Coin-Operated

2.0

Flying in the Face of Science

I leave Malon and Lon Lon Ranch at about noon the next day. I decided in the night not to tell her that I was going back to the carnival, and instead when we say goodbye, I tell her that I would try and visit again soon. She wishes me a safe trip home, but really, I feel like I need prayers for whatever lies in the carnival.

I lick my dry, cracked lips in anticipation as my car jogs along the road, bumping and rolling. The carnival is now in view, in another fifteen I'll reach it. Colorful tents sprawl across the land, and mechanical rides skitter and move in the field. I can see a large archway facing the road ahead of me to signify the entrance to the carnival. It flickers and pulses with light, directing all attention to it. I chew at the inside of my lip nervously as the carnival grows larger and the noises from it grow louder. It looms in the closing distance, ever taunting me. I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

What am I doing? What in the world am I getting myself into? This is a damned doll for Dinssake! A magical doll housing a man's soul of all things. What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do? I admit he had me pegged, for I am very, very curious as to know what exactly he is. To call him just a doll is almost a little insulting, but what else am I supposed to call him?

Finally, I pull my car off the road and follow the dent in the grassy field that I'd made the night before. Throwing the car into park, I pull the keys from the ignition and fling myself out of the car and hurry to the mouth of the carnival. At the archway is the short man with the cane I'd first encountered last night. Yelling and an overall sense of bossiness seem to be routine with him. He berates a couple of the carnies for improperly setting up some equipment as I approach. They scurry away as fast as they can the second he turns round on me.

"We're not open," he states blandly, stamping his cane into the ground. He adjusts the scruff of his shirt, straightening out as he does so. "Come back tomorrow."

I frown. "Um, I was here last night," I say hesitantly. "I was the one that told you about the president's address." I can feel my voice pitch upward. What am I doing?

"Hm?" he grunts then leans in towards me to get a better look. After a minute, he finally says, "You're a lot uglier than I remember." Well, gee, thanks.

He snaps at me, "Well, what is it you want?" He backs away from me, a scowl set firmly in place on his face. How does this man live being so grumpy and negative all the time? I would think it would be exhausting. "We're closed for the day. You put us behind schedule," he accuses, finger out, but with his short stature, it only reaches my chest.

"Well," I huff, "excuse me for informing you about news of national importance."

"Hey!" he shouts abruptly. "Don't get snippy with me, lady!"

"I need to see Ilia."

He waves me off. "Come back when we're open. I only take paying customers," he tells me, turning around and begins to hobble away with one fist on his hip and the other pounding the cane into the ground.

"LISTEN!" I roar at him loud enough that he actually stops, with a flinch might I add triumphantly. His head cracks around at me. "I said, I need to see Ilia," I demand harshly, balling my fists. I can hear the knuckles crack. "I'm not leaving here until I do."

He takes a moment to continue sneering at me. It's a moment where for a second everything briefly stops as we standoff. His deep set frown never leaves his face as he tells me finally, "She's with that crazy coot, Fanadi, setting up her tent. It's that purple and gold one towards the back." With that said, he turns back around and stomps away from me like the grouch he is.

I grumble my curses at him under my breath as I make my way into the carnival, sacrificing myself for its next meal as it swallows me whole. My eyes glaze over the many tents. A purple and gold tent… Oh Goddesses, what am I doing? Little dust clouds poof up from under my heels as I stomp through the sparse grass. My head whips around, taking in all the different colorful tents and posters. I stop in front of a display of a cluster of them. One's for a man-eating cucco – I have to say, that's something that I could believe to an extent. If you enrage a cucco enough, they have no qualms about attacking. Another poster advertised a bearded woman alongside the half-man-half-woman's poster whom I'd seen in person in the mess tent last night. I pause for a second as I glaze over the posters to look at one advertising a Lizalfos man who boasts green scaly skin, but he is clearly Hylian, before stopping in front of a familiar face smiling softly down at me and boasting a shiny coin slot. "THE COIN-OPERATED BOY" blares out from the poster.

