lostcarnival | ⇨ THE CELEBRATION

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⇨ THE CELEBRATION

Who: Everyone, especially YOU.
When: Day 60 - Day 65
Where: The Celebration
What: The carnival workers are invited to spend the week within the realm of the Celebration, the grounds of a party that has been going on for centuries. Accommodations are luxurious, but those with keen instincts might notice something off about this whole arrangement... (Questions can go to the original setting post!)
Warnings: Booze, drugs, sex, and everything in between.

THE CELEBRATION↴

If you observe that the layout of the Celebration grounds seem inconsistent, then you would be correct. In reality, what lies at the end of each corridor depends largely on what the guests of the Celebration want at the time - if a few people find themselves craving a drink, a bar may appear. If a group finds themselves wanting to dance, a club will open up. This goes on at all hours of the night, and given how many dedicated partiers fill the building, the services are well used. It isn't instantaneous, and the Host has to consciously decide to provide that service, but the changes are fast none-the-less.

► ROOMS: Each trailer pair will be assigned a room to themselves - whether or not it has two double beds or a single king sized bed seems essentially random. Hopefully you aren't too sensitive about keeping that space to yourself. The curtains at the far side of the room don't actually lead outside, but instead to a walk-in closet filled with the Host's best guesses at the type of clothing you might like. They may not hit the nail on the head, but at the very least all the clothing will be in your size. The styles could be just about anything, from any universe, but they do tend to average out to clothing that is Earth-ish. Either that, or clothing that looks like they are meant for elves from a high fantasy novel to wear.

► SHOPPING: If none of your pre-picked outfits tickle your fancy, plenty of boutiques and clothing shops can also be found around the grounds - whatever you're thinking of, you'll probably be able to find a shop appropriate for it eventually. Though, maybe it doesn't really count as shopping if you don't have to pay for any of the things you take back to your room with you? Unfortunately, from the sounds of it, you won't be allowed to drag all of your haul back to the carnival with you, so you better enjoy it while you can.

► DINING: There is no daily schedule to follow, after you arrive. You are free to attend the dining room whenever you wish, and will be seated at large round tables with whoever else may be around at the time, and can either order from the menu or most dishes you may think of off the top of your head. If you don't like the fine dining experience, there are also a selection of smaller cafes and eateries that open and close at varying times of day - and, of course, you can always call for room service.

► ENTERTAINMENT: There is plenty of live music around the grounds (not that you can ever seem to remember who the performers were afterwards) whether it comes to harp music while you eat or a full set of DJs in the club you found. If you are inclined to look for them, you may also find some cozy lounges with big screen TVs, and access to a multi-universal quantity of films. What's there or isn't there is unpredictable, but if you come from a standard variety of Earth you probably recognize some of them.

► SUBSTANCES: You don't have to be coy about it - just ask one of your servers, and you'll be able to get whatever kind of vices you might be craving. Drugs, alcohol, ice cream... it's all good. If this sounds like a nightmare for potential addicts, you would be correct. It's not uncommon to see people clearly over-indulging in certain locations, though guests are usually escorted back to their rooms if they take ill - only to see them back at it again the next day.

► SPA DAY: If you'd like to take a swim, pools of various aesthetics are easy to find. So are hot tubs, and saunas, and Host servants who are willing to give you a massage or manicure. If the party crowd isn't your scene, there are plenty of more low-key opportunities to indulge.

► GREENSPACE: There is one park area on the grounds, which appears to be constructed on the rooftops of other parts of the complex. While there are trees and greenery, there is no real sky that you can see - only the illusion of one. It may start to occur to you over time that no window or rooftop actually leads to any kind of outdoors. The Celebration really is there only thing here.

These are really just examples, and you can get creative with what kind of services you find offered while here, when it comes to generally mundane comforts. It really feels like the Host wants to win you over, as if you staying just a little longer has some sort of intrinsic appeal.

