best day ever } hoc } with: johnny
Jul. 3rd, 2013 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hamelinicOne would really think by now Cynric would have some inkling about what Johnny’s real plan was. Then again, maybe he just thought Johnny had wanted to pick up the Joker’s fashion sense. Because certainly it wasn’t Cynric’s clothing that had required the most tweaking. And yes, they had added more feathers to the fiddler’s hat.
But having an inkling and actually seeing the gates of the festival laid out before them as they exit the Deck and step out of the trees into the parking fields? That’s something else entirely.
“I think,” Johnny says with amusement, “this is where I say something to the effect of let us go forth and make merrye!”
At least it’s a vaguely credible renaissance faire accent. But then, he’d spent a couple of summers doing the wandering minstrel thing.
--
Having an inkling is a nebulous thing. Having faint ideas in a few directions is easily derailed by gluing feathers to hats, by singing absently, by pulling out a stringed instrument. It doesn’t really diminish from the actual moment. From the actual surprise, even if it’s been half-guessed.
And that’s why Cynric is going to need a moment. Why his fingers are going to latch tight onto Johnny’s wrist while he struggles for words.
It’s a happy thing. It’s just an overwhelmed sort of thing. How often do you get taken to your people, after all?
---
Happy un-birthday, Cynric? Something like that. But having fingers latched tight on Johnny’s wrist just means he’ll twist his hand around to clasp Cynric’s wrist and start tugging him in the direction of the gate.
“Come on, man, you haven’t even got inside yet. And don’t you dare start crying over everything.”
Or he’s totally pretending he doesn’t actually know you.
--
But you do know him, Johnny. You know him and you love him so dang much that you’ve brought him on a super fabulous and very very merry un-birthday adventure. There will be suspicion at some point soon about whether or not this means he owes the Heart something, but that will be later. Later is later. And now is now.
Now is also beginning to come back to life, grip still sight on Johnny’s wrist even as he moves faster, catches pace with the other man again.
“Can I cry just over the feathers? I bet they’ve got proper feathers for hats here.”
And he bets some of them will be disappearing. Into his millions of pockets. Surely this sort of place accounts for people like them getting in, right?”
---
There are probably more feathers, all told, within the gates of the festival to fluff Cynric’s coat up like a down comforter and still have plenty left over.
And of course he owes Johnny something, but it’s not the sort of thing that’s expected either. Not like this isn’t fun for the Heart, too. Maybe they’ll just drag Rowan to it, in the future, and she can let somebody else be Queen for the day.
“So what if they’re chicken feathers? Roosters have pretty damn awesome tailfeathers, okay?” There may have been a midnight visit paid to Jimmy’s farm to liberate some of those tailfeathers. Possibly.
--
Everyone. They have to bring everyone. Everyone needs to know such things and places exist. Everyone needs more feathers settled appropriately into caps and not just glued to the back of their coats by a bored Joker left with too many arts and crafts supplies.
“But it’s not-- a plume.” Which is the word he’s picked to throw in the fact of most of the feathers that had been glued to things recently, despite the fact he clearly enjoyed them to pieces. “Can we stay long? Is it going t’ be the whole day? Do they not leave?”
Did Johnny think he came with an adult and not a child? Incorrect.
---
“Well you know. I didn’t feel like chasing down the ostrich.” Though Cynric probably would’ve gotten quite the kick out of that.
“Yes, we can stay all day. And...” he shrugs, “most of the people leave at the end of the day.” There were plenty who camped nearby for the weekend so that didn’t really count as ‘leaving’.
And since he already bought tickets over the Internet because he is a modern renaissance man like that, he can just shove Cynric through the gates and back into the pretend sixteenth century. “I like to imagine the Deck looked something like this, back in the day,” he drawls in amusement.
--
Oh, the modern renaissance. Not even half as good as the first one. The one where flying machines were infinitely more fascinating.
Which doesn’t matter now. What matters is that if he doesn’t let go of Johnny’s hand, he won’t get completely lost. Or maybe he will despite the clinging. Maybe it’ll just involve a lot of tugging along, through people who he feels instantly more at peace with than half the folk he’s met in the Deck, in the bits of the Outside he’s seen.
“Not so long ago, y’know. You saw our brethren of the slightly altered suits.” And they seemed closer to this than to the modern world. “Why haven’t we stuck with it? People clearly miss it.”
---
Johnny snorts at the mention of the Arcana. “Well, they are special, I guess.” Plus the whole magic thing. It did make one wonder how much they made use of more modern technology or if they considered it not worth the effort.
“Dunno. Probably people would rather also have cars and computers and modern medical miracles and stuff.” Though that didn’t really preclude the renaissance aesthetic. “And plenty of the ‘normal’ types think this sort of thing is weird.” He nods over to a family in mundane clothing gawking at...everything. “It’s just like going to a theme park and then letting it go when you leave.”