Giggles sound from around the corner of the tent the posters are displayed in front of. I turn my attention away from the cluster of posters and step around to see a small gaggle of young girls chattering away rapidly to each other. Another chorus of star-struck giggling sounds from the three girls. Hoping to catch their attention, I say, "Excuse me," and the three girls, just barely in their teens if anything, immediately stop their gossip. They turn round to me together, as if they were one. "I was wondering if you could help me out," I tell them.

The ones in green and red quickly whip around to look at the girl in blue, who shrugs. The girl in red puffs up and demands with one eyebrow cocked, "What is it you want?" I must be interrupting trivial matters of the upmost importance. My bad.

"I'm looking for Ilia. I was told she might be helping set up Fanadi's tent, but I can't seem to find that either," I say.

The three girls turn to one another in silent debate. Finally the red one turns back to me. "We've never seen you here before," she says a bit harshly. "What is it you want with Ilia?"

"She asked me to meet her today," I lie, the words slipping from my tongue and out my mouth like gushing water. Easy and smooth.

The girls glance suspiciously between me and each other as they consider my words. The girl in red crosses her arms across her chest, standing a bit taller. As if I'm going to be intimidated by a few budding teenagers. Really now, what's their deal? I quickly rack my brain back, trying to remember if I was this annoying, assertive and arrogant in my youth. I don't recall being a little shit, but I suppose that could be one of those side effects of age. What am I thinking? I'm probably only twice these girls' age. I really must be trying to dig myself an early grave today. The red one steps towards me, her arms still crossed. She tells me, "Madame Fanadi usually likes to set up towards the back in some out of the way spot." She juts a thumb out.

The girl in blue rolls her eyes. "She says it's only so that those with the 'inner sight' or whatever," the girl says with her hands in the air, index fingers tugging at nothing, "but she's really just a nut job."

"What exactly does she do for the carnival?" I ask, scratching a little at my scalp.

The blue one responds once again, "She's like a fortune teller, but what she says never makes any sense."

"I'll be sure to stay away from her fortunes," I promise. "Thanks." I spin on my heels and hurry away in the direction the girl in red pointed. I hear their excited whispers as they quickly go back to their gossip, and I roll my eyes, knowing that the subject, in part, must be me. The stranger. The outsider.

Picking my way through the maze of tents and wagons, I finally spot the partially erected purple and gold tent, nestled a little ways behind a mirror house. I call out, "Hello? Ilia?" as I step carefully through stakes and poles scattered about the ground. The tent rustles and bulges, and the cancerous lump in the tent reveals itself to be Ilia. She blinks at me for a moment, and then she recognizes my face, a smile cracking her soft features. She quickly detangles herself from the tent and hurries over. "Um hi." It's all I got. Ilia pulls her boot free from a tangle of rope.

She claps her hands together. "Zelda!" she exclaims before her face freezes. Her expression slips away from her face as a blankness swoops in. "It is Zelda, right?"

I laugh and nod. "Yes. Zelda."

"I was a little worried when I came back and you weren't there last night," she says. "Did you make it to the ranch alright?"

"I did," I reply. "Link tell you that?"

"Oh sorry, yes," she rambles.

"I was actually hoping to talk to him, if that's alright. He asked me to come back today, although I've been telling people that I'm here to see you." I shrug. "I don't know; it seemed like a safer bet, especially since… well, you know."

She frowns slightly, thinking it over. "Maybe," she says with a shrug. "You had to get past Mido to get in here, didn't you?"

"Mido?" I rack my brains. I don't recall meeting a Mido. "Wait," I say, holding my hands up. "Is he that short man, thirty-something and has a cane? Angry all the time?"

Ilia lets out a pearl of laughter, letting it bubble up into the air. "That's him," she says, nodding her head. "He doesn't really like Link, or so he likes to think."

She waves her hand and steps away from the tent. "Follow me."

I step carefully over the supplies to erect Fanadi's tent and hurry after the girl in denim overalls. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask her, tripping slightly on the uneven ground in my heels.

"Mido only agreed to let Link start traveling with the carnival after he saved Mido's butt. Mido was in some hot water over a poker game," she tells me before adding, "I think.

"I wasn't one of the carnies yet."

"I see."

I glance upwards and see a takkuri flying high above the carnival. Its big head bobs a little as it flies, waiting for a chance to strike. "Looks like you got yourself a visitor," I comment, and Ilia looks up. The takkuri eyes us with suspicion, circling in the sky before scrambling away from us. Feathers dance in the air as they drift down from the takkuri's hasty retreat.

