lostcarnival | [OPEN] how long is forever?

Entry tags:

[OPEN] how long is forever?

WHO: Childermass & anyone.
WHAT: Childermass returns from his unfortunate vacation in the Matrix.
WHERE: The carnival, Trailer #19, the cookhouse.
WHEN: End of D32, on into D33.
WARNINGS: Mentions of torture, will update if anything else comes up.

[ D32, by the tree phones; closed to the first person to find him ]

Why he'd been released after giving so little information, Childermass can't be sure.

He wondered if they had picked up anyone else, someone more likely to talk about the carnival than he was. Perhaps that had made it less useful to keep at him, when someone else was more chatty, although if that were the case, they sure didn't mind trying to keep on "convincing" him. After all that effort, just to have him wake up back in the zoo, intact again, for the most part (the memory of broken fingers still has him rubbing his knuckles, often and uncomfortably). Part of him — the sensible, forever cautious part — wanted to stay and find out, to know, but the rest of him was exhausted. Caution be damned, he needed to get out, so that was exactly what he did.

Funny how only a few days ago he was telling Mr. Strange how bizarre it was to already consider the carnival home, but stumbling to the nearest phone and finding himself back among the trees, with that mad circus up ahead, is a relief. Back at last, after nearly five days of missing, he'll let out a sigh and lean heavily against the same tree the phone is hooked up to.

Now here's a man who looks worse for wear, but at least he's still standing, right?

[Late D32-D33; open to all]

Afterwards, whatever it is that comes afterwards, Childermass will be wisely leaving his supervisor a note about taking a day off to rest — if that's no problem, of course — and then holing up in his trailer to, for the most part, sleep. It won't be very restful, though, so more often than not he'll be found up with tea, trying and failing to write for any real length of time, or spending an awful lot of time staring at ceiling from where he should, but isn't, sleeping.

Basically, trying to avoid everyone, but he'll probably answer the door if someone shows up, assuming they're polite about it at all. Considering the door isn't actually locked, the odds on that might be against him.

Or, failing all attempts to get some actual rest, on the day after his return, one might find him having, by some miracle, made his way to the cookhouse. If only for some coffee and to — again — get absolutely nowhere with writing in one of his various memo books.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I had noticed." The claws. Not the filing down bit, but the claws were quite apparent. "I wasn't aware they could grow back that quickly, however."

That may prove annoying someday. He can't say he has the energy to worry about it on his own part, however. And Childermass knows all too well that Strange is being a shit about the mirror. He took that down and it's bloody well obvious, but if the man wants to play that game, he can. Strange is right about him not wanting to get up — or even move at all, actually.

But he is going to make some weak attempt to keep the mirror down as it is, adding, "And I would leave that there, were I you. He isn't quite done working with it yet."

May as well use the same scapegoat, even if they both know the Doctor had nothing to do with any of this.

Edited 2016-12-21 03:28 (UTC)

"Oh, I'll put it right back where I found it--after I fix your mirror, of course."

He is king of being a shit, thank you very much. With a self-satisfied smile on his face, Strange begins gingerly removing whatever's on top of the mirror, setting it down on a nearby chair. To his credit, he's trying his hardest not to break the miscellaneous items. Strange continues talking as he moves things.

"I imaging the reason they grew back so fast is because time is rather odd in Faerie. You know the stories, children abducted who've spent two hundred years in here but they think they've only been gone two weeks. And apparently when we finish our contract, we'll be deposited right back to when we made the contract in the first place. My hypothesis is that the changes have something to do with that."

"I am afraid you have misunderstood me, Mr. Strange, but the mirror is what he was working on," Childermass counters without so much as a twitch of a smile nor a frown nor any other emotion that might give away he's making it up. Oh, it's probably still apparent in this particular situation, but that won't stop him from trying.

Like, seriously, man, take a hint here. Is he going to have to discard the mirror altogether or is the trailer doomed to madmen showing up in the middle of showers no matter what? He doesn't even want to think about it. He's already tired, considering every increasingly awful possibility only makes it worse.

But he's still making no move to actually stop Strange.

Pointless effort and all.

"I do know those stories. They're why I made a point in asking about that before signing anything," says Childermass, the one guy who actually thinks contracts through before throwing away a year and a day, apparently. "I've no doubt they're due to time spent in Faerie, but it's a little difficult to imagine enough time passed for claws to grow back over a single night."

It's another round of Childermass's "favorite" game, is Strange doing this because he's mad and doesn't know any better or because he's a deliberate annoyance? The answer this time is deliberate annoyance.

"I hate to point out the obvious, but if he's working on the mirror, he'll have a much easier time if he's able to see his reflection." Finally, he's cleared all the bricabrac off the top of the mirror and is attempting to just prop it back up against the wall. He's not going to rehang it or anything, gotta make life a bit easier for Childermass when he inevitably puts the mirror facedown on the table again.

Thinking through contracts? Yeah, that's cute, let's throw caution to the wind and #yolo, time to bring Arabella back.

