Lars (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mossbuds) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2017-01-10 06:09 pm
mossbuds) wrote in lostcarnival2017-01-10 06:09 pm
Entry tags:
ITP: LARS DEALS WITH STRESS POORLY (A SHOCKER)
Who: Lars and YOUUUUUU
When: S1:D41 morning, afternoon and late night
Where: 1) home trailer, 2) ferriswheel, 3) misc right
What: Lars gets his first changes! And also, loses his mind a little! He's shaken up by changes, and also the events from the Matrix finale.
Warnings: As always, Lars's potty mouth. But also, booze?????
BTW i will mimic format- so if you wanna do prose or action either's cool
➨ 1. Holy Fuck Not This Shit (closed to Strange)
Lars wakes groggily, feeling exhausted. His sleep schedule's all fucked up—he hasn't been able to sleep well since the shooting at the Big Top, and not having work to drag his ass out of bed just makes the problem worse. Miserable as he is, on top of sleepless nights, it's so easy to just stay in bed all day. But even for Lars, it's been a lot of sleep.
Having concluded his 13 hours of recent sleep around 2pm, Lars finally pushes himself up. He then realizes his mouth feels—weird. He moves his tongue in his mouth, which feels too full, and finds his teeth feel... thinner. Horrified and suddenly very awake, Lars lurches forward, parting his mouth a little bit to touch his teeth—which are all thin, long and sharp, doubled in number.
In response, Lars lets out a pretty long, shrill scream.
➨ 2. Drown Your Sorrows (or Don't)
It has been a pretty dang shitty couple of weeks. Besides having his second harrowing near death encounter with Steven, wherein he was almost shot one or nine times, that which Lars has been anticipating with dread for several weeks has finally occurred. After following up the horrifying discovery of his first transformation with an undoubtedly infuriating exchange with his annoying roommate, Lars has decided to finally get the hell out of the trailer, for better or for worse.
Overwhelmed with despair, anxiety and this momentary anger, Lars decides to follow some very stupid advice, because he's completely at a loss. He doesn't have any friends here—besides Steven, who Lars wouldn't want to unload on (he has trouble opening up to even his best friends; he wasn't about to make a kid listen to that), and he doesn't have any sufficient distractions for his rapid firing Gen X brain. So after a few cursory inquiries, Lars gets to the cook house. And with entitled confidence, he swipes a bottle of liquor, but does wait until he's positive he won't really be caught.
He shoves into his bomber jacket side, zipping it, and squeezes it in place with his elbow as he storms out. Kind of following another thread of advice, Lars heads for the ferris wheel. It's currently unmanned, since it's off week, and Lars abuses his POWER OF KEYS!! to open up the gate around it and clamber into one of the low hanging carriages.
There, he shoves himself down on the seat, scowling. He fishes out the bottle, grumbling as he screws off the cap of it, his head a dumb echo chamber of self pity—and naturally, follows that up with a swig of what appears to be some heavy, brown liquor. His eyes immediately go wide and he sputters, only managing to swallow half his swig before he spits the rest out gracelessly. This dissolves into a bunch of coughing and a hard, full body shudder as Lars winces his eyes shut, hiding his mouth behind his sleeve as he attempts to recover.
Whyyyy do people drink this shit, actually?????
➨ 3. Panic! At the Center Stage
Having failed miserably at unwinding his tension that day, and having woken up rather late, Lars is wide awake and anxious around midnight. He made it back to his trailer earlier in the night, but is feeling restless again. He gets up, grabs his bomber and abruptly departs again.
He decides going for a walk—a sober walk (not that he'd even gotten drunk) at night in the crisp air might soothe his brain a little bit. Well, maybe. So he just anxiously strolls about at a quick, unrelated pace, his arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket with stiff, uncomfortable posture. As he's walking, he feels himself actually begin to get worse—he increases the pace of his steps to a jog as he feels his heart race for no reason.
He squeezes his eyes shut as he begins to run, veering away from the center stage in a hurry. He stops somewhere near the misc right, winded, and rests his palms on top of his knees as he hangs his head. Once he kind of catches his breath, he hiccups a little with a small sob, chin dimpling. He straightens up, putting his hands over his face as he takes a deep breath, trying to get himself to calm down so he doesn't cry in public like a complete fuckin' baby.
[ooc: for reference, he looks like this!]
When: S1:D41 morning, afternoon and late night
Where: 1) home trailer, 2) ferriswheel, 3) misc right
What: Lars gets his first changes! And also, loses his mind a little! He's shaken up by changes, and also the events from the Matrix finale.
Warnings: As always, Lars's potty mouth. But also, booze?????
BTW i will mimic format- so if you wanna do prose or action either's cool
➨ 1. Holy Fuck Not This Shit (closed to Strange)
Lars wakes groggily, feeling exhausted. His sleep schedule's all fucked up—he hasn't been able to sleep well since the shooting at the Big Top, and not having work to drag his ass out of bed just makes the problem worse. Miserable as he is, on top of sleepless nights, it's so easy to just stay in bed all day. But even for Lars, it's been a lot of sleep.
Having concluded his 13 hours of recent sleep around 2pm, Lars finally pushes himself up. He then realizes his mouth feels—weird. He moves his tongue in his mouth, which feels too full, and finds his teeth feel... thinner. Horrified and suddenly very awake, Lars lurches forward, parting his mouth a little bit to touch his teeth—which are all thin, long and sharp, doubled in number.
In response, Lars lets out a pretty long, shrill scream.
➨ 2. Drown Your Sorrows (or Don't)
It has been a pretty dang shitty couple of weeks. Besides having his second harrowing near death encounter with Steven, wherein he was almost shot one or nine times, that which Lars has been anticipating with dread for several weeks has finally occurred. After following up the horrifying discovery of his first transformation with an undoubtedly infuriating exchange with his annoying roommate, Lars has decided to finally get the hell out of the trailer, for better or for worse.
