lostcarnival | [ota] have to believe we are magic

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[ota] have to believe we are magic

WHO: Jonathan Strange & you!
WHERE: various points around the carnival
WHEN: Days 33/34
WHAT: actually doing his job + failing a bit at magic + accidentally succeeding a bit at magic
WARNINGS: n/a!

in the main tent: showing off some
To the surprise of everybody, Strange is actually doing his damn job. Granted, his damn job of a magician instead of his damn job as a mercenary with the Nightrunners, but he's staying in the carnival for now, trying to keep an eye on Childermass as best he can. After all, Strange knew in theory that Childermass knew how to rest, but he wasn't entirely sure if he knew in practice.

So here he is, in the main tent, actually practicing. Sometimes you can find him just staring at a candelabra, as if staring will magically make it do something. Other times, Strange is actually working magic, as a giant top made out of the dirt floor of the tent spins around the stage, or animals made of straw prance around the area.

The most notable thing about all this? Strange looks downright relaxed as he works his magic, possibly the most relaxed he's been since he first arrived.

anywhere: like the one thing childermass is better at than him
Something's weird about that patch of shadows out of the corner of your eye. It almost seems like it's trying too hard to be shadows. The stillness is unnatural and you can't shake the feeling you're being watched. It's not changing with the light, instead the shadows remain just shadows, no matter what. Occasionally, facial features can be made out in the shadows, that of a tall, wild-haired man, concentrating very hard on not being seen.

And then the shadows sneeze. Whoops.

"Damn," Strange can't help but swear to himself as he suddenly becomes visible, peeling himself off the shadows of whatever building he's up against. He sniffles a bit as he carefully rubs at his nose with clawed hands. "I still don't entirely understand how he manages to do it so well."

trailer 29: sorry y'all his bad
Strange is in his trailer (which honestly, is a bit of a mess, with stacks of paper on too many surfaces, this is what you get when you give the eccentric a closed space.) He sits at the table, a candelabra in front of him. Match lit, Strange mutters something under his breath before he lights the candle.

What he muttered was a summoning spell, something to summon a faerie. After all, it worked back home, why not see if it works here, while they're in faerie. The worst that could happen was that it didn't work, after all (Strange has very low standards for 'the worst that can happen') So, as the candle is lit, you find yourself randomly in this guy's trailer...and wow, is Strange a bit confused at your arrival.

"Hmm. It wasn't supposed to bring in workers."

( ooc: so because I thought it's hilarious, I kept Strange's ability to summon fairies except, surprise, it's weird in the carnival and he's equally likely to have summoned someone tainted with faerie magic aka characters in the game. This'll default more to veteran characters/characters with more changes but if you want your character to have been pulled out of what they were doing to appear in some rando's trailer, I am all for that! drop me a pm or plurk @allikateor if you have any questions! )

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"You'll have to move to various places throughout the audience if you're going to do that," Strange says, as if it's the most obvious thing ever. He walks back towards the center of the ring where there's an unlit candlestick just sitting there.

"After all, I'll have to make sure that I don't set anyone in the audience on fire, not just the people sitting in your area."

"I suppose the people sitting in the other areas are quite out of luck, now aren't they?"

Because just as it's obvious that truly testing for safety would require that, it's also very obvious that Childermass isn't all that keen on moving around. It doesn't have anything to do with laziness, either (though certain gentlemen back in London would assume so; a good thing their opinions never counted).

He managed to get to the main tent, if only to keep an eye on Strange. Anything more than that, well, he doesn't actually want to admit weakness, so here we are.

"I'll see if Joker can put a little disclaimer on the advertisements. Warning: for your own safety, it might not be a good idea to sit in these sections unless you feel like being particularly warm."

It's just as wry and slightly sarcastic as expected. After all, Strange isn't going to purposefully try to set people on fire. And Childermass knows that. As he bends down at the candlestick, Strange pulls some matches out of his coat pocket and lights the candle. Standing back up, he walks backwards a bit, hands pointing towards the candle as Strange mutters various incantations under his breath.

And then the flame from the candle rapidly expands into a decently sized pillar of fire and shoots about ten feet in the air. It returns to a candle-sized flame soon enough but Strange doesn't entirely look too pleased at this display of pyrotechnics/the reason why the tent's fireproof.

"It's still so dull," he can't help but complain. Yes, ten feet of HUGEASS FLAMES qualify as dull.

On one hand, ten foot tall pillar of fire. On the other, well, even Childermass knows the man is capable of much more than that. With that knowledge, it is dull by comparison, especially when it isn't actually doing anything besides shooting upwards (and thank goodness the place really is fireproof).

