2018-06-04 - A Day In the Park

"Seriously?" Rowan's voice is filled with the dismay that he'd been barely hiding all through the bus ride. "This is what you want to do with your first day of Summer?" He'd kept his cool most of the way, his hands dug into the pockets of his loose baggy and torn jeans, his dreadlocks twisting now as he shakes his head. "Some of the tunes are cool, but man..."

Central Park is alive, vibrant around them, happy with the party atmosphere that seems to exult in the long days of the season. People are moving in the crowd, flowing from one place of attraction to the other. There are folk food vendors, carnival games of chance, and a total of 9 stages, though only 3 main ones however, all with their various acts and entertainment. Bands play, a spoken word artist offers his poems, dancers, exhibitionists, all performers plying their craft. For some people it was great. For Rowan, maybe not so much

Alexander Aaron, the taller of the two, grins wryly as he walk along. "C'mon, man. I thought you were all into this hippie stuff." The tow-headed youth slipped through the crowd, smiling crookedly as he held onto his backpack with one hand to make sure it doesn't hit anyone as they pass. "Though, to be fair, I chose it just for the name."

"Circus McGirkus. Yeah, you would." Rowan shakes his head, crinkling his nose. "But hey, at least they have funnel cake." That said the other college student flashes a mirrored grin and starts to dive into the crowd to head on over to that particular vendor.

The majority of the street festival is local talent, the sort that frequents these sorts of street and community festivals. There is one stage that is for bigger name acts however, taking up the center of the festival. Currently the Quiet Ones, one of the hottest bands in the New York rock scene are packing up theire equipment after their set. And MC announces over the loud speaker for all at the festival to hear: 'Coming up next on the main stage, the Mistress of Magic, Zatanna! That's in ten minutes, Zatanna!'

Standing backstage, Zatanna is going through her typical last minute routine. She tilts her head down, eyes closed, arms crossed around her midsection as she takes several breathes in and out. Having toured the world, played stadiums and dive bars, you'd think that this would get common place. Rote. Boring even. But the butterflies return, every time, that sinking suspicion that this is going to be the show that goes wrong. Because with magick? Something is always bound to go wrong.

She takes a few more deep breathes before finally opening her bright blue eyes, a smile crossing her face as she tries to get into her performance mindset. "Showtime," she breathes out as she reaches down for her hat--no, her father's hat, which she places respectfully upon her head. She steps to one side and allows the Quiet Ones to step past her, just as her intro music starts to play, a mixture of electronic beats and noodling guitars. She taps her foot to the sound, psyching herself up, her hands rolled into tight fists. You'd think it'd get easier. But it never does. And maybe it never will.

Outside, in the crowd there in front of that main stage, the feeling is electric. This was the reason for coming for many people. Sure the Quiet Ones were a draw, they'd gotten good word of mouth and had been trending up. But this was the Draw. The Zatara family exceeds the Copperfields, the Pendragons, even that Mind Freak guy so recently discredited. But with Zatanna one always got a vibe that on some level... they were getting a glimpse into the real. And that wasn't something you got with the others.

In the park people move forwards, the crowds drift towards that prime stage that has the most dominating view. Rowan comes back with his funnel cake and asks, "What's going on?"

"Magic show!" Alexander responds with his easily offered enthusiasm even as they both try to work through the crowd, moving in the direction of the stage. "We shoulda gotten here earlier." He says over his shoulder as his friend trails after him.

"Dude, I had to take a shower. I was ripe."

"Meh." Is Alexander's pithy rejoinder even as the crowd seems to /stop/ in front of them, hard to get a view this far from the stage.

"Ah man, I can't see anything."

"C'mon, let's go check out the Cirque people?" Rowan gestures in the direction of another stage.

"You go if you want. Catch you back in like... 2 hours at the bus stop?"

"Sure thing, man." Rowan shakes his head as he slips into the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Alexander, however, frowns at his inability to see the stage. That is until he looks up and to the side, one of the old oaks that stands tall along the walkway before the stage. A glance is given, just to make sure the coast is clear... and then he /vaults/ up onto the lowest limb and starts to pull himself higher in the tree's bough.

