[Once again, he's invited by Iona to tag along with something, and Michael half-expected it to be another romp in exorcising ghosts, or something else he was very ill-equipped to deal with. He would have agreed to it, anyway, of course, but that was besides the point.
It's later in the evening, the sky morphing into twilight, and Michael finds himself in the middle of a carnival, no ghosts in sight. At first, he's a bit flabbergasted why his presence would be requested, before he remembers that maybe it's just like when Iona invited him to go drinking with her friends; just for a bit of fun, then, he assumes. He's grateful, because though carnivals were never really his thing, the atmosphere of this one is less "screaming children everywhere" and more novel, more quaint, oddly mystical in a way that wasn't paranormal.
He's standing next to Iona at the moment, but he's craning his neck to look at a gigantic ferris wheel a little ways from where he is. It seems to hang over the carnival, colorful lights flickering in and out in a patterned rhythm. For some reason, he's reminded of the Donovan song of the same name, though he's no reason to attach that kind of sentiment to a ride. Michael's hands are shoved in his pockets, and he looks over at Iona.]
So, what do you want to do next?
[He's just along for the ride, no pun intended. He's letting her lead the way; he's content to just follow along to her whims.]
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It's later in the evening, the sky morphing into twilight, and Michael finds himself in the middle of a carnival, no ghosts in sight. At first, he's a bit flabbergasted why his presence would be requested, before he remembers that maybe it's just like when Iona invited him to go drinking with her friends; just for a bit of fun, then, he assumes. He's grateful, because though carnivals were never really his thing, the atmosphere of this one is less "screaming children everywhere" and more novel, more quaint, oddly mystical in a way that wasn't paranormal.
He's standing next to Iona at the moment, but he's craning his neck to look at a gigantic ferris wheel a little ways from where he is. It seems to hang over the carnival, colorful lights flickering in and out in a patterned rhythm. For some reason, he's reminded of the Donovan song of the same name, though he's no reason to attach that kind of sentiment to a ride. Michael's hands are shoved in his pockets, and he looks over at Iona.]
So, what do you want to do next?
[He's just along for the ride, no pun intended. He's letting her lead the way; he's content to just follow along to her whims.]