Cotton candy, candied apples, fresh popcorn. Garbage tossed aside that still smelled as sweet as when it was on a stick. A motley of aromas to pick from, each beckoning in their own way. Separate but the same; they made you fat but tasted like heaven on earth. They're programmed to trick you into a state of ecstasy as soon as your tongue samples it. Teeth biting, wide mouths smiling around shaved pieces of food, dappled in the flood lights that help ignite a path through the games. If the food wasn't enough to fool you than the jettison of blinking bulbs, stained different colors from red, orange, firefly white, cartoon turquoise, would bewitch you till the sun rose and made sure to dull the carnival. It's why the night was a sacred portal for elements like this to be shown. Everything, all at once, seemed illuminated. Junkyard of genuine laughter all piling a top each other, dash of children's giggles when they tunnel visioned on over ripened panda bears to be won by popping balloons, and that spice of weekend lovers that thought this is the one because the atmosphere was too perfect to judge an affair for what it was really worth.

Lyra tore into the sugary spun skin of the cotton candy, having gone into debt by purchasing a bit of everything a long with tokens found in some of the more shadowed booths where most didn't seem impressed by the rusted items of bronze, peeling silver, spurious rose gold. A Faceless had been keeping up with her but her migration had caused him some panic, blending too long in a crowd that arched like a fleshy tidal wave around the carousel, vying for a perfect spot on lace trimmed mermaids, colorful horses each with their own unique eyes, tamed lions proudly stalking behind peacock feathered ostriches. She had no intention to redeem a ticket that was paid for, letting it sleep in her pocket while it's brethren were thrown around by excited mondaines with their token darlings on their arms.

"What do you think about that?"

She spoke to herself, lapping away remains of sticky confection from her thin fingers.

It is beautiful but it isn't for us.

"You're right, on both fronts. It's not for us. No matter how beautiful it is."

Do you want to ride it?

"No. I don't want to know what that will show me. I don't want to see."

"Who are you talking to, lady?" She had to be no more than seven, petite as a cherub with eyes that would engulf men in her older years. Hair as sandy as uninhabited beaches, painted with hidden freckles in the sun lit land of her cheeks. One suspender undone, acquiring a tomboy appearance that could be seen sliding off, like snake skin, once her mid-teens would hit. Lyra saw it all with barely a gesture of a look, pick pocketing snippets of a future that was sloppily written by the trembling hands of fate. Caught in the act of speaking to nothing but the air around her, judged by the intrigue and boldness of a kid.

"A friend of mine. I don't think you can see him, though."

"A friend?" The girl looked around in an attempt to catch the culprit of this title red handed but came up short. "You don't want to see what? You said, I don't want to see. What don't you want to see?" Curiosity would mold any wild footed youth into encouraging strangers to tell them the way of the world. Unafraid till they were woken from their juvenile years by horrible things.

"That's a hard question to answer." Her face bent, the willow smoothness of it sharpening to help animate the ruse of her frown. "And a hard answer that you would want to question." A transmundane that didn't give up on the fables of riddles; she laughed, mouthful of stardust and diamond eyes, bending to crouch in front of the girl. "You might want to see it, though. I think you'll have a better time than me on it. Motion sickness. Round and round." Fibbing in the face of innocence while procuring that unused ticket from the depth of her pocket. "Here. Go see for yourself. Even I can't figure out what'll be on the end of that ride for you."

Confusion was not to be confused with awe when the detail of the mien was this tender. All she said was swallowed by the back draft of what the girl understood. A free ticket to the golden goose egg of an attraction that stayed within these fairgrounds. "Wow, thank you!"

"If you see my friend, tell him he looks nice. He's a glutton for compliments." Guiding the bars of her lashes down, taking hostage the tint therein, polishing a benevolent smile that brought the adolescent a sense of well-being. Running forward through a maze of legs, relying on her shortness to scavenge to the front of the line, too wide eyed at the locomotion behind the carousel to care for those that seemed put out on the rascals cutting.

That was nice of you. Do you think she'll see me one day?

"I think everyone will see you one day, apart from what you left behind. You're more magnificent than the world above."

Will you tell me a story?

Hand skid through petals of orchid white hair, drawing away the shades of moon pale tangles while lifting to her petite height. Sights were set in a mapping of those that were scattered around; they reminded her of loose stars, shuffling in the canals of the Milky Way. But they weren't stars.

"Of course. Did I ever tell you the story of when I fell, but wanted a friend?"

Yes. That is my favorite story. Tell it again.

*A post written for this fascinating playable.