--
“Why would you leave?”
Other than, of course, the fact this wasn’t home. If this sort of thing existed where he could not be entirely apart from the few people who actually mattered, it was entirely possible he would never be dragged away again.
“D’you think they’d notice if I took one of their trees?”
---
“Cause it’s not really a town you can live in.” While the buildings weren’t exactly temporary...they weren’t really the sort of buildings you’d want to live in full time if you had a choice.
“And yeah, Cynric, pretty sure they’d notice. Don’t think a tree would fit under your coat.” Even if almost anything else would.
--
Which is a shame. Which they’re going to have to explore properly. Johnny might have to explain which squiggles mean ‘no Cynric you are not allowed inside this place stop stop go away’ or ‘staff only’ or whatever.
“I meant t’ sleep in. Not to take away.” Ridiculous man. “Why would they make a place that wasn’t real?”
---
Johnny will be contemplating putting a leash on Cynric by the middle of the day, for sure. But until then, he’ll just play the redirection and distraction game. There’s certainly enough around to do that. All sorts of Things That are Shiny and musical shows and comedy shows and dramatic shows and jousting and acrobatics and people in lovely costumes and. Well. Lots. Of stuff. Enough that they’d probably have to come back to see it all.
“They’d probably notice you sleeping a tree, too.” But it wasn’t the most unheard-of thing to happen. Most people would probably just think he was an actor being paid to perch on a branch.
“And....” more shrugging, “hard to get something like this happening full-time, I guess.”
--
The distractions are many. They’re dangerous and they’re wonderful and they’re going to wear Cynric out before the end of the day, at least long enough to get him dragged back out to the nearest door.
Barring him taking up with the minstrels here and vowing never to go home again.
“But why?” He is rather stuck in child mode, it would seem, as he tugs them toward--obviously--the nearest feathers for him to fuss over. “People like it. People seem t’ want it if it’s here.”
---
Johnny doesn’t mind being tugged toward feathers, even if they mostly seem to involve ladies’ hairpieces and hats at this particular spot. “You think I know? People are crazy, Cynric, you know that.”
And many of them are far more practical than certain Jokers.
--
Which means he won’t mind having a selection of ladies’ hairpieces held up for Cynric to look at? Yes? Maybe? Be a good sport. You know him and he’s not crying like a good boy. Look at the good boy. Indulge the good boy.
“They are.” As, maybe a bit, are Jokers. “But there’s some hope left. There’s places like this. There’s...”
His attention wanders briefly, lost, likely, in the absolute world of distractions around them--and at least half in his one mind.
“...there’s good people t’ be found. Yeah?”
---
Johnny can manage to be a good sport most of the time. Particularly when it comes to indulging Cynric in something he engineered himself. So he won’t mind modeling hairpieces and certainly the ladies running the shop think the whole thing is hilarious so at least there’s some flirting to be done as well. Just sayin’.
“Got any particular good people in mind?”
He’s not sure if that pause meant some people in specific or was just a moment of general distraction.
--
“Not you, that’s for sure. You’re beyond redeemable.”
But it’s certainly said with love. And it certainly puts them both in the same handbasket heading straight to hell or whatever it is that happens to people like them at the end of the day.
“But I’ve seen them. Hard to forget them once you’ve met them, don’t you think?”
---
Oh, Johnny figures he’s unlikely to be getting past the pearly gates, but if that means he still gets to hang with Cynric in the afterlife, that’s probably not so bad, right?
“Yeah,” he says, smiling slightly, “I know what you’re talking about.”
--
“Now explain me how we barter t’ buy you this purple sparkly one.” Because what the hell, are they really going to make people use that bullshit money business up in this utopia of utopias. “It’s going t’ be a long day if we want t’ trade for the king’s crown by the end.”
Because too much philosophy would absolutely not be acceptable on the warm happy fuzzy day.
--
“Unfortunately,” Johnny says, carefully setting the purple sparkly one back, “you gotta use money. Or credit cards. But no bartering out this way.”
Some places, behind the scenes, that could work. But out here in the front of things? Not so much.
--
What. But. Boo.
“And there goes the faith in humanity again.”
Not really, but clearly now is the time to start pouting. And tugging Johnny along again with a heartbroken smile to the girls running the shop. No need to hang around the attractive nuisances.
“Where’s the line in a place like this, then? Between th’ old and the new?”
---
“Less of a line and more of a fuzzy area.” Pause. “Plus y’know, the fence.”
He’ll be flashing a smile at the girls as well even as he’s tugged along in Cynric’s wake. “I mean, they serve the soda in paper cups out of soda fountains. The food isn’t all made by hand. There’s electric lights in some places and probably a couple stages have speakers and mics.”
But Johnny doesn’t seem too bothered by the idea, “but there’s elephant rides, tree-shaded paths, a royal court, people playing old ballads, and, y’know....” he waves at a group of people dressed in their ren faire finest.
