test your strength!

Marjorie trotted through the crowded pathways, hand-in-hand with Ravi, so she didn't have to fear getting separated from him. Despite not having been to the faire since childhood, and now being a young adult, she still didn't want to risk getting split up from her brother. The two of them were chatting back and forth with one another, although chatting back and forth mainly consisted of Marjorie aesthetic critiquing the circus performers that wandered the faire.

"...That costume could be so much more well made, if only they used a different stitch on the-" Marjorie was cut off by Ravi pointing excitedly at a candy apple stand, dragging her along with him to indulge in a treat for themselves. They stood in line and briefly argued about who would pay. The argument ended when they finally reached the front and Marjorie slapped her goldleaf on the counter and eagerly demanded two candy apples, much to Ravi's dismay. 

She handed him his candy apple with a bit of a smug grin and glint in her eye. Whenever she spent time with Ravi, her main priority was to make sure he never paid for anything, as much as he desperately tried to. It wasn't that she thought he didn't make good money, because he made fine money, but this was sort of her way of repaying him for spending time with her and always looking out for her. They hooked arms with one another, continuing their walk through the faire while enjoying their sweet treats. 

"You really need to stop paying for stuff all the time, Marj," Ravi insisted, voice a little muffled by chewing. Marjorie rolled her eyes and swallowed. 

"Yeah, right," she huffed defensively. "Maybe if you actually had goldleaf to spare, I'd let you pay more often," she added snootily, though she knew very well that he had goldleaf to spare on small things. She just refused to let him. 

Ravi nearly choked on his candy apple. "I have more than enough goldleaf to spend on candy apples!" he cried with playful indignation, purposefully bumping his shoulder against Marjorie's. She tried to suppress a smile as she bumped him back. 

She was going to reply but any words she was going to say died off the instant she saw it. It was the high striker, one of her favorite attractions. Her excitement was accompanied by a flash of bitterness as she remembered how she used to always play this game with someone else. The memories had soured with time. 

But that didn't stop her from wanting to play. She forced Ravi to wait in line with her, attempting to coerce him into also giving it a shot. "Come on, it's fun," Marjorie urged, tugging Ravi back and forth by his arm while he chewed on his sweet treat, jokingly ignoring her as she demanded for him to also give the high striker a play. 

"Okay, fine," Ravi relented with a smile, "I'll try. But I don't think I'll get a very high score." 

Marjorie buzzed with childlike excitement. When the pair of them got to the front of the line, she forced Ravi to go first, holding both of their candy apples while he made his attempt to ring the bell. His ramming technique was beyond subpar, and Marjorie told him so as he trotted back over to her, hand on his head. He seemed a little dazed. "Did I ring the bell?"

Marjorie rolled her eyes. "Not even close. You barely got halfway! Watch and learn," she huffed confidently, shoving the candy apple sticks into Ravi's hands. She stepped up to the attraction, lifting her dress a slight bit as she kicked up dirt behind her, preparing her ram. 

She rushed forward and slammed her head against the strike post, not disoriented in the slightest as she urgently looked up to see the impact she had made. The bell rang out overhead and Marjorie smiled to herself triumphantly, striding back to Ravi as she smoothed out her ruffled dress and mussed hair. 

“That's how it's done,” she proclaimed. Ravi seemed to recover from his daze and he was smiling enthusiastically, reaching to hook arms with her again as she returned. 

“That was pretty impressive,” Ravi admitted, but Marjorie noticed a twinge of somberness in his voice and demeanor. It wasn't that he was upset at losing, it was just his usual melancholy. Any kind of reminder of him seemed to produce such an effect on Ravi. The reminders only ever made Marjorie angry. 

They continued hoofing through the faire together, lapsing into an only slightly tense silence. They were headed in the direction of the circus tent, the whole reason Marjorie had agreed to visiting. She always loved to come and see the uniquely costumed performers. Even as a girl, one of her biggest dreams was to be able to outfit the circus entertainers. She would often draw up sketches for costume ideas, but she had never pursued any of the projects. She never had the time. 

Just as they were about to enter the circus tent together, Ravi tugged lightly on Marjorie’s arm to point out a clown performer wandering around the outside of the tent, wearing a comically large hat and gigantic pointed shoes. Marjorie giggled at how utterly ridiculous it was, raising a hand to cover her mouth as she smiled to herself. 

They filed into the bleachers. Marjorie insisted on sitting as close as possible, so she could see the finer details of every article of clothing. Also to watch the performances, she supposed. 

The entire first array of performances were fantastic, and Marjorie would occasionally point out particularly interesting fashion choices to Ravi with a focused enthusiasm, until the final act before intermission. The actor was outfitted in a simple cloak and a mask, causing Marjorie to roll her eyes to herself with a dramatic huff and complain under her breath about how she knew some plainly dressed buffoon would ruin the wonderful chain of fancifully crafted outfits. 

However irked she was by the horrific fashion choice, she was immediately awed by the fiery performance that followed. The fire breath was so exciting that Marjorie nearly jumped out of her spot in the bleachers when it was hissed out towards the crowd. When she glanced over to Ravi after the exhilarating threat of flames, he had traces of a critical look on his face. She was too secretly impressed by the act to even notice.

As they followed the flood of people out of the tent, Marjorie was yammering on about the costumes, the acts, making a repressed, casual comment about her pleasant thoughts on the performance preceding the intermission. It wasn’t until she was outside the stuffy tent that she realized that she and Ravi had been separated by the sea of people exiting for concessions. 

She froze up for a moment, only able to glance around for him in a panicked manner as people pushed past her. She waded through the crowd, standing by the side of the tent with her hands wringing her dress. Marjorie tried to placate herself. She knew Ravi was around here somewhere, she knew she would find him. Or he would find her. 

She was left standing there anxiously for what felt like hours, but was really only about ten minutes. Marjorie didn’t like being apart from him in such situations, so when he finally arrived, she chewed him out for disappearing. 

“I told you to stay close to me. How could you leave me behind?” she exclaimed rhetorically, too caught up in the throes of her own anxieties and fears to note the wavering, far-off look on Ravi’s face. 

“I’m sorry, Marj, I got caught up in the crowd,” Ravi murmured distantly, avoiding eye contact with her. “It won’t happen again.”