All Fun and Games

Ever the yes-woman, Zaida followed Marisol to the region of the Green that was host to the activities not often seen outside a function. There were all sorts of things to do, most of which centered around some trivial display of skill such as throwing or balancing.

The knight stood by and watched as a blindfolded Marisol swung a bat at a colourful paper-mâché star suspended by a rope. When she struck it the third time, it came apart, spilling confetti about and winning cheers from onlookers. When she was finished, the courier returned the blindfold and bat, and a sorcerer restored the star for the next person.

There was a loud clang and the pair looked over to see a small group with a sledgehammer standing near the base of some tall post.

"Oh! Come, Zaida! You must try this." Marisol pulled her by the hand toward the post.

"What is this?" the demon-in-hiding asked, studying the setup.

"You hit the lever as hard as you can to try and make the puck hit the bell," the older woman explained, pointing to the respective components.

With its function revealed to her, Zaida could now envision the process. There was a rail set against the post with a bell at its apex and a lever at its foot. The puck Marisol mentioned sat in the rail, atop the lever. Depressing the lever with enough **** would launch it upward.

"Ah, a test of strength," she observed in understanding.

"Exactly," her date nodded.

"Check this out, babe," said a quite confident young man to his own partner. Ahead of Zaida and Marisol, he raised the sledgehammer over his admittedly lanky form, and brought it down with more **** than most would have thought him capable of. The lever shot the puck skyward, and it peaked a little over halfway up the rail.

"Great hit, Hanad!" his partner cheered candidly, clapping her hands. The game supervisor complimented him too.

"Top that," the young man said, handing the hammer off to the woman big enough to tie him like a shoelace.

Zaida accepted it, stepping up to the lever and weighing the instrument in her hands. It was not nearly as heavy as her mace, but it still had the mass to make use of momentum. Seeing that the space around her was clear, she drew the sledgehammer back with both hands nearest its pommel, she swung it in a wide arc over her head, bringing it smashing down upon the lever.

The puck screamed up the rail, striking the top hard enough to ring out like a church bell. The din from the surrounding attractions briefly hushed at the disturbance, only to return with the help of some commending hoots. Zaida turned around to find Marisol giving her own ovation for the knight, and the young couple staring on with mouths agape.

"That was awesome!" the boy exclaimed. He and his date lauded the woman then moved on.

"Those muscles are for more than show I see," Marisol jested.

The pair continued through the grounds, assessing which games were the most alluring and observing others play with their lovers, families, or friends. It was by this point that Zaida's mind drifted to her other dates. Dvorah had been waiting a while now, and she had yet to even meet Eposi. The thought of the administrator wasting the night away waiting for a Zaida that never came tugged at her heart. She began looking for some means of slipping away from Marisol.

"Good evening, fair folk!" declared a surprisingly high-pitched voice. "Which among you have confidence in your arm and aim?" The challenge was posed by a bulky clown in sparkling clothes and a white mask.

Marisol and Zaida had just entered a segment of the Green divorced from the rest by a curtain wall and an age restriction. The clown in question was just one of half a dozen or so identical jesters gathered around their game. The one who spoke stood in front, two juggled an impressive number of balls between one another, two more moved gracefully through the milling citizens to garner interest, and the remainder danced about the game.

The game itself appeared to be a very broad and somewhat deep basin filled with water situated beneath a bench rigged to a bullseye. Upon the bench sat a woman in a simple white gown. The gown was not particularly thick, and it was not difficult to guess the nature of the game; not difficult for anyone who had spent more than just a few months among humans, anyway.

"Try your hand at one simple trial and win a reward for all to enjoy!" the clown advertised. "Mympho offers you the opportunity to show your skill, and display a thrill!" With his arms reached out to their widest, he rolled a ball from the back of one hand, up his arm, over the back of his neck, and up the other arm to be caught in the other hand. Though somehow, two balls emerged from behind his head, and three landed in his hand after ramping off his second arm. "Three tries to dunk the damsel, or you might join her upon the ledge!"

"I've got this," Marisol asserted, marching toward the giant of a clown. She reiterated her acceptance of the challenge to the man's face.

"Ah, excellent! Just the sort of participant we were looking for, right boys?"

"So confident!"

"So eager!"

"So perfect to be next!" the other clowns voiced their own variants of approval for Marisol.