From the massive stage speakers, the intro music starts to quiet down. The festival is in the middle of the day, so some of the more dramatic touches that mark a Zatanna show are lost, such as the smoke machine. Still, Zatanna takes a deep breathe from the wings, clipping a microphone to the lapel of her jacket; sometimes technology makes a job easier than magic. "Ladies and gentleman, prepare yourselves to bear witness to the amazing, the fantastic, the...impossible. Because you are about to enter the realm of true magick! Behold! The Mistress of Magic, Zatanna!"

With that, Zatanna flares out her hands and whispers to herself, "Gib ecnartne." And a moment later she appears on stage, in a big flash of light, standing in the middle of the stage with her arms held out. The crowd erupts in applause, as she silently starts her routine. She turns to a dusty old trunk, reaching into it (giving her a chance to ever so demurely lean over, most of the show obscured by her tails), before she pulls out a series of three rings. Ring tricks aren't that impressive, but she goes through the core material. Rings disconnect and reconnect, in different configurations, until she finally gives her magic words, "Sgnir ylf!" and the trio start to levitate over the crowd, circling around and around; if there are any wires, they are seemingly impossible to spot. She rings return to the stage, interconnect mid air and held above her head in a flourish.

The show continues in this vein for a while; mostly familiar bits with slight twists. Rather than a rabbit out of a hat, it's an entire petting zoo. One volunteer is brought on stage and instructed to stab a box with Zatanna in it repeatedly, and despite their clear misgivings Zatanna emerges untouched! Each trick more astonishing than the last, and each leaving with classic question of the perfect magic show: 'How did she do that?'

The crowd reacts with wonderment, their eyes drawn where she wishes when she wishes, and their emotions and anticipation are manipulated with each and every flourish. She can see the sea of eyes all on her, the open mouths of wonderment and intrigue. It is an experience, even the jaded are brought around to the spectacle and to be fair... that youth in the tree is no different.

He'd found a branch some twenty feet up and had crawled out onto the end of it, a mass of leaves pushed out of the way to give him the perfect point of view. From this angle she can see the theatrical movements she makes, the way she executes those practiced turns and presents each amazing realization of magic. And if he had thought he could perhaps try and see through the tradecraft from this point of view he quickly realizes he's mistak

A she reaches each reveal he follows along, watching, smiling, bright blue eyes wide with enjoyment. In his past he has seen the surreal and the magical considering those he calls his family. But this, it allows him a small chance to reach back to the way thing were, to shift his mind back to when he was just a youngster named Alex who had a grumpy father. Before all the craziness in his life started.

The show rolls on, each wonder more amazing than the last. Zatanna inwardly starts to get into her groove, finding herself more comfortable with each trick, each illusion mixed with genuine magick, before she turns to the audience and speaks. "I hope you have enjoyed the show, and choose to explore the magic in your own lives. But before you go...I have one more trick I want to--" Her words are cut off as she frowns, looking towards the sky. And the audience does as well as they start to see what caught her attention; the sun appears to be setting. Or more accurately, dimming, as if a lightbulb slowly losing power. In a matter of moments, what was a noon day festival is lost in night, even darker due to the lack of a moon to help brighten the sky. "What in the world..." Zatanna mutters to herself.

As if in answer, a whole screeching cry is heard. A song of hissing and gnashing that is earsplitting to all that hear it. And the sounds is coming directly for the fair grounds. They are hard to make out at first, but the source of the sound is eventually seen, as a trio of women with wide, leathery wings flying towards the festival. And not just any women; blue skinned, looking like gaunt corpses, dressed in tatttered Grecian robes. Their hair is long and ratty, large chunks missing. And their eyes are black voids, sockets where actual orbs should be. These hissing, screeching visions from a nightmare are heading directly towards the festival.

The panic is almost immediate, people trying to scatter. Zatanna for her part standds her ground, focusing on what precisely it is she is seeing. When she finally gets a good look at them she gasps. "Keres," she mutters, knowing precisely how bad this can go. Ancient spirits, hell-bent on whatever their target is, and dedicated to painful, bloody death. Zatanna has to make a quick decision and holds her hands up, shouting out in a loud voice, "Tcetorp eseht elpoep!" Instantly a giant bubble covers the whole scene, a forcefield strong enough to keep the trio of demonic creatures at bay from the crowd assembled.