Overwhelmed with despair, anxiety and this momentary anger, Lars decides to follow some very stupid advice, because he's completely at a loss. He doesn't have any friends here—besides Steven, who Lars wouldn't want to unload on (he has trouble opening up to even his best friends; he wasn't about to make a kid listen to that), and he doesn't have any sufficient distractions for his rapid firing Gen X brain. So after a few cursory inquiries, Lars gets to the cook house. And with entitled confidence, he swipes a bottle of liquor, but does wait until he's positive he won't really be caught.
He shoves into his bomber jacket side, zipping it, and squeezes it in place with his elbow as he storms out. Kind of following another thread of advice, Lars heads for the ferris wheel. It's currently unmanned, since it's off week, and Lars abuses his POWER OF KEYS!! to open up the gate around it and clamber into one of the low hanging carriages.
There, he shoves himself down on the seat, scowling. He fishes out the bottle, grumbling as he screws off the cap of it, his head a dumb echo chamber of self pity—and naturally, follows that up with a swig of what appears to be some heavy, brown liquor. His eyes immediately go wide and he sputters, only managing to swallow half his swig before he spits the rest out gracelessly. This dissolves into a bunch of coughing and a hard, full body shudder as Lars winces his eyes shut, hiding his mouth behind his sleeve as he attempts to recover.
Whyyyy do people drink this shit, actually?????
➨ 3. Panic! At the Center Stage
Having failed miserably at unwinding his tension that day, and having woken up rather late, Lars is wide awake and anxious around midnight. He made it back to his trailer earlier in the night, but is feeling restless again. He gets up, grabs his bomber and abruptly departs again.
He decides going for a walk—a sober walk (not that he'd even gotten drunk) at night in the crisp air might soothe his brain a little bit. Well, maybe. So he just anxiously strolls about at a quick, unrelated pace, his arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket with stiff, uncomfortable posture. As he's walking, he feels himself actually begin to get worse—he increases the pace of his steps to a jog as he feels his heart race for no reason.
He squeezes his eyes shut as he begins to run, veering away from the center stage in a hurry. He stops somewhere near the misc right, winded, and rests his palms on top of his knees as he hangs his head. Once he kind of catches his breath, he hiccups a little with a small sob, chin dimpling. He straightens up, putting his hands over his face as he takes a deep breath, trying to get himself to calm down so he doesn't cry in public like a complete fuckin' baby.
[ooc: for reference, he looks like this!]
no subject
"There's plenty of stories where someone's taken into Faerie to lose control of their facilities. I'm sure you'll have trouble wrapping your head around this idea in the first place, but it could easily be worse."
LMAO OOPS FUCK PRETEND I HAVENT BEEN FORGETTING LARS'S LISP
Lars does seem to calm down a little, but he looks a little stuck and troubled on Strange's words.
"...What'a ya mean, though? About like—lothin' control of fathilitieth or whatever?"
Normally, Lars has no patience for nonsense like the explanations of other worldly lifeforms and all the surrounding conspiracy, due to a former friend back home he had a falling out with. The dude is absolutely nuts, in Lars's opinion, and nuts. Completely fanatical, just the same as Strange; in fact, Strange's company might be a little irrationally scathing to Lars for the inadvertant painful reminders it sometimes brings.
But he doesn't dismiss all of Strange's explanations. First of all, they're in a faerie realm, so the evidence of it being real, actual shit is literally all around Lars. Second of all, Strange is—outwardly, less crazy, maybe because he has the advantage of age over Lars's stranged friend.
I WILL GLADLY PRETEND SO
"Well, unless the faerie wishes to be seen, it's hard for a human to see them in the first place. At least in my world, the only way one could surely see a faerie was to be mad. I might certainly still be mad, but I doubt other members of the carnival are." Without really dwelling on that one point, Strange continues, fully expecting Lars to pay attention as he metaphorically talks shop.
"Likewise, there are stories of people brought into faerie and put under an enchantment, tricked to see glittering houses and glistening rooms when, in reality, they might be trapped in a hovel of some sort. Granted, it is a possibility that we're all under an enchantment as well. However, if that is the case, then it's a shoddy one at best. Take the Matrix—what use would there be to make us think that the Ringmaster made a poor choice by sending us somewhere like that? Thinking one's in mortal peril makes for terrible working conditions."
no subject
This feeling has happened to Lars once or twice, and he doesn't really know what it is to call it by its name—but its a panic attack. He's thought of words to say to respond to Strange, but he's all choked up and frozen. He lowers his head, kind of clutching between his throat and chest as he drops his head a little, taking some scattered, struggling and deep breaths in. The information Strange gives out certainly doesn't do well to make him feel better, especially when coupled with the general magical dysphoria he's experiencing.
no subject
Strange just kind of loiters close to Lars, frowning slightly because it's obvious that something's wrong, it's obvious that his information didn't really do much to help (turns out when someone says 'how could this possibly be worse,' describing how it could be worse is not the answer.) It's also obvious that he has no damn clue what to do in this sort of situation. He's having trouble breathing, that much is obvious enough. But what do you say with something like that, what do you do to
"Lars?" Strange carefully asks, bending down slightly to just try and see his face better, to see if he's crying or actually breathing, or what have you. Well one thing's obvious, the poor fellow's having trouble breathing. "Lars, is there something I can do? Do you need a glass of water?"
He's trying. But the fact is, Strange has absolutely no idea what to do in a situation like this. Maybe...maybe he was scared? If so, how on Earth could he help? Strange knows from experience that the way to stop someone from being scared isn't to simply say 'you're being ridiculous, don't be scared.' But what to do...he's got only the barest idea.