atouts: (020; le monde)
john childermass ([personal profile] atouts) wrote in [community profile] lostcarnival2017-05-13 08:17 pm

I would have picked a quote about shadows [OPEN]

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...
promnibusanctis: (seriously_emacomet-appears3)

Darkness + Loft + Edge of Bed = First Impressions

[personal profile] promnibusanctis 2017-05-14 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
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.
whattaprick: (fight me bro)

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

[personal profile] whattaprick 2017-05-14 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
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.
Edited 2017-05-14 19:09 (UTC)
showmystar: (SURPRISE INTIMACY?!?!!)


[personal profile] showmystar 2017-05-16 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
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??"
sunflowerfields: (To say)

[personal profile] sunflowerfields 2017-05-16 01:58 pm (UTC)(link)
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."
walkonedge: (believe in the racing beat of your heart)


[personal profile] walkonedge 2017-05-17 02:35 pm (UTC)(link)
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.