lostcarnival | some people are better at surviving than living

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some people are better at surviving than living

Who: Jonathan Strange & Lambert
What: Lambert drops off Strange's book and asks some questions about the Carnival's last visit to a digital world.
When: After the general presentation/intro to Mainframe!
Where: The Big Top
Warnings: Maybe references to previous violence? Anything is possible with these two!

After the meeting disperses, Lambert sees himself off to breakfast, then back to his trailer, Strange's presence having reminded him of the outstanding matter of giving the man back his book before he drops into Mainframe again. In truth, he hasn't read the book very thoroughly, just the parts of most interest -- anything with the Raven King himself, deals with Faerie, and those King's Roads Strange mentioned before. He also might have casually checked if there was anything in it about binding spells and compulsions, not that he'd be able to pull off any such spell himself, but most of what he can find relates to increasingly long winded stories about fairy servants that make his eyes glaze over. It provides some insight into what Strange was trying to do that buried the Carnival in snow, at least.

... Although it is hilarious to imagine Strange trying any of that on, say, the Ringmaster.

In any case, there's no reason to have it taking up any more space in his trailer than it is -- though that's pretty empty and sparse as is. It's not difficult to find the magician: just have to follow the smell of smoke and crazy. He pushes into the big tent, tail waving behind him and book tucked under his arm, calling out:

"Strange?"

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The answer gives Lambert pause, but only because of surprise, brows raising as the humor fades from his face. It's not so much the act of Childermass shooting Strange -- he has the dire suspicion Childermass would do that or worse if it had a conceivable purpose that he wanted to achieve -- as that he'd let himself be manipulated into something like that.

Then again, if Lambert had been able to give Childermass to indulge at the Carnival so easily, maybe the man's mental defenses aren't so formidable as his scowl.

It is, however, entirely unsurprising he wouldn't talk about it, and Lambert can't help snorting as Strange rushes in to defend his fellow magician's impugned honor. Childermass keeping things to himself? Say it isn't so. There are, however, more practical concerns to the revelation. Namely:

"So it could happen again, and we wouldn't even know what to look for. Who else was taken, can you remember?"

"I don't remember—it was only a handful of people though. No more than four." But who those two to four people were, Strange has no idea. Sorry, Lambert!

But no, there's something else that he needs to point out first. It could happen again? What was Lambert talking about, the Matrix or people being possessed in general?

"I don't think it could happen again, though. At least, I doubt the specifics of the Matrix could happen again, not when we all know what to expect." Oh, someone different could come in and possess Carnival members or coax them to do dangerous things, that much was certain. People lost their resolve in the Celebration and, despite the fact that it's all gone now, Strange still has memories of that cursed potion he picked up in Atlantis whispering his name. But the Agents specifically? Most likely not. "I don't think they have the capabilities to cross realms the way that the Ringmaster or I can."

Great. So if he wants more information about the details, he'll have to pry it out of the other magician. Lambert can already predict exactly how productive that conversation is going to be. Nonetheless, Strange's surety has him frowning and shaking his head.

"If the Matrix was like Mainframe, maybe they've got some things in common. Including how they can affect us. The Mainframe might not have Agents, but we still don't exactly know what can happen to us..." Lambert exhales, with a touch of wry amusement and looks away.

"No witcher's ever died in his bed, Strange, but we aren't in a hurry to get there either. Anything that helps me figure out how this place works could matter when I'm least expecting it to."

"So far the main similarity between the two is that they're both 'digital.'" The word digital is said as if it's a foreign phrase. And really...Strange has absolutely no clue what the hell it precisely means to be digital. All he knows for certain is that it involves computers and he hates it. Granted, the likelihood that Lambert knows the ins and outs of digital is equally slim to none.

"Here's something that might help: the Matrix didn't have anything remotely like those game cubes that the Mainframe has. I don't think there was anything close to reaching that level of casual destruction."

Considering that Strange spent most of the first day in that blasted out game cube area (and any report that he submitted was pretty much solely what he learned about the game cube), it's obvious where Strange's priorities lied.

It's true that Lambert has little understanding of what a digital world is, or whether any of his knowledge really has any relevance to it. All the same, he hates the idea of being vulnerable to something because of ignorance. It would be a piss-poor show to have survived witcher training and all the shit he's had to deal with only to lose out to a game.

