Post by Aladdin on Apr 4, 2020 21:55:20 GMT
(February 7th, evening during the Rainbow Festival. Open at first to Mozenrath and Aladdin, then Giselle!)
The festival was winding down, following the sun into night’s peace. As it did, the mood shifted. Since the Cursed Thorns’ occupation, none of Paris’ citizens enjoyed the night life with as much fragile carelessness they’d had even under Judge Claude Frollo.
Most tents were being rolled up for the night, booths shuttered. A few games stayed open, but the noisiest parts of the trickling crowds came from spots where brawls or boxing competitions were underway on the cobblestone corners.
Right at home among the skulkers and shadows slipped a dark-headed boy. Aladdin was in his street rat clothes. Tattered vest, patched pants. Even those colors looked too conspicuous in the drab and muted crowd’s colors. A cloak, dark gray, hid both them and most of the boy. Yeah, these alleys and the outdoors were comfortable enough for him to slip through, but they were no Agrabah. Not for the first time, Aladdin missed sand. It was sneakier.
Sharing the space under his hood was Abu. Aladdin used one hand to wave the monkey further down his back, hidden behind his hair and under the cloth. ”Keep low,” He murmured to his friend. Didn’t need to draw any attention to himself.
This was enemy territory.
Aladdin had been enjoying the festivities back in Arendelle. Then he’d felt distinctly guilty. Everyone else was partying, trying to forget the war for a while. So what were the Cursed Thorns doing? He couldn’t shake feeling that while the Enchanted Suns were throwing a fair, the Thorns might be doing the same. And as any good thief knew, a mark who was preoccupied was always easier to swipe from. Even if that mark was an entire army.
Bare feet slapped noiselessly against the rock, carrying the wiry body between jostling Parisians trying to place bets on a wrestling match. Some cities were all alike.
The wily young man wasn’t sure what he hoped to see here. He’d been restless, leaping onto Carpet with a half-formed idea of doing something worthwhile for the Suns. But it seemed like the sandstorm inside him, begging for action, only grew every time he traveled anywhere that wasn’t back to the Sultan’s palace. Back to Jasmine. He sighed. Maybe this was stupid. He’d been wandering around sneakily all day, and not once had he heard anything useful.
Nobody mentioning any important plans, strategies. No Cursed Thorn soldiers helpfully going, Hey, when’s it our turn to guard Maleficent’s staff which is the source of her power and located in the tallest building in the next block over? or You know, I’m feeling hungry, let’s head over to get some turkey legs right next to the booth with black magic gardening tools, capable of ripping up Maleficent’s thorns!
Aladdin’s eye caught the glimmer of gold from a nearby tent. One of it’s walls was open to show off a high but rickety wooden counter of sorts. Arranged across it were several little statuettes. They were gold, but a type of fine black wire was twisted around each. Curious, the Sultan-to-be wandered closer, making sure to keep out of the light of a lantern.
His dark eyes narrowed.
The statues were of lions, muscular deer, and one or two armored figures, all bright yellow metal. But the black wire veining around each was much more carefully sculpted to look like thorns, wrapping around the throats of each shape. Two of the largest were identical: an unmistakable sun, framed by clouds of knotted thorny wire which crowded the precious metal.
Anger riled up in the Arabian hero’s heart, but in the next instant it was gone. He could feel Abu’s clammy little hands crawling up his vest to peek, chattering excitedly. Al smirked and reached out to turn the nearest little statue. ”Looks like business hasn’t been too good, huh? I guess if the Cursed Thorns were occupying our market we wouldn’t buy their paperweights either.”
To his alarm, the monkey launched out of his hiding perch and grabbed a thorn-wrapped lion. His mischievously adoring expression turned on his favorite metal morphed into outrage and a matching squawk of indignation when the wires pricked him. He began scolding. Loudly.
Aladdin collared the capuchin and shushed him with the full force of black-eyebrow glaring. Should’ve known. Let the monkey see treasure and he’d totally forget where they were. ”Abu! Shh! Do you want the whole street to know we’re Suns?” He tossed the hairy creature back into his hood like a toddler into a sack and pulled the cloth tighter, glancing around. The keeper of this tent must’ve been in the back, and they didn’t come out. Maybe nobody had heard his best friend’s outburst.
