⇨ WISMUTH

[ringleaders]

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.

Comments

[genice]

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.

[hurtcomfort]

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.

[genice]

"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.

[hurtcomfort]

"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.

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

[genice]

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."

[hurtcomfort]

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!

[genice]

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.

[hurtcomfort]

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.

[genice]

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.

[hurtcomfort]

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.

[genice]

"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.

[hurtcomfort]

"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."

[genice]

"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.

[hurtcomfort]

A real, honest to god smile spreads across Cole's face as Victor knocks over the third bottle. It's fleeting and quick, but still counts. All that self-doubt and worries that Cole had earlier are just straight up vanishing as he looks at Victor's smile and feels his gratitude. He is helping. Just, in a way he didn't expect.

"You get a prize," Cole states, as if it's obvious. He looks at Victor for a moment, not making eyes at the man from beneath his hat, before Cole turns back to the prizes hung up for display. Looking them over, Cole picks one stuffed animal out and holds it out to Victor.

The stuffed animal is a brownish dog, with large cartoon eyes. It's very fluffy, but it's a carnival prize, the dog's made of shitty cheap fabric. The build of the stuffed animal is very generically 'dog' but it's closer to a larger dog than a smaller dog. All in all, the stuffed dog looks remarkably like Makkachin. There are a few differences: longer ears, shorter tail. But the resemblance is close enough that it's obvious Cole picked this particular stuffed animal out for a reason.

"It's not the real one, but it might help."

[genice]

He hasn't thought about what winning this game meant, for all Cole had told him there's a small prize if all three bottles are knocked down by the time one runs out of balls. He watches Cole turning back to the displayed prizes with an amused sort of consideration.

The brown not-Makkachin hits his heart hard. Not outwardly, when he blinks once and holds his hands out in response to what Cole says. He feels a spike of bittersweet happiness because Makkachin isn't here. She's a good dog, and an old dog, and his oldest friend. A year dealing with the stress of this carnival wouldn't be kind to her, less so if she thought Victor was in distress. Having this imperfect, cheap imitation to hold onto is better than having Makkachin herself. It means she's back home, safe, and he won't be missing any of his remaining time with her. He won't get back to have sent everyone he cares into a frenzy not knowing what happened to him and to find his dog has died.

Positive spins can sometimes be in finding what morbid realities won't come to pass. He takes the stuffed dog, a man going on thirty, and presses the stupid thing to the middle of his chest. He still finds Cole's talents unnerving, but it's gentling some. He's feeling far more of a mingled sadness and gratitude, toward Cole, toward Makkachin's safety, toward missing a companion for so many years of his life, that all he can do is offer Cole a softer sort of smile. "Thank you, Cole."

[hurtcomfort]

He misses her. In between all the confusion and shock at his new surroundings, Cole can pick up on one strand of hurt in Victor's heart: he misses his dog. And that, at least, he knows how to help. He can't bring Makkachin here. But he can do the next best thing: give Victor something to remind him of her, to soothe the suffering.

And so, when he sees Victor hold that stuffed dog, when he gets the thanks, Cole's heart just swells in happiness. There we go. He made things better.

"You're welcome," he responds, with a little nod. "You'll see her again. A year isn't that long." But it still can be longer than expected, so this stuffed animal should help.

[genice]

And it will help, being a link to years of fond memories and companionship even while Makkachin's out of reach. Even while everyone's out of reach, really.

"Not if I keep busy," he says, agreeing in his own way, tone bright and chipper as if it'd never been anything else. His smile now is easy, his mood still happy and tangled in the sorrow that won't go away, only dull with time. He doesn't like being away from Yuri, no. But he's never been away from Makkachin for more than a few weeks, and even then, just for the Olympics. "Besides, even if I don't have my phone, apparently I can think about her around you and get at least one sympathiser."

Victor winks, chuckling lightly. He's half-way serious, if only because it's nice in an exceedingly odd way to have something like that understood. Freaky, also. He's going to go with nice, though. He tucks the stuffed dog under an arm, keeping it close.

"I should let you continue with your job at the game for now, though. I'll see you around?"

Questioning because he's frankly not sure what Cole's general mode of operation is, and even in a small carnival, people can still manage to be nothing but a series of missed connections.

[hurtcomfort]

Victor's smiling, Victor feels better, Victor's happy now. And, though it doesn't show much on Cole's face, that just makes him all the more happy as well. It makes sense to miss people. So many people here have someone they miss, friends, family, loved ones. If Cole can do anything to ease that burden a little bit, he's going to try to.

At Victor's question though, Cole nods.

"You will," he responds, in a matter of fact sort of voice. Of course Victor will see him around. Cole wants people to see him. It wouldn't work otherwise and he couldn't run this booth. Cole gives one last look at Victor before he starts setting the bottles back up, getting things ready for another customer to try to win something.

[genice]

Victor nods in return, taking his leave with the intention of heading back by his trailer. He doesn't want to accidentally lose the poorly crafted stuffed dog.

You did good, Cole. You did good.