lostcarnival | ⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 3

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⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 3

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: October 15st - 22th, 2017
Where: Still in Portland
What: As all sides of the struggle gradually become informed, and the awareness of outsiders begins to spread, Portland faces a critical question - what should be done with them? And who gets to decide?
Warnings: Individually marked!

THE WOLVES AMONG US↴

► WHEN SEPTEMBER ENDS: It's fairly common knowledge that October is a special month - Halloween has always been an excitable time in the supernatural community, because its during this month that the magical energies of Earth seem to disproportionately swell in power. This peeks on the 31st, and has every year for as long as anyone can remember. The holiday of Halloween is a byproduct of this, because the magical phenomenon has gone on for ages past. It's also a pretty common time for wizards to attempt bullshit shenanigans, and also when the Severing first came into effect.

► TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL: Towards the end of the week, Prudence Jaeger will be asking her angelic contacts for a pretty huge favour - she wants them to help her and some of her associates break into the Circle stronghold that the visiting Council members are staying at. It seems that they have some kind of macguffin item that will be needed to crack the barrier cutting off the Earth from the cosmos - and, to that end, allow the angels and mysterious outsiders to return to wherever they call home.

► THE PATH TO HELL: Perhaps unsurprisingly, Team Heaven isn't the only group to clue into the fact that the Circle has what they need. On the same night that the angels go in, so will Anath's army, as the arch demon finally arrives in the city just in time to join the party. Whether the angels and demons fight each other all the way or cooperate to achieve a mutual goal is up to them.

► WITH GOOD INTENTIONS: The Circle and Torchlight aren't all bad, okay? It's entirely possible that they are just acting in the best interest of humanity - unfortunately, that has resulted in them being pretty massive pricks recently, and now the payback for that is arriving on their doorstep. If you're a member of the Circle, you may or may not realize that anything is coming in time for you to prepare. (That will depend on your threads up to the end of the week.) However, once the fight starts, you'll be charge with defending the Councillors whether you like it or not, and Torchlight is getting pulled in as an unexpected ally to ensure their safety as well. Are you going to heed their call? Or is it time to split from the pack?

► BLOOD OF ICE AND FIRE: It's been made no secret that the Rose Queen isn't the only fae trying to pull back her lost changelings - now the Winter Court appears to be doing it, as well. More than a handful of changelings have gone missing over the last couple weeks, lost to both the thorns and agents of the Count. Whatever they're doing, it's also in competition with each other - Winter and Summer will be biting at each other's heels far more than normal, to the degree that it becomes clear they must have some competing objective in mind. Unfortunately for everyone else, that objective happens to conflict with the desires of just about everyone else. Fae are, by nature, opportunists.

- ✪ -
These are the major conflicts that will be coming to a head towards the end of Week 3. In the meantime, your actions will decide how certain elements are set up, and what the likelihood of success is for each group.

Dice rolling handily won the opinion poll where we asked for the preferred method of conflict resolution, so that will be coming into effect a bit later on to determine who actually wins and loses, with advantages based on the choices made.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's not as though Lambert was particularly meaning to never see Strange again; things have just gotten ever more complicated and he has a lot more on his mind than the guy he left in his apartment as a cat.

So the last thing he's expecting is one Jonathan Strange's voice coming from beyond the door. He freezes when he first hears him call out. There isn't anyone else in the apartment right now, thankfully, but he's of half a mind to simply ignore the man. What's he going to do, break the door down and get the neighbors to call the cops? Besides, he's kind of in the middle of something -- namely, transcribing another page of Strange's illegible notes onto his computer.

As a result, it's a good five minutes before Lambert makes his way to the front door to look at the peephole and confirm that yeah, it sure is Strange out there. Assuming Strange hasn't lost his patience before then, he grunts. "What do you want?"

Strange is still there, slouching against Lambert's doorframe, idly composing an email on his phone or playing Candy Crush or doing something to pass the time. Because look, if Lambert doesn't open the door, then Peridot might be back soon and he could easily convince her to open the door via so much lying and so much more flattery.