--
It’s not that the point isn’t ‘people playing old ballads.’ It absolutely is. There’s absolutely going to need to be his lute coming off his back and Old English coming out of his mouth. But first. Super first.
“--elephants?”
Explain him where this thing, because otherwise the excited dragging is blind.
---
At least he’d figured it was coming so he’s prepared to start directing Cynric in the right way to go. “Y’know, like pony rides except on elephants?”
There were pony rides too but they would probably frown on a grown man trying to ride a little pony.
“They’re over this way.”
--
“Why’ve they got elephants? How d’you even get elephants here? Are elephants a natural roaming beast in this part of the world? Aren’t they from Africa and the Asian subcontinent?”
Not that any of these questions will need answering if the elephants aren’t that far off. Because then will be time for jumping up and down like the small child this place has clearly turned him into. They can ride one, right? For friendship adventures? And get the picture at the end or what have you?
---
“Because they’re cool? I assume they have a really big trailer. No they aren’t. Yes they are.”
See? He keeps up. And yes, they can ride one. They can ride twice even. And there can be pictures. Johnny suspects Cynric will be showing them to everyone for the next week.
“Now what do you want to do, mm?”
--
The next week? No. The next forever, Johnny. The next five-ever. Ten-ever. Certainly beyond what normal people would expect. He’ll be fascinated by today--and the elephants--for quite some time.
It’s entirely possible he’s less than prepared for normal travel again once he’s dragged down from his new elephant friend. That’s probably why he’s clinging to Johnny, arms around the other man’s shoulders and face pressed against the back of his neck. Drag him, Johnny. Drag him along to the next adventure.
“Food. Can we play for food?”
---
Johnny debates the merits of explaining to Cynric about needing a contract with the festival to start asking for money from passersby. Then he figures it’s a waste of effort.
“We can play and then have food.”
Johnny shows his love by treating meals, apparently.
--
And never in the history of the world was there a better sugar daddy. Or, likely, a sugar daddy whose pet bard required less actual money be spent.
“But not in a related fashion?”
Not that he’s overly disappointed about not being allowed to play for his meal. And not that the lute isn’t coming down from his back.
---
“Not really, no. Maybe next time.” But likely that would ruin the illusion, a bit. To have to make it ‘work’. That was too much like real life.
But he’ll be breaking out the fiddle, too. “I suggest playing and walking.” So as to get to the food sooner.
And because he’s a show off.
--
“Lead the way.”
Which is absolutely an invitation for Johnny to pick their poison, in addition to simply finding them the nearest food. Because he’s surely got to bow to the other man today, in a completely contented sort of way.
---
They can play and walk and Johnny will choose something suitable. They’ll likely attract some followers, perhaps even some actual festival musicians joining in.
Somewhere in there, Johnny will try not to get caught up in the moment and remember they’re on a quest for food. But they might have to do another song or three first before they end up at the booth selling all sorts of meat on a stick. Plus macaroni and cheese on a stick. And scotch eggs. And such things. Nothing that could be remotely considered healthy.
--
A song or three is important. Making friends with other people who don’t blink at his clothes and play string instruments with similar gusto is more important than food. Getting a mandolinist’s number is absolutely crucial, although he’ll have to work later with Johnny on how the hell do you phone.
But that’s later. Now is incredulity.
“...how does one macaroni on a stick, exactly?”
---
That has Johnny laughing as the particular food is brought out. “They smoosh it together and fry it so it holds its shape. And stick a stick through it.”
And it’s delicious.
He pulls one of the little macaroni triangles off the stick and passes it over, “try one.”
--
But it’s pasta. But it’s a thing for a spoon. But it smells really good and clearly Cynric has never been one to toss aside offers of free food (or, you know, food a friend paid for).
Which doesn’t mean the first bite isn’t hesitant. Or that the rest of the offering isn’t gulped down almost too quickly.
Johnny’s eaten with Cynric before. He knows how to defend the food he doesn’t want the paler man eating, right?
---
Johnny is well aware. And he’s also now got a pointy stick to poke the offending reaching hand for. “You’ve got your own, you don’t need mine.”
Huff huff, silly Joker.
And maybe they can have chocolate covered cheesecake (on a stick) for dessert, even.
--
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I need.”
The cheesecake might have to wait. After all, once the poking sticks are introduced as a concept, there will clearly have to be skewer-fencing.
Johnny can hang, likely. Because, after all, Johnny does know him.
---
“No,” he says, sallying forth for this skewer fencing battle, “no idea what you need. None at all. Didn’t bring you here or feed you or let you ride elephants or anything.” He’s grinning so he’s not actually upset because that would be ridiculous. But since they are fencing, he can be considered the knight with Righteousness on his side. You should probably just concede defeat now, Cynric.
--
There’s an absent hum on Cynric’s lips, matched with his own crooked twist of a smile as he takes stance.
