Let's be honest here, the first two days at the Celebration are a complete nightmare for Childermass. While he is fully capable of being social, confronted with a party of this scale, sprawling and crowded, is going to put him in a terrible mood. If that weren't enough, how utterly steeped in magic the place is only working to give him one hell of a headache. The carnival he could at least get used to, but here? He's not so sure, nor is he too welcoming of any offers of help for it from the faceless servants that keep popping up, uncalled for.
More than once he can be caught waving one irritably away and muttering, "How do they keep finding me...?"
Because, yes, half of the time spotting him at all might as well be a game. He's actively trying to push attention away from himself, which is something he can manage with magic, but it's not quite as effective with, you know, a massive headache. Though on the off-chance you do manage it, he spends most of those two days in the park trying to find some peace and quiet to be a complete grouch in.
62-65
But even a stoic man like himself can't avoid the siren call of the Celebration forever. As of the third day and on from then, a very different kind of person can be found and, yes, it really is him, not some friendlier and much, much less sober double. He'll be wearing less and less of the severe white and black clothing he's usually in over time, every day seeing various pieces lost and replaced with other bits of clothing, some more modern (jeans and slacks, for one, are an amazing discovery), some not, although he never really strives for anything you could call too fancy. The further through the week, the less likely he's bothered to button up whatever shirt he's wearing all the way, the greater chance he hasn't cared to pull his hair back and instead leaves it down.
And just where does this fun version of Childermass waste most of his time? Somewhere within the entertainment area, though not for the sake of music or movies. He and whoever his new friends are — and there is a number of them, apparently — have taken over some tables in the back. Smoke fills the air around them, bottles litter the tabletops, and they're playing cards, games ranging from elvish ones to ones from Earth to ones where they may just be making up the rules as they go. Sometimes they're betting whatever random shit they've found in the seemingly endless rooms of the Celebration, sometimes not; it doesn't really matter, since... well, it just doesn't, right? Certainly not here.
Though if he manages to catch someone he knows from the carnival out of the corner of an eye, he'll stop what he's doing and raise an arm in the air to get their attention.
"Well, where do you think you're going? Come over and play a few hands!"
no subject
Let's be honest here, the first two days at the Celebration are a complete nightmare for Childermass. While he is fully capable of being social, confronted with a party of this scale, sprawling and crowded, is going to put him in a terrible mood. If that weren't enough, how utterly steeped in magic the place is only working to give him one hell of a headache. The carnival he could at least get used to, but here? He's not so sure, nor is he too welcoming of any offers of help for it from the faceless servants that keep popping up, uncalled for.
More than once he can be caught waving one irritably away and muttering, "How do they keep finding me...?"
Because, yes, half of the time spotting him at all might as well be a game. He's actively trying to push attention away from himself, which is something he can manage with magic, but it's not quite as effective with, you know, a massive headache. Though on the off-chance you do manage it, he spends most of those two days in the park trying to find some peace and quiet to be a complete grouch in.
62-65
But even a stoic man like himself can't avoid the siren call of the Celebration forever. As of the third day and on from then, a very different kind of person can be found and, yes, it really is him, not some friendlier and much, much less sober double. He'll be wearing less and less of the severe white and black clothing he's usually in over time, every day seeing various pieces lost and replaced with other bits of clothing, some more modern (jeans and slacks, for one, are an amazing discovery), some not, although he never really strives for anything you could call too fancy. The further through the week, the less likely he's bothered to button up whatever shirt he's wearing all the way, the greater chance he hasn't cared to pull his hair back and instead leaves it down.
And just where does this fun version of Childermass waste most of his time? Somewhere within the entertainment area, though not for the sake of music or movies. He and whoever his new friends are — and there is a number of them, apparently — have taken over some tables in the back. Smoke fills the air around them, bottles litter the tabletops, and they're playing cards, games ranging from elvish ones to ones from Earth to ones where they may just be making up the rules as they go. Sometimes they're betting whatever random shit they've found in the seemingly endless rooms of the Celebration, sometimes not; it doesn't really matter, since... well, it just doesn't, right? Certainly not here.
Though if he manages to catch someone he knows from the carnival out of the corner of an eye, he'll stop what he's doing and raise an arm in the air to get their attention.
"Well, where do you think you're going? Come over and play a few hands!"