The onset of darkness portends ill and it's the first sign that all was not well. It was accompanied by an itching on the back of his neck as Alexander pulled his legs forwards and shifted from lying down on that branch to being almost perched upon it like an avian as he looked across the way towards Zatanna... and then the shadows fell across him.

He turned as that trio of women shrieked their arrival, their talons lashing out at that field above him. Rising up partially and into a crouch, he looks as if he were about to dive one way or another when the field resists their first attacks. These were not the harassing entities that had been sent at him in the past, these were creatures that wanted blood, such was evident not just by their word but could be seen in those eyes.

"Hey!" His voice lifts even as the crowd reacts below, New Yorkers are pragmatic despite the madness of things they've seen in the past. Quickly they rush away from that tree he's perched in, fleeing away from the horrors that shriek above. But any that stay to look will see the blonde youth standing in the tree pointing at the creatures, "Hey!" He repeats, "Stop it!" He says, as if this authority in his voice somehow extend sto them. Again, "Stop it!" Then he looks around quickly and it's only then that he sees that look on Zatanna, that trickle of blood. He frowns, something connecting her to this. But he looks up at the creatures, "You want me then c'mon!" He drops down from the tree, landing in a crouch with a thump and starts to try and get the Keres to follow him, away from the people who are rushing away but also away from Zatanna.

The strain of maintaining the shield is simply too much over time, not this big, not this suddenly. If she had time to prep the spell, that would be one thing, but as is, Zatanna feels a serious migraine coming on that might mean that she is in danger of doing serious damage to herself. She tries to keep it up though, just as she sees the brave young man trying to draw the Keres attention. And much to her surprise...they seem to be in fact chasing him. She cants her head to one side before she waves her hand, causing the force field to quickly disappear. The keres seem focused on their prey, while Zatanna falls to one knee. She wipes the blood from beneath her nostrils before looking once more towards the young stranger. She tolds two fingers towards him, bites her bottom lip and concentrates. "Edivorp mih tneicna smra!"

The situation is indeed dire for Alexander, a trio of winged visions of death hunting him down with clear intent on him. As he flees, pulling them away from the crowd. As he runs though, he starts to feel a weight in his hand. A heavy weight, but one he can certainly wield. And if he were to look to examine it, he finds a rather impressive looking sword. And one that has been around for a while too, as across the blade itself is inscribed ancient Greek lettering. Above him the Keres shriek and hiss, "Blood of the Defender! Blood of the Defender for Nyxxxxx!"

At a glance it might almost be comical, the speed with which the youth flees and the hurried rush of those winged women hurtling after him. The way he vaults over a quartet of garbage cans, one hand planting on a park bench and letting him flip over it and skidding into a turn around a corner. He impacts with an over-sized stuffed rabbit on the edge of a carinval game, exploding the thing into a cloud of stuffing and fur as he slices it in twain with the sword in his hand...

Wait, sword?

It's around the corner between the portable ferris wheel and the carousel he skids to a halt, blade in hand. A moment's consideration a he looks at it. A fine weight, a good edge, hefty strength in the metal. It makes a low hum through the air as he twists it around in a clean arc.

And that's when the creatures appear, the trio flapping in front of him as he shifts one foot back and brings the point of the blade up in line with the center creature. He deepens his voice, affecting a stern tone and tries to channel his father as he says so firmly. "Who dies first?" It almost works.

The trio of nightmares hover in the air and stare down at the armed youth, wings keeping them aloft. They seem hesitant now, eyes clearly keyed in on the sword itself. They scream at him, gnashing their teeth. Eventually two of the winged women take around to either side, attempting to flank him before they eventually dive forward, attempting to slash at him with their clawed hands. But as they move it is clear that they are scared of the sword, and as such they move cautiously, surprsingly agile in the air. The third merely keeps her distance, allowing her two sisters to do the dirty work as she waits for any potential opening.

Zatanna might have gifted him with the weapon to simply grant him a chance, a chance at survival while she perhaps tried to come up with another angle, another spell. But it's unlikely she would have expected him to handle the blade so well. For when those two winged women brandish and then shriek as they rush in with clawed hands slashing the air, he moves as if he were born with a blade in hand.

