fairy tales abroad; xiumin & kyu
Piteously frozen it still may be, hard and bearing no signs of comfort without the tell-tale signs of an oncoming spring outlined with striking greens and a white-washed sky accompanied by towering spirals of cumulus clouds, the ground stretched on before him in an unappealing manner; a chill consigned straight to his bones to rattle them at a single touch with a seat such as thus presented. A simple, yes so simple if he’d thought of the weather ( it’s hard to be ignorant when sleep takes you in a tent, no matter the build or luxury, brisk winds sweep in through cracks to play with one’s belongings), thing to do to tug on a few layers of fabric, but when had he ever given attention except for grave days spent embarking on what seemed to his perception life-changing escapades, snow in perpetuum flurries would assuming places around their tucked-away home in the mountains, when even necessities of food and the like became scarce, and a return to home was warranted—not that his grandparents thought him to get too far with each departure.
Despite the lack of preparation, the crewneck sweater (cashmere-blend and stripes of a dull gray and red) donned after a rather sluggish morning lent more warmth than presumed against an early evening, sky overcast and sullen appearance hiding the easiest of visible changes of the oncoming night. Plenty of time to spare, plenty of time left for decay; concluded dexterously with thoughts already making a beeline for time to himself—granted it wasn’t often he’d get a bit of luck and feel at home with the other residents of the cirque, only from the fascinated eyes of strangers was any bout of ardor received, and time never seemed to be set aside for casual greetings or meetings; very much so a fault of his own though, never seeking out a soul when the moment called for the action.
Kyuhyun, with all his jittering excitement about a grand new plan that had not hesitated to evaporate the slightest with his lack of social skills, but never did it upset him—the little pin-prick thoughts of ‘another day’ and ‘tomorrow’ always coming after a night of successful amusement but unsuccessful mirth in conversation. Always though, were his books and thick pads of paper lodged at a desk he’d animated there for him to indulge his senses in, words able to unfold seemingly chimerical as if projected from an electronic device, but efficiently three-dimensional and distorted with his wishes; precisely what’s decided upon doing today, hunger negligible to his state of mind and dealt with when tearing away his focus.
Luck does have it though that his godsend enables a cushion to be created along with a blanket, each devoid of colorful details due to his laziness, but comfortable nonetheless when he’s settled and books each spread before him, ranging from Greek mythology to American fairy tales to a new novels presenting theories connect to the multiverse—although maybe it’s not much a range at all.
There was so much to do, see and learn, with so little time to enjoy the process of doing it.
All the more reason for his many adventures (although having an advantage of retaining information at much higher rates lent him more time, but never enough for his brazen soul—if only what was read didn’t undergo the process of extinction).
And without a moment’s notice did he choose a book to begin with, lips pressed and pursed and pressed—before a smile forms at last, pages flicked delicately until landing on one with descriptions of objects nailed into his brain from readings long ago with his sessions of practice with his grandmother. The animations, without close analysis, would seem to have appeared fully out of thin air (the words never been vocalized—the new tact stronger with each time eagerly performed, but never perfected, excerpts having to be read aloud still for anything to materialize); but it’s a physical pull, molecules coalescing and separating with a buzz of excitement before acknowledging a new form. And before he knew it, an assortment of dancing distractions dueled for attention around him, save for the immobile, of course.
It was just below the edge of noticing, though, that another young man seemed to have neared his bubble of imaginations—so when one of the objects went rogue and shot out (not paying any head to the object he hadn’t detected what it may be), a dull thud sounded, immediately stilling Kyuhyun and animations skewed around his sitting figure.
