lostcarnival | ⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

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⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 138 - Day 152
Where: The Summerlands
What: The Ringmaster brings the carnival to the Summerlands immediately after being freed from Portland so that everyone can take a fucking nap. Her included.
Warnings: Individually marked! Most likely discussion of torture and trauma in here.

DAYS OF SUMMER↴

You made it! And things are back to normal... more or less. Upon waking, you will be greeted with a clear blue sky and gentle breeze – the carnival has found itself situated between a pair of mountain peaks, with great fields of flowers extending in the distance. In the other direction, you’ll see mountain-top cities and tall waterfalls accenting vast swaths of forest.

Some of you will already know this place. It’s the Summerlands. You game here once to rest in safety nearly a year ago, and now you’ve come to rest once again.

► WAKING UP: Shortly after the carnival arrives, the Ringmaster will send out a somewhat cryptic radio message - but her immediate location won't be clear. Whatever items you had on your person at the time the Severing was broken will still be on your person, including whatever clothing. All of the animals and pets of the carnival will have returned to the grounds as well, though they are currently free from their designated living spaces. Things in the carnival will appeared to have naturally aged a month, as if the carnival was been sitting here empty and waiting while everyone was in Portland. The lawn needs mowing.

► SUMMER CITY: After the Summer Fae become aware of everyone's presence, they will welcome you into their city. There are stairs that lead up the sides of the mountains, but thankfully there are also magical means of getting up there as well. The Summer Fae will be willing to help workers with the injured as needed, offering herbal remedies and healing magic to those that want it. You'll also be invited to join them for dinner, but they will not be particularly offended if they are turned down, for now.

► SUMMER PEOPLE: The fae here will mostly enjoy the company of any carnival members that offer it - it doesn't seem that much happens here besides day after day of peaceful meditation and relaxation. It is not uncommon to see Summer Fae spent days doing exactly the same thing, whether that be enjoying the weather, listening to music, or dancing - the day and night periods may be similar to earth, but when you don't need rest it can all blur together just the same. Some of the fae work on feats of agriculture or craftsmanship, and while there is no particularly need to work in this place, they take pride in the fact that they do.

► NEW ARRIVALS: Though the Ringmaster will not be offering much guidance for the first week or so, eventually the carnival will begin running for a few small performance sessions, off and on, as a thank you to their fae hosts. The carnival will also be open to receiving new arrivals during that period, and so there will likely be some newbies to train and get orientated as well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's generous of you." There's a flatness in her tone, like she still has doubts about... well, everyone and everything. Although... it actually is a nice offer, and there's a good chance that some of his books might be of interest to Rita. "I'll probably take you up on that," she adds, slightly more amicably this time.

As they approach, she wonders if the interior of his trailer will bear much resemblance to that apartment of his in the other world - the one she broke into. There were some interesting-looking books in there, as she recalls.

To everybody's relief, the interior of his trailer is a lot cleaner than the apartment was. It's still far too cluttered: there's papers stacked on the kitchen table and Atlantean knick-knacks are everywhere. A jewelry box made of shells holds down one of the paper stacks, a windchime made of shells hangs near the door, and so on and so forth. A red gem about the size of a ping-pong ball is also currently being used as a paperweight. Most of the kitchen counter is currently taken up by a large portable silvery basin. Near the bed, Strange has taken an apple crate and made a makeshift bookshelf. The top bunk is perfectly made, while the bottom bunk is sloppily made: at least for now, Strange doesn't have any roommates.

As they approach the trailer, Strange holds the door open for Rita. "Feel free to help yourself to anything I have in the refrigerator while I get the book."

It's mostly water, milk, and wine. Strange doesn't exactly have much in his trailer in the way of food or drink.

The clutter doesn't bother Rita; it's not too different from her home, back when she had one. "You're here alone?" she observes. Must be nice to have the full space to himself...

Rita gives the refrigerator a glance at his offer, but it's his possessions that catch her eye instead, and she wanders away from it without taking anything. She runs her fingers over some of the more unusual items, leaning in to get a closer look at things that appear to be from neither here nor Earth, things like those Atlantean treasures, and that conspicuous red gem...