“For the last food on a stick, then. To the death.”
The forces of Hungry will always triumph over the forces of Righteousness. Or, at any rate, when both sticks inevitably break, Hungry will absolutely go for the rugby tackle.
---
Eventually, they’re probably going to get kicked out of the festival not for causing a scene but because they’re getting more entertaining than the actual paid performers. Well, that or offered a job.
But for now, they can wrangle in the dust until inevitably Hungry triumphs.
“Cheater,” Johnny mutters as he picks himself up and dusts himself off. “See if I get you dessert then.”
Well, they’d probably have to duel over that too, really.
--
Such is life. And such is the face of Victory happily stuffing the last bit of macaroni into his mouth.
Such also is Johnny getting to deal with an arm slung companionably around his shoulders, clung to with the same absolute glee that’s been pouring out of the Joker since they first arrived. Not quite the cheer of playing, but something very closer.
“Don’t need it. Besides, ‘m fairly certain I’m not allowed t’ have sugar.”
For the best. Genuinely.
---
“Sugar and caffeine, right. I’d never be able to keep up with you then,” he laughs.
Except it’s only funny because it’s true.
So instead he can get steered in the direction of an aerial act being performed from the trees. Silks and aerial hoops are always cool, right?
--
It’s a good distraction indeed. It’s the sort of thing which won’t stop the onslaught of questions--where do people learn this? do you think trees in the Deck are close enough together? how do they get such pretty colours in the fabric?--and certainly won’t stop Cynric hanging off the Heart.
And it’s not the sort of thing Cynric will get sad for not being able to play along with. Fire-eaters, however, should be steered clear of, clearly.
---
Johnny is just reaching the zen state where he mostly lets Cynric’s questions wash over him without worrying overmuch about answering every single one. Though he might point out that Cynric ought to know whereof fabric dyes, considering Jokerdom.
And he is, actually, carefully making sure they avoid the stages that might have fire eating acts. Without being obvious about bypassing a certain area at a certain time. This is when Cynric not reading is a good thing or he’d be able to see what’s on the schedule too.
“Will we have to worry about you making a hammock of the silks up in the trees?”
He really shouldn’t give Cynric Ideas but sometimes he just can’t help himself.
--
“Worry?”
Surely someone who knows Cynric will know where this is going.
“Not worry.”
But expect. Definitely, definitely expect.
“You’ll try it when it’s built, aye?”
---
“Assuming you’re better at building things than Raphael, maybe.”
Yes, he’d heard about the artist’s little plunge into the ocean.
Who is he kidding? They both know that Cynric will wheedle until he gets Johnny up there. They both know that it won’t really take all that much wheedling.
--
Such a sigh for fallen fellows. Such a blow for not-actually-lost brethren. Such pouting.
“I’ve learnt from his mistakes. Everything’s going to be ship-shape. Besides, if you’re really worried, you’ll just help me build it.”
Wheedle wheedle. Come on. Play with him forever, else the saddest puppy.
---
“You think I’ve got any sort of ‘building hammocks in trees’ knowledge?” Oh ye of too much faith.
But he totally will.
“Somehow I think we’re going to become a show for the rest of the Deck to watch with popcorn.”
Of course, that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. “I think there are some good trees over by the Castle.” He means Hearts Castle. And he certainly has no possible underhanded plots to catch the attention of a particular Queen of Hearts. Never.
--
The twist of his lips is brief. For Johnny, sacrifices are made about being in and around Hearts. It’s part of the sacrificing back for the other man, surely. There are worse fates.
And it will make obnoxious serenades that much easier when he manages to catch onto which vague shadow at a window’s currently got Johnny’s attention.
“So long as we aren’t a melodrama. I hate melodramas.”
---
“Because nothing about us is ever melodramatic.” Need he point out the time you wailed on the floor of a certain coffeeshop, Cynric? No, probably not.
“We can be a...hm...futuristic space western?”
That has nothing to do with hammocks, but it was the first ridiculous-sounding genre he thought of. Somewhere in there, he’s apparently watched Firefly.
--
And wouldn’t they both be just the sorts to have coats of a brownish colour.
“...I like it.”
This would, of course, be full of lutes and fiddles. There’s no helping it, genre appropriate or not.
“Does that mean ‘ve got to practice my cowboy accent?”
---
“We’ll have to get Monty to teach us how.” And by get Monty he probably means pester Monty.
“And find somebody to teach us a few good phrases in Chinese.” If Cynric has not also seen Firefly that will of course not make sense.
And there’s nothing wrong with being space cowboys who play lutes and fiddles. And wear brownish coats. And possibly hats with feathers.
--
Well, he was going to break out his amazing not-at-all-accurate drawl to try on the inspiration himself, but alas--as a non-like-er of technology, the reference made escapes him entirely.
“Chinese? Have I missed something about the old American West?”
Such a lost expression.
