Parmak's Prize
Dec. 31st, 2018 05:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xkelasparmakxMira is Kelas’ room mate (and friend) in his last year at University of Culat. She’s studying neurology and she’s pretty cool. Măgath - common type of snake.
-x-
Kelas scented the air as he waited for Mira to meet him at the boardwalk. It smelled of street food and the salty tang of seawater which seemed very enticing.
This section of boardwalk along the bay was usually an area for a nice walk, even a decent place to do some thinking (though Kelas preferred a few favorite spots on the beach), but today it was alive with vendors and merchants and swarms of people–students from the nearby campus, vacationers, and families who had come out from deeper within the city to celebrate the summer festival.
What sort of Cardassian did not want to be out of his house and enjoying some of the hottest days of the year with food and socializing? Kelas sniffed again.
Mira had better hurry or he might have to sample something without her.
He glanced around until he finally spotted her among the crowd and heading his way. He waved as though doing so would summon her more quickly.
“I thought you’d never come,” Kelas said, giving his hair a little toss, “or did you have trouble finding me? I gave impeccable directions from your lovers–”
“She isn’t my lover,” Mira interrupted, flicking him on the bicep.
“–building and still you’ve pained me by being…” Kelas paused to check his pocket-PADD, “seventeen minutes and twenty-three se–”
“I’m surprised your aptitude test didn’t peg you for drama instead of medicine,” she rolled her eyes.
“-conds late. Couldn’t you spot me?” Kelas tucked his PADD away while Mira crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a long-suffering gaze.
“If I couldn’t pick you out of a crowd wearing that hideous mess of a tunic-dress and those red beads in your hair then I think I must need those glasses on your nose more than you do,” Mira said.
“Don’t flirt with me, Mira. I’m not your type,” Kelas said.
“Correct, Kelas. I don’t like people who insult me without a romantic context,” she said.
They stared at each other for a moment, as if each was angry with the other, and then both chuckled.
“I won’t be late next time,” Mira promised.
“I won’t invite you next time, dear,” Kelas said.
“It is a cold, cold, heart beneath the bodice of that ugly, ugly, garment,” Mira said.
Kelas chuckled again.
“Alright, enough about my clothing before I really begin to worry that I look terrible. I wouldn’t want to offend, after all. Hm,” Kelas sniffed again. It was difficult to pinpoint which direction to go as there were delicious scents assailing him from every angle it seemed. “Mm, I’m very hungry. So hungry I could eat a legate!”
Mira raised a brow ridge.
“An entire legate, armor and all? Do you have the teeth for it?”
“Well… at least a part of the legate,” Kelas smirked, “I don’t think he’d like the teeth…”
“That’s disgusting. I hate hearing about cho’ch, stop it!” she cried, “And don’t be vulgar in public people will throw us into the bay, Kelas Parmak!”
“I didn’t say cho’ch,” Kelas answered, “you have a dirty mind. But I’m not worried. I can swim.”
They headed down the boardwalk keeping close to one another. The crowd was thick and it could have been easy to become separated.
The summer heat was wonderful on Kelas’s face and neck scales and he began to wish that he’d worn something that would allow for more of his skin to be exposed. How silly he found it that people had no problem at all with nudity if it was on a proper beach that allowed for basking, or a public bath house–no one would bat an eye. Yet if one was to wear a collar cut just a bit too low in public it would be considered improper and scandalous.
Here and there they paused to sample offerings from various food carts or to watch a street performer dazzle and thrill. Here was a stall selling trinkets, and here was another offering to paint Union sigils onto the cheek or back of the hand in bright blazing colors for a small fee. The line was long for that one–of course every child and adult would want to be patriotic, even if they day itself had nothing to do with celebrating patriotism. Every day was a day for celebrating nationalism in the Union.
Kelas and Mira decided to pass by the painting station and as they moved further down the boardwalk the scent of the foods began to stay behind them, and the scent of the sea grew stronger. Here there were more stalls selling items for celebration, poppers, streamers, noise-makers, banners that streamed behind laughing children as the catapulted themselves up and down the boardwalk.