When he hears Lambert's voice, however, Strange turns to look towards the peephole, scowling all the while and desperately trying to look dignified despite the fact that he hasn't shaved in a few days and looks worryingly pale. "Give me my notes back," he commands, before realizing that there's absolutely no way Lambert's going to just give them back and he'd probably have to sweeten the deal some. "I know that some of my notes aren't exactly the most...clear-cut. Let me in, give me my notes back, and I'll explain what you inevitably don't understand."

Strange looks like shit. It could all obviously be some complicated ploy to invoke his pity so he'll open the door for him, but as soon as that idea occurs Lambert almost immediately dismisses it. That would require more subterfuge than he thinks the man is capable of.

"You're right about one thing. Your notes are a shitshow." And terrible illustrated. More importantly, though, they're also incomplete. Lambert knows what Strange was obsessed with understanding the past month or so, but ... connecting it to what's been happening to him, that's something else. "Try anything funny and I'll deck your ass. You got that?"

"Why would I try anything funny in your house? Any sort of magical properties of the threshold would lessen the effects or attempt to kick my ass in the first place." Because of course Peridot's added her own spells and protections to the house, right? Maybe?

Granted, he's most likely going to get punched anyway once that whole 'who has two thumbs and is working for the Summer Court now' thing gets revealed but at least right now, Strange is on his best behavior. As Lambert opens the door, Strange enters, sticking his phone back in his coat pocket. He waits for Lambert to lead the way to wherever they're going. An office? Does an apartment this small have an office to begin with?

"And my notes aren't a shitshow. They're just...scattered. And missing some important context that I haven't written down yet."

Good thing for that, Lambert thinks. If Strange's attitude is being kept in check because he's worried about other potential repercussions, not having to actively threaten him with physical injury the whole time is one thing off his mind.

"Based on what I could understand of them, I don't think this is the case where 'context makes it better' really applies," is Lambert's response, as he leads Strange to -- well, no, there isn't anything like an office in this place, Lambert was working on the couch, off the coffee table, and so that's where he'll lead Strange to.

The mage's notes have been peeled out of the legal pad and rearranged into neat piles of things that are actually related to each other. They've also stuck over with post it notes in Lambert's much more legible handwriting, for cross-referencing if necessary. Talk those librarian sorting skills kicking into action.

"Of course context makes it better. You're not a mage--how much did you expect to understand in the first place?" It's said as if Strange is pointing out the obvious, not aware in the slightest just how patronizing he actually sounds. Lambert was a normal human without any magical training. The fact that he understood as much as he did is a miracle unto itself, to be honest.

Walking over to the coffee table, Strange picks up one of the stack of notes and frowns at it slightly. "Good Lord this is all a bit ridiculous," he complains, more to himself than to Lambert.

"Enough to know you're in over your head," Lambert retorts, evenly. True, Strange may have more years of experience with magic and overall just more knowledge than Lambert does, but in this case? It's obvious that Strange is on uncertain footing as well. It would help if Strange could even complete full thoughts in his notes, but as it is...

"They're your notes. If they're ridiculous, you've only got yourself to blame." He's surprisingly nonchalant about Strange being here right now to reclaim his notes, but he's also regarding him speculatively. Seriously, what has he been doing to himself? Being turned into a cat wasn't that traumatic, surely.

"I meant your filing system is ridiculous, not my notes." Taking the stack, Strange starts to peel off Lambert's post-it notes and sort out his original text from all of Lambert's additional commentary.

"And I'm not in over my head. I've never been more sure of the course of my actions as I am now." And then, because he's tempting fate, Strange just sort of doubles over, leaning against the couch as he launches into a coughing fit.

At the sudden hacking noise, Lambert grimaces, reaching out quickly in an effort to take the notes from Strange before he does something super gross like cough all over them.

"Yeah, that totally convinces me you know what you're up to," Lambert says, dryly. "You look like puke warmed over, Strange."

The problem with coughing is that it's easy for people to take things from you due to the fact that you're trying not to friggen cough everywhere. Case in point, Lambert has the notes now.

"Stomach bug," lies the man who knows that Lambert saw the carefully labeled jars of poisonous plants hanging out in his kitchen. "It'll pass over soon. Besides, we're not here to talk about my health."

