I would have picked a quote about shadows [OPEN]

[atouts]

Who: Childermass & open.
What: Having finally gotten his shadow teleport spell to work, Childermass is trying to iron out just how to control the damn thing...
When: During the Mainframe stop, before Performance week.
Where: Around the carnival.
Warnings: n/a

i. all around the carnival

It's a whole lot of trial and error, it seems, this shadow magic, but at least Childermass doesn't anticipate ending up anywhere deadly as he goes from shadow to shadow, place to place. He's found early and late in the day works best, when the sun is forcing shadows to cast at an angle. Night time only deepens and darkens the entire world, which, in theory, you might expect to make it the easiest time of all, but there is such a thing as too many doors...

So, during these days before the carnival opens, it won't be uncommon to suddenly find a tall, somewhat dour-looking (exciting as messing around with magic like this is, he just isn't the sort to let on to that easily) Englishman abruptly existing where there hadn't been an Englishman — or anyone at all, for that matter — before! Look fast enough and you'll catch him moving like he's just stepped out of somewhere, though there's usually nothing but shadows and whatever is casting them behind him.

This could be inside buildings, the cookhouse, the Big Top, all around the forest—

ii. or in your trailer, any trailer at all

Or accidentally shadow-stepping straight into the closet in your trailer or maybe even the bathroom, if the lights been left off in there by some chance. There'll be a THUMP of Childermass walking directly into something — a broom, the shower curtain, whatever it is — and then a muttered curse of, "Oh, damn it. Not again."

And here he thought he was going to be better about this than Strange was...

Comments

messin' with strange, that other jerk [closed]

[atouts]

Though once Childermass has a firmer grasp on controlling just where he ends up, the first thing on his to-do list is to repay a certain magician for his own trespasses way back when he was doing his own trailer invasions. It takes some tricky timing, but he does manage to pick out a time that Strange is, for once, sleeping.

Sometime just before dawn, sometime when the scatterbrained man has left candles burning rather than using the regular lights in the trailer. It gives him more than a few shadows to work with and he's going to abuse that to its fullest.

"A bit arcane to keep on using candles here, isn't it, Mr. Strange?" is what Strange's wake-up call will be. There was no sign nor noise made to signify Childermass having entered the place, but there he is, now sitting on one of the very few clear spots within the trailer, idly perusing a stray page of notes as he does.

thanks ya jerk. :|

[kingsroads]

Strange has commandeered part of the table in his trailer as a desk. Papers are scattered over it and some papers have made their way to the floor. The papers cover a wide range of subjects: Strange writing things down as if a memoir, notes on the carnival's previous locations, information about the different sources of magic people here use, a list of books that he intends to request from the Ringmaster, and so on and so on. The notes Childermass is reading is the start of a Nightrunner report from the Mainframe which really just boils down to 'computers are awful and I hate them.' It's all a bit chaotic, except for one thing: his books, sitting neatly in a wooden crate turned bookshelf. There's a few books from Alola as well as his own book that Lambert had given him. Strange is just sprawled out on the bed. He hasn't even bothered changing into bedclothes and is wearing just a shirt and his trousers.

Unfortunately for Strange, when Childermass arrives, he's right in that awkward period where you're still asleep but just about to wake up. As such, when he hears Childermass's voice, the surprise jolts him up and Strange, without an ounce of dignity at all, tries to lean up to see just who it is, gets tangled up in his own messy bedsheets, and falls out of bed with a thunk. Whoops. At least that jolts him awake enough to realize oh, that's Childermass hating on his candles.

"I like candles," Strange can't help but grumble as he gets to his feet, clothes askew and hair even more all over the place than it normally is. "Besides, I share a trailer. It's only courteous to use candles in the evening if Lars wants to sleep."

The problem with that, of course, is Strange's absent-mindedness meant that he forgot to blow out the candles in the first place and one of them's burnt down to a near stub. Untangling himself from the sheets, Strange starts to walk towards some of the candles to blow them out, rubbing his head as he does so. Falling out of your bed hurts. "You could have at least knocked, you know."

