lostcarnival | ⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

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⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: October 1st - 7th, 2017
Where: Portland area, in the new reality.
What: Memories begin returning to the displaced as the fall gets chillier. How the hell did we end up here, again? Also, apparently, the fair is in town.
Warnings: Individually marked!

PORTLAND BY NIGHT↴

Memory regains will come into effect at the beginning of October, to whatever degree you've decided upon, and may be regained at whatever pace you desire from then on. For those with their full carnival memories, it will be like waking up in the body of someone else - for those with half and half, it will be like rapidly recalling sets of memories from a totally different life. Those with full amnesia will simply feel as if this is how it's always been.

Unfortunately for you, memories aren't the only thing you have to deal with. The supernatural community of Portland is bustling all of a sudden - could your presence and these events somehow be related?

► THE OUTER CIRCLE: As of the start of the month, the Portland Circle of Enlightenment will find itself starting to get swarmed with members from other chapters. Most notably, it would seem that a small cabal of top mages from the North American Enlightenment Council will be making their home in Portland's HQ. For anyone but the highest of ranks, the purpose behind their visit will be unclear, but it seems like something is definitely up on a metaphysical level. The Circle will be buzzing with rumours of unique planar activity and threatening omens. It seems that it all started with an unusual flare of activity in the planetary ley-lines, starting approximately a week ago. However, even if you would usually be the type to keep tabs on such things, you will find that you oddly have no memory of observing this phenomenon yourself.

► THE ANIMAL FAIR: Good news, the fair is in town! Or, at least, it would be good news... if this was a regular fair. Instead, what's being observed is a bunch of nearly identical flyers, spread all around Portland - each of which bears only the words "THE ANIMAL FAIR", a seemingly bloody paw-print of unknown origin, and the directions to a vague forested location outside of the city. It's dated for October 7th, and all instances of its posting having been discovered with a scattering of rose petals, crow feathers, and pre-burnt matches laying on the ground around them. Most are taking this to be some kind of bizarre viral marketing campaign, but others may know better.

► THE EARTH SPIRIT: If you have connections to The Pack or any of its many variations, you'll probably hear whispers of something very odd that occurred last week - according to the elders, it sounds as if the Earth Spirit, the magical and spiritual center of the planet, has suddenly taken a wound. It's not clear why or how, but there is a fair bit of concern among spiritual types, as it is werebeast belief and nebulous magical fact that the magical forces within the earth are the source of all magic here, as well as the source of life. While many werebeasts claim to have felt the Spirit succumb, you strangely have no memory of such an event occurring. Though things do feel strange, if you know how to tap into the Spirit yourself.

► THE WAR CRY: Though Anath's rain of terror across North America lasted for the first fifteen years or so of the Severing, most independent demons have had enough time to start taking the arch-demon's relative inactivity for granted. For that first while, the warrior queen had seemed determine to rebuild an army on earth by forcing her scattered brethren into service - only for her to gradually settle down in a fortress somewhere in Texas and dig in her heels. Of course, this was too good to last - it sounds as if she and her demonic legion have begun tearing their way up the west coast, their goals remaining a mystery. Their destination, however, is almost certainly Portland.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I am a mage. A fourth rank mage of the Circle of Enlightenment, to be precise, though I'm certain none of those terms mean anything to you. The long and short of it is that I am a human who can cast magic." Strange takes a sip of his tea before he continues talking, watching Lambert to see just how he's reacting. After all, their conversation in the library certainly gave Strange the impression that Lambert knew something about the supernatural community in Portland. What precisely he knew though, he had no idea.

"What separates a mage from the rest of the supernatural is that we hone our skills through study and practice. One must have a bit of natural talent to be a mage, but it's not like the fae or demons who draw upon their power from themselves. As a result, mages tend to have a varied, more in-depth skillset--and our magic tends to be the most useful as well."

Not that he's biased or anything.