Even so, Childermass is still a little slow to react, to respond, though gauging how impressive something is from him alone would be an incredibly poor plan. Even if he wasn't still recovering, he's not exactly keen on letting what he really thinks show too often.

"Because it's not really doing anything," Is what he'll eventually point out, once he's had a moment to think and generally dredge up a reason to care about whatever nonsense Strange is trying to plan out for his act. "It just shoots up one way. What's the use of that?"

"You're right," Strange can't help but admit, with a frown. After all, it just shot up. That might be impressive for someone who knows nothing about magic, but for Strange it's so dull.

Holding his hands up, Strange mutters something under his breath. And then, in regular voice, he starts to speak. "I am supposed to be a performer, after all. What we need is a bit of showmanship!"

When he said that, Strange thrusts his hands forward, in the direction of Childermass. The flames turn into tendrils of fire, snaking their way across each other, on top of each other, in Childermass's general direction. With the magic, Strange is planning to have it stop just before the fire touches Childermass. However...it's entirely possible that Strange isn't as precise as he's trying to be.

Maybe it was a bad idea to offer an opinion on this, since Childermass hadn't really meant for him to do this instead. Yes, fire only going up is dull, but shooting fire at him is — while not dull — kind of dangerous. Where he hadn't been so inclined to move before, one could say he's motivated to it now, because Strange has misjudged the distance.

It isn't until a few seconds too late that Childermass realizes this, however. He assumed the flame would stop short, just the same as Strange had, but then he feels the heat on his face and it's a split-second reaction that saves most of him. He throws himself to the side, the fire snaking over a shoulder instead.

So, he's gone from hanging out idly in the stands watching to throwing himself to the stand's floor, making sure his shirt is only smoldering and not ablaze. Good job, Strange. Excellent work.

It's amazing how fast Strange goes from smugness at the fact that he did something impressive to confusion at why the flames are going further than expected to sheer panic because oh damn, he almost set Childermass on fire. Almost instantly he retreats the flames back to the candle, which is still flickering in the middle of the room like nothing happened and just rushes over to Childermass.

A little part of his brain points out that the carnival does have a doctor, they'd be able to fix things if Childermass was severely burned (hopefully, maybe). But that one little sensible part is currently being smothered by the rest of his brain loudly pointing out that again, he set Childermass on fire, what sort of rubbish magician was he?! That was a novice mistake, something that shouldn't have happened and really, he'll just have to do better next time.

"Are you hurt?" Strange calls out, as he approaches Childermass, quickly scanning the man for any sort of obvious wound and cursing himself that he doesn't know any healing magic. That might actually be useful! "Here, let me see your shoulder."

Whether he's injured or not isn't immediately visible, but his shoulder is smoking, the cloth of his shirt blackened. Considering he put what fire did manage to catch out with a bare hand, Strange can probably guess (and be correct) that there's been some burning. Childermass leaves his hand over the burnt patch, though, as if trying to keep whether he actually is hurt or not from being noticed.

"Remember when I asked you not to set the audience on fire?" He growls the words through clenched teeth, using his free hand to push himself back up to sit. While he's not trying to make a show of any pain, oh boy, you'd better believe he looks pissed for all of, perhaps, ten seconds before he tamps down on it.

He's not going to yell at Strange. He can deal with this. Just count backwards to one and--

There. He ends up breathing out a sigh instead of snapping at the other magician any further and glances over at his shoulder. Not smoking anymore, so that's good enough for him to shake his head at Strange.

"No. It's fine." Yes. Absolutely fine. "You have no idea how far the seats are from the center, do you?"

Strange notices. Childermass put out the fire with his hand, one doesn't have to be a doctor to realize that means at least his hand got burned, possibly more of him. Inwardly he again curses himself for his rashness. There's no harm in showing off. There is harm when someone gets hurt.

"I must have misjudged the distance," he offers as a weak explanation, absolutely apologetic all the while. No, this is all his fault, he rushed into things and tried to do too much too fast and congratulations, you set Childermass on fire.

(A little voice in the back of his head points out that Norrell never set anyone on fire. Strange seriously considers punting that little voice off a cliff.)

"Come," Strange says, offering a hand for Childermass to stand up. "We're going to the doctor."

It's the least he can do. Despite his intentions, he hurt Childermass, making certain the man gets proper medical treatment is literally the bare minimum he can do for his actions. Of course, Strange doesn't know yet that the doctor's a horse but she's in the doctor position, she must at least know some sort of healing arts.

