VELVETEEN vs. True Love’s Kiss #2
Maybe this was a way to cheat the story.
More and more, it was almost impossible for her to remember that she was Velma first, Velma who ate cereal and shopped with coupons and lived an ordinary life.
Velveteen had managed to seep into every aspect of her existence since she put the ears back on, and most of the time she felt like two entirely different people. And maybe that was the trick.
Maybe if she kissed him as Velma and he didn’t wake up, she could try a second time as Velveteen. And if she kissed him as Velma and he did wake up, maybe that would prove she still existed after all.
Gingerly, she reached out and tapped the corner of the mirror. “Mirror mirror, on the wall, won’t the Princess take my call?” she muttered, sounding almost ashamed of the words even as she spoke them.
Nothing happened.
This was the normal reaction of most mirrors when confronted with bad poetry, or good poetry, or really anything at all.
They reflected; that was all they were designed to do.
Normally, however, “normal” was in short supply around the house, which was occupied by three superheroes, one from another dimension, one with a tendency to get sucked into other dimensions.
Vel waited several seconds before tapping the mirror again.
“Mirror, mirror, polished clean, won’t you let her face be seen?”
Again, nothing happened. Vel sighed. All the brave decisions in the world weren’t going to be any good if she couldn’t get the Princess to talk to her.
Dropping her hand, she spun on her heel and marched out into the hall.
Her movements were stiff and jerky, tense enough to almost hurt.
Deciding to do this had been exhausting.
Being blocked from getting it done was somehow worse, and she knew if she waited too long, she’d go back to the start, hemming and hawing and unable to move forward with what she’d already decided she was going to do.
Which meant finding another way in. She continued down the hall to the living room, where Torrey was sitting on the couch with Yelena’s head in her lap. The blonde woman’s eyes were closed, but Vel could tell by the way her breath slowed that she had heard Velma’s arrival.
“Good, we’re all here,” said Vel, with forced cheer. “Who wants to go to an amusement park?”
Yelena opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. Torrey just looked confused.
“Will there be clowns?” she asked.
Velma managed not to laugh.
* * *
Polychrome could fly, and so could Victory Anna, thanks to a spring-powered kinetic platform that shouldn’t have been able to get off the ground but could reliably outpace most private jets.
Velveteen rode with Victory Anna, holding tightly to the crash bars and fighting the urge to look down.
Like most child superheroes, she’d been trained in passenger flight from an early age; she knew the risks of taking to the air without an airplane’s protective shell surrounding her, and just what would happen to her physical body if she made contact with the ground from this sort of height.
She was a comfortable flier, when she had someone’s arms around or underneath her.
This, however, was nerve-racking, especially when they were flying far enough for Victory Anna to really get her contraption up to speed.
“Oh, toughen up, you overstuffed nursery doll,” chirped Victory Anna, holding fast to the controls as she steered her flying platform in Polychrome’s trail.
The prismatic nature of the photon manipulator’s powers meant that she was easy to track, keeping them relatively together as they flew. “I’ve not crashed this thing once.”
“You crashed the last four,” said Velveteen, fighting the growing urge to be sick over the side. She swallowed it back. At this height and speed, her vomit could become a lethal projectile, and she had no desire to go through another court case if she could help it.
Victory Anna laughed and kept on flying, steering toward the tall metal tracks in the distance. They were almost close enough to hear the screams from the riders as the roller coaster ran through its repeated loop-de-loops, here until forever.
* * *
The amusement park was fronted by a large arrival plaza in red and gold brick, surrounded by snapping banners that made sure guests knew how much fun, fun, fun they were going to have as soon as they passed the ticket booths and handed over their credit cards.
Everything around them was a subtle advertisement, unless it was a blatant advertisement, and some things managed to be both at the same time, which was a fairly neat trick.
Velveteen hopped down from the kinetic platform, adjusting her rabbit-eared headband as she moved, making sure that her identity was in full display.
Costumes weren’t allowed inside the park unless they were worn by an employee hired to represent a specific character, or by a licensed superhero who wanted to enjoy a pleasant day while also giving them some free PR.
