lostcarnival | ⇨ WISMUTH

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⇨ WISMUTH

Who: Everyone!
When: S2:D6-D11
Where: Wismuth and the Carnival Grounds
What: The carnival enjoys a few days in Wismuth, a coastal city on this planet's version of the American east. However, there are a few things very unique about this version of the planet...
Warnings: The usual, wholesome fun.

PILLAR OF CREATION↴

Upon arriving, things in Wismuth will seem pretty peaceful. It's a massive city, with no shortage of things going on, but things like violent crime and homelessness are at an all time low. You can wander the streets without much scrutiny, presumed to just be tourists, and most people here come across as helpful and friendly.

► VIBRANCY: The main thing that sets this planet apart is its vibrancy - AKA, the raw creative energy its filled with, flowing from its status as a Pillar of Creation. There is no literal pillar, but Wismuth and its planet is a place where Creation's energy comes through strongest. As a result, everything here feels somehow more real, more intense in a way that's hard to put a finger on. Life is abundant, and its bleeds through in every sensation.

► ATTRACTIONS: There are plenty of things to see while going around the city. First and foremost, there is a lovely beach area bordering the ocean, and a number of tourist aimed attractions built around it. There are giant malls, movie theaters, live stage performances, museums and all kinds of other points of cultural interest. Anything you can do in a big city you can do here, but better.

► ALLOWANCES: The Ringmaster will be giving everyone a reasonable amount of local currency for a few days on the town. You can't make any massive acquisitions with it, but it's more than enough to eat out, see some shows, go to the beach, and whatever you like. You can feel free to pick up some casual supplies, like mundane clothing and souvenirs. There will be more given out later, after the performance week.

► PERFORMANCE: Performance week is starting early this time, after only a couple days of exploration. When the carnival has already been on vacation for a month, the Ringmaster figures they may as well get right to it, and then do more touring afterwards. Members of the local populace will find themselves in the carnival once performances begin, dazzled by the other worldly sights. Magic doesn't seem to exist here, despite the fact that it will flow easier for people bringing it from other worlds.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Victor glances back in the direction the man disappeared, his own expression falling along neutral lines. "Maybe for the moment," he says. "But he's responsible for himself in the end. Like we all are." For the decisions made, the actions taken, and for seeing a way to betterment for their own sakes as well as others. He can imagine, if just for a moment, catching a glimpse of Yuri's messy black hair in the crowd, a hint of blue framed glasses. He's not there, but Victor knows that already. Yuri isn't due in St. Petersburg yet, let alone Wismuth on another world.

Victor turns his attention back to Cole, offering a small smile. "Bartenders might get away with more unsolicited advice giving, but that's usually not what people expect at a gaming booth. Even when you mean well." He glances at the stacked milk bottles, humming in a thoughtful way. "Did you know that man?"

Come makes a little noise of disapproval as he shakes his head. "I knew about him. But I didn't know him." That, at least, makes a difference in Cole's mind. He can know about somebody, know their hurts and their pains, but does that count as actually knowing them? He doesn't know. Probably not.

"It wasn't unsolicited," Cole continues, a bit quietly. "I thought it was what he needed to hear. He missed her and thought it was his fault." Cole still has yet to figure out that hearing reassurance from a whisper in your ear that you can easily write off as your own head is different than hearing reassurance from some rando in a weird hat who's manning a games booth.

The distinction means something to Victor, too, though he's a little mystified trying to figure out what Cole means in this instance. His hands drop back down to his sides, finding a home in his pockets. "He told you that?"

Not doubting, but curious at what kinds of experiences Cole's been having as a game attendant. He hadn't thought people would be quite that forthcoming without alcohol to loosen their tongues, but he supposes it's a bit like running into any kind of stranger: some people feel free to share what they wouldn't with friends, for one reason or another.

"No," Cole has to admit, with a little tentative frown. "I just know. I can tell when someone's hurting."

And Cole knows this is going to be another large round of questions, so he just sits back down on the stool he's got, watching Victor and waiting for the inevitable first question: well what are you, how can you do that, could you always do that, and so on and so forth. He doesn't mind. It's just expected.

Answers leading to more questions, though Victor stays somewhat on the topic they'd been discussing first. "Ah." He doesn't say he sees, because no, he doesn't get what Cole means about being able to tell, but he does understand more of what's happened than he did. Or he thinks he does at least. "So you knew, but he didn't tell you. He didn't ask for your help, then. He probably found that invasive."

A small shrug; Victor's not overly concerned about it personally, but he can draw connections and consider the people in his own life. He looks back to Cole with a considering glance. "Next time try asking how he's doing first. Or if anyone does. It's their right to say no, even if you mean well."