"Okay." Lambert pauses to consider that information, and that's the best he's got. He's been mostly quiet throughout the explanation, frowning from time to time, but there's no surprise in his expression. Nothing quite like being turned into a cat or seeing some household object to convince you that magic is real. Privately, he hopes that if all mages in this 'circle' are like Strange, Peridot stays well away. Hanging out with people like that would only feed into her worst tendencies.

It takes a few more moments before he comes up with his first question. "How many mages and ranks does the Circle have?"

Strange's assumption that Lambert doesn't really understand what he's talking about is correct, but, you know. Fourth sounds pretty low.

Fourth is pretty low, solidly middle of the pack. But like Strange is going to admit that to Lambert. Instead, he's going to try his hardest to bullshit and twist words and try to confuse the man so much that he won't press further. Although, considering how Lambert piled question upon question onto him at the library...Strange has a feeling that will only keep up here.

"Depends on one's specialty, of course. Some of the more esoteric brands of magic you can't find a specialist in so you could be the most powerful mage in your division, but still technically a low rank. I'm one of the few summoners and binders in the Portland Circle. That's more of an East Coast brand of magic, though there is a small contingent of them in Shropshire. No, Portland's all flormancy and etheric studies and urgh, so many idiots reading the runes. As for the number of mages...well, that depends on the Portland chapter specifically or worldwide. The Circle's worldwide, you know."

This is a hundred percent bullshit, Strange rattling off terms like he knows what he's doing, lying through his teeth, giving Lambert as many terms and places and names as he can think of, pulling from all corners of his mind even if he has no idea where some of these places are--where the hell is Shropshire anyway?

If confusing Lambert was the intention, then Strange has readily succeeded, if solely because it seems like an unnecessarily long answer. After all, a number implied something finite, so it had seemed like the most straightforward question at the time. His brow furrows as he digests that particular dump of information -- which apparently includes the sort of magic Strange looks down on, and what Portland is known for -- before he figures out a proper response.

"...Okay," Lambert says again, slowly this time. He's going to be saying that a lot, it feels like. "I was actually just wondering about Portland. But you're saying you don't really know."

Surprisingly, he doesn't sound totally pejorative when he says that -- just stating a fact, or making sure he and Strange are on the same page about what he meant. Ultimately, it's not the most important detail here, so he shakes his head, moving on briskly enough.

"You said you're a summoner and binder. What does that mean, exactly?" You'd think the words implied the obvious, but you know what? It really doesn't, not when it comes to this kind of thing. Better to ask and know exactly what he's dealing with. And yeah, Strange is about to get asked a million questions now.

Strange nods. He really has no idea how many mages there are worldwide. He knows of certain chapters, at least, though how many people technically are in those chapters, he wouldn't even know where to start guessing.

"This world is full of spirits and lost souls as well as us mortals. My brand of magic lets me summon a spirit to wherever I am and bind it to my will, forcing the spirit to carry out a task or gather information for me."

And changelings. And hopefully faeries. But Strange has enough sense to keep that aspect of his magic quiet for now. Lambert was only human, after all, he probably would think of changelings as equal to people. Hell, he probably would think of spirits as equal to people to begin with. Better clear up that misconception.

"I know what you're thinking and it's not like that. Spirits aren't people. They're more primal. It's more akin to asking the rain or the sun to do something instead of asking you or me. Besides, I generally only bind the spirit for a few minutes, half an hour at the most. Spirits...can get a little funny if they're bound too long."

There's a ghost in the university who would almost certainly argue against being a person, but Lambert is almost certain that's not the kind of spirit Strange means. In any case, the thought of binding faeries and changelings doesn't even cross his mind, but a more practical concern:

"Sounds risky," he says, brows raised. Sounds stupid, is what he's really thinking here. "Wouldn't it get pissed off about being called up and being ordered around like that?" Sure, he'd said it was like ordering around the sun and rain, which theoretically couldn't care either way, but there are volumes of stories about magic's fickleness. Besides, he doesn't know what "a little funny" entails, but it doesn't sound good.