---
Johnny laughs and slings an arm around Cynric before leading him away to some other festival delight or show or something because of course that’s what they’re really supposed to be doing and there’s a nice bagpipes-and-drums group over here okay.
“I’ll show you when we get home.”
But having an inkling and actually seeing the gates of the festival laid out before them as they exit the Deck and step out of the trees into the parking fields? That’s something else entirely.
“I think,” Johnny says with amusement, “this is where I say something to the effect of let us go forth and make merrye!”
At least it’s a vaguely credible renaissance faire accent. But then, he’d spent a couple of summers doing the wandering minstrel thing.
--
Having an inkling is a nebulous thing. Having faint ideas in a few directions is easily derailed by gluing feathers to hats, by singing absently, by pulling out a stringed instrument. It doesn’t really diminish from the actual moment. From the actual surprise, even if it’s been half-guessed.
And that’s why Cynric is going to need a moment. Why his fingers are going to latch tight onto Johnny’s wrist while he struggles for words.
It’s a happy thing. It’s just an overwhelmed sort of thing. How often do you get taken to your people, after all?
---
Happy un-birthday, Cynric? Something like that. But having fingers latched tight on Johnny’s wrist just means he’ll twist his hand around to clasp Cynric’s wrist and start tugging him in the direction of the gate.
“Come on, man, you haven’t even got inside yet. And don’t you dare start crying over everything.”
Or he’s totally pretending he doesn’t actually know you.
--
But you do know him, Johnny. You know him and you love him so dang much that you’ve brought him on a super fabulous and very very merry un-birthday adventure. There will be suspicion at some point soon about whether or not this means he owes the Heart something, but that will be later. Later is later. And now is now.
Now is also beginning to come back to life, grip still sight on Johnny’s wrist even as he moves faster, catches pace with the other man again.
“Can I cry just over the feathers? I bet they’ve got proper feathers for hats here.”
And he bets some of them will be disappearing. Into his millions of pockets. Surely this sort of place accounts for people like them getting in, right?”
---
There are probably more feathers, all told, within the gates of the festival to fluff Cynric’s coat up like a down comforter and still have plenty left over.
And of course he owes Johnny something, but it’s not the sort of thing that’s expected either. Not like this isn’t fun for the Heart, too. Maybe they’ll just drag Rowan to it, in the future, and she can let somebody else be Queen for the day.
“So what if they’re chicken feathers? Roosters have pretty damn awesome tailfeathers, okay?” There may have been a midnight visit paid to Jimmy’s farm to liberate some of those tailfeathers. Possibly.
--
Everyone. They have to bring everyone. Everyone needs to know such things and places exist. Everyone needs more feathers settled appropriately into caps and not just glued to the back of their coats by a bored Joker left with too many arts and crafts supplies.
“But it’s not-- a plume.” Which is the word he’s picked to throw in the fact of most of the feathers that had been glued to things recently, despite the fact he clearly enjoyed them to pieces. “Can we stay long? Is it going t’ be the whole day? Do they not leave?”
Did Johnny think he came with an adult and not a child? Incorrect.
---
“Well you know. I didn’t feel like chasing down the ostrich.” Though Cynric probably would’ve gotten quite the kick out of that.
“Yes, we can stay all day. And...” he shrugs, “most of the people leave at the end of the day.” There were plenty who camped nearby for the weekend so that didn’t really count as ‘leaving’.
And since he already bought tickets over the Internet because he is a modern renaissance man like that, he can just shove Cynric through the gates and back into the pretend sixteenth century. “I like to imagine the Deck looked something like this, back in the day,” he drawls in amusement.
--
Oh, the modern renaissance. Not even half as good as the first one. The one where flying machines were infinitely more fascinating.
Which doesn’t matter now. What matters is that if he doesn’t let go of Johnny’s hand, he won’t get completely lost. Or maybe he will despite the clinging. Maybe it’ll just involve a lot of tugging along, through people who he feels instantly more at peace with than half the folk he’s met in the Deck, in the bits of the Outside he’s seen.
“Not so long ago, y’know. You saw our brethren of the slightly altered suits.” And they seemed closer to this than to the modern world. “Why haven’t we stuck with it? People clearly miss it.”
---
Johnny snorts at the mention of the Arcana. “Well, they are special, I guess.” Plus the whole magic thing. It did make one wonder how much they made use of more modern technology or if they considered it not worth the effort.
“Dunno. Probably people would rather also have cars and computers and modern medical miracles and stuff.” Though that didn’t really preclude the renaissance aesthetic. “And plenty of the ‘normal’ types think this sort of thing is weird.” He nods over to a family in mundane clothing gawking at...everything. “It’s just like going to a theme park and then letting it go when you leave.”
--
“Why would you leave?”
Other than, of course, the fact this wasn’t home. If this sort of thing existed where he could not be entirely apart from the few people who actually mattered, it was entirely possible he would never be dragged away again.
