maskormenacelogs | (closed) pumpkin patch pumkin patch

WHO: Ken Amada and Aral Vorkosigan
WHERE: Heropa!
WHEN: maybe this weekendish
WHAT: Aral thinks there's an emergency. There isn't. Ken wants to teach him about Jack-o-Lanterns.
WARNINGS: none! this is all silly nonsense

The call comes at an odd time for something this distressed-sounding, but then again, distress is never there to match your schedule. It comes rearing around the corner, loudly and rudely and ruining everyone's day. Today, it's come to ruin the day of one Aral Vorkosigan.

Possibly, anyway.

It started with a single call, a rather desperate sounding one as Ken smacked the contact of the first name to show up on his address book. (That's what Aral gets for having a name that starts with A.) He fails to explain anything, but he does get something across: his desperation.

Because really, what else are you going to get out of a message like, "Aral-san, can you come help me?!" followed by the sound of something heavy toppling over, smaller heavy things tumbling around, and Ken's startled Aaaah!!?

You better hurry, Aral.

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It had been far too long since Aral Vorkosigan's day was ruined in this manner. He'd almost gotten relaxed, as settled as one gets in a wartime environment. When the call comes, he doesn't question further than to find the address.

It may be, within the younger generation, that Ivan Vorpatril is widely accepted as the most reckless, feckless and frankly, terrifying driver. The truth is, Aral Vorkosigan was the one who taught him how to do it.

Vorkosigan arrives in an alarmingly swift fashion, armed to the teeth with futuristic space weapons, strides right past the pumpkin vendor's alarmed reception staff and snaps the door open, ready for all the world to take down the horrible assailants endangering Ken Amada's life and good health.

Those horrible assailants, as Aral will now discover, turn out to be a crate full of large, orange squash-like objects placed on a dolly. At least, they were, except Ken's sitting on the ground in front of an overturned crate with a few of those large pumpkins on his lap, and the dolly is sulking a few feet from him. There is a scattering of pumpkins around him on the hay-covered ground, and there is hay stuck in Ken's hair and on his clothes, too.

He's mostly unharmed! The only injury, really, is a painful looking but overall minor scrape on his leg that looks like the kind kids get when they fall, which is exactly what happened when the crate overbalanced, the dolly moved in a direction it wasn't supposed to go, and Ken hit his leg on the wooden edges. Ow.

He is, it should be noted, completely not in any danger. In fact, he looks up as Aral comes in and his expression brightens up significantly as he chirps, "You're here!"

He really probably could've explained this a lot better.

There's a moment, hand on his stunner at his belt, where he just stares. Alarm melts into bewilderment... and then a sort of suddenly fond bemusement. This... is probably exactly what it's going to be like with Miles.

With a most subtle of glances towards the corners just in case, Aral steps forward plucking one of the larger pumpkins off. "Mr Amada." It's a little dry. "Good to see you well." Though a tinge of concern furrows his brow, "Mostly."

"Ken," he says, watching Aral pick up one pumpkin and finally pushing himself to his feet. The scrape stings but it doesn't hurt, and he has no trouble carrying another of the pumpkins and depositing it into the crate he'd knocked over earlier.

"I had a crisis, Aral-san. The dolly got caught on something while I was pushing it."

"Ken," he allows, eyebrows raised. Aral sets the large squash down on another of the crates, and moves back the offending dolly. It reminded him, perhaps, a little too much of his own child, some decades now removed - missed, in his own timeline. He watched the boy's progress, and then motions him over. "I see that. All the same, may I have a look?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, you can."

He doesn't bother with the 'I can heal it' line because Aral very knows well from witnessing it that he's capable of healing. He crosses the short space between them and holds up his foot a little in that weird way children sometimes do. Because you know, trying to balance on one foot long enough for someone to take a look at a scrape is the smartest thing in the world to do. At least Ken has that sense of balance.

"It's not that bad."

He still kneels, reaches out to steady him anyway. His hand easily circles ankle... probably would have engulf's the boy's foot. It's only a moment, checking for signs of worse. "Hm. Pretty good one, actually." Aral straightens, a half smile at that. It was, at least, good to see a kid that could get scrapes like that without anything worse. "So, where are we taking these?"

Ken's eyes are wide and curious as they follow Aral's movements. Although he's been living a year in this world, and he's been roommates with the Iron Bull for the entire time and exposed to his fatherly ways (not that the qunari will ever admit that), it's still something that makes him feel full of wonder, trying to squint at the people who give him this sort of affection and wondering how that could've applied to his own life.

He never needed a father, nor did he think that he wanted one -- he was very satisfied with his family of two with his mother, to this day -- but he still couldn't help it nowadays. Maybe he was just getting used to it. So he lets one small hand drop on Aral's shoulder for support as the man looks at his injury.

"I told you so," he says after his murmured observation, and he hops on his feet once both of them have straightened up. His face feels a little warm.

"I was gonna take these to your café, since I figured you guys have never heard of jack-o-lanterns."

(closed) pumpkin patch pumkin patch

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When you are like, man, no reply on this thread. And realize you haven't hit send. I'M SO SORRY

whoops IT'S OK

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