There's the difference between strangers and friends, too, learning boundaries and when to push back. It's been an ongoing learning experience with Yuri, one Victor doesn't think he's entirely mastered even now, after almost a year of deliberately trying. At least with friends, he knows you have to push, some of the time.

"Though for all that, how is it you can tell? Or know it was trouble with... mm, a lover, from the sounds of things."

That tentative frown is still on his face. Asking how he's doing? But that doesn't really make sense. He knows how the man was doing, he wasn't doing very well to begin with. That's why Cole reached in and tried to help. Asking if people needed help before he tried to help them seemed a bit too complicated and a bit too tedious. He understands Victor's point, but it's obvious from Cole's expression that he doesn't really agree with it.

Still, there's a new question and a new thing he can answer, which distracts Cole from asking more awkward questions about the concept of being invasive and privacy and dumb things like that. "I simply know," Cole responds, with a bit of a shrug. It's part of his nature, it's something innate to his being. How can he tell that people are hurting? He just does.

"I'm...different. A spirit who looks like a person."

There's a moment where Victor almost asks, what other kinds of spirits are there? He doesn't because he knows of various religions that believe in a spirit for all things, living or inanimate; enough time in Japan had made him well aware of shades of this there, at least.

It's still a lot to swallow, and in a way harder when Cole looks relatively human... and many others look distinctly not, regardless. Victor makes himself pause, closing his eyes for a moment and glancing upward. What he wouldn't give for things to make sense according to the rules of the world he thought he'd understood. "Is it the nature of a spirit to know, or is that your nature?"

A weak question, looking for a clarification he doesn't really need, but when Victor's struggling with concepts and the way it feels like he's adrift at sea, he'll take what sense he can get. Belief is difficult: disbelief is a first instinct, but one he actively tamps down on in favour of a bland sort of initial acceptance. Cole's a spirit? Why not. Victor's already contracted to work with a universe? Multiverse? Traveling faerie carnival.

(He needs a drink.)

It's easy to read people's memories, to see who they are and what makes them. Cole doesn't understand some ice skating terms (Cole's actually never been ice skating before) but Victor understands them so Cole knows them. And, as he thinks, as he reaches into Victor's memories, he finds a good way to explain what he knows.

"The blade hits the ice, twirling in time." Cole speaks quietly, with not that much inflection in his words. "Lunge, lutz, I need to work harder, he needs to work harder. It's both. Spirits know and I know as well." He doesn't make eye contact with Victor, as Cole's hiding behind the brim of his hat, but he looks over at Victor, looking closer to the man than before. There's so many things he doesn't understand, but it's important to Victor so Cole wants to know precisely what they are.

Though, he can tell Victor's worried. That worry blazes bright, so bright that Cole wonders if other people can tell he's worried and scared and confused as well. "And don't worry. It gets easier here. It just takes time."

It's fair to say Victor only understands a fraction of what Cole is trying to say; he's surprised by the shift into terminology he lives and breathes, tipping his head to the side as he considers Cole's hat, the lower portion of his face. "Most things get easier with time. It's not always time you want to spend."

He says, offhand and conversational. He doesn't want to spend time getting used to this, whatever this encompasses, but he will. He needs to get back to Yuri, and Makkachin, and everything else. He has to get through this first.

"I don't really understand, but if that's how you say spirits work, I'll take your word on it." He has nothing else to compare to, and knows as much. "What did you mean by needing to work harder?" Who is he?

The fact that Cole's default mode of conversation is 'esoteric bullshit' isn't helping matters either. The spirit has a hard time saying things in a straight line and asking certain questions. He is right though. Not everybody is like Cole, who found a new cause and leaped at it. Some people have homes. Some people have families. Some people have Yuri and Makkachin.

What an odd name. He should ask about that.

At Victor's question, Cole frowns. It's obvious to him, though it's not to Victor (but of course it isn't to Victor, it isn't obvious to most people). "He wouldn't win the Grand Prix if he didn't practice."

It takes him another moment to place what Cole's saying, so eerily on the nose for... the past? There's of course next year, another chance for either Yuri to win gold, for Victor to do so, if he competed in the next (and his last) Olympic season. He wasn't thinking hard that far ahead yet.

"While that's generally true of anyone, do you mean Yuri?" Silver had been Yuri's first podium at the Grand Prix, but the question of Cole's earlier conversation with the man he didn't know has Victor opening his mouth, then closing it again. He considers what he wants to say, a little numb to all sorts of peculiarities at the moment, but not forever.

Cole nods. "You worried about it," he simply responds, as if it's the most obvious thing known to man. "Though it turned out all right in the end." And Cole's a memory reading creep who picks up on these things. There's a bit of an awkward pause because Cole...has absolutely no idea what to do next.