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All of this isn't particularly doing anything to change Lambert's opinion of mages. It does, however, do a fair bit to change his opinion of Strange -- still a foppish, book-loving magician far too enamored with magic for Lambert's comfort yet with power he clearly has yet to really grasp the limits of. As the griffin swoops and flies around, to the delight of the crowd, Lambert reaches for the nearest thing at hand that could approximate a sword: a folded up umbrella.

When the sand griffin swoops down low enough, Lambert makes a small gesture in the air. Out of nowhere, a tight cone of pure force radiates out from his hand, slamming into the griffin in a effort to crash it to the ground, though Aard alone is enough to bring a wave of sand and water rolling up to meet the magic-crafted creature, the umbrella still clutched in the other hand.

"Definitely better than chickens!" He calls out to Strange, grinning over his shoulder.

Now that is interesting. For all Lambert's talk about witchers and monsters, Strange had no idea the other man could do magic as well. And his certainly seemed much more combat oriented than Strange's magic: despite his fighting in the peninsula, Strange knew that he would never default to 'blast the hell out of it' as a solution to solve a problem. The cone of force succeeds in blasting a hole in the griffin, but the thing's still airborne--after all, it's made of sand and magic. The wave of water further takes some of the griffin out.

Still, if Lambert wants to play witcher, then Strange will gladly keep the game going. He really likes performing for a crowd and the delight of the voices in the crowd push him to keep going. He matches Lambert's grin with a wild one of his own, gesturing towards the griffin. A tendril of sand shoots up from the ground, filling in the hole that Lambert blasted. The beast is smaller now, a bit less impressive and less defined, but still griffin-shaped

"I'm afraid if you want to bring the beast down, you'll need to do better than that!" he teases, enjoying the moment.

"If it was a real one, it'd already be dead!" Lambert shouts back. Of course, if this was a real fight, the Witcher solution to the problem of a magic construct would be to attack the mage controlling it -- but here and now, that doesn't matter, does it? There are a lot of things he hates about being a Witcher, sometimes, but the strength and dexterity of his mutated body isn't one of them.

He can't cast so many spells in quick succession, so while the griffin swoops and circles, he rolls (somewhat unsteadily) across the ground to take himself out of the way, brandishing the folded umbrella menacingly and using it to hack off bits of the thing's body at a time. Once he senses the magic potential coiling at his fingertips again, he's quick to let off another Aard spell, this time deliberately aiming to make a bigger splash of water and really damage it this time.

Strange's lack of combat experience is reflected in the griffin's. All of it's moves and choices are just so obvious as Lambert manages to hack off bits of the body. It's certainly cutting down the mass of the magical beast because Strange is only able to partially reconstruct the leg or claw or whatever out of sand before Lambert goes and hacks off another bit.

As such, he doesn't expect the Aard spell until it actually happens. The magical sand griffin (and also partly Strange) just get drenched by the water. At this point, it's pretty much about a third of a griffin and a really pathetic looking one at that. Strange knows when he's beat.

"Best two out of three?" he can't help but ask, wry smile still on his face as he looks over the sad, soggy remains of the ex-griffin. With a wave of his hand, the beast dissolves into sand, falling to the ground in soggy, wet sand clumps.

When the griffin finally crashes to the ground, defeated, Lambert raises his umbrella in damp victory, to the applause of their enthralled audience. Content that the performance is over, he casually tosses the umbrella to the side and brushes sand off himself -- good thing he's shirtless or this process would be a whole lot more annoying than it is -- before grinning at Strange.

"If that's your best performance, I don't think the results will be any different." A little mean? Maybe, but he's clearly in good spirits. "Still the closest to a real fight since I signed up." He'd had really high hopes for that demon summoning, but it turned out he wasn't needed anyway... probably for the best, come to think of it.

"I thought you said you were in a war."

"I was. However, I didn't do a lot of fighting when I was in the peninsula. My role was more supporting: creating roads, spying on the enemy, putting out fires, things of that nature."

