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[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

Saturday lunchtime, the marketplace

FAUSTUS. Now tell me what saith Lucifer, thy lord?

MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,
So he will buy my service with his soul.

It is the kind of spring day that has men walking with their hands in their pockets, smiles on their faces, a day when women go out to buy bread and come home with flowers alongside the loaves. It is the perfect day to sow seeds of misery; I will be like a fly in new milk, spreading corruption. And so the old man Uri, last seen just before Valentine's Day, comes back along the abbey road with a pack on his back, humming as he goes.

I take up a stall at the market after an exchange of coins, and I lay out my wares on a clean white cloth, small bottles like jewels, potions the rich tones of green-gold and scarlet and purple and the soft hues of lavender and sunset pink. A handwritten sign is attached to the front of the stall that reads, in a steady sloping hand, MAKE ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE. I sit down on the stool behind my stall.

"Masters, mistresses, young misses, I deal in dreams. No more afternoons long and dreary. Pass an idle hour walking through the warmth of an orchard, the taste of apple between your teeth! Lie down tonight with the company of she you most desire! Spend a day as fresh faced as you were in your youth! All your wishes can come true, for a limited time. Side effects there are none, and satisfaction is guaranteed."

That the satisfaction is yours is not, of course.

[Open]

Comments

[al-shairan.livejournal.com]

I take the bag from him and shake it, and then empty it into my palm. I let him see what has come out - shards of ice, and I put one on my tongue and swallow it. Then I smile at him.

"Such a cold dream," I say. "Give you this I could for it," I continue, showing him a small fold of money, "or have you can any of the bottles on this front row. They are worth more than the cash."

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

I watch him with the bag, waiting for him to do something tricksy, but he just shakes the bits out. Looks like ice, but I guess it could be anything. Wish I’d thought to take a peek in there before, but it’s too late now. He puts one piece in his mouth, smiling at me like he’s got me. ”Such a cold dream.”

Wasn’t feeling too good before, but now I feel like someone’s hit me hard in the stomach. Something is going on here, and I don’t understand it, and I really, really don’t like it. Staring and stammering and asking how will only make that smirk wider. “I’ll take the money, thanks,” I tell him firmly, too shaken to bargain. “What else do you need to do?”

[tereixa-zann.livejournal.com]

Oh, honey, you're looking a little--well, you're looking like the townies were back in summer, when Tez pulled out secrets and left them stunned. I feel sorry for him, a little, wish he'd taken the sample; I think it'd would have been an easier way to get the measure of all this. And oh, that music... (http://community.livejournal.com/estdeus_innobis/404164.html?view=10391748#t10391748)