Location: Various Stalls
Interactions: | Abbie McGumffery @sakurasan | Lilac Rider @Framing A Moose |
What was originally planned was Abbie dragging Clyde through various stalls and stands, speaking to people Clyde prefer to keep his distance from (mainly girls), and silent agony of awkwardness. Instead, it was Clyde that dragged Abbie through the carnival stalls awing at the various games. It had been his first carnival experience and he was enjoying it. Despite being terrible at so many of the games, it did not bother Clyde one bit. He overthrew too many times at ring toss, bean bags went over the board in cornhole, and for a guy who likes to shoot guns he was awful at the squirt gun booth. But his smile never faltered. And that was the real Clyde showing. Remember the boy as a child at heart, filled with endless wonder at the world around him, and his laughter which brought the endless winter in his heart to thaw.
It was not until the high striker booth did someone recognize Clyde. The operator was familiar with Clyde's amateur boxing record and was delighted that the boy himself was present at the booth. Though Clyde tried many times to down play his record (and embarrassment of being put in the spotlight), it always feels nice having lovely things said about him. Though, in all truth, Abbie's encouragement was always enough for the boy. But it did not hurt having the extra ego boost.
"Say, let me take a few swings at you," said the operator. Clyde rubbed the back of his head preferring not to be a show off in front of all these people, but seeing as many eyes avoided him already, he figured it was safe to practice. He turned to Abbie for a moment with an intensity burning in his eyes, silently apologizing for not giving the girl the opportunity to do what she wanted.
After stretching for a few minutes Clyde was ready. At first the operator was going about his jabs halfheartedly, likely out of fear of injuring the boy. But once the operator saw that Clyde was no amateur, he stepped up his game. Clyde weaved around the man's jabs using as little energy as possible with a large grin plastered all over his face. It was like watching a dance. He moved with grace and elegance, turning from side to side, swaying like a waltz around a chorus of fists. In itself, the scene was beautiful, watching a master work his craft.
"Go a little faster," coaxed Clyde. The operator was all too willing to see Clyde show off. The boy did not want to admit it but he liked displaying his skills. It made him feel special.
The strikes became more intense forcing Clyde to go harder. His eyes watched the subtle movements in the muscle giving him clues as to where the operator's next launch would come from. And soon he had his whole torso moving about with speed and grace. The final punch from the operator just barely nicked Clyde's nose causing the boy to back off for a bit, caught off guard that he let one slip. But he smiled warmly and thanked the operator for his time. The operator was obviously impressed, and Clyde himself was happy to have had this little bout with the man. The two shook hands with a higher respect between the two, one which did not need words to understand. Clyde, completely forgetting Abbie was with him, turned around and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Ah... sorry 'bout that, Ab. Got carried away. Tell you what, lemme make it up to ya'," he apologized.
Once more Clyde was dragging Abbie somewhere else in the maze of booths and stands. The two found themselves in front of the Rider's bakery booth with various confectioneries displayed in full view. There was a certain beauty to the cookies the Rider's made. Each one unique with their own crevices and dips, colors and smells, taste and texture. Clyde's eyes silently cataloged every single curve and bend taking in the mixture of shapes and sizes. His stomach growled with a maelstrom of anticipation, agonizingly teasing his taste buds with wild delight. Alas! With the cash in his pocket he could only afford a half dozen short bread cookies. Oh well, Clyde knew Abbie would like them.
Clyde slipped the bills from his pocket and gently placed them on the counter.
"Half dozen-"
His eyes caught her. Black shirt, black hoodie, blue jeans, but memories of the community center flooded his eyes, toned muscles, graceful movements, strong fighting stance, such raw power emanating from her being. Before him stood a goddess, sitting so far up in the heavens, or like the stars in the night sky, shining brighter than any beam of light, outshining anything man was capable of creating. In that moment time grew infinite and the world around him disappeared. There was nothing else but a stage centered on two characters alone, an audience to only God Himself. The boy's eyes were a slave to her infinite brightness, his body feeling nothing but the warmth of her soul. And only then did he know what it was like to be an ant reflected in the eyes of a lion.
Clyde wanted to vomit.
"H-half do... dozen... uh... short b-b-bread... cookies please," he stammered, unable to look Lilac in her eyes.
In his heart, where fallow fields loom, where cold winds blew a deafening sorrow, where uncultivated lands grew thorns to prick the hands of those daring enough to venture, a single bud rose from the ground. Fragile, soft, weak, but emitting a faint aura in this bleak land.
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