“D’you think they’d notice if I took one of their trees?”
---
“Cause it’s not really a town you can live in.” While the buildings weren’t exactly temporary...they weren’t really the sort of buildings you’d want to live in full time if you had a choice.
“And yeah, Cynric, pretty sure they’d notice. Don’t think a tree would fit under your coat.” Even if almost anything else would.
--
Which is a shame. Which they’re going to have to explore properly. Johnny might have to explain which squiggles mean ‘no Cynric you are not allowed inside this place stop stop go away’ or ‘staff only’ or whatever.
“I meant t’ sleep in. Not to take away.” Ridiculous man. “Why would they make a place that wasn’t real?”
---
Johnny will be contemplating putting a leash on Cynric by the middle of the day, for sure. But until then, he’ll just play the redirection and distraction game. There’s certainly enough around to do that. All sorts of Things That are Shiny and musical shows and comedy shows and dramatic shows and jousting and acrobatics and people in lovely costumes and. Well. Lots. Of stuff. Enough that they’d probably have to come back to see it all.
“They’d probably notice you sleeping a tree, too.” But it wasn’t the most unheard-of thing to happen. Most people would probably just think he was an actor being paid to perch on a branch.
“And....” more shrugging, “hard to get something like this happening full-time, I guess.”
--
The distractions are many. They’re dangerous and they’re wonderful and they’re going to wear Cynric out before the end of the day, at least long enough to get him dragged back out to the nearest door.
Barring him taking up with the minstrels here and vowing never to go home again.
“But why?” He is rather stuck in child mode, it would seem, as he tugs them toward--obviously--the nearest feathers for him to fuss over. “People like it. People seem t’ want it if it’s here.”
---
Johnny doesn’t mind being tugged toward feathers, even if they mostly seem to involve ladies’ hairpieces and hats at this particular spot. “You think I know? People are crazy, Cynric, you know that.”
And many of them are far more practical than certain Jokers.
--
Which means he won’t mind having a selection of ladies’ hairpieces held up for Cynric to look at? Yes? Maybe? Be a good sport. You know him and he’s not crying like a good boy. Look at the good boy. Indulge the good boy.
“They are.” As, maybe a bit, are Jokers. “But there’s some hope left. There’s places like this. There’s...”
His attention wanders briefly, lost, likely, in the absolute world of distractions around them--and at least half in his one mind.
“...there’s good people t’ be found. Yeah?”
---
Johnny can manage to be a good sport most of the time. Particularly when it comes to indulging Cynric in something he engineered himself. So he won’t mind modeling hairpieces and certainly the ladies running the shop think the whole thing is hilarious so at least there’s some flirting to be done as well. Just sayin’.
“Got any particular good people in mind?”
He’s not sure if that pause meant some people in specific or was just a moment of general distraction.
--
“Not you, that’s for sure. You’re beyond redeemable.”
But it’s certainly said with love. And it certainly puts them both in the same handbasket heading straight to hell or whatever it is that happens to people like them at the end of the day.
“But I’ve seen them. Hard to forget them once you’ve met them, don’t you think?”
---
Oh, Johnny figures he’s unlikely to be getting past the pearly gates, but if that means he still gets to hang with Cynric in the afterlife, that’s probably not so bad, right?
“Yeah,” he says, smiling slightly, “I know what you’re talking about.”
--
“Now explain me how we barter t’ buy you this purple sparkly one.” Because what the hell, are they really going to make people use that bullshit money business up in this utopia of utopias. “It’s going t’ be a long day if we want t’ trade for the king’s crown by the end.”
Because too much philosophy would absolutely not be acceptable on the warm happy fuzzy day.
--
“Unfortunately,” Johnny says, carefully setting the purple sparkly one back, “you gotta use money. Or credit cards. But no bartering out this way.”
Some places, behind the scenes, that could work. But out here in the front of things? Not so much.
--
What. But. Boo.
“And there goes the faith in humanity again.”
Not really, but clearly now is the time to start pouting. And tugging Johnny along again with a heartbroken smile to the girls running the shop. No need to hang around the attractive nuisances.
“Where’s the line in a place like this, then? Between th’ old and the new?”
---
“Less of a line and more of a fuzzy area.” Pause. “Plus y’know, the fence.”
He’ll be flashing a smile at the girls as well even as he’s tugged along in Cynric’s wake. “I mean, they serve the soda in paper cups out of soda fountains. The food isn’t all made by hand. There’s electric lights in some places and probably a couple stages have speakers and mics.”
But Johnny doesn’t seem too bothered by the idea, “but there’s elephant rides, tree-shaded paths, a royal court, people playing old ballads, and, y’know....” he waves at a group of people dressed in their ren faire finest.
--
It’s not that the point isn’t ‘people playing old ballads.’ It absolutely is. There’s absolutely going to need to be his lute coming off his back and Old English coming out of his mouth. But first. Super first.
