Temperance lives by (verbumdomini) wrote in repose, @ 2016-09-30 16:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, burden bell, claire johnson |
Carnival: Claire and Misha
Who: Claire and Misha
What: Investigating a feather.
Where: Carnival
When: Recently-ish?
Warnings/Rating: TBA
The carnival was abuzz with noise and light amid the darkness of night. Young couples walked hand in hand, infatuation and laughter swirled the air in their wake. Everyone was paired off, or in their small groups of friends to enjoy the evening. All except for one. Claire was alone. That was common, yet weight of the word held her down this evening. It was difficult for her to ignore that she had no one with her and was supposed to be okay with that for her life. Her thoughts felt that they bordered on heretical to wish for someone at her side. One person in particular. He would not enjoy the carnival. He wasn't precisely a people person. That was part of what drew her to him. Claire sighed, a mix of melancholy within her unrequited admiration.
When she lifted her gaze, her eyes were steeled with purpose. There was a reason for her to be here this evening beyond feeling sorry for herself. Her blue plaid boots carried her with silent assassin steps through the crowd. There was no set destination she was looking for, yet her wandering was not aimless. As with all things, Claire let herself be guided by an unseen hand. With a caress of breeze to lead her left and a parting of crowd to show her towards the tents, she was little more than a wave in the ocean of people following ebb and flow of life.
There was a rush of kids that cut her stroll short right in front of a cart selling caramel apples. Her stomach grumbled, and if that wasn't a sign for her to buy a little snack, she didn't know what was. Her smile was warm to the man, giving him far too much money with intent to pay for people that couldn't. They both knew that wasn't going to happen, but if he needed the money more than some kids needed sweets Claire would gladly hand a fortune over.
Just as teeth pierced skin through thick caramel, that was when she saw Misha. He meant it when he said she'd know him on sight. It had been years, back when she was going by the name of Saffron (he'd known otherwise), but she'd never forget that face. "MmMmm," trying to call out for the man was not a good idea when her mouth was full. And maybe she looked silly chasing him down in her chunky army jacket and calf-length maroon cami dress waving a caramel apple wildly for his attention, but looking silly was hardly a concern for a girl that had never been taught what 'silly' was.