She approached the ticket booth, Polychrome and Victory Anna close behind, and put on what she hoped would come across as a reassuring smile, rather than a thinly veiled threat.
The clerk on the other side of the window paled, eyes going wide.
Velveteen would eat a fistful of fashion doll shoes if the girl was old enough to have graduated high school.
Most people would think the park employees would be jaded about heroes after working in such close proximity to the Princess, but most people didn’t have to deal with superhumans in their day-to-day lives, and didn’t understand that proximity could lead to an increased wariness, rather than relaxation.
“Hi,” she said, careful to keep her voice calm and level. “Is it still park policy to let costumed superheroes in for free?”
“I need to get my manager,” said the girl, voice cracking on the last word before she fled.
Velveteen nodded. “You do that,” she said, to absolutely no one.
* * *
Natural human discomfort in the presence of the differently powered often translated to anxiety and exaggerated politeness over the long term, but in the short term, it was more like presenting the average person with a trainwreck they could gawk at.
Velveteen and the others had only been waiting for a few minutes before a jovial man in his mid-forties, wearing a bright purple suit and tie that made him look more like a fast food mascot than anything else, came bustling up with the girl from before following nervously behind.
“Velveteen!” he declared, with all the joy of a third grader who had just been unexpectedly presented with a birthday party at a trampoline park. “What a surprise! What an absolute delight!”
“I suppose we’re last season’s failed debutantes?” asked Victory Anna, looking toward Polychrome.
Polychrome smiled. “We’re not the face of the fall of The Super Patriots, Inc.,” she said. “We’re just here to support Vel, and maybe get a picture on the carousel.” She paused. “Do you know what a carousel is?”
“How uncultured do you think I am, Pol?” asked Victory Anna. “The carousel is one of the proudest traditions of fair Britannia, and it fills me with joy to know that they exist here as well. Do you think the owners of this conveyance will allow me to improve its inner workings?”
“Probably not,” said Polychrome, with monumental fondness. “But you can always ask them.”
“I shall,” declared Victory Anna.
Velveteen, meanwhile, was explaining their intentions to the booth clerk’s manager.
Or at least, the socially acceptable surface level of their intentions.
“We’re here to ride the rides, make your guests feel safer, and take any selfies that are requested of us, and sure, we’d love to be special guests in your afternoon parade” was much easier to explain than “we’re here to track down the entrance to your resident princess’s magic castle so I can ask her whether she thinks I’m ready to kiss my dead boyfriend back to life. ”
The manager nodded and beamed, and reached out to take her hand in both of his, his fingers engulfing her own.
“Of course,” he said. “Anything you need. Emily, get these ladies some entry passes, and throw in the VIP front of line package. It wouldn’t do to have them spend half their day of leisure waiting around in lines. How would that make us look?”
“Fair?” suggested Velveteen, unable to help herself.
The manager just laughed.
Velveteen said nothing, only forced herself to keep smiling as they were escorted past the lines of guests waiting to get through the gates.
Once they were inside the park, the manager insisted on a photo with all of them together, followed by a series of him with each of them individually.
Just in case one of them went villain in the future, he’d still have his souvenir to boast about.
An employee who looked a few years older than the booth attendant passed them, muttering under her breath that there was no point in letting cosplayers into the park like they were real superheroes.
Polychrome raised an eyebrow, then her hands, tossing a cascade of rainbow sparks into the air.
The employee jumped, shooting Polychrome a horrified look. Polychrome smiled.
“Not a cosplayer,” she said, as the employee scuttled away.
The manager laughed, a hearty, theatrical sound. “Just be sure not to compete with our firework display this evening, young lady,” he said.
Polychrome’s smile wavered before she forced it back into polite permanence. “Of course not,” she demurred.
“Wonderful, wonderful. You three have a magical day, and who knows? Maybe Carrabelle will put in an appearance. You know our Princess loves her peers.”
“We sure do,” agreed Velveteen, and hurried the others away from him, passing through the short tunnel to the arrival square. A long boulevard stretched off toward an imposing pastel castle which dominated the skyline. It would be visible from anywhere inside the park.