"It was like seeing a village after a war," Lambert murmurs. He hadn't known what to expect when the cube dissipated, but it wasn't that, that's for sure, and Strange's report (poor illustrations and all) is a surreal documentation of that. Then again, even a war left survivors, something standing as a testament to the devastation -- not creatures that could barely speak or think.

"Odd how they just accept it. They're blaming the virus, but..." He shrugs. "I haven't actually heard of anyone seriously trying to do anything to stop it. Seems like they're pretty happy to depend on the Guardian."

Edited 2017-05-16 11:24 (UTC)

Now that last question causes Strange to look over at Lambert with a little confused frown. Was that supposed to be noteworthy?

"Are you really surprised by that? If you've got a resource who can help out, you lean on said resource--especially if they do things you can't." Of course they're pretty happy to depend on the Guardian, just as the army was happy to depend on him in the peninsula. Merlin put out this building that's on fire, Merlin can't you do something about this door, Merlin we need the forest moved. He's not thinking about it or stating his words in a bitter tone, just something entirely too matter of fact.

"I suppose some things are universal to this world of 'programs' and our worlds of men."

That makes Lambert laugh, though there's little humor to it. "And here I thought I was the cynical one," he comments, though Strange doesn't sound cynical at all. Lambert's tone has all the bitterness the magician lacks, for all that he's smirking.

"Never said it was a surprise. You're right: some things never change." He tilts his head slightly, waves at the book still in Strange's grasp.

"Maybe that's why the Raven King left."

"I hope that isn't it," he chimes in, with a small smile. "Most of England might have forgotten the Raven King, but even today, the north hasn't. Up there, the name John Uskglass is treated with the proper reverence he lacks in London. There even remains some buildings that the Raven King built!"

It's obvious that Strange is about to go into yet another really nerdy and excited rant if Lambert gives him the opportunity to. He could talk about the Raven King and about English magic for hours on end, after all.

"England might have leaned too hard on Uskglass but parts of the land certainly appreciated him."

"How much of the book is actually true?" The segueway from talking about the new world and all its dangers, back to the reason Lambert had sought Strange out for in the first place, seems sensible enough to the witcher. Sure, he knows he's essentially opening himself up to having his ear talked off forever, but at least he can ask new questions, before he inevitably tells Strange to turn it down.

"Gotta admit I want to believe the first part, at least. Takes some real stones to up and ask a king for half his kingdom just because you thought he owed it to you."

Strange shrugs! "The Raven King vanished a few hundred years ago and that was after ruling for an equally long time. Anyone who knows what actually happened has been dead for ages--we can only take them at their words. To complicate matters further, only a handful of accounts have survived to my time and an even smaller handful are available to the public."

It's almost like another magician was buying up as many books about magic as he possibly could just to hoard them in his house like a miser. Still, the romanticism is a hundred percent apparent in Strange's voice as he continues talking.

"Personally, I also like to believe the first part really happened. I suppose though it doesn't matter how much of it is actually true, just how much of it people believe is true."

"Believing something that isn't true can be dangerous. Can't tell you how many time I've heard people die chasing after fairy tales," Lambert shrugs, resting his elbows on his knees absently as he hunches over. He'd scoffed at Norrell being a dick and destroying Strange's book, but cast in that light, he can see why maybe the man might have thought the book worth doing something about.

"Still good stories, though." He smirks. "If they've lasted this long, there must be some grain of truth to them. How long did it take you to pull this all together?"

"Not all that long—just a few years or so." It's said with a little shrug. No biggie, just a few years, he got this. Really, once Strange started writing, he pretty much just kept on writing until the book was done. His attention span is usually all over the place, but apparently not for this: not for his book.

Of course, the 'death' of Arabella only pushed him to get the damn things finished faster. He had to write it for her, after all.

"And I'm taking a bit of offense to you calling the Raven King a fairy tale. We've no idea where he went but he certainly was as real as you or I."

"Oh, I believe he was real all right." Lambert rolls his shoulders back with a slight, wry smirk. "Both you and Childermass are obsessed enough." And if Childermass believes something is real, one has to surmise he has good reason to believe so, even if the evidence is flimsy by Lambert's reckoning. Their magic is real, in any case, whatever source it's owed to. Without actually being in England himself, Lambert can't examine the evidence to satisfy himself.

