lostcarnival | no bourbon, no scotch, no beer

Entry tags:

no bourbon, no scotch, no beer

Who: the idiot brigade aka Lambert & Strange
Where: Strange's trailer
When: backdated to late on Day 77
What: errybody in the trailer got tipsy
Warnings: alcohol use

( continued from here )

[ Taking the White Gull, Strange carefully puts two small drops of the alcohol into his mug of wine. His hands are steady, like he's used to doling out entirely small doses of liquids. Really, he doesn't believe this is as potent as Lambert says it is. After all, the other man can drink it and he...well, he's Lambert so who knows what sort of witcher nonsense makes you resistant to weird alcohols. Still, he can always add more later if need be.

As he finishes adding in the White Gull, Strange caps the flask and sets it on a nearby, hella cluttered table. Moments later, he raises his mug as well. ]

To your new appointment.

[ Might as well make an ATTEMPT at a toast. Strange downs a healthy serving of his wine...then just starts coughing a bit because wow, even with just two drops that stuff is surprisingly potent. ]

Good Lord.

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[ Yeah Strange just has ten billion questions springing off of that. What did the other schools do? How did they die out? What makes the Bear school different from the Wolf school? Why cats, they didn't really do much?

Thankfully, he's got enough common sense to realize that if he bothers Lambert with all these questions, he's definitely not getting any answers. And he's got questions on top of questions. So, he takes another drink to mull things over and settles on, ]

What are the other witchers like? I've talked your ear off about the other magician in my world, but I don't know if you've ever mentioned your schoolmates.

Boring. [ Lambert immediately says, with a roll of his eyes, but despite the irritation and clear mockery ... there's an exasperated fondness there, too. ]

Right now there are only four witchers from my school left, including me. I'm the youngest, so they're always on my back about everything -- about as fun as you can imagine. Eskel's better at magic, and after everything they put in him Geralt's even more of a beast than most witchers. Vesemir... [ At that some of his good mood abates, and his scowl seems genuinely scornful. ]

He's the one who trained all of us, so he definitely knows his shit. Sanctimonious as hell, though.

Edited 2017-04-19 22:36 (UTC)

Vesemir sounds like a proper git, [ Strange can't help but remark, with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. It's the cardinal rule of friendship, if your buddy thinks somebody's an asshole, you've got to at least chime in with 'wow he sounds like an asshole.'

Still though, four witchers...you'd think there would be more, wouldn't there? ]

Are there always so few of you?

[ says the person whose world has a handful of magicians ]

I'll drink to that. [ You're a good bro, Strange. Lambert swirls the shitty cocktail in his mug before he tilts it up to drain the cup before he continues. ]

That's at least twice as many witchers as you've got magicians. [ Lambert has to point out the obvious potshot with a smirk. Well, all right, he doesn't have to do anything, but you know, just reminding Strange of that. It's better than dwelling on the actual answer to his question, though he does get to it after a moment's pause. ]

As you can guess, the job's dangerous. Nothing nearly as dangerous as people who think you have something they want, though. Hundred or so years back, a mob attacked the castle, destroyed or stole the formulas and spells for making new witchers and massacred all the witchers and the boys that were in training then. Only ones that survived were the ones who were out hunting for the season.

[ He holds out his cup for more wine when he finishes, brows raised. Top him up, bro. ]

Edited 2017-04-20 03:19 (UTC)

[ Shit has suddenly gotten real. Strange's expression goes from curious, to wary, to oh god no as Lambert mentions the mob slaughtering witchers and, more worryingly, slaughtering children. No matter people's opinions on witchers, you don't punish children.

As Lambert holds out his cup, Strange tops it off with the wine...and then just straight up refills his cup as well. Let's get drunk. ]

What are the spells to make new witchers in the first place?

[ It's obvious from Strange's tone and lack of poker face that he's asking for a Reason. look, he's just saying, if the carnival ever stops by Lambert's world for some reason they do have a magician. ]

[ Would it make Strange feel any better or worse to know that at least eight out of ten of those boys wouldn't have made it through what the witchers' trials anyway? Ah, Lambert can drop that shit bomb another time. He drinks off enough of the wine to be able to fill the rest with White Gull again.