"What is all this stuff?" she asks as she examines them.

Strange talks as he goes to the apple crate turned bookshelf and fishes the book he wrote out of the stack. "Anything with shells on it is from Atlantis. I spent a few afternoons there working as a street magician, of all things, and earned enough coin to buy a few trinkets."

At least in his tone, Strange finds something inherently funny about the concept of him being a street magician, though he isn't sharing precisely what he finds hilarious with Rita. As he returns to the table, he sets the book down to pick up the gem with his other hand.

"This, though...it's becoming my most prized possession here." Carefully, Strange sets the gem on the table. It balances point down and then a moving image of a dark haired woman walking through a house, furniture covered in sheets. His memory is fallible so only snippets of phrases can be heard" This is a house fit for a magician she says, before the memory moves back to a silent image.

"That's Arabella," Strange gently responds, paying full attention to the image and absolutely no attention to Rita. "She's my wife."

Atlantis? Rita knows very little about the worlds the carnival visited before she joined. The items themselves look pretty interesting...

But Strange decides to go ahead and demonstrate the mystery gem, and Rita leans in to see... and squints, first at the image, then at Strange. Wait...

"You have a wife?" That's the first surprise. "How'd you manage that?" Rita's trying to imagine a woman willing to put up with Strange long-term, and even with that woman right in front of her face, it still feels like a stretch.

Looking back to the gemstone, her stare intensifies, as if seeing something novel. It's not just the image of the woman, or even the object generating it, but... the power moving within that object. Somehow, she can see it, with a sort of clarity that wasn't possible until very recently.

"I asked her to marry me, that's how!" Strange responds, a bit dumbstruck. What does she mean 'how'd he manage that', he managed it fairly well! He asked her, he got a job, they were married! Strange reaches over towards the red gem and sets it back on it's side: the vision of Arabella abruptly vanishes. "We've been married for years."

The gem was from the Ringmaster: the magic and power moving within might seem very familiar to Rita.

"Here's the book, by the way," he remarks, light tapping the cover of his book. It's hardback in dark green, with a small emblem of a raven on the front. It's also fairly large. "If you don't mind, I'd like to hear what you thought of it once you're finished."

When the gem deactivates, Rita watches as that magic ceases its motion and grows dormant.

Strange gets her attention once again, and she takes the book into her hands and looks over the cover. "Sure. I'll just warn you now: I have a pretty critical eye for these kinds of things." He can expect some harsh critiques when he gets it back.

Tucking the book under her arm, Rita turns as if ready to leave, but she looks back to the red gem instead. "By the way, that gem... That's fae magic, isn't it?" And a weirdly familiar sort, at that.

He's about to go back to do a little more cleaning as Rita turns to leave, but her question makes Strange stop, pausing before he picks up some of the papers on the table.

"It is," Strange answers. "The Ringmaster made it." And then, with a curious frown, he can't help but ask, "How did you know?"

Because Rita's not the only person who's somehow known more about magic than they realized. After all, Strange was able to tell that Childermass was doing some sort of magic near him a few evenings ago, without even knowing what the magic was.

The Ringmaster. That makes sense. Whatever Rita saw, it seems like it isn't some fluke.

She pauses when he asks how she knew, and after a moment of thought, offers the most honest answer she can. "I... saw it, I guess." Rita frowns, looking mildly confused herself. "It just looked like fae magic."

"How odd," he admits, mirroring Rita's mildly confused expression. And then, because she probably wants to know what he's so confused about, Strange keeps talking.

"Something similar happened to me. I could tell that Childermass was doing magic, though I had no idea what magic he was performing at the time."

But what could have happened to both Strange and Rita that their magic would shift this way? Hell if he knows.

Studying his expression, Rita tilts her head. Until now, Rita hadn't heard anyone else mention anything, and she thought maybe it was just her. There were so many other things going on, too, that it didn't seem worth bringing up. But Strange noticed something out of the ordinary, too...?

"I first noticed it after we got back... when I found my blastia again." She brushes her fingertips lightly against the red-jeweled choker on her neck. "It's like... I just perceive magic differently, now."

"I noticed it after we got back as well," he sighs, "but only when I cast a spell with my magic."

