Esk, in fact, moved through the fair more like an arsonist moves through a hayfield or a neutron bounces through a reactor, poets notwishtanding, and the hypothetical watcher could have detected her random passage by tracing the outbreaks of hysteria and violence. But, like all good catalysts, she wasn't actually involved in the processes she initiated, and by the time all the non-hypothetical potential watchers took their eyes off them she had been buffeted elsewhere.
It was also changing colour, starting with a dull read and then climbing through the spectrum until it was a painful violet. Snakes of white fire coruscated along its length.
(There should be a word for words that sound like things would sound like if they made a noise, he thought. The word "glisten" does indeed gleam oilily, and if there was ever a word that sounded exactly the way sparks look as they creep across burned paper, or the way lights of cities would creep across the world if the whole of human civilization was crammed into one night, then you couldn't do better than "coruscate".)