[atouts]

In retrospect, he may feel a little bad later for this, seeing how the poor man is a bit mad still. On the other hand, he figures Strange will forgive him once he realizes what's going on. Well, possibly. That much no doubt depends on how open Childermass is about trying to explain the how of this trick.

Regardless, none of that stops him from disappearing again the moment Strange is distracted by blowing out that batch of candles. The flickering flames going out plunge the trailer into even more shadow and he manages to pick one out that falls across where he's sitting, though he does make a move as if to stand before he's gone that might be caught out of the corner of an eye. Where he goes isn't too far at all, stepping out through the trailer's shadow outside so he can eavesdrop for the right moment to reappear.

But to Strange, it'll seem like he was there and then... not.

[kingsroads]

As he blows out the candles, Strange turns back around to grump at Childermass some more about that whole randomly appearing in his trailer thing...only to find that he's alone. "Childermass?"

Huh. Childermass was there and now he wasn't. The obvious answer is that Strange must have either hallucinated him due to the madness or, thanks to his still sleepy state, simply mistook something else in the trailer for the other Englishman. Hopefully it's the latter over the former, mostly because Strange doesn't want to think of the possibility that he's suddenly started hallucinating Childermass. God, how horrible would that be, to have the other man looming over his shoulder for the rest of eternity. No, it must have been a dream.

Still, he's mostly awake and it's close to dawn so there's no point going back to sleep. Might as well start the morning routine earlier than usual. With a loud yawn, Strange turns back towards his bed, as he picks the bedsheets up from off the floor and starts to (badly) make his bed, turning his back to most of the trailer as he does so.

[atouts]

"I rather think Lars would prefer not having the entire place catch fire over losing a bit of sleep," comes Childermass's voice again. He had waited and strained to listen for the telltale creaks over someone lumbering back towards the trailer's beds before, again, stepping in through the shadows.

This time he's leaning casually against the counter in the fairly dark kitchenette, casual as can be.

Darkness + Loft + Edge of Bed = First Impressions

[promnibusanctis]

Sleeping really isn't Helen's forte, it never really has been. By the light of a small lantern, she has papers out, spread in neat piles, with her writing all over them. Research, observations, things of note and interest. Patient histories, even. Her bed is mostly in shadow as she moves to clean up her bed. Perhaps she can rest, even if sleep is hard to come by.

Helen is not expecting company and certainly not in her bed.

[atouts]

While Childermass was expecting to end up somewhere entirely different, certainly not in a trailer much less in a bed. On the bright side, he's only technically 'in a bed' for a few seconds, since there's some momentum still involved in stepping in and out of shadows like this and Helen is, sadly, up in a loft.

When the shadows covering the majority of it spit him out, it's out and right over the edge. While he does make a startled noise, it's a quiet one, more like mild surprise than actual fear as though to say 'oh, well, I appear to have gone out into empty air, that's somewhat annoying'. Mostly, he realizes it's also a good plan make a wild grab for that same edge he just went over instead of wasting it on actual, real screaming, so he does that.

The loft creaks wildly under the weight of a second person hanging from its edge like that, but it does mean he's not about to fall and break his neck just yet, right?

"...ah," Childermass will eventually say after a few more seconds of securing his grip, then he finally gets a moment to look around. "This is definitely not the cookhouse."

[promnibusanctis]

"Dear lord," Helen says, already on her feet and finding a stool for the unfortunate man to stand on. "You're a bit off on your calculations if that was your intent. Here. A small drop to the stool."

In any other place, she would have had a gun in his face the second he materialised, here? Well. There are different rules to apply.

"I have you," she says, her voice level as she guides him to safety and then laughs softly. Shadows, mirrors, honestly, it seems a great deal like her favourite mirror-eyed magician. "I should think you'll be needing a strong cup of tea."

[atouts]

A gun would be more understandable than tea, but not getting shot is always appreciated. Childermass looks over at Helen first, then down at the footstool she's moved under him. Useful, that, and he will drop down to land on it.