She snorts and says, "Fanadi will have to watch her jewels."

Ilia leads me to the wagon that she shares with Link. She stops abruptly, her face flushing as she turns to me. "Oh!" I say, realizing what it is. "Don't worry. He told me to make sure I brought a coin today too."

She sighs in relief. "Good," she says. "Fanadi and I could actually use his help setting up her tent. She's…" Her head swivels as she tries to come up with a word. "She's not that fit," she settles on. "Just send him back over to the tent when you're ready."

"Can do," I tell her. "Thank you." I wave as she troops back into the twisting maze of tents and wagons that make up the carnival.

I dig into the pocket of my dress to get my coin purse as I open the door to the wagon. With the curtains pulled back, light pools into the wagon giving it a much lighter, cozier and homey feel than what it did before in the dark. I spy Link propped up in his chair in the corner of the wagon. His shirt is still buttoned all the way up, so I hold the coin purse in my mouth as I loosen the bowtie and unbutton his shirt halfway in order to reach the coin slot on his chest. I fish a coin out from the purse and slip it into the coin slot. The metal coin clicks and clacks in the slot as it makes its down. Suddenly, gears begin to spur, and there's a hiss of compressed air being released. There's a series of soft clicks as Link's eyelids flutter open. His glass eyes shift about wildly, taking in the room.

"Afternoon, sleepy head," I greet, straightening up and backing away. I hold out his ruined bowtie. "Sorry, you'll have to re-tie it."

"Thank you," he says softly as he quickly re-buttons his shirt. He pats his chest, right above the coin slot and takes the bowtie ribbon. I shiver a little at the touch of the rubber-like material of his skin. He hastily ties the bowtie around his neck as he says, "Decided to come back, did you? And, by the way, I don't 'sleep', I turn off."

"I'm a little disturbed," I admit to him.

An eyebrow quirks as his lips curl into a slight smile. "And whatever would have my dear princess disturbed?" he asks flatly, rising from his chair.

I frown, stepping away from him a little more. "I don't know. I can't decide between yesterday's radio announcement, a talking doll or the fact that I only ate half of my Po' Boy and then left it at the diner. I'm very torn."

He chuckles a little, readjusting his bowtie and cuffs. "I do mean it though."

"I'm concerned about my magic," I tell him.

"Your magic, huh?" He plops down on the bed, the glass balls in his head rolling up. They shift again and settle on me; he pats the bed, and I grudgingly sit next to him.

I ask, "What's wrong with it? Is there a leak?"

"And whatever gave you that idea?"

"You said that it 'seeped' out of me."

"Did I?"

I scowl at him. "You very specifically used the word 'seep' to describe it," I remind him.

He flops back. The blankets of the bed puff out with air briefly before resettling. "You must be one of those people that like to read books by those old farts from the past century," he teases. "You know, when they still got paid by the word."

"Excuse me?"

A sly smile tugs at his mouth. "You know," he says again, "I bet you read… oh what was it? It's a story that's about twelve hundred or so pages long about a damn whale of all things. Mad captain? Anyway," he says with a dismissive wave of a hand when I show no sign of responding, "I bet you read it and enjoyed it."

"And why do you say that, sir?"

"I feel like you're one of those particular people, aren't you? All verbose and everything," he tells me. "Do you ever hear the way you talk?"

"Do you?" I retort.

"I'm an old fart myself, mind you," he says airily. He pulls himself back up off the bed, metal clinks quietly under his rubber-like skin and clothing. "We liked lots of words back in my day. Language was important."

"As if it isn't now?"

"I don't understand your young people slang," he says. Is this a joke? Even if this mechanical man isn't joking, this most certainly is some great divine joke. I mean, really? A coin-operated boy? Who came up with this?

"I'm serious," I say. "What makes you think this?"

"You very specifically told me that I used the word 'seep'," he says, poking fun at me. Din, I pray that you give me the strength to shoot this mechanical abomination of a man where he sits. Preferably with a stroke of lightning. Please.