There were stalls for games as well: watch the pit of the arati fruit disappear beneath a cup, then the cups are moved all around, and see if you can choose the correct cup which has the pit beneath it! Try your aim at a target which causes miniature guls on riding hounds to race along a track–the first to the end wins a prize! Guide a fake vole through a maze–figure the maze correctly on the first try and win a prize! Knock over the bottles painted to look like various aliens–extra points for hitting the Klingon on his forehead!
Most of the games were centered around solving puzzles which was always a favorite of any Cardassian young or old. Here a section of the boardwalk had been drawn in with chalk to create a life-sized kotra board and people could stand in as the pieces and others could guide them to victory–if each team had the patience to stay with the game until the end. Another area was roped off so children could play tag with plastic military phasers that shot water instead of particle beams.
Kelas felt a bit lost watching the children run and play, as such things had never really related to him even as a child, but some of the puzzle games seemed intriguing. Still, he seemed a bit hesitant to indulge. The adults around him were having fun and laughing just like the children–their faces alight–and it was a good sight to see. But Kelas didn’t often feel playful unless he was in a very good mood–it just didn’t come naturally. Still, he wanted to be a part of the festivities. Would it be strange to ask for one of the colorful banners? Was it odd to wonder why only the children were allowed to fire the water guns?
Kelas nibbled at one of his claws in contemplation.
“Only you could be nervous in the midst of such fun,” Mira scolded lightly, “stop chewing your claw. Last time you made your lip bleed.”
Kelas gave a little noise of irritation at being scolded. He only really enjoyed scolding from one person, and that person was not Mira.
“Let’s play a game,” she said, tapping his elbow, “which one?”
“Would you win a prize for me?” Kelas asked, perking up a bit at the idea.
“Why wouldn’t I want to win a prize for myself?” she said, “or are you paying for me to try? In which case why wouldn’t you try to win it on your own?”
“You ask more questions than the Bureau of Identification. Would you like to extract one of my molars as well? I’d really prefer to keep them but if you insist–”
“Kelas, I’m a neurologist, not an odontologist. Close your mouth you look absurd,” she said.
Kelas closed his mouth with a click. She gave him a fond little smile.
“I’ll win a prize for you–ridiculous thing,” she said.
“I think this one,” Kelas said, pointing to a certain game stall.
It was covered with a little canopy of blue and white stripes and the line to play was shorter than many of the other games.
“Toss the măgath eggs into the vole holes,” said the gangly man who was running the game. “Each hole is worth a certain number points. Reach the designated number of points, and you can be a winner–hmmm?” He juggled a set of balls which were painted to look like round măgath eggs–though the eggs of the măgath would never be hard like a ball, they would be leathery, and delicate.
Kelas traded the man several coins for several ‘eggs’ and then handed them over to Mira.
“Well, here we go,” Mira said, and she took a deep breath, and began to toss the balls.
Kelas stood to the side and watched her intently, and then the game, and then back to Mira. The balls were clattering onto the table, making a terrible noise, and missing every hole.
“Could you at least -try- to aim?” Kelas suggested.
Mira had tossed all of the balls rather quickly as if giving no thought to strategy, no patience to think about the force behind her toss, or the distance from her standing behind the line to the this hole or that hole. She didn’t even seem to be trying for any hole in particular–not the easier ones near the front of the table, nor the ones for more points at the bag of the table. She was just throwing them.
“Try again?” the man offered when all balls had been expended without success.
Kelas gave him more coins.
“Slow down,” he advised Mira, “think about the holes first–”
“Someone is speaking and distracting me from my game,” Mira said, and she tossed a ball which hit the edge of the table with a ‘clink!’ and ricocheted off.
Kelas pouted.
“That wasn’t even ON the table…”
“Be quiet or I’ll toss you onto the table,” Mira said.
She tried several more rounds at Kelas’ expense. He had gone quiet instead of bothering her, but he was growing antsy, and agitated, and worried that he was ruining her fun by holding her hostage at this game to win a prize for himself. It was a selfish thing to do and he felt bad for it after having invited her here to have a good time.
