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

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)

It seems troublesome, that much is for certain. It's a good thing Strange actually bothers to tell Lambert what the reversed cards mean, because while he has a vague rote grasp on their usual meanings, making sense of them in their altered position is stretching his capacity to make leaps of intuition. If it were a puzzle to solve through, or some cipher to unravel, something that followed any kind of logic that Lambert understood instead of relying on feelings, that might be a different story. As it stands ...

"Sure, I get the point," he grunts, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. His fingers tap impatiently against the crook of his elbow while he tilts his head down, glasses sliding halfway down his nose.

"What I don't get is what we're supposed to do about it." If they can do anything. As John's been quick to remind him, he's just a guy. Without any powers to speak of. He glares back at Strange, jaw set, as if staring hard enough will magically produce a solution out of all that hair.

He refuses to believe there's such a thing as fate that can't be changed -- or if nothing else, swung in their favor. And at least he knows a thing or two about that.

Edited 2017-06-24 04:31 (UTC)

"I know what I must do," Strange answers, with a frown. He needed to dive further into the divinations. He needed to further find out about these omens and what this catastrophe would be. But first, he needed to prepare and center himself for the summoning, when he inevitably deals with the faerie that kidnapped Amethyst and the angel.

"But you? What you need to do is forget this ever happened. If you have the opportunity to leave town, to put all this supernatural bullshit behind you, then do it. Otherwise you'll end up dead or worse in a month."

His tone is entirely no nonsense and bluntness but there's an expression that's close to pity on Strange's face. Because Lambert? He's entirely in over his head. Normal humans fared terribly with regards to the fae and, if that's what the Beast was, then it's a miracle Lambert escaped their first conversation relatively unscathed. Whatever protective rituals Strange could cast would only do so much against a very determined faerie.

Lambert grimaces at that, already shaking his head. "I've got family. And ... a friend." All three stubborn about staying in their own ways. Either way...

"Leaving isn't an option." Or rather it's one he refuses to consider. He's not running away from this, he's never run away from anything in his life, and he wants to stand and ... fight? Even that thought seems strange. What would he even arm himself with in the first place? He shakes it off. It isn't fear that shifts the tone of his voice.

"You're a fourth rank mage of the Circle of Enlightenment," he says, slowly, since Strange had seemed damn proud enough of the title. "You really can't suggest anything better than that?"

The insinuation that he can't do anything better is what rankles Strange. That expression turns to a frown because of course he can suggest something better. He will suggest something better, he'll find a way to keep this idiot alive that no one was expecting. He just doesn't know what it is yet (or why he cares so much about keeping this idiot alive in the first place).

"I can ward wherever you live, to start with. Just basic wards of protection, but give me more time and I can come up with something better. Likewise, I can make an herbal sachet that will offer mild protection if you carry it around with you. If the Beast is fae, and considering you were asking about faerie contracts in the library, it seems pretty fae, iron will help repel it. Keep some on your person and put it at the building's threshold. Finally, I'm shit with enchanting objects but I can try to find someone who isn't if you want something in that vein."

How's that for anything better? Strange can't help but look a little confrontational as he explains all he can do. Because up yours Lambert, if you want to get murdered by the fae, then he could at least try to prolong the amount of time he's got left.

The capitulation, however it's delivered, puts a grin of triumph on Lambert's face, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on the edge of a table.

"That's more like it," he says, neither confirming nor denying the bit about the fae; he knew to use iron anyway, but the rest sounds like it will come in handy. It's all defensive stuff, and it's not quite what he was hoping for -- what was he hoping for? -- but it's a start. Though it will probably be awkward once Strange realizes exactly whose house he's warding.

Still, that's a problem for future them to deal with. Absently, Lambert rests a hand over his shirt, feeling out the lumps of his necklace underneath. Enchanting an object, that's got potential. That said, he really isn't up to digging around even more vintage shops to find another letter opener, or ordering one off the internet ... and it's not iron he feels the impulse to arm himself with now.

"You said silver could be used as a repellent too. A--" Sword? No, what the fuck would he even do with one? But Lambert feels like he's been dreaming about it, ever since that encounter with the Beast and everything that followed after. Iron and silver and fire. The instinct feels right -- something that isn't for defense, but attack, and he rubs a hand over the stubble on his jaw as he mulls it over.