"Perhaps they're due to whatever fine print is on the contracts? A contract of a year and a day and possible physical changes depending on your time here. I confess, I don't really know, I didn't skim the contract all that carefully."

No one is surprised to hear that.

"Ah. Of course. I suppose you are right in that."

Yep, there it goes, the mirror is back up and he's stifling the urge to sigh.

He is so not looking forward to the day he has to tell him Arabella was never dead, but today is not that day and if he's going to scold Strange on contract-related issues, at least this one is vastly different from throwing one away on a useless venture.

"Considering what you were asking for, one would think you'd take a little more caution than that." But no, Childermass isn't surprised at all. "I saw nothing referring to changes. I believe another theory on the matter is they're a reaction to so much fairy magic being concentrated in one place. It must take quite a bit to move around the way it does."

"The end reward is worth whatever I go through," Strange mutters, more to himself than to Childermass. Because really, that's true. No matter what sort of nonsense or confusion he goes through in this world, the end result is that he will bring Arabella back and they will be together again.

It's only a year and a day, after all.

Strange stops fiddling with the mirror for a bit as he listens to Childermass's theory. That...does make sense. There's so much magic that it simply leeches out into them. "If it takes so much magic to move this place, one wonders why it doesn't stay put. Of course," said with a shrug, "it would be an awful carnival if it didn't travel."

A mutter to which Childermass says nothing.

He doubts the silence will have even be noticed, with Strange's peculiar state of mind, and how he'll break it again almost immediately once there's something else to talk about.

"Sounds like you answered the question yourself. I'm sure the Ringmaster would get bored if it were only in one place, on one world, all of the time."

Thankfully, the silence isn't noticed. Strange's mind is simultaneously everywhere and here, he pays no attention to Childermass not really saying anything because he's thinking of something else.

"She must have an astonishing amount of power. To move the carnival as well as grant our contracts?" Strange shook his head slightly, still marveling and still thinking about just what sort of a faerie the Ringmaster actually was and what her limits (if she had any to begin with) were.

He really needed to take better notes.

Good thing Childermass is around to take better notes for him. Unfortunately, there aren't many notes regarding the Ringmaster herself just yet. Someday, perhaps, but until then, he can only offer a shrug.

"I'm sure she does, though I might not rule out the carnival itself having its own sort of magic. Could be she built it to be able to move itself."

There's no way of knowing, at least none that he can think of to check that, short of asking the Ringmaster herself. It just seems a little more streamlined if some of it was built in to him, but that's only one theory.

Strange is all too apparent that there's no way of knowing as well. After all, he doubts that he can simply ask the Ringmaster about her magic or how the carnival moves. Aside from the fact that it sounds rude to ask in the first place, how does one ask that question in the first place?

"I suppose we'll find out if the carnival stops somewhere the Ringmaster hasn't planned—though, now that the full extent of the Agents has been brought to light, I honestly wonder if the Ringmaster would have planned our stopping here to begin with."

After all, she knew a little bit about the Agents—why assign the Nightriders to pay attention to them to begin with? But that sort of basic information could easily be found by scrying. Strange isn't sure if she, or anyone for that matter, knew they would stoop to kidnapping.

"She may have decided to stop here regardless," Childermass points out, "Even if she knew. Don't assume a fairy is going to think the same way you or I might."

What seems dangerous to mortals isn't going to seem as dangerous to fairies, as they simply aren't mortal. A kidnapping here or there, what's the harm? Even though just kidnapping wasn't the full extent of the danger. He's not sure he has to go into detail for Strange, however. The man's been to war, after all.

"And if the carnival ever does stop unplanned, I do not think we'll like the outcome. What else could be powerful enough to do that?"

Another fairy? Something worse?

The explanation of the Ringmaster's knowledge does make sense. After all, what carnival employs mercenaries? Bouncers and muscle perhaps, but the concept of the Nightrunners still sits a little odd with Strange. Of course, if they were to do something, surely she should have given them more defined instructions?

And oh, he knows that it wasn't just a kidnapping. Certainly something more must have happened, but Childermass has been vague with the details and (for once) Strange isn't going to press right now. Definitely later, of course. But it's easier to talk about what happened during war once time has passed a bit.

"I don't think any of us want to think about that terrible what-if. Let's mull on that battle if we ever reach there." As such, time to change the conversation a bit. "I doubt we can petition the Ringmaster for a certain stop—faeries are supposedly flighty and mercurial, after all. Still, I'd enjoy something with a bit less cars the next time we perform somewhere."

A topic change that he'll accept. Even if they did mull over some unknown battle now, there wouldn't be a whole lot Childermass could contribute. He'd do fine in a fist fight (for the lack of guns here, he couldn't count on any pistols), but offensive magic wasn't a card up his sleeve.

A different problem to fix at some later time, that.

"If it's a tempting enough stop, you might be able to try your luck. You never know." Though Childermass isn't sure he should encourage something like that. Of course, he's also sure enough that Strange doesn't have anywhere particular in mind, anyway. "But as varied as the stops must be, I wouldn't spend too much time dwelling on it. They can't all have cars."