He picks up one of the balls from his booth and idly fidgets, holding it in his hand and moving it around some.

This is such a surreal turn of events. He wants to object, strongly, but less to Cole than the fact this is happening at all. This as the carnival, as magic, as people with strange limbs and markings and giant birds and dinosaurs and moons and contracts over beanbag games and last of all, spirits, and roundabout words over things in recent memory.

"About the..." He blinks, starting to frown, defending Yuri where he doesn't defend himself. "I worried, yes, but not about Yuri's success. I believed in that all along." Which he had; his worries had to deal with his abilities as a coach, off and on, and not being as supportive or attentive to what Yuri needed as he wanted to be. Then, in another context, being worried over what it was Yuri meant in saying he'd retire, they'd end this, and this was never given enough of an explicit context to know what this ending would mean.

"I feel like I'm going to find this conversation much more unnerving tomorrow. Right now, it's just... so much." He laughs a little weakly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. Confusion, exhaustion, being overwhelmed... "You can tell I don't like this, can't you." It isn't a question. Victor isn't comfortable, though he puts on a good neutral face. "I won't say stop, since I don't..." He pauses, sighing as his hand drops away. "You said it was part of who and what you are. I don't understand it. I don't have to." He isn't okay with it, and he's not sure when he will be, but he still does what he can to face head-on something he never would have believed in before here. Denial doesn't help the situation he's in: it means swallowing a lot of the improbable. "Whatever you do see, keep it between us, please. It's not anything I'd like for you to discuss with others."

If his privacy is going to be invaded, however unintentionally, he wants the invasion to end there. Victor's worn enough faces being whatever he needs to be in the moment that he doesn't enjoy the prospect of being laid bare to people who really have no right to know what he doesn't choose to share. There's a sense he both does and doesn't include Cole in that estimate.

Victor doesn't like this. That much is so apparent and it's just obvious from his words and his thoughts. Cole knows he messed up somehow, trying to help, the words didn't come out right and confused Victor instead. He's got to find a way to fix this or make it better and, at least in Cole's mind, there's one obvious option.

"I can make you forget," Cole says, barely audible. "Not Yuri, but me. This talk. It might be for the best."

He doesn't mind. Sometimes he still messes up, sometimes the words still get stuck. It's better this way, after all.

"No." It's a quick response, soft rather than sharp. Just as quick is the emotion behind it: firm disagreement. He holds up his hands in a stopping motion. "I forget quite enough on my own, sad to say. I'd prefer to remember for as long as I can."

There's an almost knee-jerk dislike of being made to forget. He messes up too, sometimes in ways that hurt others when he doesn't actively intend to do so in the first place. Owning and acknowledging those mistakes is part of his responsibility for himself; mistakes are what he and others grow from. Same as arguments can be. Growth isn't always or even often painless.

"If you want," Cole responds, though there's a bit of wariness in the tone of his voice. He thinks Victor should forget. He kind of wants Victor to forget, just because Cole's so worried he stepped in it with regards to this conversation. But if Victor doesn't want to, then Cole won't make him. "I try not to make carnival workers forget anyway." Just because it's easier. They're stuck working with Cole, they need to see and remember him if they're going to get anything done.

Other people though, those who aren't carnival workers...well, it's okay if they forget Cole. They might have done it anyway. Besides, it's better that way.

Edited (jfc how did I confuse my anime boys) 2018-01-26 02:56 (UTC)

Consequences and learning experiences, Cole. For all the discomfort is real, there's no deep anger, and there's no hatred. "I want," he says in confirmation. "Thank you."

It leaves him at the branching of paths between choosing another topic of conversation, or leaving. Leaving feels easier, but of the many things Victor does, most aren't running away.

He holds out a hand. "Can I give the game a try? I should at least manage to play one of the carnival games properly."

Good choice. Cole greatly approves and just brightens up as Victor asks to play the game. Almost instantly, he attempts to shove the baseball at Victor's hands.

"You have three tries to knock all of the bottles off of the stand. If you knock it down on the first time you win a big prize, if you knock it down the second or third time you win a small prize." Cole recites all of that in a slightly stilted fashion, like someone told him 'here is what you say and here is how you say it.'

The set-up itself has three milk bottles stacked up, two on the bottom and one on top. Cole steps to the side and gives Victor a small smile. Go on! Give it a shot!

Taking the ball shoved his way, he nods, looking toward the stacked bottles. His hand-eye coordination isn't bad, but he hasn't bothered tossing any balls around for a long, long time. He takes stock of the situation, focusing on the bottles and letting the rest fade into the background. He'll deal with processing later. Right now, he's wondering at his chance of hitting at least the top bottle. There's likely a gimmick; he doesn't know what it is, but he doesn't seem to mind overmuch.