He's here to get his notes back so don't mind Strange as he just attempts to grab the paper back from Lambert's hands.

Lambert's tired too, from everything else he's had to deal with so far. Luckily for him, he does have a great, renewable alternative source of energy: spite.

"Bullshit," he says flatly. Don't even try that with him, Strange, he has two younger sisters and he can smell trouble. (Perhaps even smell other things, in this case. Just how far gone is Strange, anyway?) What he lacks on height with Strange, he makes up for in strength, so while it's easy for Strange to reach for the notes, it's also easy for Lambert to hold them in one hand while he shoves Strange in the chest with the other, intending to force him to sit on the couch.

"Is poisoning yourself supposed to be part of this important context you were talking about?" Like some kind of avenging reference section angel, he taps the stack of notes with the back of his hand as he makes no secret of visibly judging Strange's life choices. "Because I really don't think that's going to help you break the spell keeping every angel, demon, and faerie stranded here."

The shove works and Strange lands back on the couch as he listens to Lambert rail on about his choices. "I'm not poisoning myself," Strange snaps, glaring up at Lambert from the couch. Well, he technically is, but that's not the end goal here. The end goal...god, he'll sound like a lunatic just by saying it!

But maybe that's the point. Maybe he needs to tell someone this. After all, Lambert's opinion of him is already pretty terrible, especially now that he knows the full extent of Childermass's binding. So fuck it! Let's tell him the truth! What's the worst that can happen? Lambert thinks he's crazy, well guess what buddy, Strange is already halfway there.

"I wish to make myself mad. The Jonathan Strange of my memories was able to accomplish so much under madness. Transfiguration, spells of travel, summoning faeries stronger than the one I summoned! If I even had half of that man's power, I'd easily be able to break the Severing. And what better way to gain his power than to repeat his actions?"

Strange is only operating on half-baked memories here. After all, he only has snippets of the English magician's life and what he could do. But even those snippets are enough to make him insanely jealous.

At the very least, Lambert has the sense to do the shoving with the arm that isn't injured -- even now, under the sleeves of his hoodie and mostly dry, it aches whenever he gets a little too worked up.

When Lambert had first begun to get an inkling of what Strange was up to, looking through his notes, he'd told Childermass he assumed it was power that Strange was after. He wasn't far off, it seems like, at least not about the core of his driving motivation. However, as far as the means to achieve it and to what purpose he'd apply that power to, apparently Lambert was dead fucking wrong.

"Let me get this straight. You want to make yourself crazy so you can get the power to break the Severing," Lambert summarizes Strange's rambling. He's getting pretty good at that now, after so much time reading the man's horrific excuse for writing.

Forget 'halfway' there, Strange is clearly already licking paint off the walls, and Lambert's calm lasts all of two seconds before he explodes.

"That makes no fucking sense!" he yells, voice echoing loudly enough off the walls of the living room to make their ears ring. That's not even how going crazy works, Strange!

Edited 2017-07-20 03:04 (UTC)

Most people deal with their midlife crisis by buying a car. Jonathan Strange is dealing with his midlife crisis by going nuts.

Of course Lambert wouldn't understand--when did Lambert ever understand?! Not about the memories, not about his actions, not about the Raven King. Hell, that idiot probably didn't even know half of what was going on to begin with. Of course driving himself mad was...a bit less than ideal, but who's going to break the Severing if the Rose Queen fails? In Strange's mind, it's got to be him and if it's going to be him, he needs the power to do so.

"Honestly, considering all the crap I've had to put up for in the past month, I'm halfway there already!" Strange snaps, getting up to his feet as he just downright glares at Lambert. The ranting and raving continues as Strange just gets louder and louder. "My asshole servant's dating my wife, I've got memories of an Englishman in my head, I was a cat for twenty-four hours last week, I can't find any useful information about the Severing, said asshole servant also stole my tarot cards, I've thrown away everything I've ever worked for, and oh, if that wasn't bad enough, apparently my soul's from a different fucking universe!"