"While I appreciate the offer, tea isn't exactly what I was looking for," Childermass replies, sounding just as calm as she does despite the entire falling out of a shadow thing. Trial and error and all, plus he didn't break his neck, so no cause for worry. He takes a second to straighten out his shirt and then steps down off the stool. "Though I do apologize for the intrusion. I don't normally barge into other people's trailers."

one of the worst starters i've ever written, enjoy the monster you've created

[whattaprick]

This -- being able to rinse off the dust and sweat after a couple of hours of serious exercise -- is as far as Lambert's concerned the most incredible luxury the Carnival has to offer. If there's one thing about this place he's going to regret not being able to take back home? It's the modern plumbing. Maybe one day he should sit down with one of the engineers, figure out how this shit works, and how he can build something similar back in Kaer Morhen. Especially the heated water.

The Carnival's quiet in the morning hours, making it an ideal time to work through his drills -- he longs for a real target, shadow-sparring with his sword only goes so far -- and practice the little magic he has at his disposal. If the mushi incident has reinforced anything, it's that he can't afford to let himself get rusty. Though Mainframe's been harmless enough at first glance, who knows how quickly that can change?

Such are the idle musings running through his head as he ducks under the shower, scrubbing vigorously around his scalp and the base of his horns to rinse the shampoo clear. With the lights off, the darkness and the running water lend itself well to contemplation, eyes sharp enough to see what he's reaching for even in the greyed-out shadows. Lambert having no idea what shower thoughts are, he's oblivious to the realization that he's joined a grand tradition of navelgazing while going through his morning ablutions.

The witcher's moved on to speculating about what they'll be serving for breakfast when his medallion (which, naturally, he hasn't taken off) hums sharply against his chest. That's all the warning he gets before, abruptly, there's a body walking into him.

The sudden impact catches him off guard enough that when he tries to whirl and face whatever the hell has just showed up in his bathroom, his feet slip on the floor (okay, maybe showers aren't so damn great) and the attempt to grab his attacker just mostly turns into an attempt to grab whatever he can of them to keep upright, back slamming into the fixtures painfully enough to draw a hiss of pain.

https://media.giphy.com/media/8fen5LSZcHQ5O/giphy.gif

[atouts]

If there was ever going to be a time to pinpoint "worst moments from the carnival", this would undoubtedly end up in the top five if only because it means he did, at this particular point in time, manage to do something more embarrassing with his teleporting around than Strange ever has (at least, to Childermass's knowledge). He had been aiming for "somewhere near the Nightrider's trailer", not exactly where he was at this given moment. Well, magic can be fickle. Not a lesson he needed reminding of, yet there it is all the same.

Apparently, it can also be wet since that's the first startled thought to enter the magician's mind when he steps out into what can only be a steaming hot shower. That anyone would be taking a shower in the dark is mind-boggling, but that's a complaint he'll have to go over later because his second thought is that he's walked right into someone — in their shower — and that someone is grabbing the front of his shirt.

This has Childermass backtracking wildly, grappling with the same big of magic that brought him here in the first place and throwing himself back through the shadows. The first inclination is, naturally, to get the hell out of there. Too bad he's about to find that, firstly, with water on the mind that's going to put him tumbling out through an overhanging branch's shadow cast across the water of the carnival's lake. It's a drop-off rather than a shallow part, so he at least won't run into anything when spat out directly below the surface.

Secondly, whoever latched onto him back there? They're coming along for the ride. Enjoy the suddenly cold water, Lambert, because it's about to be everywhere.

[whattaprick]

To an outside observer, of which there are thankfully none, the whole thing must seem a bit of a slapstick ballet -- Lambert reels back one way, only for the intruder to yank him another in his haste to step back, his hands tangled into the front of his shirt pulling him forward with the magician's momentum falling back into shadow.

The world tilts in a shadowy, watery blur as he makes the transition from steamy shower to comparatively freezing lake. The change in temperature has Lambert shouting -- or trying to -- but all it gets him is an explosive stream of bubbles up his mouth and water up his nose. Forcing his eyes open, he keeps one hand fisted into the fabric under his hand and kicks to the surface, pulling sodden magician along with him. Because of course it's got to be a magician.

