Midsummer Fair: Daytime Activities

[notwithmyhand]

If Alain closed his eyes, it could almost be a fair day in Gilead. The sounds and smells were all the same. There was the sound children laughing, trotted around by Glue Boy,and Jolly, getting their faces painted, and themselves entirely covered in flowers by Ilse and some of the other girls. Boys participating in impromptu footraces with their

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Pie Eating Contest

[intrinsicworth]

n the mind of Glen Bateman, a pie eating contest was a very serious affair, or at least that’s what his expression seemed to say as he looked over the assembled faces (and really, that was just about all he could see except for a neck and a pair of shoulders of each would be champion). He caught Scott’s expression, which was hardly fooled, and Edgar’s more dubious look, before he started in on the basic rules.

“First off, you may not use your hands. You’ll eat pie like it ought to be eaten, with utter enthusiasm! Nothing to get in the way of the experience, if you follow me,“ Glen grinned and then schooled his expression again. “Once you’re done with one, and I mean done, sirs and ladies, call for another and it will appear. Contest is over when you all give up. Got it? Any questions? Good.”

Then he really let himself grin. “And begin!”

[view_from_duma]

We used to go to fairs like this in Minnesota, when the girls were little enough to be wowed by things like the world's biggest acorn squash or eighty pounds of locally churned butter molded into the shape of a cow. Those had been fun; this one was looking to beat them all out of the park. I hopped into a seat at the pie-eating table just as Glen was starting his speech. I raised my eyebrows at him and grinned, raising my fork like a toast as someone put a pie in front of me.

"Best One-Armed Pie Eater on the Island" wasn't a title I thought I needed, but I sure as heck wasn't gonna turn it down if it came my way.

tag him during or after the contest, as you like. :D

[ifsogirl]

She's grinning and taking a break from face-painting and flowers to watch her father get his ass handed to him at pie eating. She hasn't seen her Dad in any kind of competitive eating event in years and years, probably not since one of the smaller fairs that they'd gone to the summer after she'd turned eight. She's eager to see a repeat performance, and jumps up and down clapping her paint-splattered hands together.

"Come on Dad!" she yells as he starts, cupping her hands around her mouth so he can hear her loud and clear ['cause that's sooo different from normal for the bossy Miss Cookie].

[view_from_duma]

In the end, Best One-Armed Pie Eater on the Island was going to have to go to some other guy. I hadn't done too badly, though, and when I pushed the last plate away with a groan there was a little applause, some booing, and I got to my feet grinning. "Hi, honey," I said, holding out my arm like I was going to hug her; given that the front of my t-shirt was a purple mess of pie leftovers, I didn't expect to get too far.

*Face painting, pony rides, and revelry*

[ifsogirl]

It's a perfect day for a fair [or a faire, she's not sure how the boys would have really called it where they come from, but she thinks the "e" version is a safe bet], bright and sunny like the Island always is, and with a hint of breeze that keeps everything from being too hot. She's not concerned by the thought of paint getting in her hair as she dips her brush, because it's just going to get filthy tonight anyway, and what harm will a little extra paint cause? She and Karolina [with Trisha's help, but she won't Trisha hear her say so] are running a couple of the booths for now. Ilse has managed already to successfully paint a lion on one Weasley twin and a phoenix on the other [the lion one said he was George but he could have been Fred pretending to be George, she knows what Weasley's are like], with a little help from the book she has hidden on her lap that she got from the bookshelf several days ago

Re: *Face painting, pony rides, and revelry*

[handandahalf]

Horses were hardly a novelty to Rickon, but being up one one by himself was something else entirely. Cuthbert's Glue Boy possessed a sweeter temperament than most horses Jon had met, and didn't seem to mind tiny fists pulling on his mane or high-pitched squeals of glee in his ears.

After Rickon had monopolized Glue Boy for the better part of half an hour, Jon distracted him by the sight of one of the redheaded twins with a bird painted on his face, and swung his son up onto his shoulders as he walked through the crowds.

[anyone feel free to tag him and Rickon spectating any part of the fair, or while Rickon's up on Glue Boy. :D]

Re: *Face painting, pony rides, and revelry*

[saikamai]

"All right, up you go, good sir!" Cuthbert put a reassuring hand on Glue Boy's neck as Jon hefted the baby onto the saddle, smiling against the bright sunlight as he looked up at the tot's jubilant face.

Bert looked at Jon, feeling odd, not for the first time, that they were not so different in age and yet Jon seemed a world ahead of him-- with a wife and child, it seemed he had more in common with Robert Allgood. But Bert liked him a lot, maybe even more because of that-- it made him something of a mystery to Cuthbert, additionally because he was from the same world as Sandor and, of course, Arya.

"Do you mind if I take him around the ring? He's first up, and I just want to be sure Glue doesn't pull any funny business," he said, very earnest. Cuthbert would've been tetchy if someone asked to borrow Alain on a strange horse for a few minutes; he couldn't imagine what it'd be like having your child in someone's care, even in your full view. "Or maybe I should be asking you if you mind," he said, turning his attention to Rickon. "Or

Re: *Face painting, pony rides, and revelry*

[handandahalf]

"Of course," Jon said, stepping back with a grin and putting his hands in his pockets. "It's definitely the latter," he added, "he's just learned to walk, and is training to be quite the escape artist. We're debating borrowing one of the collars from the dinosaurs." Rickon waved both arms in the air, shrieking in delight, and Jon waved back, strolling parallel to the path Glue Boy trod, but a decent enough distance away that Rickon had the illusion of independence.