If it affected both of them and it only started happening after Portland, then (though Strange is loathe to admit it), Portland might be the cause. But what could have affected both of them in Portland?

"Perhaps we should test this? We are both magicians, after all, I'm certain we can come up with a way to figure out just why this is happening."

The timing matches up, too... Rita stares at him with a look of growing realization, then nods. "Right. I doubt it's a coincidence." Something to do with Portland, and both of them... A few things come to mind.

"Besides... I'm interested in seeing the differences between our magic, up close." The way she could perceive the aer processed through her blastia, or the signature of a fae in that gem... It's beautiful, in a way. Is all magic like that, in their own unique ways...? This phenomenon, weird as it is, could turn out to be a gift.

Strange nods as Rita mentions their magic. He's interested in that as well. But the problem is how best to do this. He's got a semblance of an idea. Maybe if he talks it through a bit?

"Can you still do that fire magic you did in Portland? Now that I've my English magic back, I can do something like that. What if we both cast the same spell and we use that to compare the differences?"

The more Strange talks, the more excited he gets. He's just happy to have something remotely resembling a plan for him and Rita to try out.

Edited 2017-08-09 02:09 (UTC)

"In Portland? That's fae magic, I can't..." She gives him a doubtful look, but then considers it. I can't is a phrase that generally doesn't appear in Rita Mordio's vocabulary. If she could use it then, maybe she can use it now. "I'll try," she quickly corrects herself.

Besides, if it doesn't work, she could use her blastia magic instead.

She tucks the borrowed book behind her; conveniently enough, she has a strap on her back that's just right for holding a large book hands-free. With that done, she turns and makes her way out of the trailer. It wouldn't do to accidentally set fire to Strange's place, what with all those books and artifacts within. She stops when she's in an open space, then lifts one hand and tries to remember that magic, the fire she was able to summon back in Portland... Was it something like this...?

It works. A ball of flame, no larger than an apple, forms in the air over her open palm. Her blastia isn't activated... This is fae magic. Within the flame, and moving through Rita's body as she conjures it, is the essence of the Lord of Conflagration, as well as Rita's own magic signature. "Can you see that?" she asks, awestruck as she shows the flame to Strange.

Strange was about to say something along the lines of well, he had no idea that it was fae magic, that's all right, they'll try something else anyway, when Rita states that she'll at least try it. He follows Rita out of the trailer and to the open space. Then, Strange simply watches.

She manages to cast the spell nonetheless. And while Rita's awestruck, Strange is grinning like a moron. "I can!" he responds, with a little laugh. And he can also tell what it is. The magic is certainly Rita's, but there's something fae in there as well. Strange hadn't spent as much time with the Lord of Conflagration as he did the other fae, so he can recognize the essence of someone Summer Court, but that's about it.

"I can tell it's definitely your magic, though there's something fae in there as well." As he mutters something under his breath, Strange casts a small fireball as well, about the same size, which also forms in the air over an open palm. His magic isn't fae in the slightest: it's Strange's normal English magic that's powering the fireball.

"Ignatius," Rita says, clarifying the something fae part. "The original source of this power... in a sense." But he can see Rita in the spell, too. That's good. It's her own power... the ability to use magic without a blastia. Until recently, most mages could only dream of such a thing.

It's hard to contain her joy at the discovery, and a childlike grin spreads across her face.

Strange conjures his own spell, and at a glance, the two flames look pretty much the same. But Rita can see beyond that appearance. "...It seems almost similar to spirit magic, but there's something distinctly foreign about it... I can't see the signature of any specific spirit, either, except..." She's trying to put her finger on it. "There's a sense of something... avian?" It reminds her a little of the Winter Court, back in Portland, but she knows that's not it.

Ah. Ignatius. That would explain it, wouldn't it. Still, Rita doesn't seem too bothered by that information, so Strange will happily let it pass for now.

Though her assessment of his magic initially confuses him. Avian? How odd. Strange can't help but frown for a moment...before a childlike grin spreads across HIS face as he connects the dots. "It's because my magic is from the Raven King. He's a man, not an actual bird, but I imagine the magic would take on a shape that best represents him. He's a powerful figure in English history and ruled over the land for hundreds of years. It's due to him that English magic exists at all!"

