(no subject)

[tragic_mask]

Arriving at the Visitor's Center, Melpomene takes a look around.

"Well, this is it. In all its touristic glory. "

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[tragic_mask]

She looks around, too. "Are we anywhere near the hotel? I feel I didn't pay close enough attention, the first time around..."

[mechanicalswans]

"A few blocks, I think," he says. "Uphill, though. We'll get there."

[tragic_mask]

"Somehow things look so different when you're being carried downhill," she says, and smiles.

[mechanicalswans]

"If you'd like to be carried back uphill, it could be arranged," he smiles. "We could also find a taxi, I imagine."

[tragic_mask]

"I can handle it, I swear. It's all part of roughing it," she says wryly.

[mechanicalswans]

"There's roughing it, and then there's roughing it," he says. "No need to do the one when only the other is called for."

[tragic_mask]

"Well, this is probably not even the first one," she says. "I've hiked some pretty fierce mountains in my time, you know."

[mechanicalswans]

"Barefoot?" he asks with a chuckle. "Or was this after your wild youth? I've done it barefoot, but not in the winter."

[tragic_mask]

"I've never hiked a snowy mountain barefoot. But... for the grassy Mediterranean mountains, I had a strict no-shoes policy."

[mechanicalswans]

"We'll stay away from the snow, for now. I need to be reminded sometimes that there are other seasons."

[tragic_mask]

"You're with the right lady, then," she says. "I much prefer the warm."

[mechanicalswans]

"It suits you," he murmurs. "Just as long as we should not be the sort of star-crossed types who can only meet on the equinox, as a compromise..."

[tragic_mask]

She smiles.

"Sounds absolutely tragic... Pretty sure I've done some stories about that, actually. But... I think I can work around my aversion to cold weather, to withstand seeing you more than once or twice a year."

[mechanicalswans]

"And I think I can manage to endure the warm weather, for you," he says. "Though you might have some difficulty getting me away from wearing socks with sandals. We pasty northern types don't have the exposure to warm-weather fashion that you do."

[tragic_mask]

"Oh," she says, making a face. "You're asking me to make a huge sacrifice by allowing you to escort me through public areas while wearing socks and sandals. I hope you know that."

[mechanicalswans]

"I know," he says, "and I appreciate it deeply. I'll have to find some way to make it up to you--I know! We can go to the county fair."

[tragic_mask]

She shoots him a look.

"All I know about the county fair is that the food is usually good... and the Ferris wheels are never tall enough."

[mechanicalswans]

"Oh, the food," he says. "All the fried foods and sweets you could want, and many more. We must have funnel cake. Maybe sausage and pepper sandwiches, or hamburgers and fries. And cotton candy and ice cream--you're making me hungry just thinking about it."

[tragic_mask]

"Sorry," she says. "Not my intention."

[mechanicalswans]

"No need to apologize," he says. "You go for the food, or to be social, or for the rides if there are any--or if you've got an animal or a craft in the competitions."

[tragic_mask]

"Which is, in a nutshell, why I really don't see the charm in fairs."

[mechanicalswans]

"I lived in farm communities for so long that I've grown fond of them," he says. "There's a simplicity, a... a sense of marking the passage of time."

[tragic_mask]

"Though county fairs seem timeless... they never change."

[mechanicalswans]

"It's an endless loop," he says. "Every year, it's 1926 all over again, or whatever gentler, simpler year you might hope for. The music at the dances may change, but the sentiment is always the same. It's a rite of summer. We don't have many left."

[tragic_mask]

"No," she says, reflectively. "Particularly in the urban world, people pride themselves on discarding all tradition."