"I can believe he's a powerful magician. I just don't believe he's everything the stories say he is. Or that he's worth the faith people have in him." Stories can be a warning, or deceptive, or both. The witcher thinks he hardly needs to tell Strange that the victor can write history to their liking. And in his experience, kings are rarely as cut and dried as the histories make them seem. Childermass is loyal to the Raven King on nothing more than the abstract concept of recognizing his magic, whatever the hell that means. Strange adores the Raven King from second hand accounts of how he changed the face of England forever, believes in the wild potential to reshape the world again that he represents.

Lambert can only look at the story of the Raven King and wonder how many people got fucked over to seat him on that throne, and whether he even cares. He doubts it. Kings never do.

(And if he knew the whole story, he'd say Childermass and Strange are both willing casualties of the Raven King too.)

"Unless he shows up here tomorrow, I guess we'll never get any answers."

Edited 2017-05-17 03:39 (UTC)

Lambert's smirk is met with a small frown on Strange's end. He has to keep reminding himself that Lambert isn't from his world, that he only has a small glimpse of what England really is and only secondhand knowledge of secondhand knowledge about England's history. The Raven King is in their bones, in their magic, and has nothing to do with Lambert's. Of course the man would view him at a distance.

That still bugs the shit out of Strange, though. Of course he's worth the faith people have in him, why wouldn't he be?! He ruled over England, he was English magic to the point that when the Raven King left, so did magic. To not have faith in the Raven King is to not have faith in English magic itself. Strange looks at Lambert for a moment, passion burning in his mirrored eyes and body language, as if he's about to go on a tear about the Raven King, as if he's about to restart an argument he's had time and time again...before he pauses, takes a bit of a breath, and skips past the argument entirely. It's useless fighting with him about this, after all. Lambert could never understand.

"Well, I can say this much for certain: he's not showing up here tomorrow. After all, what king would willingly swear fealty to another?"

But God, how Strange wishes he would show up tomorrow.

"Only one who knew it was better than the alternatives," Lambert responds, simply. The Northern Realms were never peaceful; borders shift all the time as kings conquer and re conquer each other.

It's honestly a surprise that Strange doesn't get into it, but it's probably for the best. An argument would only stubbornly set Lambert's mind against it further. Just because it's in your bones doesn't mean you owe your loyalty to it, he'd argue. That sounds too much like destiny -- or the loss of choice that passes itself off as such. But as easy as he suspects it would be to keep picking at that scab, he'll grudgingly hold off. Strange hasn't pissed him off, and he's not asking him to swear loyalty to the Raven King. Lambert can think he's both impressive and someone he would never fucking want to beholden to, and things will have to be left at that (at least, until they ever get piss drunk and Lambert wants to start a fight again.)

Instead, he diverts the conversation onto a different topic entirely:

"So, what did your wife think of the Raven King? She did work on the book."

Edited 2017-05-17 04:59 (UTC)

A little bit thankful that they've diverted the conversation, Strange leaps to talking about his wife with gusto. The ability to talk about Arabella? Uh, hell yeah he'll take it.

"Honestly, she was mostly glad that I was staying at home writing instead of doing something reckless," Strange can't help but admit, with a little laugh. From the peninsula to his exploring the King's Roads, poor Arabella has had to deal with so much nonsense from Strange, something which is probably hilariously unsurprising.

"Bell would have loved anything that kept me out of trouble, Raven King or not." And, like always, when he talks about Arabella, there's so much warmth and downright adoration in his voice. He misses her terribly.

"That doesn't actually answer my question, you know," Lambert points out, brows raised. "And from what I can figure out, the Raven King did get you in trouble." He was married by the time he went to the peninsula, after all. Lambert's never been married, and he knows women are used to sitting around fretting after absent men anyway, but would Strange have been called on if he was less powerful than he was, less interested in the magic of a man long gone? He doubts it.

The warmth with which Strange speaks about her is unsurprising. Lambert's sure he's never going to get an accurate description of Arabella Strange from her moonstruck husband. He can't say he knows what the feeling is like, missing someone like that. Or even being in love. Maybe the Monstrum's claim that witchers had all feeling burned out of them is bullshit, but he's self-aware enough to know that there's something missing in him, a dullness that makes moments of sincere positive emotion few and far between.

"Your turn for a story," Lambert says impulsively, smirking. "How'd you convince her to marry you?"

Edited 2017-05-18 02:56 (UTC)

"The long and short of it is that she made me get a job." And, because he knows that won't be enough for Lambert, Strange continues, leaning back in the bench slightly as he does so. His voice is full of pride and passion, that adoration even more creeping into his voice as he talks about the two of them and their relationship.