"Could a knife be enchanted?" His gaze focuses on Strange like he's daring him to challenge that. Because Lambert isn't about to go around stabbing things, no, but it sure would be reassuring!

Edited 2017-06-24 16:56 (UTC)

That idiot. He warns him to put the supernatural bullshit behind him, he warns him to leave town, and yet Lambert's asking about knives?! Does he want to get himself killed because it's looking like he wants to end up getting murdered by the fae. And he's a librarian! Granted, he's a weirdly jacked librarian, but what the hell do librarians know about knife fighting to begin with?

"Planning on stabbing the Beast with dinnerware? That's not a stupid idea in the slightest." It is such a stupid idea and Strange's face is telling Lambert that it is a hundred percent a stupid idea. It's not an answer though, and Strange knows that Lambert's just going to keep pressing until he gets an answer.

"Someone could enchant a knife, though. Your best bet for that would be to find a hedge witch or an independent mage. There's too much bullshit if you try to go directly though the Circle." There's a roll of his eyes as he says that. For someone who's so entrenched in the power structure of the Circle, there are moments where it seems like Strange would rather just toss it all to the wind and do things his own way.

"I'm not asking because I want to go after it," Lambert snaps back, rolling his eyes. He may be an idiot enough to stay when this is the second warning he's gotten to run off, but he's not that much of an idiot.

"If it comes down to it, though, I'd rather have a weapon in my hand than a teabag." Which, incidentally, he isn't really planning to keep for himself -- he'd rather see it go to one of his sisters. The tone of Strange's voice and the obvious disdain for the circle, though, that's going to get a raised brow. He can't remember if his boss has ever hinted at being a part of anything like the Circle or not, but he kind of doubts she's part of it. Then again, he can't imagine her agreeing to enchant a knife, either. Besides, a more important concern comes to mind: how much is it going to cost?

"Not a fan of bureacracy?"

"It's a protective herbal sachet, not a teabag," he grumbles. "If you brewed it, you'd only get something that tastes like leaf water." That's apparently the sticking point as Strange gives Lambert a bit of a scowl. Honestly, a teabag? Rude.

"The right herbs and plants in the right hand can be more powerful than you realize." They'd bring protection, enlightenment, madness...some more useful than others though, oddly enough, Strange has no idea which would be the most useful right now to begin with.

Still, at Lambert's question, Strange shrugs. He likes being part of the Circle, buys into the party line, and will happily take up the cause if needed. But there's a little part of him that feels repulsed at the idea of tradition, falling in line, respectability. Every now and then, a part of him thinks that magic should be wild and free, not constrained to orders and hierarchies. But then, it's promptly squashed. He's a fourth rank mage in the Circle of Enlightenment. He can't afford to think like that. "All I'm saying is that were I in charge, things would be a bit different."

It so is a teabag, Lambert thinks. But whatever, Strange's the expert here, so he'll let him have that, shrugging and letting the matter drop. It really isn't the most interesting thing about this whole situation, anyway...

"If you're not in charge, then who is?" That's asked out of genuine curiosity, if nothing else. Hopefully this doesn't get another vague, roundabout answer as his last question about the Circle.

"A woman named Ashleigh Mischief is in charge of the Portland chapter." Between Jonathan Strange, Ashleigh Mischief, and Tallisibeth, it wouldn't exactly be wrong for Lambert to get the impression that all mages have dumbass names.

"She's fine at her job normally, though I do question some of the more recent decisions she's made." Why help those Council assholes in the first place?

Lambert's in no position to throw stones as far as names go, really. Lambert Wolfe is, after all the sort of unfortunate name that gets jokes made of at the named person's expense.

"She just gets to make the calls without asking anyone?" If that's the way things are run around here, he can guess why Strange would want to be in charge. "Don't magicians believe in democracy?"

He is being facetious there, but he's also ... curious, despite himself. Though he's yet to see Strange performing actual magic, what he can see of his office and what he's heard him talk about seem to make him the real deal.

⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

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