Tomato Justice

[saikamai]

Cuthbert might've been marginally crippled, but he wasn't going to let a little thing like that stop him.

"The left one's a little loose," he reminded Sandor, who responded promptly by tugging the rope with a ferocity that indicated Cuthbert was a rabid werehound rather than a seventeen year old boy. "ACH! O-kay, that's GOOD."

He was tied securely to the tree, and far ahead, there was a giant bucket of overripe tomatoes, too far gone to be of use to anyone. There was a whole crowd of people milling about, and Bert briefly considered making a proper announcement, but then decided on a way that would get the point across much more quickly.

"HEY YOU! YOUR MOTHER SHOULDA THROWN YOU AWAY AND KEPT THE STORK! Yeaaah, you! YOU COULDN'T HIT WATER IF YOU FELL OUT OF A BOAT!"

[Line right up. Throw tomatoes at Bert or write your character stepping up as the next target practice!]

[kings_dog]

"Kept the stork?" Sandor repeated with a smirk as he stepped back, heading straight for the bucket of tomatoes. Hefting a smallish one, he turned and tossed it up in the air experimentally, grinning across the distance at Bert. "Gotta do better than that, cully," he said, winding up, getting enough power behind the throw to splatter the tomato all over his friend's shoulder and neck.

[and_the_dragon]

George slid a couple of steps toward the man with the face and leaned in for a moment. "I hear he wants all of the very large, very squishy ones lobbed at him," he said, and then re-considered. The very large, very squishy ones would hurt less than the less large, less squishy ones when he himself was tied to the tree and tomatoed. "No, scratch that," he said, shaking his head and sending a small clump of mud flying. That small clump landed directly on the large man's shoe, and George winced. "Errr, well, guess that was some pretty bad timing," he said and scratched the back of his head. He'd always been somewhat intimidated by the man's broadness and, well, burnedness. George thought the word that a few of his friends might have used for him was hardcore. He wondered what the proper etiquette was when one dropped mud on the boot of another, brawnier, vaguely frightening man.

[kings_dog]

"Probably does," Sandor snorted, not really listening until he'd tossed another tomato, getting Bert smack in the stomach. After that a few other people stepped up, and really, he didn't need an excuse to abuse Bert more than he already did, so he stood back to watch and laugh. The redhead looked to be in line to take Bert's place when he was done, which made Sandor look over at him appraisingly. "You getting up there after?"

TUG OF WAR / MUD WRESTLING

[drop_dead_fred]

Earlier in the day, passersby might have wondered what the purpose was in the line of buckets, full to brimming with river water, queued up next to a patch of ground marked off with stakes and string. As morning turned to afternoon, however, the purpose became clear as the Weasley twins emerged from the bustle of the party and began quickly and efficiently making a mud pit out of one corner of the clearing.

When they had stomped through it enough to ensure it was satisfactorily deep (calf high on a not-quite-two-metre-tall man was quite deep indeed) and squishy enough to throw should the occasion present itself (they were counting on it), a length of heavy rope appeared, and Fred pulled a red kerchief out of his pocket and tied it round the middle. Tossing an arm round George's shoulders, heedless of the mud now liberally spattering them both, Fred nodded his head toward the party at large, and with one voice the twins hollered, "Tug of War game starts now!!"

[spirited_hero]

Re: TUG OF WAR / MUD WRESTLING

[twilit_seeker]

"Hey, Zell. Looks like you could use a hand." Riku took up position behind Zell, wrapping the rope around his wrist and planting his feet firmly on the ground. "Let's give these wise-guys a mud bath!" He grinned in anticipation.

[spirited_hero]

[morethentheend]

Violet Baudelaire stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the mass of people fill the area that was far from small. There must have been - what, a hundred people here? Two hundred? She was trying (and in this case, not doing a very good job) not to consider how many of them knew her, had seen her, or had heard of her.

Other-her. Which had lead to several confusing statements as 'Things built by other mes', a pronoun that should never, ever have a pural. In fact, Violet supposed that while she was not the first, she was likely one of the few relatively sane individuals who could think such a word and still have it make sense.

She hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jean shorts, and supposed she'd have to join them all sometime, and why not? Sunny - as much as she stopped in and saw her sister, she had another life. A happy life. Klaus was gone, and by everything she could find, Count Olaf wasn't here

[view_from_duma]

It was her perpetual seriousness, I thought, that made me think of Linnie. Where Ilse had always been smiles and sunshine, Melinda had been naturally grave even as a child, and the studious expression on Violet's face reminded me sharply of that long-ago little girl.

We ended up next to each other in line for lemonade, and I gave her a smile. "So are you here for the pony rides, or are you more of a pelt-hapless-suckers-with-tomatoes kind of girl?" I asked, gently teasing.

[morethentheend]

"Pelting hapless suckers," Violet said promptly, her mouth twitching at the corners. It wasn't quite a smile, but at least it was something besides the tears that had overshadowed their first meeting.

She looked over at him, her brows rising slightly. "What about you? Here for the pony rides? There's face-painting, too. You could get a rainbow." She actually wasn't even sure where joke had come from, and looked oddly (in this case meaning 'inappropriately because she'd been the one to say it' both surprised and amused.

[view_from_duma]

"The pie," I said seriously. "Though I did promise my daughter she could paint an animal on my face at some point-- I'm hoping she forgets before she decides to take me up on it." I motioned to where Ilse and her friend (Caroline, I thought her name was) were painting the faces of a pair of little kids in overalls. "You sure you don't want a rainbow, or a duck or something? I can get you in good with the artist."