It's said in a very matter of fact tone. After all, though he didn't fight, Strange did his best and helped serve his country the best way he could. Of course he's proud of it. At least, of course he's proud of the idea of being in the peninsula. Some specific actions he did there...well, those are up for debate.

"Likewise, my mentor was trying to make English magic respectable. All of the actions I undertook and all the spells I used certainly couldn't be as garish as a sand griffin."

"Respectable?" Lambert can't help just ... laughing, when he hears that. Magic is a lot of things, but 'respectable' somehow just doesn't make the cut, in his mind. That would imply magic was interested in earning respect. It's easier to earn power.

"If that's all they had you doing, it doesn't sound like they respected you much." If the soldiers he fought with were anything like the people Lambert's known most of his life ... well, magic that didn't put the wielder in harm's way was all right, but it wouldn't really do much to change the notion that magicians were only in it for themselves.

"Was he in the war too? Your mentor, I mean."

Edited 2017-02-25 23:04 (UTC)

Strange can't help but smile at Lambert's laugh, shaking his head a little bit. "On the contrary, I'd say they respected me more than you realize! We all got along terribly well, more so than most." He's a bit nostalgic as he talks, small smile on his face. No matter what Lambert thought about Strange, his magic, and the company he kept during the war, it's obvious he's got a great deal of affection for his army buddies.

"But no, my mentor wasn't in the war." Strange laughs at that, a short little sardonic bark of a laugh. "He's...not necessarily a coward of a man, per se, but certainly not the type to go out to war. No, he'd much rather stay at home with his books."

Said with a roll of his eyes and a scowl.

"Oh? And here I thought you liked books, since you've gone and written one." Here he'll take the chance to pour himself another drink, smirking slightly. Not the type to keep himself aloof from the rank and file, then, though it still sounds like a raw deal to him. Then again, most people would rather avoid fights rather than start them. He knows he's odd in that.

"Don't tell me he's got an interest in politics too."

"I like books as well, but there's a time and place." It's said in a very matter-of-fact tone. Because at least in Strange's mind, when there's a war going on, that's entirely not the time and place to hole up in your library. Of course he didn't want to leave, of course he wanted to be at home with Arabella and not an ocean away. But it was for the good of the country—he had to go.

And Lambert's just going to get a double dose of magicians yelling about Norrell during the celebration because oh man does Strange just scowl as Lambert mentions politics. There's obviously a story and a half in there. Strange gestures for a drink as well as he starts to bitch.

"This whole making magic respectable thing ties up perfectly with politics. Norrell would do magic that certain ministers or governors wanted, not any magic that tests the limits of what magic is. He doesn't want to explore the limits of magic or push further towards the Raven King, seeing what English magic used to be and making that happen again, no he's perfectly content with his bloody sea beacons. And then he tries to force himself further into politics with that stupid court..." Look, just cut him off here because Strange is on a roll and will spend the rest of the day complaining if Lambert isn't careful.

Lambert's stance on the time for books would be "never," but maybe that's just what comes from being forced to memorize encyclopedias of monster in lore penned by individuals who had much more interest in adding pages to their manuscript rather than making it easy for a bored twelve-year-old to read. He will, however, mentally give Strange a point in his mind.

What's more interesting is the reaction, and the answer. It's not dissimilar from hearing Childermass go on about what ridiculous things they were doing in England, but Strange mentions something he hasn't heard before.

"Now who, or what, is the Raven King?" He raises a brow. This sounds like a much more interesting avenue to pursue than politics. "And what do you mean, what English magic used to be?"

Are you ready for an in-depth history of English magic, Lambert? Because the way that Strange's eyes light up and the way that he almost launches into a conversation, gesturing with his hands as he does so, means that there's the possibility that he just yammer on about magic and the Raven King for hours.

"I've mentioned that my England only has two magicians, haven't I? Hundreds of years in the past, it wasn't so. There were plenty of magicians, English magicians who regularly summoned and talked with faeries. The magicians wrote about magic, performed magic, explored the full potential of what English magic could do." Strange's voice is full of wonder as he talks. It's obvious this use of magic in England's past means so much to him.