“--elephants?”
Explain him where this thing, because otherwise the excited dragging is blind.
---
At least he’d figured it was coming so he’s prepared to start directing Cynric in the right way to go. “Y’know, like pony rides except on elephants?”
There were pony rides too but they would probably frown on a grown man trying to ride a little pony.
“They’re over this way.”
--
“Why’ve they got elephants? How d’you even get elephants here? Are elephants a natural roaming beast in this part of the world? Aren’t they from Africa and the Asian subcontinent?”
Not that any of these questions will need answering if the elephants aren’t that far off. Because then will be time for jumping up and down like the small child this place has clearly turned him into. They can ride one, right? For friendship adventures? And get the picture at the end or what have you?
---
“Because they’re cool? I assume they have a really big trailer. No they aren’t. Yes they are.”
See? He keeps up. And yes, they can ride one. They can ride twice even. And there can be pictures. Johnny suspects Cynric will be showing them to everyone for the next week.
“Now what do you want to do, mm?”
--
The next week? No. The next forever, Johnny. The next five-ever. Ten-ever. Certainly beyond what normal people would expect. He’ll be fascinated by today--and the elephants--for quite some time.
It’s entirely possible he’s less than prepared for normal travel again once he’s dragged down from his new elephant friend. That’s probably why he’s clinging to Johnny, arms around the other man’s shoulders and face pressed against the back of his neck. Drag him, Johnny. Drag him along to the next adventure.
“Food. Can we play for food?”
---
Johnny debates the merits of explaining to Cynric about needing a contract with the festival to start asking for money from passersby. Then he figures it’s a waste of effort.
“We can play and then have food.”
Johnny shows his love by treating meals, apparently.
--
And never in the history of the world was there a better sugar daddy. Or, likely, a sugar daddy whose pet bard required less actual money be spent.
“But not in a related fashion?”
Not that he’s overly disappointed about not being allowed to play for his meal. And not that the lute isn’t coming down from his back.
---
“Not really, no. Maybe next time.” But likely that would ruin the illusion, a bit. To have to make it ‘work’. That was too much like real life.
But he’ll be breaking out the fiddle, too. “I suggest playing and walking.” So as to get to the food sooner.
And because he’s a show off.
--
“Lead the way.”
Which is absolutely an invitation for Johnny to pick their poison, in addition to simply finding them the nearest food. Because he’s surely got to bow to the other man today, in a completely contented sort of way.
---
They can play and walk and Johnny will choose something suitable. They’ll likely attract some followers, perhaps even some actual festival musicians joining in.
Somewhere in there, Johnny will try not to get caught up in the moment and remember they’re on a quest for food. But they might have to do another song or three first before they end up at the booth selling all sorts of meat on a stick. Plus macaroni and cheese on a stick. And scotch eggs. And such things. Nothing that could be remotely considered healthy.
--
A song or three is important. Making friends with other people who don’t blink at his clothes and play string instruments with similar gusto is more important than food. Getting a mandolinist’s number is absolutely crucial, although he’ll have to work later with Johnny on how the hell do you phone.
But that’s later. Now is incredulity.
“...how does one macaroni on a stick, exactly?”
---
That has Johnny laughing as the particular food is brought out. “They smoosh it together and fry it so it holds its shape. And stick a stick through it.”
And it’s delicious.
He pulls one of the little macaroni triangles off the stick and passes it over, “try one.”
--
But it’s pasta. But it’s a thing for a spoon. But it smells really good and clearly Cynric has never been one to toss aside offers of free food (or, you know, food a friend paid for).
Which doesn’t mean the first bite isn’t hesitant. Or that the rest of the offering isn’t gulped down almost too quickly.
Johnny’s eaten with Cynric before. He knows how to defend the food he doesn’t want the paler man eating, right?
---
Johnny is well aware. And he’s also now got a pointy stick to poke the offending reaching hand for. “You’ve got your own, you don’t need mine.”
Huff huff, silly Joker.
And maybe they can have chocolate covered cheesecake (on a stick) for dessert, even.
--
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I need.”
The cheesecake might have to wait. After all, once the poking sticks are introduced as a concept, there will clearly have to be skewer-fencing.
Johnny can hang, likely. Because, after all, Johnny does know him.
---
“No,” he says, sallying forth for this skewer fencing battle, “no idea what you need. None at all. Didn’t bring you here or feed you or let you ride elephants or anything.” He’s grinning so he’s not actually upset because that would be ridiculous. But since they are fencing, he can be considered the knight with Righteousness on his side. You should probably just concede defeat now, Cynric.
--
There’s an absent hum on Cynric’s lips, matched with his own crooked twist of a smile as he takes stance.
“For the last food on a stick, then. To the death.”
The forces of Hungry will always triumph over the forces of Righteousness. Or, at any rate, when both sticks inevitably break, Hungry will absolutely go for the rugby tackle.
