Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was a pleasant, if chilly, afternoon in downtown Destiny City and vendors had gathered for the bi-monthly farmer's market beneath a bright and cheery sun. There was always a variety of home-made, home-grown wares for the citizens to peruse and the local talent sometimes wandered its way between the temporary stalls that dotted the sidewalks.

One of those little talents was Ms London James, the infrequent street performer that always showed up with a different prop. Today it was the hula hoop and though she hadn't practiced with one in ages, she seemed particularly keen to give it her all. By the time she had gotten into full swing, a crowd had formed around her in a broken semi-circle, watching her weave in and out of the spinning hoop. A battered old suitcase, dotted with a sticker from every city she'd ever performed in, sat in front of her where people tossed her the change in their pocket or sometimes a crinkled old five dollar bill.

By the time she finished, she was panting, but obviously pleased with herself. The hoop twirled up her body and she caught it just around her neck, easing it over the collar of her army jacket and ending with a flourish and bow. A lazy round of applause dwindled into the milling festival crowd as the onlookers broke away and dissipated into the background, leaving London to squat down and push around the coins and bills that had accumulated with her forefinger.

There wasn't much money in performing at the Farmer's Market, but it beat pick pocketing, especially since she'd promised to do her best to stay low key. Her face didn't need to be recognizable by the police.

“And here I was, thinking that I had imagined someone calling my name again.”

London smirked up at the whirlwind that was suddenly Jasper, watching him from where she squatted next to her trusty old suitcase. Her deft fingers closed the lid and secured the latches before she stood in a single sweep, one hand grasped around the old, chipped handle and the other securely holding her hoola hoop next to her thigh.

“Of course, that’s probably got something to do with my ego, hm?” Her tease was followed by a bubble of laughter, though her eyes were sweeping across his form even as it escaped, assessing him for any changes over the last several years. Being that she was a whirlwind in her own right, blowing in and out of town without so much as a warning or goodbye, people always seemed to change before she saw them next. Then again, as he pointed out, she sometimes changed at the drop of a hat.

“What, this?” She used her left foot to hold her hoola hoop in place, letting her hand reach up to tug at the bronze-y hair and her (slightly) split ends as if she were completely oblivious to the damage. It was fried, she knew, and his perceptive little eyes hadn’t missed it. “I had a job that didn’t like sunburst orange very much so,” she shrugged, “icky dye-job blonde was kind of a must.”

Then, as her hand dropped the ends of her locks and claimed her hoola hoop once more, her eyes widened a little at a sudden thought. Before she ever spoke, her smile became a flare of her impish nature.

“Think you could fix it?”