"Listen here: you are allowed three throws from twenty paces," Mympho held up the balls in one hand and pointed to a marker set a ways back from the basin with the other. "If a ball passes over the marker, that counts as a throw. Should you expend all three without dropping my Mymphomaniac into the pool, you shall change into a similar outfit and join her upon the bench. Do you accept these terms?" the clown leered at the courier.

"I do," Marisol accepted without reservation.

The rest of Mympho's gang threw up their hands in excitement. Zaida stood amongst a gathering of onlookers while Marisol took her place behind the marker. Mympho positioned himself just behind her, and provided her with the first of the balls.

Marisol tested the sphere in her hand, getting a sense of its mass and density. She then looked to her target, imagining the power and trajectory that would see the ball to the bullseye. After rolling out her arm, she wound up and made the throw. It flew most of the way, but landed a couple metres shy and rather wide of the basin entirely.

"Ooh," said the crowd, disappointed and dispirited by the inaccuracy.

"Just warming up, eh?" Mympho offered her the out as he passed the second ball.

"Right," Marisol affirmed, seemingly unshaken by this. She made her second throw. She must have released late, as the ball pitched into the ground just ahead of her and bounced twice before rolling to a stop well short of the target.

The sounds of lighthearted despair were louder and more dramatic from the crowd now.

Mympho gave a weary whistle. "Perhaps we overestimated our abilities?" He held out the final ball.

"Maybe..." Marisol acknowledged. In a single motion she took the ball from his outstretched hand, whipped around toward the target, and hurled the projectile into the dead centre of the bullseye. The mechanism clicked and the woman was dropped into pool with a triumphant splash. "Or maybe not," she said with a small smirk.

Onlookers hurrahed at the last-minute turn of events. The clowns provided an assortment of noisy cheers and speechless astonishment. A pair of them offered hands to help the soaked woman out of the basin. An on-hand pyromancer projected warm air toward her to stave off the evening chill; the sole, sheer garment she wore certainly was not going to do anything in that regard.

"Brilliant throw!" Zaida congratulated. Marisol accepted the compliment by taking the knight's face and planting a firm and brief kiss on her lips. "What was that?" Zaida asked when it was over.

"My prize for winning," the older woman said cheekily.

Zaida's face grew warmer than it already was. "Uh, w-where did you learn to throw like that anyway?"

Marisol's disposition went from excited to proud. "You're looking at the girl who was first pick for every game and sport in the schoolyard. I wasn't about to let growing into adulthood squander my athletic gifts. If I'm not working, I'm playing. So treat me to a good festival and I'll let you play with me," she winked.

Before Zaida could combust on the spot, a familiar woman in armour joined them. "Maybe you could instruct our javelin throwers some time," Tivra proposed.

"Hm, that depends," Marisol squinted in contemplation. "Will this dashing lady be present?" she said looking sidelong at a tongue-tied Zaida.

"For you ma'am, we'll dress her in gold leaf and a bow."

"And nothing else...?" Marisol purred, eyes fixed on her date.

"OKAY!" Zaida finally blurted. "Tivra, why don't you speak more with Marisol about what she and the knights have to offer each other. I have a great need for a glass of water."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Zaida," the woman on duty wholeheartedly agreed. She had not forgotten her fellow knight's assignment and was more than happy make her own appeal to the influential courier. "Now then, Marisol was it? My name is Tivra. Allow me to say that your postal service is perhaps the most reliable thing in Merridian..." Her honied words fell away as Zaida made swift strides out of the adult segment of the Green.

She accepted the glass from the bartender and took several deep gulps of water. Tivra and Edie had said nothing about these ladies being so terribly brazen. She had not expected this sort of behaviour when she accepted the task. She had thought that only succubi or incubi could be this forward. Flirting was certainly no taboo amongst the minions of the Demon Lord, but it was still jarring for her to be on the receiving end when it came from a human.

In all fairness, she should have seen this coming. From the moment she had set foot in Merridian, the air had been thick with hormones and hopes. With her capable nose, it was rare that she drew a breath totally free of anyone else's sexual conquest or anticipation of such.

That night was no different. Edie's words seemed to ring true, as even outdoors the air was lousy with the smells of lustful humans. Zaida was skimming her surroundings with the offhand curiosity of locating the source of the wanton whiffs when she spied a familiar face wandering the grounds.