I scoff and fling myself from the bed. "I'm leaving," I say, but his hand juts out at inhuman speed and latches onto my wrist. "Hey!" I cry, trying to wring my hand out of his grip. The rubber material sticks and grates against my skin, but the mechanical man doesn't let up.

"Sit down," he commands.

"Let me go."

"Sit down."

I tug again, trying to break our standoff, but it's clear that no matter what I do, Link will have the advantage. I sit back down. Obedient. A sheep. Herded back into my pen. Link lets go.

"Your magic isn't being properly contained," he tells me.

I chew at the inside of lip for a moment before replying. "When I look within, my core seems fine," I say.

"And it is," he says, "except for its size."

"Its size?"

"The amount of magic you command has increased, but your core isn't big enough to contain it," he informs me. "You must have come into contact with something that would cause it to increase."

I frown, trying to think of what could possibly cause a change in my magic, but my mind comes up blank. I don't have an answer. "I don't know," I say finally.

He shrugs. "I figured as much since you weren't aware of a change until I pointed it out." He rubs his mouth and chin with one hand as he thinks it over. "The main thing, darling," he says, "is that you need to rope it in and expand your core." He adds: "Like taming a wild animal."

"I thought a person's magical core would expand with new increases of magical power."

Link shakes his head. "That's not always the case," he says. "Believe me."

"Link," I say, "even if it is properly contained, can you still see people's magic?"

The rubberish skin folds a little on his forehead as both his eyebrows raise. "I can," he replies, simple and short. "When someone has magic, it is essentially part of their soul – their life force. Get it, love?"

"I suppose."

"Good," he laughs. "It's a little hard to explain, and honestly, I've never been the best when it comes to words."

"Yet it hardly prevents you from rambling like a buffoon."

He pops up from the bed, and I'm not sure if it's because he's a machine or simply because he wants to, struts to exit the wagon, a spring in each step. "Well then, dear, you can just have fun trying to figure that all out on your own." His hand grasps the handle of the door.

My jaw slackens a little, but I quickly recover. "Your pet names say otherwise."

He stops and swivels on his heel, hand still on the door handle. His jaw juts out a little, and his brow furrows. "Damn," he whispers. "She's a fast one."

"Look, I'm just concerned," I say.

"About what? Others being able to see your magic?" Link asks, pulling the wagon door open. "They'd have to command a lot of it themselves in order to see it."

I drag myself over to him and follow him out of the wagon. "You'll help me though, right?" I ask him as I shut the door behind me. The bright afternoon sunlight attacks my sight, and for a moment, I'm blinded. The rays' warmth pools around me, soaking into my skin.

"Sure, love," he says, shaking out his shaggy hair. "I can't promise it won't hurt though." He stops and spins on the balls of his feet. The tail of his jacket flies with his movements. His mouth opens, but then he shuts it just as fast.

"A necessary evil?" I offer, knowing full well what he was thinking of. Yesterday's events still plague us in the dark regions of our minds, lying and waiting like a true predator. My skin prickles at the thought, and I shiver. Then it occurs to me: Link has none of these reactions. He can't feel the chill running up his metal spine nor will his rubber-like skin bubble in gooseflesh. Link still possesses sight and hearing, as well as a sixth sense, but he's lost all physical sense of the world. He knows the threat is there, but he can't feel it.

An eyebrow lifts, and he asks, "What's wrong?"

I shake my head. "Nothing," I sing.

He shrugs and asks, "Where's Ilia?"

"She actually wanted you to help her set up Fanadi's tent," I say.

He frowns when he hears this. A hand reaches up and he rubs at the back of his neck. "Fanadi's… a little strange," he tells me. The hand falls back to his side. "Remember how I told you she has a little bit of magic?" He brings up the hand again, index and thumb an inch apart.

"Yes?" Where is he going with this?

He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Sometimes she gives some really crackpot fortunes," he says.

Sooo… what? My mind clicks and turns. "So you're saying that she can't always tap into her magic."

A grin breaks out on his face. "See, knew you were a smart one," he chuckles more to himself than to me. He turns and looks around the colorful maze of the carnival.

"I think I remember the way," I offer, walking up to meet him at his side.

"Good," he sighs. "Otherwise I'd be wandering around looking for the mirror house all day." He nudges me in my side with his elbow. "She likes those fun house mirrors."