"All of the best magic carries a little risk to it." At least in Strange's mind, he's a top-notch mage. He leans back in his chair slightly as he continues yammering on about magic and spirits.

"As for the risk specifically, all of that depends on the factors. The strength of spirits ebb and flow with the year. Add in other factors such as planetary alignments, the specific spirit you're trying to summon, the strength of the mage himself, and the proximity to major magical places of power...you can't just get drunk and summon something. There's so many minutiae involved to help account for the risk."

He's talking around Lambert's actual question, mostly because in some cases, the answer's a big fat yes.

"No risk, no reward," Lambert mutters, but mostly to himself rather than expecting Strange to comment. It makes sense, in a way -- stories are full of stories about bargains and deals. Said stories also make it very clear those bargains and deals tend to be unequal, though, and Strange has already touched on that a little bit with his obvious disdain for demon bargains.

Lambert isn't convinced faerie bargains are much better, but hey, he's not the expert here. Still, he's not in the market to summon or bind anything soon ... or ever, so knowing while Strange's specialty makes interesting listening? It also doesn't really seem relevant to his initial line of inquiry.

"That all sounds pretty complicated," is what he'll say, eventually, with a frown. Maybe in some mouths, that would be a compliment to Strange's skills, but Lambert's thinking practically: it does sound complicated, unnecessarily so. At some point, wouldn't it be just easier to do things yourself? Then again, he's not a magician, so what does he know, really?

His eyes flick to the calendar on the wall, and it reminds him of the cafe, and the box of Halloween-related paraphernalia he's going to have to put up sometime this week, assuming the city doesn't explode into all-out supernatural war tomorrow.

"Must be going crazy this month, then."

Oddly, Strange shakes his head, giving Lambert a frown. "That's the thing. It should be, but it isn't--part of my research is trying to figure out why this is happening."

And, based on his frown and the annoyed tone in his voice, Strange has absolutely no damn clue why it's happening and the spirits are weaker to begin with. He should know this, he should at least have some idea of why things are acting up. But honestly? He only has the slightest clue.

"October's historically a time of great power for spirits. Everything turning up so weird right now shouldn't be happening."

"What do you mean, 'everything turning up weird'?" Lambert doesn't know much about the supernatural, but that ... that doesn't sound good.

Strange obviously think's its a concern, and while Lambert normally wouldn't give a shit about Strange's opinion (on the proper handling of books or otherwise) he can recognize that he isn't exactly in his area of expertise, here.

"I mean everything's turning up weird!" It's a terrible explanation, but the most succinct one he can think of. There's a pause as Strange mulls over how to explain this, before he continues. "Planar activity is off-kilter, the etheric energies are out of whack, omens are turning up inconsistent, spirits are weaker than expected, it's weird."

All things that Strange is explaining as fact and with the assumption that Lambert knows what's what but Lambert probably has no idea what they are to begin with.

"I've cast a few omens myself and they've turned up just as odd," said as Strange gestures towards the deck of tarot cards sitting near his computer. "Which they've never done before."

They turn up vague or unhelpful, not downright confusing.

Lambert recognizes words, but he's quickly learning that listening and comprehension are not always the same thing when things are coming out of Strange's mouth.

"You know I have no idea what you're talking about, right? I'm not exactly a practitioner." His research on the magical, such as it is, have a particular concentration: shapeshifters, werewolves, anything to do with transformation and beasts. Whatever little he knows about other sorts of magic? That's only what he's picked up incidentally.

He will, however, nod at the tarot deck with a frown. "It'd be easier if you showed me." Not that Strange is ever interested in making things easy for other people, in his experience.