---
Eventually, they’re probably going to get kicked out of the festival not for causing a scene but because they’re getting more entertaining than the actual paid performers. Well, that or offered a job.
But for now, they can wrangle in the dust until inevitably Hungry triumphs.
“Cheater,” Johnny mutters as he picks himself up and dusts himself off. “See if I get you dessert then.”
Well, they’d probably have to duel over that too, really.
--
Such is life. And such is the face of Victory happily stuffing the last bit of macaroni into his mouth.
Such also is Johnny getting to deal with an arm slung companionably around his shoulders, clung to with the same absolute glee that’s been pouring out of the Joker since they first arrived. Not quite the cheer of playing, but something very closer.
“Don’t need it. Besides, ‘m fairly certain I’m not allowed t’ have sugar.”
For the best. Genuinely.
---
“Sugar and caffeine, right. I’d never be able to keep up with you then,” he laughs.
Except it’s only funny because it’s true.
So instead he can get steered in the direction of an aerial act being performed from the trees. Silks and aerial hoops are always cool, right?
--
It’s a good distraction indeed. It’s the sort of thing which won’t stop the onslaught of questions--where do people learn this? do you think trees in the Deck are close enough together? how do they get such pretty colours in the fabric?--and certainly won’t stop Cynric hanging off the Heart.
And it’s not the sort of thing Cynric will get sad for not being able to play along with. Fire-eaters, however, should be steered clear of, clearly.
---
Johnny is just reaching the zen state where he mostly lets Cynric’s questions wash over him without worrying overmuch about answering every single one. Though he might point out that Cynric ought to know whereof fabric dyes, considering Jokerdom.
And he is, actually, carefully making sure they avoid the stages that might have fire eating acts. Without being obvious about bypassing a certain area at a certain time. This is when Cynric not reading is a good thing or he’d be able to see what’s on the schedule too.
“Will we have to worry about you making a hammock of the silks up in the trees?”
He really shouldn’t give Cynric Ideas but sometimes he just can’t help himself.
--
“Worry?”
Surely someone who knows Cynric will know where this is going.
“Not worry.”
But expect. Definitely, definitely expect.
“You’ll try it when it’s built, aye?”
---
“Assuming you’re better at building things than Raphael, maybe.”
Yes, he’d heard about the artist’s little plunge into the ocean.
Who is he kidding? They both know that Cynric will wheedle until he gets Johnny up there. They both know that it won’t really take all that much wheedling.
--
Such a sigh for fallen fellows. Such a blow for not-actually-lost brethren. Such pouting.
“I’ve learnt from his mistakes. Everything’s going to be ship-shape. Besides, if you’re really worried, you’ll just help me build it.”
Wheedle wheedle. Come on. Play with him forever, else the saddest puppy.
---
“You think I’ve got any sort of ‘building hammocks in trees’ knowledge?” Oh ye of too much faith.
But he totally will.
“Somehow I think we’re going to become a show for the rest of the Deck to watch with popcorn.”
Of course, that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. “I think there are some good trees over by the Castle.” He means Hearts Castle. And he certainly has no possible underhanded plots to catch the attention of a particular Queen of Hearts. Never.
--
The twist of his lips is brief. For Johnny, sacrifices are made about being in and around Hearts. It’s part of the sacrificing back for the other man, surely. There are worse fates.
And it will make obnoxious serenades that much easier when he manages to catch onto which vague shadow at a window’s currently got Johnny’s attention.
“So long as we aren’t a melodrama. I hate melodramas.”
---
“Because nothing about us is ever melodramatic.” Need he point out the time you wailed on the floor of a certain coffeeshop, Cynric? No, probably not.
“We can be a...hm...futuristic space western?”
That has nothing to do with hammocks, but it was the first ridiculous-sounding genre he thought of. Somewhere in there, he’s apparently watched Firefly.
--
And wouldn’t they both be just the sorts to have coats of a brownish colour.
“...I like it.”
This would, of course, be full of lutes and fiddles. There’s no helping it, genre appropriate or not.
“Does that mean ‘ve got to practice my cowboy accent?”
---
“We’ll have to get Monty to teach us how.” And by get Monty he probably means pester Monty.
“And find somebody to teach us a few good phrases in Chinese.” If Cynric has not also seen Firefly that will of course not make sense.
And there’s nothing wrong with being space cowboys who play lutes and fiddles. And wear brownish coats. And possibly hats with feathers.
--
Well, he was going to break out his amazing not-at-all-accurate drawl to try on the inspiration himself, but alas--as a non-like-er of technology, the reference made escapes him entirely.
“Chinese? Have I missed something about the old American West?”
Such a lost expression.
---
Johnny laughs and slings an arm around Cynric before leading him away to some other festival delight or show or something because of course that’s what they’re really supposed to be doing and there’s a nice bagpipes-and-drums group over here okay.
“I’ll show you when we get home.”