…

In retrospect, Link's comment about fun house mirror, while cruel, does strike my humorous side. Fanadi is an extremely large woman, dressed in an intricate dress and robes, despite the late summer heat. What is most surprising of all is the fact that she had tattooed on her forehead a queer rendition of an eye. She fans herself as she sits atop of a trunk while she watches Link and Ilia struggle to finish pitching up the tent. Beads of sweat slide down from her forehead and pool around the sets of piercings she has under each eye.

She turns to me, and I quickly try to avert my eyes, hoping that she didn't notice my staring. The woman however, forces me to bring my attention back to her when she speaks. "What was your name again, dearie?"

"Zelda Nohansen."

"It sounds…" she trails. The fan wags in the air, forcing little tufts of hair that have escaped her intricate bun to flap in the breeze. Her lower lip juts out a little. "Familiar," she finishes.

I grunt in response and shift a little on my feet. I shuffle my arms some, trying to get some air under the heat of Link's dark jacket. I watch him work with Ilia to tie the tent down with rope to the stakes. Envy surges in me in a green fire, welling up from my gut and consuming my heart. I can feel the sweat on the back of my neck build under my thick hair and under my arms. Glancing over at Ilia, the poor girl's back and chest are drenched with sweat from the work. And knowing full well how Fanadi is a waterfall of perspiration next to me, I glare fiercely at Link. He looks up and meets my gaze, and Link offers me a smile, but I only return it with a scowl. He turns away and shakes out his slacks of the dust that clings to them. He's rolled his sleeves up, but not one drop of moisture clings to his white shirt. That bastard.

Link jogs over to us. "Alright, it's up," he tells Fanadi as Ilia drags a large rug into the tent. "We can move all your stuff in."

Fanadi sniffs a little. "Very well," she says, fan still wagging, and she relinquishes her seat on the trunk.

Link bends to pick up the large trunk, and I offer to help, but he shakes his head. "I got it," he tells me, but I insist, slinging his jacket over my shoulder and bending to pick up one end. Link shrugs, and says, "Well, you can try." And try I do, but the trunk stays firmly on the ground, as if stuck with glue. Link snickers at my failed attempts to lift the trunk, and says again, "I got it, really. Don't worry about it." I move aside as he grasps the handles on both ends of the trunk and lifts it with ease.

"A machine's got to be good for something," I joke.

Link chuckles. "Indeed," he says with a wink and carries the trunk into the tent, Fanadi waddling at his heels. Ilia holds the flap of the tent for them, and I see as soon as Link sets the trunk down, Fanadi reclaims her seat once more.

Between the three of us, we get Fanadi's tent set up in no time. Ilia thanks us both for the help before rushing off to tend to some of the animals. "Link, can you make sure to feed the cucco?" she asks as she jogs away.

Link groans, but calls back to her, "Sure!

"I hate that cucco," he spits under his breath.

"The man-eating cucco?" I tease.

He shakes his head. "A little monster, I swear. Why do you think they always have me feed the thing? It hates everyone and is quick to snap."

"But it's not really man-eating is it?"

Link barks a laugh, saying, "No, but the deku babbas are another story…"

"What! Are you serious?"

He's about to reply when my name sounds. We glance at each other briefly, but then Link just shrugs and gestures me to go. "I'll go feed that damn cucco," he says. "Go see what she wants."

I nod and slip into the tent. Fanadi sits on her trunk, a table in front of her, and beckons me closer. "Did you need some help with something?" I ask her, watching her bend over. She struggles to grab ahold of something, grumbling in response to me. "Um, Fanadi?"

"Hold on! Hold on!" she insists. Finally, she pulls herself up, holding onto the table for support. "Sit, sit, dearie," she tells me as she plops a large crystal ball onto the table and then proceeds to fix her extremely large hairdo. She frowns, her lips sliding into a taught line. The ball of a labret juts out from the curve between her chin and bottom lip. "What was your name again?" she asks, rubbing her chin. I open my mouth to answer, but she shushes me, peering into the crystal ball. "It'll come!" I roll my eyes.