Really, Strange looks like he could just burst out laughing with joy at any minute, that's how pumped and how happy he is to hear that his magic looks avian. "You should get Childermass to perform some magic for you--his would be more avian than mine!" And not just because Childermass can also be a bird now.

Rita looks satisfied with that explanation. "The Raven King? I see... that makes sense." Having that context makes it easier to comprehend what she's looking at. Maybe reading that book of his will shed even more light on the nature of English magic...

His suggestion earns him a curious look. "You think so? I wouldn't mind taking a look, but don't you both use the same type of magic?" Wouldn't the relation to the Raven King be roughly the same for two English magic users...?

"We do. However, Childermass is from the north, while I--well, Shropshire's still a bit north, but it's not as north as Yorkshire." Was Childermass even from Yorkshire? Norrell was from there and Childermass used to work under Norrell, but you didn't have to be from somewhere to work under someone from there. Childermass was definitely Northern though, that much was certain.

Realizing that he's thoroughly distracted himself, Strange attempts to get back on topic. "Anyway, the Raven King was from the north of England. As such, they've a much stronger connection to him than the rest of England--buildings that the Raven King built still exist there, they still speak his name in reverent tones. I hate to admit it, but it only makes sense if a northern magician's magic was more closely tied to the Raven King."

He's getting a bit of a blank look at first. Shropshire? Yorkshire? What does north have to do with...

Fortunately, he clarifies before she has to voice any of those questions. "I see. Never would have thought of that. Blastia magic's all the same no matter where in the world you are." Since the conversation has digressed a bit, she allows her fire spell to quietly fizzle out.

"Come to think of it, I don't know much about your world. Is it... like that one?" She means Portland. "I could've sworn there was an England somewhere in that world..." Although, Portland Rita only had a bare-bones understanding of the world beyond that city, so even if it is the same, it doesn't help her much.

And Carnival Strange only has a bare-bones understanding of America. America was pretty much a wild wasteland when he was alive, getting into fights to try and prove itself, so terms like Portland or even Oregon are completely lost on him. Still, his other self knew something about England, so Strange isn't completely lost in the dust. "I think it's more accurate to say that my world might become something like that one. My England was around two hundred years in the past compared to that Portland."

Strange moves his hand to his side and the fireball vanishes into nothingness. His England wouldn't entirely become that Portland, of course. Though Strange had magic and the fae, there weren't any mentions of werewolves in his England.

"I doubt I'll be around to see it happen," Strange muses, as if realizing that for the first time. After all, two hundred years? He'll be dead and gone before half of that even occurs. "I suppose it was nice to see a glimpse of what the future might be, even if I wish the circumstances were better."

"A potential future?" Rita sighs, looking mildly annoyed. "Right... of course it's something convoluted like that." They can't just travel to other worlds, they have to visit different times and parallel dimensions and crap like that.

In any case, it looks like she can't expect his England to have much in common, culturally or technologically, with Portland.

"I guess it would be interesting to see the potential future of my own world... seeing where magic and technology end up in a few hundred years. Doubt it'll ever happen, though." It's a weird enough coincidence that it happened for even a few carnival workers. It's probably a stretch to think it might happen for anyone else.

"You never know," Strange remarks, with a small shrug. After all, there's been so many coincidences already. Strange just happened to sign onto the same carnival as Childermass, they just happened to visit a world in a possible future, people just happened to vanish around the same time. No, there's far too many coincidences for them to entirely be coincidences. So why not hope and wonder if the carnival will stop by a potential future of Rita's world in the first place? It's certainly possible.

"It is fairly convoluted, though. I only wish I got my memories back sooner, partly so I could see if that world had a proper Jonathan Strange to begin with."

And also so he could make less bone-headed decisions than the other Strange but details, details.

His response gets a light snort from Rita. She still doubts it. And speaking of doubts...

"You think you'd be able to find that kind of information, hundreds of years later, from another country?" Rita gives him a sideways glance. He'd have to have confidence in his countrymen's record-keeping, in the likelihood of his own name making history books, or perhaps a bit of both.

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