He breaks the lake's surface, coughing and spluttering, hair in his eyes and water dripping off shoulders and horns as he fights to tread water with a hand still gripping hard into cloth; his tail swishes frantically, doing its best to help. Like fuck he's letting him go: he knows how this shit works, and if he tries to make another swift exit, well he's fucking wrong.

"Strange!" Lambert thunders once he gets his breath back, although he's still sounding a little choked. "What the fuck?!"

Who else would be as reckless as the man who's literally mad?

[atouts]

Childermass would be, apparently, albeit his recklessness was entirely by accident. He comes up coughing out water all the same after a brief struggle underwater to try — and fail — to escape Lambert's grasp. Once he realizes he's at least dragging him up to the surface, though, he'll work with him to get there. Air, slightly more important than free movement.

Once up there, however, he spits out the last of the lake water and manages, "Wrong magician." To at least let Lambert know that, no, for once they can't actually blame one Jonathan Strange for this ridiculous predicament.

He treads water as well, trying to keep himself up above the surface as his clothes, heavy with water now, try to drag him back down. Quick enough thinking has him looking up at the very same branch that cast the shadow they got dunked into the lake through. It's close enough to them that— yeah, he reaches up and grabs onto it. It's low-hanging and seems sturdy enough, for now.

/burningelmo.gif

[showmystar]

Swordsmanship perhaps isn't one of Allen's strengths. He intends to keep up with his training while working here in the carnival, regardless of his job as an entertainer. With hand-to-hand, he's great. It's swinging his hulking Sword of Exorcism that needs some fine-tuning. Sure, it's just as light as his own arm to Allen, but it's still difficult to be agile and quick with a broadsword.

This day, this hour, Allen puts to his sword. He spins, slices, and stabs through the forest one-handed, downing imagined enemies one after another; his left arm is entirely missing from his shoulder, a glowing silver cross with a dark circle around it stamped on the stump, which is prominently shown due to his muscle shirt.

He pivots on his heel, spinning with the sword for extra momentum, slicing through the air just as a man appears before him and directly in the path of the blade.

Allen only has time to yelp the beginning of a warning before his sword passes clean through the man. Allen's heart stops.

It leaves no marks, nor any sign it had passed through his body at all.

A handful of the most excruciatingly long seconds crawl by before Allen finds his voice. "A-are you okay??"

he's fuckin deeeaaad (ok no he isn't)

[atouts]

So much for the entire concept of 'oh, testing this around the carnival shouldn't be dangerous at all'. Clearly he's an idiot for thinking that, what with stepping out of the shadows at a spot that should have been lacking very much in sharp objects ends with a sword passing right through him. Childermass freezes up, fear running up his spine in a sharp jolt. His heart doesn't stop, but it sure does skip a beat there.

But seconds pass and he finds he isn't dead or bleeding out, which is a sign for him to breathe out again and look down at himself, hands coming up to pat his shirt and coat and the such. No cuts, no tears, no gore.

"I..." Is he okay? Had he just imagined it? The sword is right over there, obviously, but maybe it missed? He looks up again, gaze flickering between weapon and Allen, back to the weapon, then Allen again. This time it stays on the exorcist. "Yes," he says slowly at first, then follows up with another, more normal-sounding, "Yes, I believe I am. You must have missed."

nope too late his terrible friends already have a funeral going

[showmystar]

"I-- Ah. Actually . . ." Should he tell him? Maybe he shouldn't tell him. Allen grins sheepishly, and though he clearly doesn't believe it, and he does a very poor job of hiding it, he says, "Yes, I-- I must have missed."

Allen sheathes his sword -- which, in this case, means he lowers the blade, the end of which begins to dissolve into the air as his left arm reforms itself, shoulder-down. By the end of it, the sword is gone, and Allen's arm is firmly connected to the rest of him.

In case Childermass thought he wasn't going insane.