"I'll have to explain the damn things to you as I do so," Strange grumbles, as if it's somehow Lambert's fault that the man knows nothing about tarot. Still, picking up the cards, Strange shuffles them as he talks, trying to calm himself down and get himself properly centered. "The easiest thing to do is a three card spread: one for your past, one for your present, one for your future. I'll do yours first and then I'll do mine."

There are other more complex spreads that he could use but honestly...Strange isn't any good at them. When casting the omens for the three card spread, he can feel himself tap into actual power, into something real. When he's laying down a different spread, no matter how much he centers himself, no matter what he taps into, it just doesn't feel the same. He might as well be laying down cards randomly. (This is a long way of saying that Strange is kind of shit at tarot and like hell he's telling Lambert that.)

It's ritualistic the way he shuffles the cards, eyes closed as he concentrates on something, Strange trying his hardest to center himself with whatever spirits and whatever forces he can. There's a brief feeling of power in the room as he shuffles: Strange may be overbearing, obnoxious, and a legitimately awful human being, but he is still a mage. Muttering something under his breath as he does so, he lays down three cards face down on his desk.

After a pause, Strange turns the cards over one at a time: the Knight of Swords followed by the Moon followed by the Tower. And...then he looks at Lambert as if somehow hoping that he could telepathically shove the meanings of the cards into Lambert's mind and he wouldn't have to explain everything again. He doesn't mind talking but the amount this man doesn't know is downright criminal.

"I've read a bit about the Major Arcana," is Lambert's response to that, frowning as Strange lays the cards out on the table, one by tattered-edged one. It's certainly the most ragged deck he's ever seen, the illustrations recognizable yet with a quality that suggests they were drawn by hand, rather than mass produced. Some kind of artifact, maybe? Somehow, he just can't imagine Strange having the patience to sit down and draw these himself. The sense of power in the air makes his hair want to stand on end, but he wills it down.

And when Strange lays the cards out? His eye's immediately drawn to the card in the center. The present. He's seen this before, he's sure of it -- in a book?

No. A hazy memory surfaces of another wild-haired man hunched over a table, also telling someone's fortune -- was it his own? -- but there were more cards around it then, a bigger spread than the modest one Strange has drawn here. Yet his finger will reach over, feeling like he's re-enacting something that's already happened before, tapping the table just next to the space beside the card that reads La Lune (and what is Strange doing with a tarot deck in French, anyway?)

"The Moon symbolizes illusion, secrecy, intuition," he recites, still looking perturbed. "It can also be a sign of deception -- of things not being what they seem." His gaze lingers on it a moment longer, before he moves onto the second Major Arcana in the spread. "And the Tower means ... changes. Disruptive, hard to avoid ones."

He leans back, folding his hands in his lap. "No idea about the guy with the sword, though." He looks kind of pissed off, like he wants to stab something with that sword. Lambert feels a little sympathy. If only all his problems could be solved with strategic application of violence...

Edited 2017-06-21 05:44 (UTC)

Well. That's unexpected. Strange leans back in his seat slightly, resting his chin on his hand as Lambert explains two of the three cards. It's unexpected and yet he's thankful to hear that because honestly, explaining one thing is easier than explaining three. One of these days he'll have to actually sit and pick Lambert's brain: he has such a scattershot approach to what he actually knows with regards to the supernatural.

"The Knight of Swords," he explains as he reaches out to touch the well-worn card. The deck is one of those things that Strange knows is important somehow, but he honestly can't remember how. There's just a faint compulsion that he needs to keep this safe. Besides, the rattiness might not fit his aesthetic, but it at least looks suitably impressive. "It's a card of action. The knight of swords means bursts of energy, rushing forward to accomplish your task without necessarily thinking of dangers, challenges, others involved, or risks--I mean this in a positive and negative way, of course."

Taking his finger off the Knight of Swords, Strange reaches over to touch the Moon, then the Tower. "Past, present, future. I've no idea about your past or your current situation, so I can't pinpoint the irregularities in this reading. However, when we set it up against mine, I'm certain my point will be made clear." And yet, as Strange puts the cards back in the deck, he knows that isn't true. He does know about Lambert's past...does he? Why on Earth would he think that?

