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[temperamentalsteel]

After weeks of hard missions and even harder conversations, d'Artagnan had been hesitant to go through anymore strange doors. Then he'd passed by one left slightly ajar and he'd heard music...smelled wonderful things, and curiosity had gotten the better of him. Luckily, going through the door had resulted in nothing but delight. It apparently passed through to something called an amusement park and d'Artagnan was amazed and definitely amused.

First had been the colorful spinning horses, then the wheel that went up into the sky, and then something insanely exhilarating called a roller coaster. D'Artagnan had ridden several of them more than once, only stopping when hunger sent him to the food stalls and toward something called a funnel cake.

And then, he had found something called the paintball range. Immediately, d'Artagnan was signing up for the next session.

[[He went through the amusement park door. Catch him at any point in his adventure!]]

Comments

[averygoodshot]

It had been that Aramis had seen d'Artagnan slip through before he was able to call out, in all honesty.

And for a moment, he hesitates, looking over his shoulder. What if this is Paris? He would be breaking his word to the Queen.

Of course, when he steps through, it isn't Paris, it's something entirely strange. He finally catches up with d'Artagnan at the said paintball range and he's watching closely what's happening. This is intriguing. He nudges his friend's shoulder in greeting.

[temperamentalsteel]

D'Artagnan, feeling at ease for once, laughed as he saw Aramis. "I may have to remember this door," he said, gesturing around them. "How good a shot are you when the guns only hold paint?"

[averygoodshot]

"Guns which ... " Well, that's interesting. "I have no idea. But," Aramis says as he adjusts his hat. "I shall have to find out."

[temperamentalsteel]

"They tell me that the next session opens up in a few minutes. Go!" He grinned, thinking Aramis couldn't resist. Not only was it a new test of his skills, it was an opportunity to chase d'Artagnan down with a loaded gun.

[averygoodshot]

This might not be the adventure they are used to in Paris, but how is Aramis to resist such an opportunity?

He finds where to sign up and does so, returning to d'Artagnan with a grin, clearly pleased to have this chance for some fun.

[temperamentalsteel]

D'Artagnan grinned, waiting. "At last, something exciting happening that doesn't put our lives on the line."

[averygoodshot]

"Can you be so sure?" Aramis parries with a grin. "How do you know these 'paint balls' aren't lethal?"

[temperamentalsteel]

"Because I do not think this is the world in which they make gladitorial sport of children," d'Artagnan said, gesturing to the pack of young children who were exiting the arena, covered in pain and leaving.

[averygoodshot]

"Well, what is the fun in that," Aramis murmurs.

But he follows d'Artagnan into the arena and they are given something they call "protective gear," including something that is meant to cover their eyes. Then the pistols, which weigh so little as to be laughable.

The "rules" are explained to them, too.

Rules. Aramis smirks.

[at_your_side]

Whoever had invented cotton candy had to have been a genius.

Clouds of sticky pink sugar clung to her tongue, to the tips of her fingers where she had pulled apart the sweet treat in fascination. The world was a kaleidoscope of color, and yet she had not had a drop of anything to drink since the night she had spent dedicatedly taste-testing her way through the cocktail menu.

Where she had watched several rides go round and round, eyes wide as she saw people be flung about or shot forward at amazing speeds on rides calling themselves Tilt-A-Whirls and Tornadoes, she had yet to take a seat herself. She would, surely she would, but first she wanted to see all there was to see.

The taste of sugar was thick on her tongue when she spotted d'Artagnan, his attention focused upon a clipboard and pen in his hand as he stood by a stand beside a high, fenced in area. She called out to him, his name as familiar on her lips as anything, and smiled brightly as she approached. "This is wonderful, d'Artagnan."

[temperamentalsteel]

"Constance, you found the door too!" d'Artagnan took both of her hands in his, the clipboard forgotten. He could finish the form later. Constance was here.

Curious, he tilted his head to look at the pink stuff she held, intrigued. "I've seen it hanging off stalls, but I've no idea what it is," he admitted, hoping to fix Constance with just the right hopeful expression. "Have you gotten on any of the rides yet? The big circle there, the Ferris Wheel, is wonderful. It's like you can see for miles!"

Again, this place had opportunities that Paris would never have offered. Here, he could enjoy time for himself as well as take delight simply in her presence without fear for her reputation.

"Are you having a good time?"

[at_your_side]

"I did, I am," she told him, although the truth of that was obvious enough with the fact of her standing there with the sound of carnival music and the dancing colored lights of the midway games off on the horizon. The world felt too easy and happy not to, her mood nothing but light as she came near enough to do as she had not really been allowed to do for so long and reached for him.

Her fingers curled against the warmth of his grip as she leaned in, leant up onto the balls of her feet and pressed a kiss quick to his mouth. It was a simple, chaste thing, and yet felt like a piece of everything. All with the flavor of sugar and food coloring.

She did not linger there but, entirely pleased over the liberty, drew back with a smile. When she turned to look in search of the Ferris Wheel, craning her head up to see the circle that dominated the immediate horizon. "Oh," she breathed, before turning her smile back to him. "I would love that."

Remembering that she still held the cotton candy, her gaze dropped to it then rose again to meet his. "Would you like to try?" She pulled a puff-cloud section of it off the main mass and held it up between them.

[temperamentalsteel]

D'Artagnan held her shoulders, tugging her up for just one more sweet kiss. Then he bent his head and took the little sugar cloud in his mouth, smiling at Constance as he looked into her eyes. "That's wonderful," he said, only half in regards to the candy.

