else she didn't grow up on dinosaurs.

"Is that where the word comes from?" Finn asks to no one in particular, a proverbial light bulb over his head at the frightful looks everyone gives one another at the mere mention of the apparently infamous 'Wiggins.'

"I don't think that one looks very appetizing, but to each their own," the bartender tosses back to Harper, not letting go of Red until either the vendor takes hold of him or Wiggins shows up.

The smaller group of fey aren't the only ones who seem to hush as the name Wiggins is mentioned, but the bystanders who are 'in the know' enough also look about, and interestingly down near their knees. Hobbs fidgets more in Harper's grasp, wriggling against the chokehold she has on him but unable to match her strength. "Lemme go, y' bloodsucking newvie," hisses the redcap as his fingernails dig into her hand. At the same time, Finnegan's charge casts around for the infamous Wiggins.

"MAKE SOME ROOM!" booms an authoritative voice over what sounds like a megaphone, save the common knowledge that there aren't any electronics in the marketplace. A small column separates off to the side of the crowd, and trotting down the path is a labrador retriever saddled with a particularly small lady clad in an officer-type uniform. The labrador is also bedecked in a uniform, sporting a sigil on the side of its vest.

"He isn't. He's disease ridden, he has a rash somewhere I'd rather not think about and he stinks." And she isn't eating him. Because she has standards. But she isn't letting him go, either, even though he asks so nicely. Bloodlust is still a thing she struggles with, even if it's less out of hunger and more out of annoyance.

The sight of the dog gets a double-take from Finnegan who shakes his head. He may have officially seen it all now. He lets go of Red, giving the slim man a little shove forward. "TMI, Fangs," he tells Harper, before regarding the tiny lady on the dog with a look of bemusement.

"Is this Wiggins?" he says in an aside to the vendor whose wares he displaced earlier.

Finnegan's query gets a short nod from the book vendor's large head, the small tuft of hair waving to and fro in the movement. "This… is the security?" Daniel speaks a little disarmed by the sight as well, from Finnegan's side.

The labrador trots right on to the center of the scene and the small (some would say tiny, but she seems properly proportional to the dog's size, so to say such is relative) lady officer points to Urglok. "SPEAK," states the officer in the megaphone voice. No, the dog mount does not bark at the command. Red seems frozen with fear now.

Urglok relates the whole story from the beginning, but in short to-the-point statements of fact. Clearly, he doesn't aim to embellish or victimize himself to the officer as many would be tempted to do. Wiggins listens to it all without a shift in stance or anything to give herself away. Rather, the officer spurs her mount forward to the foxfaced thief. Without speaking any other word, the officer simply looks up at Red and the man faints in Finnegan's grasp. Rather, he seems to instantly fall asleep, dropping like deadweight in the werewolf's hold. And meanwhile, Hobb tries to kick at Harper to get her to loosen her hold on his throat. Seeing his partner in crime drop like a rock doesn't seem to be any encouragement to be next.

"Oh, fucking calm down," Harper says, snapping at all the kicking and squirming. And she takes that grip around his next and tosses him toward the feet of Wiggins and Co. Apparently with little effort. Only then does she brush the splitter-like teeth from her arm and she rejoins Finnegan. She takes a moment to look over at Daniel, but she doesn't seem particularly surprised to see him there. Resigned, maybe.

"Don't worry, Dawg," she says to Finn with a crooked smile, "I won't tell anyone what I can tell about you." TMI-wise, that is.

When Red goes slack, Finn lets go, shaking his head at the odd resolution to the story that's unfolded in front of them in the marketplace. "Terrifying," he opines to Daniel, but there's no sarcasm in the short remark.

He glances at Harper, raising a brow. "Oh, sure, start rumors, will ya," he says with a smirk. "You might want to get that looked at," he adds, before starting to walk toward the exit.

Daniel also double-takes as Wiggins' sleep induced spell takes out Red. Oh. As Finnegan starts to leave, he watches the other werewolf take his leave. Then the second thief Hobb is tossed at the center of all watchers and with but a look, Wiggins also puts the other thief to sleep. The pair are out like lights - though clearly not permanently - before the labrador moves to stand over them. Perhaps it's an illusion that follows next, but the thieves disappear from view shortly afterwards, as does the mounted officer. There's a short pause before everything the marketplace vendors pipe up to start hawking their wares again. People who aren't in the know shuffle awkwardly, and in barely any more time, the crowd starts to break up and go back to their shopping experiences. Just another day at the marketplace…

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