Even well on his way to tipsy, though, Strange's 'casual' question isn't going to fool him, and he laughs, shaking his head. ]

Bad ones, Strange. You don't think I was born like this, do you? [ He taps a talon maybe uncomfortably close to one of his bright, cat-like eyes, the mutation one he had long before the carnival. ]

But honestly, I couldn't tell you the details if I wanted to. That wasn't considered something we needed to know.

Edited 2017-04-20 05:17 (UTC)

Oh, I'm certain the eyes, the magic, and the resistance to alcohol are all part of those spells--speaking of which, pass the White Gull over here again, will you?

[ He's feeling pretty good still so let's just add a little bit more to the cup. Moderation is for suckers. ]

But a handful of people to take care of all the monsters in your world? I'm sure even you would like a helping hand every once in a while.

[ Fun fact, Strange has zero idea of what witcher school consists of and that much is horribly apparent. His tone is just light and idle as he talks. ]

If you puke in here, you're cleaning it up.

[ Actually, most likely Lambert's going to clean it up, if only because the idea of what civilizations and sentient beings might form out of vomit in the time it takes Strange to get rid of the mess is horrible to contemplate. With that caveat delivered, though, he passes the flask over. ]

It's not like witchers are the only thing that can kill monsters. We just don't need an army to do it. [ He shrugs. ] Vesemir says there's less monsters than there used to be, anyway. Guess he'd know, he's ancient.

I'm not an idiot. When I feel queasy, I'll go outside.

[ He'll vomit in the bushes before stumbling back inside and sleeping until noon. c: There are some habits that Strange is finding keep on reasserting themselves now that he's temporarily a bachelor and a completely erratic sleep schedule is one of them.

Strange pours more of the liquid in there, about the size of half a teaspoon instead of the few precise drops he did earlier. This has the effect of making the drink taste even worse but he's powering through it because like hell he's going to be sober when Lambert's drunk. ]

You'd think with less witchers, there would be more monsters. I wonder what's different.

[ They can pass out on the bed together in a miserable bachelor pile and really give Lars something to screech about whenever he stumbles back in. Lambert, however, probably won't be nursing the hangover Strange will. He takes the flask back, shrugging at Strange's musing. ]

Bigger cities, better armies, more politics. Take your pick. Monsters are like any other animal, they like places where they can hide better and where they can hunt better. Doesn't take a lot of brainpower to figure out peasants are easier to eat than a knight in plate armor.

[ Yeesh. Strange can't help but frown a little at that, even though logically he knows that Lambert's making sense. ]

I could barely manage an estate to begin with, I certainly don't know how I'd be able to manage an estate while worrying about things that could eat people. Those from your world are hardier than I imagine most people here would be.

[ After all, while some people at the carnival came from super capable worlds where they had to deal with nonsense on a regular basis, an equal number (if not more) of them really didn't. ]

Compared to here? Maybe. [ Lambert shrugs. He takes this next cup a little more slowly than the last, if only to give Strange a chance to catch up. ]

Does it really count if you've never known anything else?

[ Now it's Strange's turn to shrug. ]

I don't know. Since I became a magician, I always hoped I'd see at least one different realm, but even in London I knew I was the exception. Most people probably wouldn't think about the possibility of seeing anything else to begin with.

[ He takes a bit of a larger drink than before and can't help but wince a little. Wow, that Gull has a kick. ]

That's what I mean. [ Lambert shrugs. ] I mean, most people knew it was shit, but they dealt with it because they didn't have a choice. If you were where I was from, you ...

[ He tries to take a moment to actually picture that, without involving statements like 'probably wouldn't live past the age of eight.' ]

... would've been taught how to deal with it. Probably. [ It's not like has any conception of how nobles' kids are raised, but they've got to learn how to be smarmy gits with their heads up their own ass from somewhere. ]

You've more faith in my parents than they deserve, [ Strange can't help but tease, trying to hide the fact that ha ha! His childhood was also hilariously shitty! If you joke about how awful a person your father was, then obviously that means the fact that your father was an awful person doesn't affect you still, right? Right. ]

Or at least, more faith in half of my parents. If she had to teach me about murderous monsters, I'm sure my mother would have tried her best before she passed.

