Brickley Street Gone with the Wind


There was a festival of some sort going on, booths set up on either side of the sidewalk full of food, games and merchandise that was intended to draw the people into the long the strip, and boy did it work. People of all ages flocked the street, filling their guts with the cheap food as kids screamed for unwinnable prizes. It was not her typical scene, but life got boring when you were stuck inside all day, and Sigfrid was in need of a bit of excitement.

Sticking out like a sore thumb, she would make her way towards one of the game booths, lifting a brow as she took in the many glass bowls filled with both water and fish. The objective of the game was to land one of the four plastic balls you were given into the bowl, and you would make off with a new pet fish that was most definitely going to die in the next 48 hours. In fact, she was pretty sure she saw some dead ones floating around now.

A cruel game, but probably the only one that had the chance of being one.

Paying the ten bucks needed to play, Sigfrid would aim her throw for one of the bowls, tossing the ball lightly only to have it fly to the left. Straightening in surprise, she would attempt a second time, only to have it bounce along several glasses and land out of bounds again. Lips tightening in some frustration, she would throw the third with a bit more force, watching it clang at the very edge of a glass and fly over her head right into some passing strangers head.
An otter skittered about.

Grey had walked the strip earlier, seeing what all was on offer for amusements and such. She had returned to the space as an otter, especially interested in the fish game. Because that was easy feeding, no? And Miss Badger was in the mood for some fun, anyway.

She tottered along amongst what shadows she could find, nails clicking against the cobblestones. She did not want to be seen yet.

There was the repeated thud of balls thrown, and then a commotion as someone else nearly had one hit them.

Chattering and crouching during the distraction, she slunk and climbed towards the abused glass bowl, and attempted to fish out the... fish.
An apology would be given to the unsuspecting man, Sigfrid turning back to the game with some embarrassment that was quickly replaced with shock as her eyes fell upon a rather large otter. This was definitely not a typical sight, and by the shock of the booth owner, this was not some sort of illegal pet that he was keeping around for shows later on in the night.

Given that she didn't quite know the typical size of an otter, she could not quite say if this thing was a Were though, and so with a flick of her wrist she would throw her final ball towards the top of its head.

If it looked her way, then there was a possibility that the eyes would give it away.

That was the sound of a ball hitting her right on the head, just as she was sure she could have gotten away with the fish despite getting attention now. And she lost the fish.

This was enraging. The otter whipped towards the woman, aware of her smell and yet not pausing to think about where she'd picked it up before. Instead she simply charged after her in an empty threat. Or, well. It was intended to be empty. Grey might change her mind if she didn't move.
The eyes told her absolutely nothing, and now she had to deal with some ballsy creature as it barreled her way. A part of her wanted to be obstinate and not move out of its way, but given that there were so many intrigued people around, she really didn't want to be pegged as some animal abuser either.

Humans always got to up in arms when it came to hurting any animal.

So, shifting her body to the side, she would do her best to get out of the creatures way, her nose crinkling in mild disgust. "Someone ought to call animal control."
She moved smartly. So did several others in her way.

It would be smarter to keep running at this point, so she started to, taking a chance to look behind to see if she was being followed.
A part of her said to ignore the creature all together, but another part of her was still curious as to whether or not this thing was a Were. It seemed a bit too ballsy to be your everyday animal, and since her experience with the supernatural creatures, she would follow.

Confrontation would be easier when there weren't twenty other pairs of eyes watching them.
Not following. Good. The aged and mischievous otter disappeared safely into the night.
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