#d.event03

"I'm headed t' the faire, daddy!" The Romero house had been alight with activity since early that morning, a blur of color, costumes, and energy as the denizens made haste to be prepared for the Renaissance Faire. It's Wren's voice carrying through the house that makes Mal appear again, his head sticking around the corner of his bedroom door, hands deftly working zippers and belts closed over a half-bared torso. "I'll see y'all there!"

"A'right darlin! Walk safe!" Duck insists, finishing up with his shirt, pulling the cape and armor on and into place over it, the hood tugged up over dark hair and the wicked visage of a wolf's skull grabbed from the dresser beside him. "Robin, buddy, you need help with anything?" He questions, stopping in the hallway until the young boy gives him a negative- that he's almost done, just finding the rest of his nerf darts. "Alright- remember, if you lose any a' them you're shit outta luck, kiddo." His next port of call is downstairs, towering frame appearing in the doorway of the bathroom- blacked out green eyes leveling on Z's gaze in the mirror. "And how're you comin' along there, darlin?"

@callofthxvoid

It's rare to see Duck so... happy. Sure, there's glimpses, something a little more genuine behind a smile, a spark of mischief in green eyes that implies he's about to do something that would have gotten him in trouble as a boy- but something like this, no care for who might see him embracing the thing that makes him happy- the recent appearances of this version of Duck could be counted on one hand. Which is why, more than likely, it's more of a surprise he's smiling when he creeps up behind Falco, leaning over his brother's shoulder to rest his chin there, the snout of his skeletal mask poking into the younger's eyeline. "Faaaaaaalco!~ Hey bud!"

"HI UNCLE FALCO!" Robin's right at his father's heels, Appearing in front of the two men with his dart gun and an ice-cream sticky smile. "Look- Me and daddy made my nerf gun dirty." He holds it up proudly- the once bright plastic repainted in coppers and browns to better fit the boy's costume. "And I didn't even make a mess or nothin'." Duck chuckles, straightens up and properly greets his brother with a sidelong hug.

"He's been an absolute menace all week with the damn thing, I swear. He was hopin' we'd bump into ya though, wanted to show you our art project together- was just a little weathering, but I let him take the lead on most of it. How you enjoyin' things, bud? Ain't caught up with ya without mama loomin' around the corner in a hot minute."

@oxtofmydcpth

There is, somewhere in the back of Mal's head, the insistence that after 41 years on God's creation, he should be better at hiding his response to certain things, but a poker face in the annals of war or at a game table doesn't translate to a poker face after getting his ass soundly handed to him by a hot woman on a horse, apparently, because as Brianna offers him a hand to pull him out of the dirt, his ass no less bruised than his pride, there's definitely a brief flicker of something more than good sportsmanship across stubble-dusted features. "I think I'm a little outta practice on horseback." He laughs, taking the help off the ground with a groan, taking his mask from its place on his hip and clicking it back into place on the magnets beneath his hood. "Damn good show, though, Good luck in the rest of the competition- Beat my ass soundly, Gonna be nursin' a few new bruises after that'n." He laughs, withdrawing his hand and dusting himself off. "Yanno I knew you'd left town t' do your whole music thing, didn't think 'get good at jousting' was on that list'a things t' do too." She'd been a hometown hero in a way decidedly separate from him- a right proper famous person born and raised in Huntsville- it was hard not to remember the way people went on about it when they were younger. "In all honesty, I don't think I need a sword. An' I've been soundly reminded a' why I'm both afraid of and real into women- I'll take th' consolation prize."

@violenttempest

"I thought I smelled somethin' fantastic when I got my ass handed to me over there." It's a greeting punctuated with a laugh as he walks up to Claire's booth, reaching a hand up to detach the wolf mask from it's magnets, Duck's grinning features fully visible as he clips the face covering to his waist. "I would be absolutely remiss if I didn't get myself a proper sampler while I was nursin' my wounded pride." He insists. "How ya been, Claire? Ain't had a minute to chat with ya for a while." He observes. "Which, I'll be completely honest, is prolly my fault- Orchard's givin' me a run fer my money- even with one a' our main apple trees outta commission I'm runnin' into harvests faster than I can trade 'er preserve it." He wipes sweat from his face, scrunches his nose. "I hope you're keepin' cooler than I am, at the very least."

@ambercast

"So was the event bring your own horse? Because if so, I definitely missed the memo." He's perched up on one of the fences put up around the faire, absently tossing his hunting knife into the air and catching it as it falls, gaze behind his mask trained on the jousting tournament. He'd been knocked out in the first round, not that he'd complain about that fact- Brianna had simply outplayed him- and he'd not spent much time on the back of a horse in the past several years. But Rance had, and it had clearly been to his benefit at least a little- as he'd made it to the next round. "Not a bad show in any case, man, you been keepin' well? Ain't been by the outdoors shop in a while, makin' most a' my restocks in trade around town, and all that. And I don't think I've personally made a run out t' the edge of town to drop somethin' at the farm in like, a year- Got two kids with two workin' legs- definitely the better option fer timely deliveries." He laughs, hand moving to pull his mask from his face into his hair, picking up one of the bottles of mead beside his feet and uncorking it, taking a smooth swallow before offering the other bottle to Rance. "To yer victory?"

@darkestxdreams

"Robin, don't you go runnin' off, like that again." Duck grunts, his son hoisted up and tossed over one shoulder, the eight year old giggling and squirming in place. "Yer sister's workin' today, and I don't know how yer gonna feel about it when you have a job, but I find bein' shot in the face while I'm on the clock to be a pretty substantial dampener to anything I'm up to, alright? so you stick close to me and-"

"Have you ever been shot in the face at work, daddy?"

"I spent enough years being shot at at work that I think I can soundly say being shot anywhere at work makes it a bad day, bud." He declares, reaching his free hand up to adjust the mask pulled down over his face- he's thankful, really, for the hood pulled over his hair, keeping the worst of the sun from beating away at him.

"What about that guy? I can shoot that guy from up here!" Robin declares- and before he can stop him, Robin's lined up a shot, and loosed a nerf dart at the face of whoever he'd been talking about- Duck turning around just in time to see it catch Jahi in the forehead. He's about to scold Robin before he snorts.

"Damn- solid shot, kiddo." He chuckles. "Sorry 'bout him, Joey." He sits Robin down by his feet, reaching one gloved hand down to set on his head and keep him nearby. "That's on me, I shoulda taken the gun before I picked up th' gradeschooler. Really I just gave him a better vantage point."

@crazedhatesoul