You don't go poking around new age bullshit without learning a few things -- at least if only to know what you're looking for doesn't look like and save yourself some effort chasing dead ends. But most of Lambert's knowledge isn't verifiable, there being a lack of supernatural creatures he can call on to make sure he's got all the details right. Before coming here and dealing with his sisters, the supernatural's never played much of a role in his life.

Something about that thought doesn't feel right, but he'll listen to Strange go on instead of dwelling on that. He's still frowning over the meaning of the card, wondering what the hell it means, while Strange shuffles the deck again. There are a lot of impulsive decisions he's made in the past, that much is for certain -- he can't even deny that. Hell, it could just mean the entire stupid incident with the Beast...

"Is that going to be useful?" Lambert's brow creases. He doesn't know much about tarot readings, that much is true, but why putting two fortunes together would shed any clarity on anything is puzzling to him. "We don't have much to do with each other."

"It'll all depend on how the cards shake out," Strange remarks, as he shuffles them into the deck, trying once again to calm himself down, center himself somewhat. That brief feeling of power returns as Strange closes his eyes, all while still shuffling. "After all, what sort of awful data set only has one entry?"

Shitty data, that's what. You don't have to be an accountant to realize that it's easier to notice trends when there's enough to piece out a trend to begin with. He stops shuffling the cards before Strange sets down three of them, muttering again under his breath as he does so. Past, present, future. And one at a time, he flips them over. The Knight of Wands. The Hierophant. And, once again, the Tower. Well. This is odd and Strange's confused expression shows just how odd he finds the whole thing.

"Do you see what I mean about the omens being weird? We barely know each other and yet upheaval is somehow in both our futures."

"Twice is a coincidence," Lambert answers, frowning as he looks down at the cards again. "Three is a trend. Can you do a reading for someone who isn't here?"

But before Strange gets to that, he'll tap at the table again, this time over the knight. "This one, here. What does that mean?" He doesn't need an explanation for the middle card, and he has a sneaking suspicion they're making a hash of oversimplifying this whole thing and that this isn't how it's done. Anyone else he knows who's done this has usually at least pretended to feel reverent about the cards.

"I can," Strange answers, with a nod. "Do you have a particular person in mind?" Because if not, Strange does. For some reason, Childermass of all people comes to mind as the person to do a reading for.

Lambert's suspicion is right on the money. It's only due to Strange's magical talent that they're getting readings to begin with because he really has no skill with regards to these sort of things. It's a simple fact, route memorization over any skill with interpretation. Still, he starts shuffling the cards back in the deck, trying to calm and center himself again as he explains.

"The Knight of Wands is also a card of action, though it's more a card of haste than the Knight of Swords. The Knight of Swords is aware of the dangers but chooses to ignore them, while the Knight of Wands isn't aware of the dangers to begin with. It's also a card of ambition and restless energy."

Which is a bit hilarious considering that pretty much nothing in their conversation so far gives off the idea of Strange ever having 'restless energy.'

The wild days of Jonathan Strange's youth? Lambert frowns. He just can't picture it, but he can recognize that's the usual conceit of the young. Strange had to have been young ... once upon a time. But apparently, whatever energy there was got beaten out of him by accounting.

Lambert can think of a lot of people whose fortune he's interested in. His sisters. John. Even some of the cafe regulars, the ones who always have a kind word and a generous tip. But strangely enough, his own thoughts wander elsewhere.

"How would it work?" he says instead, considering. "Do you need their name, or...?"

"It works better if it's someone we're both vaguely aware of and works best if it's someone we both know--which I doubt will happen in the first place." What's the likelihood that the social circles of a student librarian and state employee overlapped to begin with? Strange knows that logically, there should be few people they both knew to begin with.

