Aspiring Adventurer - Paiko in the Paperverse: Peer Pressure

#108 - Talent Show

It's time for the Paperdemon Guild Talent Show! What type of talent would your character show off? How would the audience and judges react? Or would your character get stage fright and opt to stay in the audience instead? Or maybe they'd be a judge? 

-

Another paper tacked to the wall. Plenty of papers were pasted up on the board every week. Not that he could decipher any of them very well. Yet this one caught his attention, with the fancy borders and the image of gold coins and shiny trinkets near the bottom.

It looked too friendly to be a wanted poster. (Which his own picture had been on. A few times. In Avangard.) The gold reward then; not a bounty, but a prize? Was it something like the Elemental League that Oromykah had persuaded him to enter last year?

As Paiko stood at the announcements board, brow furrowed deep in concentration, he didn’t hear someone walk up behind him.

“Thinking of trying out, Paiko?”

The drakon boy jerked, startled out of his focus. He turned around and lifted his gaze toward Telerand’s head. “You know I cannot read. Or write.”

Telerand’s eyes squinted, conveying a smile that was hidden behind the mask that covered his lower face. “Were you ever going to ask what’s written there?”

Paiko glanced back at the poster. “What does it say?”

“It’s advertising the Guild Talent Show. You want to participate? I can take a video to send back to Katanorias–”

“For Meki and Sylvander?” A hopeful lift of his shoulders, coupled with expectant tail swishing.

“Exactly. And Aultiver keeps getting on my case for not bringing back enough material for the scrapbook, so he’ll get a copy too.”

That didn’t sound too bad. He’d been looking for an excuse to send videos back to his friends, something other than the peril of fighting eldritch entities or giant snake bots, or the languid days of napping and trying to study rocks. Which had constituted much of his time lately.

Only one small issue remained to be seen. “What talent… do I show? I can’t really. Mmm. Think of anything… unless you count sandwich making. Or destroying small moons–”

Telerand crouched down to get on eye-level with the drakon boy. “Oy, none of that, now. You have plenty of talents. Non-destructive talents. We can brainstorm something.”

“Are you going to do it too?”

“Oh, shards no. Who’s going to record you, then?” Telerand pulls up the bridge of his mask with an uncomfortable cough. “Besides, this isn’t a very good week for me to be on-stage.”

“On STAGE?”

—

“A spectacular performance, fun-sized, larger-than-life, and everything in between… give it up for Celaou, the Protean Doppler!”

Amidst a decent chorus of cheers and applause, the blue and teal Doppler performed a mini-encore, shrinking when he took a bow and growing back to normal height as he came up. 

He gathered his props and waved to the audience as he exited stage right, then looked for a table to stash his things under. The first tablecloth he lifted up revealed a certain half-drakon hiding in the space.

“Paiko?” Celaou thought back to the roster of names. “Aren’t you up next?”

“A-am I?” Paiko stuck his head out, but didn’t move or get up. “They… they have to set up first. I think. Someone said they would come get me. I would be fine if they forgot…”

Celaou smiled at the nervous kid. “I know my act was fantabulous,” he said, flipping his white mane of hair with a wink, “but you know, that’s the great thing about talent shows. Everyone brings a different skill to share, so don’t worry about being compared. It’s all fresh and fun for the spectators.”

Paiko laughed quietly, nervously; he tried to be comforted by Celaou’s words, but clearly another issue was weighing the drakon down. Finally, with hands balled into shaky fists, he whispers, 

“I don’t like it. Being the center of attention. I am fine with people. But not when they are staring.” His amber eyes look up, imploring. “Can you… go on with me?”

“Oh, mmm.” Celaou bit his lip. “I don’t think they’d allow that. Plus I wouldn’t wanna steal your time to shine. What is your act, anyway?”

“It’s like… an obstacle course? But a shifting one. Wouldn’t be much of a show if I had time to practice and memorize the way.”

So that explained all the sounds of Earth users reconstructing the stage area. 

Celaou snuck a peek at the crowd outside. “Would it help if you couldn’t see the people?” How they would pull that off, he wasn’t sure yet. The outdoor stage didn’t exactly provide a means of dimming the lights; not to mention, it was mid-afternoon and sunny.

Yet the drakon boy’s ears twitched in interest. “Might help. Decrease the visual distraction.” Now Paiko was sitting up straight. “Do you have a blindfold?”

That was an unexpected request. Certainly simpler than trying to hide the audience (where would one get a one-way mirror two minutes before the show?). Celaou set down his things and rummaged through the crates for something that could do the job. “A blindfold?”

Paiko nodded. “Mmhm. To not see the people.”

“But don’t you need to see?” Especially if the set had moving parts?

“Nope.”  His teeth glinted with the flash of a genuine smile. “You reminded me of another ability I have.”

Celaou pulled out a thick, opaque strip of fabric and held it up to the light. Nothing peeked through. “You’re really not gonna be able to see anything.” 

“Absolutely fine and good.” Paiko scooted out into the open. “Um. Could you tie it for me?”

“If you’re totally sure about it,” Celaou said, wrapping the fabric around Paiko’s eyes, “then I completely expect you to get out there and blow everyone’s socks off.”

“Oh, that isn’t my extra skill.” Paiko giggled. “But thank you, Celaou.”

-

<Is he next, is he next??>

“They just finished setting up. He’ll be on in a moment.” Telerand tapped the tablet screen. “Can you both see okay?”

[Well enough to– ugh, Meki! Your head is in the way.]

<Sorryyy, but you’re taller than me, so you should be able to see.>

[When did that equate to me having x-ray vision? I can’t see through you.]

“Hey, I’m recording this so you two can watch it again as many times as you want. Don’t pull each other’s hair out.” Literally. That could be an issue.

[I’m surprised you got him on stage in the first place.]

Telerand sighed and lowered his voice. “You know how he is. It took some persuasion. You know, mainly what got him up there in the end is because he wanted something to show you two.”

<Awww… Paiko! Don’t be scared! The only people watching you that matter are your friends, and we’re cheering for you!>

“He’ll really appreciate that.” The time-scout conveniently left out the detail that he’d turned off the sound to the tablet and was only reading the text-to-speech closed captioning.

“Who’s ready for some seat-of-your-pants action? Next up on the program, Paliskobengar will amaze us with some ace agility tricks on this shifting course (courtesy of some Earth element users–)”

<That’s Paiko!>

[Agh, Meki, could you be any more distracting?]

<What, Sylvander? Can you be any less excited?>

“ – please welcome to the stage… oh! What’s this? A twist?”

The crowd was abuzz with mutters and whispers. Telerand leaned forwards in his seat, watching Paiko enter stage right and carefully climb onto the starting platform. There was something on the half-drakon’s face, covering his eyes. 

“Sweet solar winds, clever clever boy,” Telerand whispered. He’d been afraid that the pressure from people peering at him would hurt the kid’s confidence, but it seemed he’d found a way around it. A way that showcased his special abilities even more.

“Two minutes, you say? And he’s never seen this course before. He won’t even see it now! Well, if he can pull that off, I’ll eat my cloak!”

Telerand could see Paiko smile, crouching down to connect with the earth. He had this in the bag. The bell rang, and the drakon sprang into action.

-

1325 words