"All of this magic was performed under the reign of John Uskglass, the Raven King. He was raised in the realm of Faerie before he returned to our world, acting as king of the north for over three hundred years. And then, one day? He vanished. No one knows where he went, though most assume he went back to Faerie. With his disappearance, magic slowly fell out of use, growing weaker and weaker for hundreds of years until Mister Norrell and I brought it back to England."

A 'raven king' had sounded promisingly ominous, but as Strange launches into (another!) primer on English Magic, Lambert's eyes might glaze over just a bit.

Still, despite the subject matter not being intrinsically interesting to him, it gives him something to compare his own world's magic to. The past that Strange describes so wistfully could be something very much like Lambert's present (minus the talking to faeries bit, adding a lot more corpses probably) but the curious thing is the loss of it. He can sort of grasp the concept, since it's not so different from how magic came into his world, by brushing up against another.

"One man disappears, and he takes all the magic in the world with him?" He'll arch a brow. That's a silent way of saying 'sounds fake, bro.' "How did you bring it back, then?"

Strange can't help it. He shrugs slightly at that question because honestly? He doesn't have an answer. Sorry Lambert!

"I don't really know how, just that I am. I only discovered I was a magician a few years ago, when a man under a hedge sold me a spell. I tried it, it worked, I became a magician." It's just said in a matter of fact tone, as if buying a spell from some rando is something that everybody does. The explanation's worked for people back home, maybe it would work for Lambert here.

"And before you ask, I've no idea how Norrell learned he could do magic." By the time he felt confident enough to ask the man, he had grown too distant to really care about it in the first place.

"Just like that? No hint of magical talent before, shattering vases, hearing voices, that kind of thing?" Lambert asks dryly. As origin stories go, it seems highly improbably, but he supposes he can't make too many judgements when it's not his own world.

"What was the spell for?" Surely that, at least, Strange can answer.

Strange shakes his head again. "Is that how magicians discover their power where you're from?" It's an honest question because really, Strange has no idea how it's done in Lambert's world in the first place. Still, shattering vases and hearing voices? That all sounds like something out of a bad novel, how could one discover they had talent by breaking things?

"As for the spell, it was a spell to discover what my enemy is currently doing. I could cast the spell and show you how it works, but my magic doesn't carry over between realms. I cannot view someone in London while I am in Faerie."

Edited 2017-03-02 02:17 (UTC)

"Your enemy?" Lambert has a hard time imagining who or what Strange would consider an enemy. Given he apparently has no hesitation spying on his acquaintances as well...

As for the question Strange offers, Lambert shrugs. "Only the most powerful mages. If they don't get training on how to use it, they go insane." It's said very matter-of-factly.

"Every man has an enemy," said in a very nonchalant manner. "Some poor devils have two or three."

He's also decidedly not saying who his enemy is, instead just talking about the manner in a round-about way. After all, Lambert hasn't asked, so Strange doesn't have to answer. Simple as that.

He can't help but frown as Lambert describes the magicians going insane. Those poor men. "I suppose I should consider myself lucky. Even before my training, I don't think I was close to accidentally driving myself mad." Why yes, Jonathan Strange straight up is equating himself with powerful mages from Lambert's world.

Lambert is not particularly interested in Strange or whatever enemies he may or may not have -- after all, if they're not here, what use is that knowledge to him? He's reasonably sure he's at least not talking about this 'Norrell,' though.

"What do you expect? Magic's unpredictable, and it doesn't care about things like keeping your brain intact," he twirls a finger by his temple. "The stronger the mage, the crazier they can end up if they're not trained... and some of them end up crazy anyway."

"Of course, at least in my world, even the trained mages can end up going mad—and purposefully go mad at that. After all, there are certain magics and connections with faerie that can only come when one's mad."

Just ignore that maniac glint in Strange's eyes as he talks about madness with worrying familiarity.

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⇨ THE CELEBRATION

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