Al hadn’t wanted to bring even his partner in crime, but...well. He knew things could go wrong, and there was nobody better to have in a scrape than an inconspicuous primate. Well, mostly inconspicuous.
The festival was winding down, following the sun into night’s peace. As it did, the mood shifted. Since the Cursed Thorns’ occupation, none of Paris’ citizens enjoyed the night life with as much fragile carelessness they’d had even under Judge Claude Frollo.
Most tents were being rolled up for the night, booths shuttered. A few games stayed open, but the noisiest parts of the trickling crowds came from spots where brawls or boxing competitions were underway on the cobblestone corners.
Right at home among the skulkers and shadows slipped a dark-headed boy. Aladdin was in his street rat clothes. Tattered vest, patched pants. Even those colors looked too conspicuous in the drab and muted crowd’s colors. A cloak, dark gray, hid both them and most of the boy. Yeah, these alleys and the outdoors were comfortable enough for him to slip through, but they were no Agrabah. Not for the first time, Aladdin missed sand. It was sneakier.
Sharing the space under his hood was Abu. Aladdin used one hand to wave the monkey further down his back, hidden behind his hair and under the cloth. ”Keep low,” He murmured to his friend. Didn’t need to draw any attention to himself.
This was enemy territory.
Aladdin had been enjoying the festivities back in Arendelle. Then he’d felt distinctly guilty. Everyone else was partying, trying to forget the war for a while. So what were the Cursed Thorns doing? He couldn’t shake feeling that while the Enchanted Suns were throwing a fair, the Thorns might be doing the same. And as any good thief knew, a mark who was preoccupied was always easier to swipe from. Even if that mark was an entire army.
Bare feet slapped noiselessly against the rock, carrying the wiry body between jostling Parisians trying to place bets on a wrestling match. Some cities were all alike.
The wily young man wasn’t sure what he hoped to see here. He’d been restless, leaping onto Carpet with a half-formed idea of doing something worthwhile for the Suns. But it seemed like the sandstorm inside him, begging for action, only grew every time he traveled anywhere that wasn’t back to the Sultan’s palace. Back to Jasmine. He sighed. Maybe this was stupid. He’d been wandering around sneakily all day, and not once had he heard anything useful.
Nobody mentioning any important plans, strategies. No Cursed Thorn soldiers helpfully going, Hey, when’s it our turn to guard Maleficent’s staff which is the source of her power and located in the tallest building in the next block over? or You know, I’m feeling hungry, let’s head over to get some turkey legs right next to the booth with black magic gardening tools, capable of ripping up Maleficent’s thorns!
Aladdin’s eye caught the glimmer of gold from a nearby tent. One of it’s walls was open to show off a high but rickety wooden counter of sorts. Arranged across it were several little statuettes. They were gold, but a type of fine black wire was twisted around each. Curious, the Sultan-to-be wandered closer, making sure to keep out of the light of a lantern.
His dark eyes narrowed.
The statues were of lions, muscular deer, and one or two armored figures, all bright yellow metal. But the black wire veining around each was much more carefully sculpted to look like thorns, wrapping around the throats of each shape. Two of the largest were identical: an unmistakable sun, framed by clouds of knotted thorny wire which crowded the precious metal.
Anger riled up in the Arabian hero’s heart, but in the next instant it was gone. He could feel Abu’s clammy little hands crawling up his vest to peek, chattering excitedly. Al smirked and reached out to turn the nearest little statue. ”Looks like business hasn’t been too good, huh? I guess if the Cursed Thorns were occupying our market we wouldn’t buy their paperweights either.”
To his alarm, the monkey launched out of his hiding perch and grabbed a thorn-wrapped lion. His mischievously adoring expression turned on his favorite metal morphed into outrage and a matching squawk of indignation when the wires pricked him. He began scolding. Loudly.
Aladdin collared the capuchin and shushed him with the full force of black-eyebrow glaring. Should’ve known. Let the monkey see treasure and he’d totally forget where they were. ”Abu! Shh! Do you want the whole street to know we’re Suns?” He tossed the hairy creature back into his hood like a toddler into a sack and pulled the cloth tighter, glancing around. The keeper of this tent must’ve been in the back, and they didn’t come out. Maybe nobody had heard his best friend’s outburst.
Al hadn’t wanted to bring even his partner in crime, but...well. He knew things could go wrong, and there was nobody better to have in a scrape than an inconspicuous primate. Well, mostly inconspicuous.