"I said it's fine," Childermass repeats himself, though he does accept the hand up. Once up, he'll pull his other hand away from his shoulder and crane his head that way, trying to get a better look at the damage. "I believe you've done more damage to my shirt than anything else."

First the Monster Book of Monster wrecks one, now this. Seems he'll be having bad luck with shirts, if he's already getting them ruined at the rate of two in less then four weeks.

As for the hand he put the fire out with, that immediately went into a pocket once he was back up on his feet. That did get the brunt of it and, on some bizarre level, he's glad for it. It distracts from the phantom pain of other recent (though now miraculously gone) injuries. Furthermore, the idea of going to see the doctor at all--

Why does it bother him? He has nothing against Zecora, even aware, unlike Strange, of her being as far away from human as humanly possible. Still, he'd rather avoid her. For this, it's nothing he can't take care of himself, so why bother?

"Perhaps you should limit the fire to the center for now, if you still intend on including it," he'll add, trying to change the topic back to Strange's act. On the bright side, he doesn't sound too upset by the whole ordeal. Just another day of dealing with magic.

Trying to change the topic doesn't work. Strange is watching Childermass as he inspects his shirt and dismisses the damage. He knows there's a burn on his hand. Logically speaking, there must be. And the sooner that it gets treated, the better.

So why is he saying he's fine? Strange assumes this is just some sort of stoic thing, that Childermass is being Childermass, forging through the pain because he's stubborn and stoic and grumpy.

Of course, Strange's guilt at hurting someone with his magic is playing an equally big role in why he's certain Childermass needs medical attention. This is, after all, his fault.

"Are you sure? You did dodge most of it but it looked like a rather nasty burn."

He knows where the medical tent was, even if he didn't know who Zecora was. There aren't any mirrors in the big top, but he did spot a puddle in the far corner, probably from an overturned bucket of water or perhaps a remnant of cleaning. He had traveled that way before--the reflection of water wasn't too different from the reflection of a mirror. Of course, the problem was that he hasn't tried that sort of travel with a passenger before.

Still, if Childermass was going to be so damn stubborn, this might as well be a good time to try it out.

There he goes again, worrying. People shouldn't worry about him, not Childermass, and even if he hadn't been unknowingly, unnaturally disinclined towards the idea of doctors and anyone looking too closely at him, the situation might still be the same. A burn on his hand isn't the worst he's had, meaning it isn't worth the trouble for now.

"Hardly that bad," he says, shifting back a step away from Strange, almost as if he's already suspecting the other man might be plotting something. It pays to be suspicious, it really does. "I didn't give what did catch me much time to spread, so there was barely any fire at all."

Of course, the problem now is finding a way to get Childermass over to the puddle. Strange doubts he can simply say something like 'Childermass, come look at this interesting puddle I found!'. He needs an excuse, he needs to lie, and he needs to sell the lie to Childermass, each of which seems exponentially more difficult the more he thinks about it.

"Perhaps this is a sign that I shouldn't use fire in my act." There's a pause, as Strange looks around the room, eyes lighting on the puddle as if he's spotted it for the first time. "At least with water, the most someone can get is wet."

Strange idly walks over towards the puddle as he sends the water up in the air, making the puddle into a small fountain for a moment or two. "I'd need more water, though. The most you could use something like this for is peering in on someone."

Wait. That might work. It's apparent from Strange's face that he's planning something, but what it is, Childermass couldn't tell. If he could convince Childermass that his magic could somehow peer back in on London, that might draw him over. After all, at least in Strange's time, Norrell's still being a busybody all around London. Surely Childermass would want to see what his employer was up to, right? Maybe? It's the barest hint of a plan but it would at least get Childermass over here. And hey, he couldn't peer back into London using a spell for seeing where a specific person was, but if he tried a different spell, maybe there would be different results! He'd lure Childermass over here and learn more about faerie's limitations on his magic, two birds with one stone!

A look of wild glee on his face, Strange turns towards some of the scattered straw he was using earlier and starts rummaging through it, as if searching for something specific among the straw.

Of course, nowhere in Strange's mind has he taken into account that the plan might not work.

Whatever he'd been expecting from Strange before, this was not it, and he would no doubt be glad to know he's been at least somewhat cunning about his plotting. To Childermass, it looks as though he's finally taken to the change in topic, a mad mind discarding the current problem for the next: his act. With that seeming the case, Childermass relaxes, tension bleeding out of him even as the burn on his hand stings.