Twisting cleanly to the side he avoids the charging rush of the creatures their talons taste only air when they slice across the distance. He's already turning, wending out of the way as the blade flips around in his hand, the grip reversing as a sneaker snaps up and around lashing in a clean smooth arc seeking to smash hard into the side of the head of that attacker.

Yet that movement is a feint, even as he lashes out and perhaps seeking a chance with his attention on that one it'll embolden another and allow him to abruptly reverse motion, the point of the blade stabbing backwards and up with the added force of his free hand upon the flat of the pommel, seeking to impale the one that would take him from behind.

The feints do their work, especially as the monsters are quite hesitant to attack in the first place. And each blow seems to do more damage than even Alexander is anticpating, the Keres screeching and immediately retreating even if the blade gets near, the hilt blows causing them to fly backwards. The two attackers return to their sister as hiss in a chittering language unknown to any other ears. The trio all seem to assess the situation and then give flight, giving a final cry of "We shall return, Defender!" before seemingly flying away directly into the sky hih above. A moment later, the unnatural darkness all passes, the sun soon back at full brightness. As if nothing had ever happened.

"Impressive," a familiar voice says, and as if seemingly from nowhere, Zatanna Zatara approaches the armed young man, tapping her lips thoughtfully. "I imagined the sword would be helpful in scaring them off long enough to come up with a plan B," she admits, before looking the man fully in the face. "Little did I know you would be quite such an able swordsmen. Granted I suppose I should have anticpated something why ancient servants of night itself would want something to do with...what is it they called you? The Defender?" She now furrows her brow, staring at him intently and waiting for him to share whatever crucial information just happens to come to mind.

As the creatures took flight after their threat, Alexander's voice lifted, "What am I supposed to be the defender of!?" He asks even as his breathing settles down, his brow furrowed as he watches them flee high up into the sky, the sword still held light in his hand as he straightens up slowly from a fighting stance. For a time he frowns, eyes distanced even a few moments after they'd disappeared from view.

Then that voice reaches his ears and he spins around, the blade coming up slightly but stopping short of threatening. He blinks a few times, blue eyes meeting blue though his are a curious shade of pale. "Oh, uh." He says eloquently. "I uh, take fencing." Not that any of his movements were a thing seen on the fencing run. Ever.

Then his eyes drop down to the sword and back up to hers. His brow furrows a little and he asks, "Is this yours, Ms. Zatara?" He flips it around and extends it to her pommel first, apparently recognizing her as his smile returns though faintly.

Zatanna doesn't look at all entertained by the clearly evasive answer, taking the sword back before looking at it instructively. "Kcab emoh," she says evenly and the sword disappears. She looks back towards Alexander and cross her arms again. "Uh huh. From my personal collection of tools needed to deal with ancient mythological creatures. Not going to lie, don't get to use those all that often." She purses her lips out. "You aren't going to tell me anything are you?" She shakes her head, taking her hat off and pulling a business card from within and passing it to him. "Listen, I get wanting to keep your secrets. But if you ever have a change of heart?" She taps the card. "Consider that an open invitation to my house." She raises her index finger. "IF, and only if, you're willing to talk. Otherwise? Don't bother."

"No, no. It's not that." He says that quickly, a little rushed as it's clear she's displeased even as the crowd begins to recover somewhat. The people who had managed to stick around long enough from afar, their phones recording from some ways away... they were creeping closer. But the moment that tears it for him...

"Alex, dude, the hell was that?" Is when Rowan starts to jog towards them.

"I uh," He accepts the card and looks at it, pokets it. "I'm sorry, I'll be in touch." That said he turns away and starts to damage control.

"Hey, man, crazy finale thing wasn't it?"

Rowan, like most people, looks dubious.

Zatanna watches as the mystery man and his friend walk away, only until they are out of sight reaching up to rub her temple. Pushing herself that hard, it is going to be one hell of a headache for the next few hours. But less so than the headache of what precisely brought the keres out of hiding. And what their mistress might want. Zatanna will need to consult some of her library to get a clearer vision, but first a bit of coffee. For the headache. She turns on her heel, and a moment later disappears in a puff of smoke.