i. the midway

[ Now this is an island. Anders may be just as unfamiliar with the sights and sounds assailing him here as he was with the harsh, glassy world of Carcosa - but he recognizes the atmosphere of the place immediately. Even with only a few spare experiences of his own to recollect, the brief glimpses of fairs and festivals he managed to find, in all his escapes. And it's absolutely fantastic. ]

(a)  [ The carnival games may not resemble those he's familiar with, but they're all easy to grasp, simple in their machinations. And even easier to play, when you have a bit of magical assistance. 

Balloons pop even before his darts hit them, ping pong balls bounce into the right glass bowl every time, and though he's certainly fit, one might still look twice at such a lean, unimposing figure mastering the test of strength. 

Which is why he keeps on the move, never lingering too long at one game after he's mastered it (by cheating, but still). It's not his first time practicing discreet magic - though perhaps he's still not cautious enough. If he's caught out, or someone stares a little too long in disbelief, he'll happily offer to share the wealth. ]

What's the matter? Could use a bit of luck, yourself? 

(b)  [ The rides are a tad more daunting, but he's determined to try, listening to the joyful screams and watching the colorful cars spin and rattle and roll along their tracks. Anders may be a different kind of thrill seeker by nature, but this might do, in a pinch. ]

Ooh, what are we waiting for? [ A rickety little rollercoaster? A funhouse? A deeply unsafe, definitely discontinued flat ride? It really doesn't matter, he's stepping into line as he nudges the person next to him, either way. ]

ii. hall of mirrors [ cw: potential mention of claustrophobia & imprisonment/ isolation, body horror ]

[ The Hall of Mirrors isn't exactly a proposition that excites (as much as he likes to play the cheerful, cowardly narcissist, at times), but Anders could use a break from all the spinning and dipping and being flung about, on the carnival's more involved rides. 

He scoffs a little at the warning the bored attendant offers, glancing back at his appointed companion, for this experience. ]

Safety? I don't think we've got much to worry about, in here.

 
iii. the carousel [ cw: childhood trauma relating to abandonment, imprisonment, fire ]

[ The carousel needs no further enchantment to draw Anders in - he's enamored from the moment he spots it. And ever more so, upon spying the enormous tiger spinning on its axis - it even appears to be breathing fire, in its static, carved pose, roaring silently as it does. The cat could've been torn right from the back pages of an old, dog-eared tome on the history of spirit healers, one of many texts he casually defaced with creative doodles, throughout his dreary Circle days. 

Rather than alarmed, he's elated even when it begins to spin backward. He has no expectations of such a fanciful machine, after all - this could be perfectly normal behavior for all he knows. (And at any rate, it's deliriously fun.) 

It isn't until he's trying to slide down off the dizzying ride that he notices something amiss. Or well, doesn't. Anders isn't quite himself, anymore - he's a child, no more than twelve, the laughter gone out of him as he peers into the bright lights and crowd, stumbling as he tries to dodge through it. He doesn't remember how he got here, but he remembers where he was. The fire, the barn— His father. 

As he starts to panic, it starts to happen again, a swell of magic, flames licking along the canvas of the tent beside him, bright and spontaneous. Terrified, he whispers furiously under his breath, ] No, no... Stop it—

 
[ hmu @ gravejuice or by pm if you want to plot and/or wildcard. also feel free to switch to prose, i'll follow suit. ]