It's obvious that Strange has been wanting to get this off his chest for so long and Lambert's just the unfortunate person who's the recipient of it. Two grown men, about to get into a screaming match. Strange just glares at Lambert, a glint of madness and fervor in his eyes, as he gets in Lambert's face, pointing a finger at the man as Strange's voice rises in anger.

"So you have no right to judge me or my actions!"

"It's not judging if it's objectively wrong!" Lambert snaps right back, automatically pitching his voice at louder volume. Don't eve try to out-loud him in his own house, bitch, because even with smoking his lung capacity is still bigger than Strange's. Since, you know, he actually works out and doesn't spend all his time dicking around with herbal sachets. Buff nerd can break skinny scarecrow nerd over his knee, height difference or not, and when Strange gets up to loom over him, Lambert's response is just a flat, unimpressed glare.

Something's strangely cat-like about it, somehow. At any rate, he rolls his eyes and pushes Strange down to sit, again. Didn't learn the first time, did he?

"I'd bet least half of those things are your own fault! Did you really just come over to my house to bitch about how much your life sucks?" He didn't like Strange much before, with that special ire reserved for people who treat books badly, but he really doesn't like him now, knowing he's summoned and bound Childermass to his service to do ... really stupid shit, apparently.

Yet as tempting as it is to continue pissing on Strange for his life choices, he isn't wrong in his initial hypothesis isn't far from the truth. Lambert is missing context, and if the mage can provide it, that's reason enough not to be just kicking him out of the house ... and there's enough in his mad rambling to make Lambert's blood run just a little bit cold. It lines up too well with what the Beast mentioned.

Edited 2017-07-20 04:51 (UTC)

And he's shoved back down on the couch again. At least this time, Strange doesn't bother getting up, instead crossing his arms over his chest and sinking into a bit of a sulk. Lambert's won the battle of strength (and also the battle of voice, holy shit) but Strange doesn't know when to leave well enough alone so the petty complaining continues.

"I'm only here to get my notes," Strange grumbles, as he glares at Lambert. And he's sure as hell not leaving this place until he gets them back. He's also...just going to keep putting up a fight apparently, as Strange glares daggers at the man.

"Though what, may I ask, is objectively wrong about my actions? I didn't choose to have an odd soul. I didn't choose to have these memories. Is it the la--the changeling?" Strange catches himself from saying 'large bird'. It's amazing how many terrible habits one can gain from twenty-four hours of catdom and John 'large bird' Childermass is one of them. Still, he can't help but laugh, a short, cold, cruel laugh as he turns the conversation to Childermass. A little part of him inside squirms in revulsion at the words, but Strange just keeps on talking.

"He's a changeling. They're barely people to begin with. Ordering him about is the same as ordering a dog to pick up the paper. He doesn't count."

It happens before Lambert can think about it, really. Strange won't even get past dog before Lambert's lashing out. It's not a wild strike -- that would be a punch to his throat, obstructing his breathing, and leaving Lambert with a body to dispose of and no birds to do it for him. No. Because Strange's face is right there, his dumb nose makes the perfect target for the cross punch Lambert aims at his head.

At any rate, it's not a pleasant experience for Strange.

"My sister is a dog," Lambert says, conversationally, once 1. the magician has shut his face, 2. he's reasonably certain he has his attention. "Don't talk about him like that."

Lambert's fist connects with Strange's face with a thud. He has no idea how to even take a punch, so Lambert knocks him down face first on the couch. A moment or so later, Strange sits back up, trying to give Lambert a nasty glare but in reality, it's coming out as more of a childish pout. His nose hurts. Is it broken? How the hell would a broken nose feel? It's not a nosebleed, he knows what those feel like, even if he hasn't gotten one since he was seventeen. He gives his nose an experimental poke, winces, then uses his hand to attempt to feel around for a break.

He's probably just bruised. Strange is a wuss.

One thing's for certain: physical violence shut him up real good and real fast. Of course, now Strange is just sitting on the couch, sulking and holding his nose, waiting for Lambert to do or say something. He got punched, he's not moving unless given permission.

"You know what I meant," Strange mutters, voice muffled by his hand and his maybe-but-probably-not broken nose. And then, with seemingly no care that he's asking the person who just punched him for help, Strange grumbles, "Do you have an ice pack?"