"But if neither of those things are possible, the least I need is someone's name." There's a pause, a little moment of anticipation. Because go on then, Lambert. Tell him this person's name.

There isn't much overlap, no, probably because Lambert's social circle is small in the first place. There isn't any reason to trust Strange as far as he can throw him -- which is, admittedly, pretty far, since Lambert's got a lot of strength and frustration and Strange is someone who up until now was nothing more than a library eyesore and someone he couldn't be rid of fast enough.

Still, Lambert finds himself speaking, slowly, hand spreading against the edge of the table.

"I don't actually know its name. It just called itself the ... the Beast." It feels weird, admitting this to someone he knows -- in his head, at least -- he has no reason to trust, but fuck. He's just a barista and a librarian who sees shit he shouldn't, sometimes, gets involved in crap he doesn't want to deal with. The mage's condescension, arrogance, all of that shit rankles, but he's so out of his depth here, he can't just count on searching the internet and praying he'll luck out.

It's odd. As soon as Lambert says the name 'the Beast,' Strange can't help but frown as an odd expression creeps on his face. He knows that name. Why does he know that name...someone said it to him once. The name brings up cold of all things. Perhaps the Beast focused in ice magic? Or perhaps he heard the name somewhere cold? Needless to say, there's so much tentativeness in Lambert's tone that whatever the Beast is, Strange knows it's bad news.

So naturally, he's going to help Lambert out as much as possible. Wait, no, why would he do that? If he got mixed up in some trouble, then Strange didn't want to be a part of it at all! He had his own matters to attend to! And yet...this conversation feels so natural that Strange isn't making any effort to stop it.

"Lambert. What is the Beast?"

It called itself the Beast implies a title over an actual name. Most of the beings Strange knew that used titles were fae of some kind. And if Lambert got himself mixed up with the fae somehow...well this just made everything far more interesting.

"I'm not really sure." That, at least, isn't really a lie: Lambert knows what it said it was, what John said it was, but it's honestly still pretty hard to wrap his head around the existence of faeries in general, and it doesn't really fit into his mental image of what a faerie is -- not the fluttering-winged stories from books or the wraithlike, cold creatures that steal away humans in the other kind of stories.

This guy seems to know a lot about the fae, but if the name itself isn't ringing a bell, maybe he's barking up the wrong tree here. That sense of unease in his gut, the one that reliably churns itself into a frenzy at the slightest breath of something wrong, acts up again.

"I know it's looking to start a fight," he says, finally. "It'd be nice to find out if it might be related to ... whatever else you think is going on."

Edited 2017-06-23 03:29 (UTC)

"Most likely, there won't be any way to tell if this is related to our cards or not. But I can at least cast the omens." By now, the steps are familiar to Lambert: Strange pausing, shuffling the cards, trying to center and calm himself, the brief feeling of power in the room before he opens his eyes and starts to cast the omens.

He sets down the cards, then flips them over. Past, present, future. The World. Judgement. The Wheel of Fortune...but all are reversed. Almost instantly, Strange's frown deepens. Because Wheel of Fortune reversed...that's just as worrisome as both of them pulling the Tower. He takes a large of his tea, long forgotten, which as shown by his grimace is definitely cold now.

"The World reversed: a lack of closure or delays. Judgement reversed: doubt and deliberation. But the Wheel of Fortune reversed? Bad luck and a lack of control. There's not the implication of revelation that the Tower has but it still is a worrying card to draw for this creature's future. All three of us are going to have a worrying future despite not knowing each other in the first place!" His voice raises slightly as he gives Lambert a bit of a glare. Despite himself and despite all his talk about how omens are imprecise, Strange is a little bit worried about this whole scenario, a worry that he isn't going to acknowledge but is instead going to hide behind self-confidence and being an asshole.

"Now do you see my point about the omens?"

Edited 2017-06-23 03:59 (UTC)

⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

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