[ no comment on the dad. Dads suck. ]

Let me guess: dad was a shithead.

[ Yeah, no, Lambert's not going to beat around the bush or spare Strange's tender feelings there. Who resents dads, boy does Lambert resent dads, and any authority figures that can be reasonably construed as fathers. As he's proving now by taking a big, resentful gulp of his drink, the burn of alcohol down his threat all too appropriate for the bitterness in his voice. ]

Guess thats one more thing we have in common. [ Other things being, an inability to take shit too seriously for too long.]

My father was a complete shithead. [ That sarcastic smile plays on his face because man does it feel nice to bitch about his dad. Strange also takes a large drink because if they're going to bitch about family, he wants to be properly drunk so that he can forget the awful mood he'll inevitably put himself in by bitching about family in the first place.

Of course, he's already starting to feel a smidge woozy. This stuff is potent. ]

Magic, nightrunning, and now horrible fathers. We're more alike than either of use realized.

[ He is 100% teasing at that because yes, they are alike in some regards but they're massively different in other, more noticeable ones. ]

All I need now is to grow out my hair and no one'll ever be able to tell the difference.

[ Drink is the answer to a lot of things. Lambert smirks, tail curling around to rest in his lap. The results of attempting to punch either one of them are pretty stark, it's true, but it's not like Lambert needs a copy of himself to get along (and it would, honestly, probably, hate that). One thing he can say is that things are rarely ever boring around Strange, and that's a good enough reason to hang around him. ]

So, what'd he do? [ If they're going to get into it, Lambert wants the gory details. Don't spare him out of propriety, Strange. ]

What didn't he do? He was routinely cruel to the servants, myself, and my mother. One of his last acts was to keep one of the servants with him in a freezing room, trying to give the man a deathly chill for seemingly no reason. He prevented me from taking up any useful occupation out of simple spite—which, preventing me from taking up any occupation meant that I couldn't marry Arabella until the man finally died, thank God for that.

[ Don't mind Strange as he just chugs some of his drink, obviously incensed at the thought of his father. It doesn't matter to him that this is insanely alcoholic, he just wants to get drunk as fast as possible now. ]

What about yours?

[ For another person, that might be heavy, personal shit that explains a lot about Strange and his issues. To Lambert, it mostly sounds like affirmation of his belief in the lack of decent fathers anywhere, no matter your station in life, so while he doesn't drink as deeply as Strange, he lifts his cup lazily in salute and takes a gulp before speaking in turn. ]

Beat me and my mother every time he was drunk, which was any day he had coin in his pocket to spare, and every time he was pissed about not being drunk. Surprised he could even get it up long enough to put me in good old mum, which just proves not all miracles are good ones. And then instead of having the decency to die after stumbling into a nest of nekkers, he was saved by a witcher instead. And so-- [ He spreads his hands. ] --here I am.

[ Dads are the worst. Obviously this is something that Strange feels strongly about as he winces when Lambert describes his father. Ah. Saying that Lambert's childhood sounded terrible was an understatement. ]

I know good fathers exist. After all, I'd hope that I'd eventually become one when I return home. [ lol nope canon dicks you over. ] But it does seem that they're few and far between.

[ Strange's childhood also sounds terrible to Lambert, although to be fair, at least Strange's terrible childhood also clearly involved not starving. ]

Funny how that works, isn't it? [ Lambert snorts. ] Maybe it's because the good ones die doing shit they're supposed to do, like look out for their family.

[ "Dad won't let me get a job so I have to waste my time away being a useless gentleman alcoholic" is a whole different set of problems than "we are literally going to starve." ]

That's honestly quite depressing. You're either a terrible father or you die young? I'd hope there are more options.

There's always 'never be a dad,' not that I have a choice about that.

[ Not that Lambert sounds too broken up about it, because he's pretty clear about his limitations. Being a dad is for guys like Geralt, who care and shit like that. ]

You don't? I thought only mages in your world were infertile, not witchers.

[ When one of the first conversations you have with someone dovetails into "hey quick question but do all your bits work properly", that's certainly something you remember whether you want to or not. ]

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