He'll deal with that, though best to look for something to tie around it until he can, and since he's already leaving the stands to join Strange down down on the tent's center stage. He isn't going to go stand over the magician while he digs through straw, however, instead making a line for the backstage, where all the extra props, materials, and various other items for the different acts are kept.

"If you're going to do that instead, at least use some clean water," he'll tell Strange as he goes on by and then past the curtains. Back there, he'll be a moment, first finding what would more or less be considered the first aid kit. He'll at least wrap his hand before setting all that aside and searching out a pitcher and then the nearest faucet.

He'll be gone several minutes, sure, but he'll return in the end, one (burnt) hand back in his pocket and a full pitcher in the other. He'll end up by the table Strange had left the candle on, setting it there. In all honesty, fetching water is such a second nature task for him at this point, he's almost surprised not to find a basin already sitting out, but of course, that isn't what Strange wanted water for, right?

"You might consider a barrel of water later, for anything bigger. I know they have those around somewhere."

By the time Childermass is returned, Strange has found the driest, most withered pieces of straw in the pile. He separates them into two pieces, placing them on either side of the puddle. In theory, the spell should work. Substitute a mirror for another reflective surface, substitute the withered straw for the dead flowers, a recitation and presto, the spell to know what my enemy is currently doing.

Now here comes the hard part. Because, to Strange's annoyance, the spell didn't work. He's just staring at his reflection, not watching Norrell do...whatever he's doing back in London. Probably talking to Lascelles or something equally irritating. But he needs to convince Childermass that the spell did work if he wants to get him over here and transport the two at least to the general vicinity of the doctor's tent. What would Arabella think if she saw him like this, acting? He'd tried many professions before settling on magician but none of them had been actor.

Well, one way to find out just how good he is. Strange looks over at Childermass, looking smug and triumphant. "A spell to see what my enemy is doing," he explains, mad grin on his face, as he stands back up. "The first piece of magic I've ever performed, this time with slight moderations. Come over here and take a look. I'm sure you'll be interested at the results."

A technical truth: he'll be interested to see that nothing happened before Strange attempts to transport them out of there.

With slight moderations is quickly becoming a dreaded phrase to hear out of Strange's mouth, so one must forgive Childermass if he does not walk over to look immediately. He lingers by the table, frowning in a puzzled way. A spell to see what his enemy is doing, he's heard that said often enough before, but from Mr. Norrell, not from Mr. Strange, and one of the spells he had lost years and years ago to a completely different madman.

"Was it?" He wonders, had he ever heard that story before? No. The first magic he recalls from Strange is what he had shown off all the way back in Hanover Square and it hadn't been that. "A strange spell to pick for your first," he adds thoughtfully, wondering why Strange would need a spell like that so early on, but the past isn't really what they were discussing before.

He'll move on, though he won't walk over just yet.

"And a strange spell to pick for an audience, too. They won't be able to see anything, much less care who your enemy might be."

But it could be Strange being, well, strange again, distracted by the first spell to come to mind...

"I beg your pardon?" Strange can't help but respond, honestly confused as Childermass mentions doing the spell for an audience. Well that makes no sense. The audience, why would he do any of this for an audience? Then the pieces connect and he makes a noise of recognition, before shaking his head.

"Oh, no, this isn't for the audience. This is simply to see if I could do it." But since Childermass isn't coming over just yet, Strange is going to just keep pretending that nothing's wrong, that the spell worked perfectly, as he looks down at the puddle as if he can see things that aren't his reflection.

"A man under a hedge sold the spell to me back at Shropshire," just said nonchalantly as if men under hedges make perfect sense. "I took it, I performed it, it worked. I decided that was reason enough to become a magician."

But why isn't he coming over...ah. And then Strange realizes, of course Childermass is staying over there, he doesn't know that Norrell counts as Strange's enemy (although really, who else would it be? The man destroyed his book, after all) ergo he's not interested in what's happening at the first place. He probably thinks Strange's enemy is Drawlight or someone else. Well, time to attempt to draw him in further. Strange wrinkles his nose as if spotting something distasteful, looking down at the puddle again while trying to keep Childermass in the corner of his vision.

"And there he is, talking with Lascelles again," just said a little bit too casually. "I honestly don't see what Norrell sees in that man."

A man under a hedge.

Yeah. He can believe that, actually, all too well.

"I don't suppose that man had a name, did he?" Childermass has to ask, purely out of curiosity. It no longer matters, of course, but it wouldn't hurt him to know. Though if he'll ever get an answer to that is up in the air, because Strange goes on to mention Lascelles and it takes some effort to not go over there immediately to look. What Strange will see from the corner of his eye is how just mentioning that damn name gets a brief flicker of irritation, because, man, that guy...