Tossing the ball up and catching it again, Victor makes a noise of consideration in the back of his throat. "Three balls, no matter what?" He shifts his stance, getting ready to throw the ball while aiming at the bottom of the top bottle. When he throws the ball... he ends up hitting the top of the bottle, a slight sense of both disbelief and amusement on his face when it still hits with enough force that the top bottle topples over. "Wow, I actually hit one!"

The bar here is set very, very low.

The bar is exceedingly low and yet Cole is just super proud of Victor for hitting that bar to begin with. He hit one! That's amazing! Some people didn't even knock one over, that means Victor's better than some of the customers to begin with. Cole brightens up, smiles slightly at Victor and calls out,

"You did wonderful! Now do that two more times!"

But he's going to need two more balls, right Cole, you've got this, go and grab another. Cole bends down to rummage around a bit and comes up with two more baseballs. He proudly offers one to Victor, having the utmost faith and confidence in Victor's ability to knock the other two milk bottles over.

Cole is the wonderful absolute ego boost Victor doesn't need, but it's one of those nice surprises: he figures it's as bluntly genuine as the rest of what Cole has said or fumbled through. It's not humanising, per say, but it does make Cole feel more real in a way Victor would be hard pressed to frame.

"Two more times? I was aiming for the bottom of that bottle." He's half laughing at the admission, choosing to focus on laughing, nothing else. "This isn't going to net me another year of service if I don't manage to knock them down, right?"

He accepts the second ball being proffered, lifting his more visible eyebrow to wait on confirmation before he attempts a second throw.

Cole takes Victor's little joke very seriously, as he shakes his head.

"I don't think so? I can't do things like that." The specifics of 'things like that' are left unsaid. But Cole continues with a determined, "And I wouldn't bind to begin with."

That last statement is said so defiantly and forcefully. Cole obviously has strong feelings about the concept of being bound, whether into service or otherwise. He steps a bit out of the way, so that Victor has as much room to toss at the milk bottles as possible.

"The Ringmaster does," Victor says, rotating the ball in his hand with his fingers. He grips it firmly a moment later, shifting his feet as he readies for another throw. "Losing or winning a game, even playing it in the first place."

He pulls his arm back, putting a flick in his wrist as he throws the ball, fingertips the last point of contact as it spins and slams... into the bottle he hadn't meant to hit. Both wobble and teeter wildly, one eventually succumbing to falling over. Victor looks pleased. "That's enough for someone to end up in a contract. I don't know that just because we're already here that we're exempt from that, is all."

He's cautious, is what he means. The emphatic manner in which Cole had said he wouldn't do something like that lends Victor a veneer of confidence: he believes him. He's not worried that Cole setting him up for another debt-incurring game. Like the beanbag game.

"I'm not the Ringmaster."

It should be obvious to Victor, but Cole feels like he needs to specify anyway. She might want him to trick people into playing. She might want him to try and convince other people to join. But unless it'll help them, Cole's staying away from that sort of thing. Besides, he can barely run the booth as is, trying to sell the carnival or trap people in a contract while remembering to say what he needs to say just isn't going to happen.

As the second bottle falls over, Cole practically shoves the third ball in Victor's face. He's radiating excitement, looking from Victor to the last bottle with absolute hope and confidence that Victor can knock down all three. "One last throw, one last bottle. You can do this."

"I'm glad."

It isn't precisely gratitude, but it is true: he appreciates Cole saying he isn't the Ringmaster, and all that it implies. Which is an odd balance against the discomfort he's shoved down over Cole's capabilities, but he accepts it. Cole, spirit that he is, is better earnest than manipulative.

... Only he's both, without precisely saying so. Victor sighs inwardly, finding himself smiling when the ball's shoved in his face, Cole's excitement almost endearing. He feels so thoroughly, it seems. "With a vote of confidence like that, how couldn't I?" He winks, allowing himself to relax enough to chuckle in a thoughtless sort of flirtation, focusing back on the remaining bottle and the weight of the ball in his hand. He pulls his arm back, more or less aiming, but also distracted.

He does wish Yuri was here; he wishes all kinds of things, but wishes aren't productive so he lets them float unanchored as he narrows his eyes. When he throws he ball and watches it slam into the milk bottle, sending it flying off sideways because of how he clips it, he's taken by surprise. "I..." he laughs again, turning toward Cole. "Looks like your support was what I needed!" It feels nice, winning something irrelevant and focusing on the passing happiness it brings. The pleasant kind of surprises he enjoys bringing to others as much as experiencing himself.

⇨ WISMUTH

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ilu and honestly b/c these two don't shut up about each other so... fair

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