"I've loved Arabella for quite some time. And, I had proposed to her for quite some time. The problem, of course, was my father. The man refused to let me take up occupation, seemingly content to let me rot away in idleness—something all the more awful as Arabella would not even entertain the idea of marrying me unless I took up a profession. Well, thankfully the bastard died not a few months later!" Said far too cheerfully for it's own good. Fuck you, dad.

"Once that happened, I knew all I had to do was find an occupation and Arabella would marry me. I tried all sorts of professions, but none stuck. That is, until I found a man under a hedge who told me a prophecy, sold me a spell, and told me I was a magician. I performed my first spell that evening."

Strange can't help but look a little puffed up, looking far too proud of himself. A magician who expertly casts the first spell he receives? Surely that was a sign of how powerful he was and how he was surely destined to be a magician! But no, back to Arabella, back to his beloved. "Not too long after that, we were married."

There's a bit of a pregnant pause there, Lambert looking Strange deadass in the eye and blinking slowly. When nothing more seems to be forthcoming, he finally says, slowly --

"That's it? That's your big love story?"

That's it? That's Lambert's reaction to his big love story?

"Well what else do you want me to say?" Strange huffs, obviously annoyed that he sees the act of getting a goddamn job as something more romantic than Lambert does. "Do you want our history? Bell and I both grew up in Shropshire, though I was often out of town and staying with relatives, and I've loved her ever since I could realize what love was."

Or, at least, Strange convinced himself that he's loved Arabella since he could realize what love was. Because obviously he's loved her all his life, why would he even think about looking at another woman when Bell was there in front of him? She's absolutely amazing, has he told Lambert just how amazing she is? Maybe that's why he's confused, Strange probably hasn't sung the praises of Arabella enough.

Lambert's mouth twitches. He has to look away from Strange's face to repress the laughter threatening to bubble out, but the normally scowling witcher is doing a piss-poor job concealing his amusement.

"I thought it would be something a little more romantic," he says, at length, though no doubt Strange would argue that Lambert wouldn't know what romance was if it bit him in the goddamn ass.

"You know -- that you moved the earth for her, or had to accomplish three impossible tasks before she'd accept your proposal, or you had to fight off the rest of her suitors. Marrying a childhood friend seems a little more..." He searches for the word. "...ordinary than I expected."

"Says the man who wouldn't know what romance is to begin with," Strange grumbles, with a roll of his eyes. Because yup, there's no use having Lambert of all people criticize him on his romantic gestures. Fighting off suitors, accomplishing tasks, those are all aspects of storybook romance, no real romance works that way. Besides, what would the man have him do, slaughter a monster to prove his love? Please.

"And most of my life was ordinary. I didn't discover my magic until I was well into adulthood, after all." It'd be a bit ridiculous trying to accomplish three impossible tasks as an ordinary human.

"Who says I want to?" Lambert retorts, all too cheerful. It's true, though: romance is kind of a non-starter when a witcher's involved, and the wryness of his smirk is a testament to that much. He could probably do all the things he just listed off, but what would be the point? Any romance he found would die as soon as the Path demanded he go on his way.

"Did magic change that much about you?" It's ... both a weird concept, and not. Magic did literally change Lambert, after all, made it impossible for him to go back to a normal life, there's no argument about the power it holds there.

There's a pause while Strange mulls the answer over. "I suppose it did," he simply responds. "I'd hate to lose everything I've gained since then."

Oh, there wasn't anything wrong with Strange before he was a magician. He'd probably run the estate and be happily married to Arabella all the while. But being a magician has opened so many more doors to him and gotten him knowledge that he never thought existed in the first place. It's given him a goal in life. So yes, magic did change that much about him, so much so that he can't imagine living a world without it.

"I was a bit flighty when I was younger." Still is, but point stands. "Magic's given me a purpose. I think that alone is enough to say that it's changed me."

"'A bit flighty'? So what are you now?" Lambert smirks, unconsciously picking up on that train of thought and smirking at Strange as he speaks. After a moment, though, his expression turns more contemplative and distant, something about the phrasing Strange uses striking a chord.

A purpose, huh? Yeah, he guesses magic gave him that too, though not in the same sense Strange means it, probably.

"Do you ever feel like that was your own choice, or that it was chosen for you?" There's a certain cynicism in the way Lambert says the words, a wry tilt to his lips as he looks back at Strange.

some people are better at surviving than living

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