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2017-05-10 01:30 pm (UTC)
Seeing Strange like this is a stark contrast to how he was since they scouted the place out, that much is for certain. It was hard to miss how sullen and crabby he was, especially against the brightly artificial colors of this world. Once Lambert realized Strange's magic didn't work there, though, the moodiness made perfect sense: no sorcerer or sorceress he's ever known or heard of has taken well to having their power restrained.
Magic's a part of Lambert, and magic made him what he is, but he doesn't think he'll ever fully understand the feeling of having that much power at the tips of his fingertips. Magic's different, here in the Carnival. Watching any of the magic users at work,
with the power like it's a living thing instead of a tool for destruction or a means to an end?
He can almost,
"Why would I?" he laughs, the jest coming readily to his lips. "I see you showing off all the damn time. I came by to give you this." He holds up the book, the thumbnail-sized golden raven stamped on the cover glinting in the fading light of Strange's magic fires.
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