I glance around the small tent, suddenly feeling cramped among the many things she has crammed in here. It's almost as if she emptied her wagon of all its contents. I spy a small stool placed haphazardly next to a bundle of cushions, and I drag it over to her. Looks like I'll get my very own "crackpot" fortune from this loon. But, I suppose every last person in this carnival is a bit loony at the very least.

"It's Zelda," I remind her, after waiting for her to speak for some time.

She flaps a hand at me. "What would you like to knooow?" she asks me, her eyes growing wide. She leans in to get a closer look at me, but only succeeds in sending gooseflesh scurrying up my arms in warning.

"Um… anything?"

She leans back, muttering, "Very well." Fanadi peers into her crystal ball, her hands out and fingers wiggling like little, fat worms. "Elihwa sekat gnidaol tiaw!" she shouts, flying back from the crystal and eyes wide. I jump in my skin at the sudden outburst. Fanadi relaxes, but I remain rigid on the stool.

Fanadi mutters to herself, rubbing her chin again in thought. "This is very straaange," she says.

"I'm sorry?"

Fanadi shakes her head, and slaps both hands onto the table. Her face dives in close to mine. "I see many strange things," she says. "There's a powerful machine with a heart of green, and it will lead you across many landscapes in search of gold."

I blink. "Uh, thank you," I say, stumbling out of the chair.

…

"I don't see anything behind it," I sneer.

Link rubs at the back of his neck as he mulls over the story of what transpired in Fanadi's tent. "You know, she once told a woman that a young man would approach her at the carnival wanting to date her," he tells me. "Unfortunately, I just had to be the first one to approach her. I only got an 'Excuse me, ma'am,' in before she rejected me!"

I snort, trying to hold in my laughter.

I ask him, "But what do you think of what she said to me?"

To this, he shrugs. "I dunno. She's pretty good at making things seem cryptic when she honestly has nothing to say at all."

My stomach grumbles a little, and I sit down next to Link on Ilia's bed. The stars twinkle in the night sky though the window opposite of us. I cross my arms, and huddle into myself. Link nudges my side, but when I don't respond right away, he pinches a fold of skin above my hip. I yelp and squirm away. "What's this a muffin top?" he teases, trying to pinch me again.

"Stop, stop, STOP!" I scream, swinging my arms any which way I can. I try to wiggle away, but only succeed in falling off of the bed.

Link's laughter bounces off the walls of the wagon and makes no move to help me up, and I kick his shin. His laughter doesn't let up though, and I realize that he probably couldn't even feel my hit.

I pull myself back up onto the bed. I seat myself a little further away from Link and smooth my skirt. "Can we just get started on this?" I ask him impatiently.

"Alright, alright," he relents, but the smile is still on his face, the little wrinkles next to his shinning eyes.

I close my eyes, turning my sight inward. My core, spherical and large, swirls with magic. It pulses as I reach out a hand to touch it, alive, willing and daring, and it radiates warmth. Threads of purple and blue mix with white and – something new – gold within the sphere. It's a marvelous mixture of color, and I skim my fingers across the surface of my core, following the movements of the contained magic. "The new magic is gold," I tell Link, my eyes still locked firmly on the core and the magic inside of it. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Gold?" comes his voice. There's a pause. Something's not right. Link only responds with, "No.

"Now just concentrate on what is beyond your core," he instructs, blowing past my question, and I allow it and follow his directions. What is beyond my core? Beyond me? I strain my sight, pushing myself past my magical core, and then I see it. The waves of gold and blue drift from my core. The magic shrinks and swells as it escapes, moving to the beating pulse of my core.

"Now what?" I ask, still concentrating on the wild magic that pools away from me. "Try and pull it in?"

Link's voice cuts through, sharp and demanding. "No, you'll kill yourself that way. You have to do it slowly." I bite my lip. Slowly. "This will take a while, but what you need to do is feel the magic and condense it into a smaller form."

"Like wind it or something?"

"That will work," Link says. "You are the one that needs to control it, so you need to make it bend. You need to will it."

I breathe deeply, preparing myself for the task. The air swirls and fills my lungs, and then I exhale, a vice grip on my lungs. I reach out a hand and thrust it into the waves of magic. It chills my skin and tickles my palm. My other hand enters the fray of gold and blue. Make it bend. Make it wind. I will the magic to rest in my hands. It struggles and thrashes, but I'm able to grasp it in long threads. It's almost like trying to hook a worm for fishing. Slowly, I work the magic, binding it together and winding it into thin ropes. The chills slither up my spine.

