He sat on the corner edge of the table, using it like a stool, his right leg propped up on the bench seat while the other dangled freely, scuffing the ground beneath with the tip of his shoe. The night was getting late, but the carnival wasn’t slowing down at all, actually the opposite was true, the later it got the busier it became. People were milling around everywhere, except for this little lonely table, placed at the top of the small hill beneath the shadow of the large tree sprawling above it. It was too far from everything he guessed and probably too secluded. Day time would probably be different, the tree would offer shade and the distance from the main attractions would allow some respite from the chaos and press of humanity. The table and its location suited him perfectly, he could watch while staying out of sight for the most part and it prevented anyone from sneaking up on him.
He had been at the table a little while now, waiting. Not that he minded the wait, for the time alone had given him time to think and to explore the show bags he had been forced to buy. The Winged Creatures one had made him laugh, the golden feathered figurine, which he had assumed was meant to represent Light Angels, had been melted a little and was stuck to the table beside him. Its form was still discernible, but its wings and face had been mangled and grotesquely malformed, a toothpick had been inserted into it so that the unfortunate thing looked like it had been impaled to boot. A dark winged figurine stood atop the tip of another toothpick, looking victorious as it watched over its despised brethren, gloating at its pain and torment, a blackened toothpick had been inserted into its hand, making it look like the creature was holding a dark sword.
He had moved on from playing with the figurines though. Now he dipped a small plastic brush into a small bottle of bubble solution, he then pulled it out and blew some bubbles. They shimmered beneath the night sky, reflecting the lights from the carnival as they drifted and spread out towards the happy, fun loving masses.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched the bubbles drift over the crowds then smiled wickedly. How long had it been since he had played? Too fucking long. He dipped the brush into the bottle again and pulled it out but this time when he blew into and over the brush, he did so with intent, the result was a stream of small bubbles. The bubbles came out shimmering with a red patina, each one filled with a touch of lust. They would drift over the crowd, landing and breaking only on those of the right mind and mood. Those they landed and burst on would find their desires suddenly inflamed and uncontrollable, they would be consumed by them. Soon there would be couples screwing with total abandon and wantonness in the shadow filled tent alleys and dark recesses of the different attractions.
He smiled as he watched them drift off on the gentle night breeze towards the unsuspecting public. This whole election business was ridiculous anyway. Jake should have squished it before it even started. Ben should have come before the council and called for a vote of non-confidence against Jake and claimed the right to his seat. He would have gotten a majority vote no problems, hell, it might even been unanimous. Instead, there was this circus with both parties claiming to make changes that would affect the rest of the District Leaders and running of the city if they won. Fucking vampires!
His next stream of bubbles shimmered with darkness, each one filled with anger bordering on rage. They would find those that were tired and cranky, the irritated, or those that were generally bad spirited, and feed those flames. They will suddenly break, giving into their dark impulses, consumed with rage. No longer able to tolerate those that push in at the ques, or those that keep bumping them or makes their child drop their ice cream or plutopup, or those who can no longer stand the way a person is eyeing up their partner. Violence would soon spread through the carnival like fireworks on Independence Day.
Fucking and Fighting, the two most primal and basic drives that controlled nearly every animal, supe or not.
He dipped the brush into the bottle once more and started to draw it out slowly, his eyes gleaming with dark power, his hair blowing about slightly in the night breeze as a small smile of wicked amusement played across his lips when he herd a foot shuffle through the leaves on the ground behind him.