Though it might surprise Strange that he's well aware that, if he's using that spell, he isn't at all shocked he's spying on Norrell and his nasty little Londoner friends. That he could get through Faerie to do so is impressive, though, so, after trying to decide if looking into the past might be detrimental somehow or not, he gives up and gives in to curiosity.

Childermass leaves the table's side, idly pocketing his other hand as if to even things out for the time being. Oh, he'll cross over to where Strange is looming over the puddle, just as planned. He's going to be kicking himself later for trusting any of this, but for now, here he is, trying to peer over Strange's shoulder.

"I could make a few guesses, but none of them would be very kind--" Wait. Something's wrong here, nothing but reflections in the little pool of water. His brow furrows, he frowns. "Where are you seeing them?"

Edited 2016-12-28 04:04 (UTC)

Victory.

When Childermass starts walking towards him, Strange looks away for a moment, so that he can get as much of the incantation muttered before Childermass spots him, realizes he's casting a spell, and then bolts. Thankfully (or not thankfully for poor Childermass), Strange manages the incantation right as he arrives. With a triumphant look in his eyes, he grabs Childermass's good hand and steps right into the puddle.

One moment they're there, and the next they're not as the two magicians vanish into the puddle. One of the tricks of the carnival's magic is the lack of King's Roads—it's less than a second later when the two of them appear, standing in another puddle outside of the big top and among an array of tents. Of course, there's not any puddles inside the doctor's tent. And, considering that Strange was aiming for 'as close to the tent as possible', there's enough distance when they pop out that they aren't directly at the tent. Strange can't help but let out a triumphant little laugh as he straight up attempts to yank poor Childermass in the direction of the doctor's tent.

"Come! We're headed this way." And he starts walking, assuming that of course he'll be able to pull Childermass along behind him. Of course, Strange seems to have forgotten that if it's a contest of brute strength between him and Childermass, Childermass is definitely going to win.

Strange will get about three steps worth of dragging Childermass along before he recovers from the entire 'dragged from one location to another' ordeal. That had been very sudden, unexpected, and it had thrown him off for about a handful of seconds. Then he realizes they're no longer in the big tent and, to his own dismay, closer to the one place he's been avoiding since he got back.

"No, we are not."

He doesn't yell. He isn't much for yelling. No, his words are quiet, but angry, threatening in a way that doesn't need to be loud. The next time Strange tries to yank on his arm, he'll find the man he's pulling along will not be moved, as he digs a heel into the ground and yanks right back. If he can, he'll pull Strange right back the other way, only he won't be moving from where he stands, so it'll be pulling him right back into Childermass himself.

Ever wanted to experience what a headlock feels like, Strange? Because guess what, today is his lucky day! As that'll be his fate, provided he doesn't slip away before he's caught.

Strange has absolutely no idea what a headlock feels like. As such, he's not expecting a headlock in the slightest. So it's far too easy for Childermass to yank him back over there and put him in a headlock. Almost instantly, Strange starts squirming, as if he can somehow wriggle out of this mess. It's harder than expected.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

In between squirms, he manages to look up at Childermass, giving him an exasperated frown. "Is this really necessary?"

Says the man who caused all this drama in the first place.

"I believe that's the question I should be asking you," Childermass points out, not at all lessening his hold on the man. "Haven't you already caused enough trouble for the day?"

"If you agreed to visit the doctor, I wouldn't have caused this trouble in the first place!" Strange rebuts, still trying to squirm his way out of the headlock. Of course, he needed to see the doctor because of Strange causing trouble to begin with, but that is not the important point here.

"It's barely worth the doctor's attention," he'll disagree before setting Strange loose with a shove, to make sure the magician is at least a few paces away from him when he regains his balance. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I'll take your earlier advice."

Which was, of course, that he shouldn't be out and about in the first place. That all said, Childermass turns to go.

Strange really doesn't want to get shoved in a headlock again. So, as Childermass starts to leave, he'll let the man do so, not really moving to make any sort of attempts to stop him.

However, he will call out, just to get the last word. "There's no harm in visiting the doctor's, you know!"

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atouts - 2016-12-29 04:56 (UTC) - Expand

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kingsroads - 2016-12-29 15:09 (UTC) - Expand

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[ota] have to believe we are magic

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keywords. c:

boo rash decisions >:[

noooo rash decisions are the best

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