"You just came out of nowhere," Allen continues, like his arm-turned-sword-turned-arm is completely normal, "and I thought-- Well, I'm glad you're okay. How did you sneak up on me like that, though . . . ?"

by lowering him into his grave they'll be letting him down for the last time

[atouts]

It's so much better for his sanity to not have to think about that, yes, thank you, Allen. Though the sincerity in his answer is obviously lacking, which has Childermass quirking an eyebrow but not willing to ask why. He doesn't want to know, he really doesn't, if a sword actually did just pass through him.

His other eyebrow is going up to join the first at the sight of his sword becoming his arm, though.

"...and I thought this place couldn't get any stranger," he says, quiet, but obviously still audible. Well, whatever, he'll just shake his head and carry on, gaze shifting up from the arm to Allen proper. "I didn't mean to, exactly. I've been practicing a new spell of mine, that's all. It allows me to pass from one shadow to another."

[sunflowerfields]

It's not every day you open the pantry door and find a man standing in there, even in a place like this. Hinawa gawks at him for a moment before regaining her composure.

"If you wanted a snack, you could have just asked one of us."

[atouts]

This is, at least, closer to what he had been aiming for. Childermass will gladly take ending up in the pantry over someone's, say, shower, though he does blink and squint against the sudden light let in by the door opening.

"Ah," he starts, refocusing on Hinawa once his eyes adjust. "I suppose that is true..." Considering he has a habit of swinging through the kitchen to grab something to eat without asking already, well. This is different, though. "But that isn't why I'm here this time."

[sunflowerfields]

It's true- despite her best efforts, people were always popping in and grabbing food without so much as a 'please', and it seems this time she isn't even catching him in the act.

"Is it too much to hope that you're here to help with the dishes?" Hinawa sighs.

[atouts]

That gets a faint laugh, at least, since it's not exactly the question he was expecting. So far it goes 'how did you even get here' or 'what are you doing', possibly accompanied by falling off or into something. Dishes, though...

"If you really need help with them, I suppose it's the least I could do," is probably the kinder, if unexpected, answer. After all, Childermass has no problems with the cookhouse staff and certainly no reason not to help. "I take it the cinder sprites aren't very good at handling water, then?"

ii

[walkonedge]

If it helps, Strange, the trailer that you just teleported into is completely dark and empty for now, considering that its only occupant has yet to return from the Cookhouse.

That's going to change in like a minute or so, though, when Yamato finally returns to the trailer and flicks on all the lights, suddenly illuminating the entire trailer's living space and the fact that Childermass is standing in the middle of the trailer.

Well. This is new. Yamato gives him a strange look. "How'd you end up in here?"

He's actually quite sure that he locked all the doors before heading out earlier.

[atouts]

Childermass is still trying to figure out who's trailer he's ended up in this time when the light comes on and he puts an arm up, shielding his eyes momentarily while they adjust. When he lowers his arm again, he blinks at Yamato. Ah, one of the newer workers, he thinks.

"By accident, I assure you," he answers, turning to face him and offering a short nod. "I apologize. I had been aiming to end up somewhere else, not here."

[walkonedge]

"Ah... sorry about that." There's a small dial next to the light switch that Yamato reaches for, dimming the light just slightly - enough that it's still bright enough to see but too bright as to be completely jarring. Okay, so he doesn't quite recognise Childermass, actually. "Where exactly were you aiming to end up?"

It's not that difficult for Yamato to guess that Childermass is a magician of some sort - he looks the part, actually, and the fact that he's standing right smack in the middle of a formerly locked trailer is a dead giveaway that it's either a magic spell gone wrong or just teleportation in general. Surprisingly (or not), the idea of magic is kind of easy to stomach now that he's been living in the Carnival for a while.

"Uh, are you going to try again, or should I leave the door open for you?"

[atouts]

"The cookhouse," is the answer to the where, as for how he's going to leave again, Childermass shrugs. One way or the other, it hardly matters to him, but seeing how he's so rudely dropped himself into someone's trailer like this, he does add, "If you'd rather I left by the door, I will. Otherwise, I would need you to turn the light off again, which I think is asking a lot between strangers."

It's a weird dilemma and he doesn't expect Yamato to just accept it. Turning the light back off with a bizarre, unknown guy hanging out in one's home — temporary home or not — is a little much.