“Do you have any more coins?” Mira asked, “I’ll try once more. I’ve started to get some of the balls in. Just not enough. Maybe I could get them in next time.”
Her score was fairly low and her improvement had been only mild. Kelas was certain she was just poor at aim and would sooner have a sore shoulder than a prize.
“Let me try,” he said, still hesitating to partake in the activities. But aside from worrying that Mira wasn’t having fun, he was also going to ruin out of coins at this rate. Already he had probably invested more than the little prize itself was worth.
Kelas stood behind the line with an armful of eggs cradled against his chest and surveyed the table from this angle and distance. It seemed that the holes in the very back which would bring the greatest amount of points were actually smaller than the holes in the front and middle rows. Perhaps too small for the balls to fit through. Aiming for the ones in the back would then be pointless and only an effort to distract those who were not paying close enough attention into wasting their time and money.
Even if Kelas should sink all of the balls into the front row of holes that would still not add up to the amount of points needed to win. But many would probably try to aim for those because they seemed easiest to hit. The object was to aim for the holes in the middle row of the table. They were a bit smaller than the first row, but larger than the last; they still appeared the right size for the balls to fit in. The ones to the center were less points, the ones to the outside were more. A combination of outside shots, and center shots, should reach the goal. For one to aim simply for the middle would be too easy.
Kelas tested the weight of the ‘egg’ in his hand. He wasn’t particularly physically gifted, in fact his build was rather slight, but if he put his body behind the tosses instead of just throwing with the arm it should help to propel them far enough. Though if he misjudged and swung his body too much this way or that way it would throw off the aim entirely.
This is a game of balance, Kelas thought–balancing position, the weight of the ball, the amount of force–it is a puzzle solving game just as much as the others. But it is designed to seem far more simple. That’s probably why the line was so short–people were drawn to the games which seemed more complex.
Kelas decided he liked the game and he hadn’t even thrown a ball yet. How wonderful it was that it should be far more challenging than it would appear.
Now it was time to win a prize.
The first few balls were off but he managed to find the sweet spot of force and position, of wrist movement, even breathing which seemed to help too–and the last few balls hit the marks he was aiming for perfectly and that put him over the goal mark by three points. There was a little jangle of a bell which signaled he had won. Kelas stood behind the line unsure how to react–what was the appropriate reaction?
He noticed that Mira was simply staring at him. The operator of the game was gathering the balls and he motioned Kelas towards a pegboard hung with little prizes. He allowed Kelas to choose one.
And that was it.
Kelas returned to Mira with a small sack in his hand and regarded her sheepishly. He was still unsure of the entire thing.
“You allowed me to waste my time trying for that prize when you could do it all along?” she poked at the little sack with one of her claws. “What is it?”
“I… well I didn’t know that I could,” Kelas said, “anyway, I enjoyed the thought of my friend winning a prize and gifting it to me,” he gave her a small smile. “Should I win one for you as well?” he teased.
“You just hush and open it. I want to see what it is,” she said.
Kelas tugged the drawstring to open the sack.
Inside were a few little sweets–miniature grass crickets suspended in dyed honey, a few candied yellow gildaberries, a confetti popper, and a tiny plushmăgath curled into a little coil that sat just perfectly in the palm of Kelas’s hand.
Kelas gave the popper to Mira, and as they walked along towards the beach he shared the candies with her too.
They left their sandals in a cubby where the boardwalk ended and padded out onto the warm soft sand that sloped down to the beach. There were children about building or digging in the sand, and people basking, and napping, enjoying the rare day of celebration and leisure.
When they reached the seaside the sand was damp and packed firmly, littered with tiny polished stones, and shells, and fragments of shells. The waves rushed up to kiss their toes and the water was cool. It just barely brushed the rolled cuffs of Kelas’s leggings. He took a deep breath of the tangy sea air–refreshing as always. The plush măgath was coiled against Kelas’s chest with its head peeking over the top of his collar.
Mira snapped the popper over their heads and a rain of bright confetti fluttered down around them, and caught in their hair, as she laughed and their upturned faces soaked up the happy warmth of the late summer sun.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-31 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-02 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-02 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-04 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-04 04:58 pm (UTC)