Bazaar

"You're right, this IS bizarre"

"No, not bizarre, bazaar"

"That's what I said...bizarre"

"Damnit, bazaar, not bizarre. Well, I mean, sure, I guess it IS bizarre but I meant bazaar with an A, not an I!"

"With 'A' what?", Peter asked in an unmistakably leading tone just daring his friend to continue the exchange.

Saul sighed deeply realizing he was not going to win this contest of idiocy, resigned himself instead to playing straight man, smiled in spite of himself and trudged ahead into the crowd of colorful hippies.

If one wanted to describe a bazaar in a fantasy novel replete with faerie folk, fantastical items of clothing, musical instruments, food and works of art they could do worse than using The Oregon Country Fair as inspiration. The sounds, smells, the naked painted bodies, music and whimsical excitement were nearly overwhelming. Parades of dancing bodies wound their way through the crowds of tie dyed market goers the smells of spice and pot smoke lurid and luring. Saul hated it here.

For three days each year people would come from the woodwork to be someone or something that for most of them their daily lives hardly supported if not outright discouraged. He certainly didn't fault them for this. Who doesn't like to occasionally side step their daily lifestyle. Put on costume, whether that's a suit and tie or faerie wings, and briefly pretend to be someone or something you're not. It's therapeutic. It's not these people Saul took issue with, it was the ones that weren't pretended he was tasked with dealing with.

Pulling Peter to the side Saul gave a quick nod towards one of the merchants. "Ok, that guy over there, he's one. In fairness to the brawny, mostly naked man with dreadlocks, horns and body paint, he really blended in pretty well with the crowd.

"And you know this how?"

"He bends over."

"?"

"When he reaches down to pick something up, he bends at the waist. People wearing fake horns will crouch out of fear the horns will fall off or shift when they bend over. You just sort of learn to look for these things". Saul guided his companion towards the booth where the faerie-disguised-as-a-human-disguised-as-a-faerie was selling pastries.

Waiting to insure none of the other faerie goers were within earshot Saul flashed his pendant, "Ok goat boy, you know damn well the Seelie Treaty strictly prohibits selling food stuff. Pack it up and get the hell out". It was going to be a long three days.