Strange is most definitely just bruised, though whether it remains that way remains to be seen. Lambert isn't the type to hold back, but even so, he did pull that punch. Maybe he shouldn't have, with Strange still having the audacity to make that request even now, but another punch doesn't seem to be forthcoming ... for now. Lambert seems to recognize it too, since it's going to get him a snort and a shake of his head.

"Make your own, if you need one," he says instead. There's a twinge of familiarity there again, but it's brushed away as he continues.

Instead, he'll flip through the notes until he finds the page he's looking for -- easy, because unlike Strange, he resembles something organized-- and flicks the paper at his lap. As concentrated as Strange's notes have been on the idea of the whole Severing, this is the only thing Lambert's been able to find that remotely counts as related to his immediate problems...

"You said you could give context, so give me context. What does your soul and another universe have to do with the Severing?"

Strange is about to complain, asking if Lambert wants him to freeze the apartment before he realizes wait, he doesn't know any elemental magic in the first place. So instead he just kind of sulks on the couch, idly poking at his nose as if that'll somehow tell him that it's broken.

"Someone has tampered with the magic of the Severing. I thought it was those idiots with the Enlightenment Council, but now I'm not so sure. The tampering has made it so that some residents of Portland have their soul etched with magic from another universe as well as memories of a different them from that universe. It's also made it so that some people from that other universe are trapped here in Portland, bound by the Severing. I want to undo the Severing so that it can free the people trapped here as well as sort out my memories and the memories of those others affected."

And also so he can visit the proper realm of faerie and also because Nightshade really doesn't want to be stuck on Earth for so long, but Strange is keeping those opinions to himself. It's best that Lambert think he's an egotist who's focused on himself instead of someone who's made a deadly alliance.

That's a more altruistic motive than Lambert expected of Strange, so naturally, he's immediately suspicious that there's all there is to it, and his expression reflects as much.

"How are you sure that's going to work the way you think it will?" He challenges, brows raised. "Do you even know what the Severing was for in the first place?"

"Of course I do. The Severing was cast to cut off the realms of heaven, hell, and faerie and prevent more angels, demons, and fae from walking the earth." However, the way Strange says that, it's like someone reciting company maxim. He knows that's what everybody says so it must be true, but honestly? Strange has no idea if it's true to begin with.

But the fact that Lambert's asking so many questions about this is interesting. Obviously Lambert knew Childermass, so it's possible the two had talked about this but, having zero clue that Lambert's got weird memories as well, Strange has absolutely no context for his questions. "Why do you care so much about the Severing in the first place?"

"I don't," is Lambert's immediate, flat answer. It's honest too, for what that's worth. "Up until a few days ago, I didn't even know what it was called. But you care, and you're the one who said it might be related to the dreams and memory problems I've been having."

'Said' is a strong word for 'dropped a fuck ton of notes on my foot and meowed' but he'd at least taken Strange's implication that it was relevant seriously, and followed that information as far as it could take him. And what he's found out so far is exceptionally shitty. Strange isn't the only one who's been having memories that aren't his own, but the idea of having that much in common with him rankles.

"You didn't answer my first question. How do you know it's going to work? Or are you just guessing?"

"I know it's going to work because my..." Hmm. What is Nightshade to him? "My patron believes it will work. At least on this matter, I trust her judgement. Besides, all magic comes with a sense of risk."

He doesn't trust Nightshade entirely. She's a fae, why would he, faeries are naturally tricky and duplicitous. But he trusts her with regard to the Severing. After all, why wouldn't she want to go home?

And, at least with regards to Strange, he's viewing this exchange as a back and forth between asking questions, ergo it's his turn. He removes his hand from his nose and crosses them over his chest as he looks up at Lambert.

"Tell me about your memories."

"I'm the one asking questions," Lambert answers, casually flexing his wrist and examining his fist like he's gauging exactly how much effort it would take to punch Strange out again, just because he can. Don't push him, buddy.

"You first. How did you figure out that you had a 'weird soul' in the first place? What do you remember that doesn't add up?"

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why is dw being weird about letting me post this.....

strange's crazy was too much for dw to hold i guess

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