Whereas Strange still has those pesky things like "morals" and "a gentleman's code of not killing" that prevent him from being all that use in a battle. The problem with incapacitating your enemy is that they'll eventually break free of said incapacitation.

"I suppose I'll only spend a small amount of time dwelling on it. Because the possibility to visit new worlds, new realms, each more odd and different than the last...how can you not dwell on it, if only for a little bit?"

"Not caring to dwell much on anything right now makes it considerably easier." Deadpan though he may be, now might be a good time to remind Strange of the original cause of Childermass retiring to the trailer without so much as a 'hey, I'm back'.

"But otherwise, I have no way of guessing where we might end up." The cards might help, if he had a full deck again, but even those might not be entirely accurate. "When it could be anywhere from the familiar to some place we could never even imagine."

They could be familiar, yeah well Strange isn't going to think about that because that part sucks. He's instead going to fill his head with flights of fancy and what-ifs.

And yeah, he is reminded again of why Childermass is back. Time to focus on that.

"I'd imagine that you'd dwell on a few things in your current state. Why they set you free, for example. If you're supposed to be secret and stealthy, it's a bit stupid to let someone who you interrogated free."

And here he'd been hoping it would remind Strange to leave, not pay attention to all the nagging little questions that Childermass has no answers for. He frowns, gaze wandering around the trailer for a moment before it comes back down to his own hands. He flexes his fingers, thinking, letting the silence drag out just a bit longer before looking up again.

"I have." He has been dwelling on all of that and he doesn't sound happy about it. "Even if they got what they wanted out of the other two, it doesn't make any sense. It doesn't even work as a warning."

Edited 2016-12-26 21:12 (UTC)

"The only thing it makes sense for is that if they wanted us to know that they kidnapped and interrogated you. But on further inspection, that makes no sense—a letter could do the same." Why let someone free after you've kidnapped them? As a show of power?

Of course, Strange is thinking about this in an all too human sort of way. The Matrix played by it's own rules, much like the carnival did. It wouldn't do any good to Wellington's sort of strategies or tactics he's seen used in the peninsula to this little tete-a-tete. It's a damn shame his little tincture of madness is back in Venice. A more maddened mind might be able to unravel this seemingly irrational question.

"And if they had wanted to scare anyone else off from returning, they wouldn't have fixed everything that they had done," he doesn't particularly want to add, but he will anyway. It's notable. Vexing, too. Why fix what they broke? To ensure he could get back? But for what reason?

"Or could it be they decided it isn't worth picking a fight with the Ringmaster?"

Another possibility. Even they had been talking about it, how powerful she might be, only a moment ago.

Now that turn of phrase catches Strange's attention. Fixed everything they had done? Well that logically means that they did something in the first place. Strange pauses for a moment, frowning as he thinks, and connects all the dots. A few moments later, the penny drops.

Oh. If he's right, and he hopes he's not right, then that would explain why Childermass is so tired.

As such, he's deathly serious when he asks, "What do you mean 'fixed everything they had done'?" He doubts he'll get an actual answer. After all, Childermass has a bit too much stubbornness to admit that he might have been seriously hurt. But it's certainly worth an ask.

"Doesn't much matter now, does it?"

Strange would be correct. He's not giving out an actual answer, as he thinks he's said quite enough already on the topic. It's probably just as cruel to leave Strange to imagining everything he might mean, but on this, Childermass will be selfish. Better to get over it, get on with life, and not suffer anyone's pity (as he rarely ever offers the same to anyone else, he doesn't care to be on that end of it, either).

So, no. No answer, no clarification, only a lackluster shrug and that.

"On the contrary, I think it matters tremendously." It matters tremendously because Childermass got hurt and Strange wants to know just what those bastards did to him. Of course, he realizes there's no way that Childermass is going to tell him what happened. There's a pause while Strange mentally tries to come up with a way that'll make Childermass actually say what happened, as unlikely as that is.

"I am a Nightrunner, after all. We were tasked with keeping an eye on the activity of the Agents." Which he failed at, but Strange is pushing that to the side for now. "For the sake of me doing my job, I need you to tell me what happened so that when I return to the Matrix, I'll be better prepared."

Apparently attempting to pull rank is the answer he came up with.

Pulling rank on Childermass, of all people, only earns him a peculiar look followed by a very mirthless, "Ha. So you are, aren't you? But you aren't the Nightrider. I already said I would speak with her in the morning. Anything of importance she decides to pass on is up to her."

Preferably, she won't ask too much about the torture. Mentioning it as vaguely as possible is his his own plan right now.

That's it, that's the last plan that Strange has. He can't help but scowl at Chilermass as he slumps forward in his chair with a little frown. Because again, if Childermass doesn't want to tell him what happened, he's got a strong feeling Childermass won't tell him what happened.

"And I thought I was the one who was supposed to be difficult."

"Then you do not know me as well as you must think you do," he replies, for once getting to be the smug-sounding one.

[OPEN] how long is forever?

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