The magic is difficult and defiant. It tries to weasel its way out of my hands continuously, but I hold fast onto it, denying it the freedom it so wants. Eventually, the cooling sensation of the magic begins to heat my palms, and an itchy fire races across them. The magic festers on my sore palms, but I continue, relentlessly bending it to my will and putting my soul into it.

And I work late into the evening.

…

"You sure you'll be alright?"

I open my car door and slide inside, grateful to have a place to rest my aching muscles. I roll the window down and lean out. "I'll be fine," I tell Link. "I'm just tired. Once I get home, I can sleep it off."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and his glassy eyes flick away from me. "Will you be back tomorrow?"

I rest my head on my forearms. "No. I have to work," I tell him. His shoulders droop a little. "I can be back in a few days though," I promise him. "Okay?"

Link's head bobs in the dark a few times. A devilish smirk spreads across his face. "What is that you do? What's your job?" he asks with genuine interest despite the smirk.

"Ah! I'm uh…" I shrug a shoulder. "I'm a supervising operator for the city's call centre."

Chuckles break beats into the night. "Oh-ho!" Link exclaims. He dances back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets. "No wonder you're so particular and precise."

I ignore his jabs. "How long do you guys usually stay in one spot?" I ask him.

"Usually a couple of weeks, but it really depends on how much business we get. Since it takes so long to set up and tear it down, we usually stay at least a week, even if business is bad."

"Should I keep asking for Ilia when I come?"

He nods. "Her main job is to care for the animals and help coordinate the shows," he informs me. "She'll know where to find me, whether I'm on or off."

"Right." I catch my bottom lip between my teeth and avert my gaze for a moment. "She said Mido doesn't really like you."

Link snickers at this, his shoulders popping. How is it he can be a machine, but still maintain all his human gestures? Are they so ingrained in him? "No, he doesn't. He tries to pick fights with me all the time."

"May I ask why?"

"Another time," he promises, stepping away from the car.

"Be careful, love," he tells me. "Things are about to get messy, especially in a place like Castleton, so watch yourself."

"I will," I say, starting the car. It roars to life, grumbling in the night. I roll my window up and put the car in gear. Tugging at the wheel, I turn it full circle in the field and give Link a small wave as I pass by. He waves back.

The car bumps and bounces away as I drive towards the road. The engine talks to me in chugs and gurgles, and I push it further away from the carnival. I glance up at the rearview mirror, and in the dark, I can still see Link's stocky figure standing in the grassy field. The colors and lights of the carnival tents line behind him, shining bright against his black figure. The car jerks as I hit a deep bump in the ground. I sneak another look before I pull the car onto the road.

Link still stands where I left him, his hand raised to the sky.

Sooo... I've been thinking lately of getting my motorcycle license back. I haven't really had an urge to ride since my brother got in an accident, but maaan. I want a bike again. Once I pay my car off. Haha. I went and looked at some yesterday, and drooled (secretly; I have a pretty good poker face). My friend was like,"Why do you want a small motor?" Stupid. I was looking mostly at sport bikes (i.e. crotch rockets) with like a 250cc motor. You guys don't know this, but I am TINY. Like we're talking 5'3, 120lbs. You see those dudes riding like 600cc motor crotch rockets - I'm like half their size. That shit ain't flying, even if I lowered the bike. Like, I probably couldn't even reach the ground still. Haha.

My excited motorcycle rambles aside, I want to thank you guys for all your comments and suggestions in your reviews and PMs. I do love hearing from you guys and talking to you. I have a little bit of the third chapter written, and there will be more of Castleton and Zelda's usual life there. Yes, we're going back to civilization next chapter!

Now, I actually got burned at work today, so I am off to tend to my latest battle wound from the bakery. A pan slipped and slid into my bicep when I was pulling it down to move to another rack. It just came out of the oven too, but not quite as bad as the burns from the oven door. Anyway, I'll most likely see you guys next in Zombie Cake. If you're not following that, then I shall see you here!

I hope you guys have a very fun St. Pattie's Day; don't drink too much and don't mix.

;3