"Eposi!" she called out, leaving the bar behind.

"Oh, thank goodness. There you are," the other woman observed, distractedly checking that her hair was in place. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I misplaced my dress, then I had trouble getting it properly settled, and- Sorry, I don't mean to bore you with excuses."

Oh, thank the Lord. She wasn't waiting on me. "No, no it's quite alright," Zaida said with the intent of placating the older woman. "I was... busy myself. I'm just glad we were able to find one another."

"I- me as well." Eposi cast her gaze downward, the same breath that carried the final word being expelled in a gentle laugh that Zaida could swear was nervous.

With her curiosity spurred, the knight studied the other woman. The more she saw, the more her own composure frayed. Eposi wore a gown that, while unremarkable in its geometry, was entrancing in its textured colouration. It was an enchanting aqua blue with a sophisticated pattern cut into the surface, offering glimpses at a black underlayer that glimmered like obsidian. In keeping with the black glass motif, she also wore earrings of polished ebon stone, glossy lipstick, and glittery eyeshadow. Her hair was styled in its usual dreadlocks, but the already subtle grey roots had been dyed out. Each of her dates had struck Zaida as gorgeous, but something about Eposi ran the risk of stealing her breath away.

"You look beautiful," the younger woman articulated, only barely avoiding a voice crack.

"The same to you and tenfold," Eposi smiled. She shook herself from her trance of admiration. "Uh, would you care to dance? I know we've done it before, but I figured it could be a good starting point since it's familiar territory." There was a hesitancy in her manner that suggested she would eagerly retract the offer should Zaida show the faintest disinterest, as though her own whims were entirely malleable.

"Certainly," the off-duty knight agreed. "That sounds delightful."

Taking her arm in an affectionate grip, Eposi swept her off toward the square where such events were being held.

The venue was as festive as any in the town. Music boomed throughout the plaza from the band atop the platform at one end. A ring of onlookers and passersby set the boundaries for the tens of dancers centred between the buildings. Zaida noted that it was not a dissimilar sight to that from her night at The Open Door, what with the humans all dancing in mixed fashions and groupings.

Wasting no time, Eposi and Zaida stepped free of the crowd to throw themselves into the mix. The latter of the two applied what she had learned about partner dancing, but she could already feel that something was somehow different. Certainly the energy was greater tonight, but that was not all. There was a certain enthusiasm to Eposi; something that suggested fewer inhibitions and more aspirations. Zaida speculated that this had something to do with the way the other woman was dancing. Dancing one-on-one can be a relatively personal act to begin with, but she could feel the way Eposi pressed herself close. She saw how the administrator examined her features, as if constantly reading her for approval. Zaida did her best to do as she thought a good partner would. She led their movements, made the most out of Eposi's willingness to follow, and let her know she was happy with her performance.

There was a recess from the music for the sake of the band that plenty others were ready to take advantage of. Zaida and Eposi moved to the edge of the square, warmed against the chill of the night by their animation.

"You were brilliant," Eposi huffed. The grin on her face drove the feeling of pride that had been in Zaida's breast for a while now.

"It comes easy with one as elegant as yourself."

"My, my. What a darling pair you two make." Marama approached them with his own date at his side.

"Good evening, Sergeant," Eposi said, offering a small curtsy. "The both of you look ravishing yourselves."

"Thank you, dear," he nodded and absentmindedly smoothed over his ornate tunic. "Madam Nsukula, Zaida, allow me to introduce the beauty I have the honour of accompanying tonight. This is Daya Mihir. Daya these are Eposi Nsukula, school administrator, and Zaida, a fellow knight in the Order of Dyna."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Daya offered his own bow. He wore a flowy dress and an immaculate face of makeup. "I believe I recall hearing your names alongside highly esteemed words."

They made polite conversation, and in the lulls in her involvement, Zaida remembered how she had not one, but two dates waiting on her; the first of which was likely to be entirely out of patience by now. Zaida would be lucky if she had not given up on her already.

"I could use a drink. Is anyone else thirsty?" she offered at the first chance she had to take the reins of the conversation. Eposi expressed a similar desire. "I'll fetch us something," the knight volunteered.

Muttered curses trailed her hurried steps toward the food and refreshment stalls.