"I was reading the rules to the game. It's like field training, but without any harm from real fire. Only paint." Gently, he wound a lock of her hair around his finger. "I imagine you'd have to get a hat, if you went in" he teased. "Unless you want to try a new color."

But there was no hurry. He withdrew his hand from her hair and settled one on her shoulder instead. "The twisting ones there are thrilling too. You go so high and so fast its like flying. Terrifying, a little, but wonderful."

[at_your_side]

The softness of his mouth are on hers, the warmth she had come to associate purely with him and the curl of his fingers at her shoulders leaving a happiness warming through her she swore she could feel down to the tips of her fingers and toes. She could not stop smiling. Could not stem the happiness of the moment and in offering up to the sugar and color, did not want to.

She peered around him at the game he spoke of, pushing playfully at his shoulder for his teasing words. "I am not getting paint in my hair, d'Artagnan." She thought of informing him how much work it took to deal with hair that fell past the small of her back, or of how much time she needed to half tame its curls. "I may just need to find a bandana like Porthos always has."

The idea of it, of an activity in echo of Musketeer training was appealing, but no more than d'Artagnan's company. There seemed to be so many options that her head near spun with it. "Which would you like to do?"

[temperamentalsteel]

"All of it, if you like." After all, time was such an odd, flexible thing in this hotel. Why not enjoy themselves in a way they never could in Paris? Real life could wait to catch up with them after they had their adventure.

"We could play games, ride the roller coasters," he said, joyful with possibility. "Walk hand in hand together..." That one, especially, sounded wonderfully thrilling. They could have the whole day to explore and then they could go back to the paint game.

"Maybe I should put you on some of the rides first, get you dizzy. I recall you were becoming very good with a pistol. Maybe I'll need the handicap."

[at_your_side]

The evening she had spent cocktail-tasting until she had either forgotten her troubles or been distracted away from them well enough to sober up (or get more intoxicated) felt as if it had allowed her room enough to breathe. Nothing had been resolved, really, but where she had had to manage a wobbly stomach and a mild headache the next day, Constance found that she did not regret a moment of it.

She had decided that it really came down to whether she wanted to allow herself to be swallowed whole by all she could not help on the other side of her door, or enjoy the reprieve offered by the hotel. What she might say to d'Artagnan on more serious matters than cotton candy and tilt-a-whirl rides could wait. All could wait but the easiness strung between them in that place and the prospect of hours free of all responsibility.

She had, she thought, been responsible too long.

"That would be cheating," she told him, but still caught one of his hands with her own and laced their fingers together between them. "And it will not work." The smile she gave him then was bright, "Lead the way, d'Artagnan."

[temperamentalsteel]

"I'm starting to regret having ever taught you how to shoot," d'Artagnan teased. He brought her hand to his lips, smiling against her fingertips more than he really kissed them. "Because you may just outshine all of us." Except Aramis, because the man's aim was uncanny, but for the rest of the mere mortals, she would own them all.

"You'll love it," he said, leading her to the coaster he'd ridden most recently. "It's like flying gone mad." With a finger, he pointed upwards and traced the lops the coaster made through the sky. He could already hear Constance screaming, claiming to be afraid but honestly thrilled.

"And after we'll try all those wonderful smelling foods. But after..."

Just looking up made his stomach flip again.

[mother_confessor]

Kahlan was still trying to get used to the nature of the Nexus. She had discovered that the doors seemed to change on an almost daily basis and she had yet to find a door that led back to the Midlands.

Today's attempt to go back home led her to a place that was stranger than most of the others she had encountered. The number of people made her wary of being touched and finally she thought she had found solace in a secluded area only to be struck by something that splashed bright blue color against her white mother confessor's dress.

"What is this?" she asked, touching the paint and looking for the source of it. "What is happening?"

[temperamentalsteel]

D'Artagnan was about to whoop joyfully only to come up short when he saw the woman's confusion, as well as her lack of goggles. "How did you get in here?" he asked, a king's Musketeer now. "You're meant to go to the front and sign up to get safety goggles. Are you all right?"

[mother_confessor]

Kahlan frowned. She hadn't gone up front or gotten the goggles, whatever those were. She had wandered in here to get away from everyone else - not to get shot at with paint, somehow.

"No, I did not know. I was trying to get away from all the people, so I came here."

[temperamentalsteel]

"Oh good lord, here," d'Artagnan said. A Musketeer and a gentleman, he offered the woman his arm while signaling to the game runners that they needed to stop and let him out.

"I'm afraid that is one of the least peaceful corners of the park."

[mother_confessor]

Kahlan hesitated before taking his arm but when she saw it was covered by cloth, she felt more at ease in accepting his courtesy; the last thing she wanted to do was accidentally confess him because she was out of sorts.

"Thank you. I'm Kahlan, by the way. I figure I owe you a name at the very least if I'm getting a rescue."

[temperamentalsteel]

"D'Artgnan, of the King's Musketeers," he said, taking a brief bow once they'd cleared the doorway. "It's only paint. They tell me it washes out quite easily for this very reason."

[mother_confessor]

"I can deal with a little paint," Kahlan assured him. It was not his fault she wandered across his path, after all, and she did not want to be rude if she could possibly help it. "I get a little...flustered when there are a lot of people around. I got turned around and I could not find the door back to the inn. Have you been to the inn before? Or, well, I guess they call it a hotel."

[temperamentalsteel]

"The Nexus? Yes. I pass through it by way of Paris, France," he said, adding his country since she had not seemed to recognize the name of the Musketeers. "Allow me to get you something to eat, since I splattered you with paint."