lostcarnival | [open]

Who: Lambert and YOU
Where: The Carnival
When: During the downtime between Atlantis and their next world.
What: Any Witcher worth his salt knows the first thing you should do when you're in an unfamiliar environment: get the lay of the land.

1. not the nurse you're looking for
[ You might have come into the medical tent looking for supplies or something else. If you were looking for Zecora, prepare to be disappointed because there's a scarred man scowling heavily as he clatters around the place, not working on anything in particular.

He doesn't seem to register there's someone else around -- or is he just straight up ignoring you??? ]

2. by the woods

[ With the carnival no longer water-logged, Lambert's taken a walk of the perimeter, even stepped into the edge of the woods, but he hasn't tried to press any further, although he's stood and looked at it for some time.

There's no sense letting his skills get rusty, so he mostly spends the time-- night or day-- sparring invisible enemies, steel sword flashing as he weaves it through the air.

When he's not swinging a sword around, you'll find him sitting on the dirt, legs folded under him and eyes closed. ]

3. getting to know you?

[ Lambert doesn't normally care about getting to know people, but he also normally doesn't stay anywhere longer than a few months, either. And that's at Kaer Morhen, where he can always get blind drunk and fuck off into the woods and kill some drowners if he needs to let off some steam instead of dealing with the other Witcher.

If he's going to be here for a year and a day? He's going to at least need to know names.

So wherever you are, whatever you're up to, you might notice a newcomer watching you for a few moments before he speaks up. ]

So what do you do around here?

4. wildcard!
[ If we discussed a previous scenario or you just want to do something not covered here, go for it! I'll match whatever prose style you go with. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Its all just so ... amiable. Lambert doesn't trust it, and he can't shake the feeling that any moment now someone's going to leap out from the shadows to yell "gotcha" for falling for it all, but he should ... also probably put out the fire on his clothes before he's left wearing nothing. This is a probably a stupid thing to do, but he takes a step back and draws the sword back with him, using one hand to shape the sign to extinguish the fire on his clothing and not yet sheathing his blade.

And then a horrible idea occurs to him. ]

Are you supposed to be my ... "roommate"? [ He asks slowly, in the tone of one not entirely familiar with the concept. ]

[Well, that's more like it. Now the majority of burning objects in the trailer are supposed to be on fire, and nobody's nearly stabbing anybody else, and they can continue having their pre-fight conversation.

Mostly. His new, equally alarmed roommate still has a weapon out. What is it with his roommates being so startled at the sight of him, anyway? Is it his stunning good looks? Has somebody been telling tall tales to the new people before he greets them? That sounds like something some japesters would do.]

No, don't be absurd! [The skeleton shakes his head, before quickly pointing at Lambert.] This humble trailer has been my home for months. You're supposed to be my roommate.

[ The eeriest part, Lambert decides, is how the skeleton doesn't have lips or vocal chords and is apparently perfectly capable of speaking and a full range of emotional expression regardless. He's almost too distracted by that to process what he says next, though it's enough to make him cock his head.

Rooming with skeletons. Now that's a story the other Witchers wouldn't believe if he told them. ]

I don't like surprises. [ Is what he offers, in lieu of an apology. It wouldn't be very sincere, anyway. ] And the undead aren't usually talkative where I'm from.

[ He's still wary, but ... if he needs to, he can always draw his sword again, so he sheathes it on his back. ] I'm Lambert.

[It's a surprise to think that anyone wouldn't like surprises. Is that hypocritical, disliking something but giving it to others anyway? Or is that the easiest way to get rid of them?

He shakes the train of thought off, and raises a thumb at Lambert.]

Oh! I'll remember that. No surprises for you. And I... am Papyrus! Like it says on my mailbox.

[His empty, empty mailbox.]

But I'm not dead, I'm a very living skeleton! Unless undead means someone who un-died. I guess that counts.

A lot of people are very living skeletons. I'm a living skeleton. It's just usually under muscle and skin.

[ He can't stop staring at the way the bone moves, the hard to miss gaps in his abdomen, and Papyrus' general ... every thing. ]

And you've ... always been this way? [ His next guess was that it was some kind of curse, but... that doesn't seem to be the case. ]

Mostly! I was shorter as a kid -- Wait.

Really???

[This revelation startles him more than surprise swords and fire. Papyrus gapes at Lambert, looking him over.]

Don't you get cramped in there??

[ ... Is he serious? Lambert can't really read facial expressions on bone all that well, but he seems pretty serious. ]

... It doesn't feel like it, since I was born this way.

Don't you feel kind of naked?

[ Can skeletons even feel pain??? The fire sure hadn't seemed to bother him. ]

[Papyrus looks down at himself as if double-checking before answering.]

No? I'm wearing clothing.

Oh! Is that what it's like? Clothing, or... very thick hair?

[If humans are actually secretly very furry skeletons, that would explain their skeletal iconography. That leaves a mess of questions about monsters back home, but those can wait until one's around.]

[ This conversation has gone to a very strange place, that's for sure... also, how would a monster that's never had hair even know what hair feels like??? MYSTERIES. ]

A little more permanent than that, so not really. Have you never seen a human before?

[ Not that he thinks of himself as one most days, but, you know. Details. ]

[Lambert has yet to experience the wonders of liminal makeover spaces. Trying out having hair was the very first thing that Papyrus did in the Matrix. For several hours, and a variety of hair styles.]

Of course I have! There's plenty of humans here. Mostly-humans. And there was a human back home! We were friends.

They just didn't mention that humans are actually... fleshy skeletons??

[Admittedly, the human back home wasn't much of a talker. More the type to point to things and look slightly inquisitive; as much an invitation for Papyrus to talk as he could ever hope to hear. Or, not-hear, in that case.]

Maybe they didn't want to make you feel bad.

[ Said, with all dryness. After speaking to him for this long, it's just hard for Lambert to take him as any kind of serious threat, so despite his better judgement he finds himself relaxing, even as ridiculous as this whole situation feels. ]

So do you actually need to sleep? I've been here a few days and never ran into you.

You know, that's fair. No sense making me even more envious of tanlines, or billowing hair...

[Papyrus gently pats the side of his skull, sighing faintly when he only touches bone and crystals. Maybe someday, skull. Maybe someday.

For now, he steps around to pick up a cleaning rag, and gets to work wiping up the ash accumulating on the table thanks to those sparklers. And all the burned things sitting on it. The heat's probably going to stain the wood, this was a terrible place to put all these things down.]

Psssh, "sleep."

[It's possible to touch a nerve in a guy who doesn't even have nerves. Papyrus shakes his head.]

I don't need to nap more than a couple hours once in a while! There's always things to do. Napping for hours and hours, every day... that strikes me as avoiding life!

[ The growths on the skeleton are weird, Lambert thinks, giving him an effect not unlike a rock troll -- albeit a significantly bony one. When Papyrus starts cleaning up the table, he almost moves to help, but ... he's got it in hand, doesn't he? Or in metacarpals, as the case might be. ]

That explains it, then. I'm not much of a sleeper either. [ Not a conventional one, anyway. Speaking of which ... ]

That was actually what I was just getting ready for. [ You know, before he barged in and then everything was on fire! ]

[The task of cleaning is well in (gloved) hand, brisk efficient movements of someone very practiced at cleaning. He pauses at Lambert's references to sleep preparation.]

Ohhh. Is that why you were so ready to fight! Undyne picked fights when she was tired, too. [Back to cleaning up.]

I, master janitor Papyrus, will see this put back in order! As I know there's no good in sleeping in a mess. It's not at all restful!

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ugh, my inbox ate this -- sorry for the delay!

rude inbox! but no worries