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

It's a minute or two later when Strange has finally taken off his billion layers of clothes and set them in the storage locker. He's wrapped that towel tightly around his waist as well. As he enters the sauna, that blast of hot, humid air is enough to make him want to turn around and leave. New experiences, trying new things, you're in faerie, these things are to be expected, Strange just gives himself a mental pep talk as he looks over the set-up.

Besides, Lambert likes this too for...some reason. Could it be that saunas are actually a big deal and he's simply out of the loop? It would make sense.

"And this is supposed to be relaxing?" Strange complains, as he sits down on a bench perpendicular to Lambert's. Because it doesn't exactly feel that relaxing to him. Still, he'll give this a try, even though he's a bit worried that he's not going to do anything but sweat.

Lambert, who's let his eyes drift shut, cracks one open so he can eyeball and confirm that Strange has actually shed a respectable amount of clothing and smirk. That humid air isn't going to help Strange's hair get any more under control, as they'll probably shortly find out...

"It helps if you you give it a chance to do that first," he says, not at all helpfully. In all his glistening (and glittering, thanks to his scales) sweaty glory, he's lying on his side sprawled like an insouciant cat, head propped on one hand.

"Get comfortable. It'll only work if you let it."

For all of Strange's reluctance at the sauna, he did live in Venice for a few months. He's used to some degree of humidity, though not humidity that's ever this hot. That being said, his already messy hair is going to be even messier by the time they've left and one of those fae is probably going to try and sell him on some volume control shampoo.

He lets himself slouch slightly as he looks over at Lambert. In between Lambert's scales and Strange's scales and mirrored coatings, they're going to be two glittery, sweaty men. Still, he's trying his hardest to relax. This is a spa, he's supposed to relax, even if he kind of wishes he was wearing his trousers.

"How come you've heard of a sauna but I haven't? Usually it's both of us not knowing what's going on." There's no hint of an accusatory tone in his voice: it's an honest question. Strange is just legitimately curious as to why Mr. Fake Medieval Poland knows something that he doesn't.

It's just too bad there aren't fae around to appreciate their sweaty glittering glory, but that's probably for the best. At the question, Lambert lazily lets his tail thwap against the bench.

"We've got bath houses back home. Boil yourself alive for half an hour, then jump into freezing cold water after. It's supposed to be good for your health." Not that witchers needed any more of that. Hah.

"They had something like this at the Celebration, too," he continues, with a touch of fondness. No matter how their stay at that place went, that doesn't mean the good parts weren't still good, and he snickers at the memory. "Actually talked Childermass into trying it with me, if you can believe it."

That sounds like a recipe for disaster. Why would someone dunk themselves in cold water, you'd get a chill! Even Strange knew that much! This must be one of those odd different worlds sort of things.

Thankfully, Lambert shifts the conversation to the Celebration...and Strange can't help but smile a wry little smile at that. Childermass? In a spa? He wouldn't believe it had he not seen just what a bizarre state the man was in for most of the Celebration.

"It seems to me you're missing Childermass's brief attempt at being fun," Strange teases, because he hasn't gotten all the mileage he can out of secret boyfriends. "Just ask him to do this or something else with you. I've a feeling he'll be more likely to if I'm not around." Someone is entirely blind to the sheer awkwardness that Lambert and Childermass are both feeling right now and that someone is Jonathan Strange.

It's bracing, Strange. If you tried it, maybe you'd be in better shape for mercenary work ... though when Strange teases him about the other magician, Lambert's tail thumps against the wood again, and he opens his eyes just so he can narrow them at the magician.

"I'm not missing anything," Is what he settles on saying, eventually. "It was funny, that's all. Besides, right now I feel like he'd be less likely to do something if I asked."

As Lambert narrows his eyes at him, Strange just tries to look like an innocent party who has no idea what Lambert's glaring at him about. It doesn't work in the slightest.

"Or he'd attend but spend the whole time flitting about as a bird simply to annoy you. Childermass is a stand-offish person as is, I've a feeling it'll only grow now that he can literally fly away from any unwanted conversation."

Either flying away or retreating to the shadows, that is. And now that they've been in here for more than a few seconds and Strange is adjusting to the temperature, he'll admit that this is rather nice.

"Like he wasn't leaving them through shadows already," Lambert snorts. There's a memory that goes with that, but, the less fuel he gives Strange for teasing the better.

If the point was to relax, bringing Childermass up sure isn't helping him do so, and he shifts his weight on the bench, tail flicking through the air irritably again. Still, he can't help but ask--

"You've known him for a while, haven't you? He always been that way?"

"You've got to keep in mind that within our first two days at the carnival, I've had more private conversations with Childermass than I ever did back in England. He was always Norrell's man, so Norrell colored our interactions."

It's a statement of fact, not any sort of indictment. This was how things worked in the 1810s: one rarely had in-depth private conversations with another man's staff. It seems like Strange is the person who's going to end up more relaxed as he just closes his eyes and continues to talk.

"I've a feeling that if he could have slipped away from some conversations, he certainly would have. Mister Norrell had some...tedious people he called friends." Tedious is putting it nicely. Strange has plenty of sharp words about Lascelles and even more sharp words about Drawlight but they're not currently gossiping about either of those two men, are they.

"But he's always been a man of his own agenda. And whatever that agenda is, he's loyal to it until the end." Strange can't hide the tone of faint admiration in his voice as he talks. After all, that's an admirable quality. Refusing to take a side in the conflict between Norrell and Strange, getting shot for Norrell, trying his hardest to keep Strange alive...Strange might not know precisely what Childermass hopes to get out of his actions, but he certainly knows that he's dead-set on seeing them through, no matter what the annoyance.

Lambert's got some idea of what that agenda is, though not a complete picture. As always, it comes down to the Raven King -- the apparent obsession of all English magicians, the heart of all English magic. Childermass had told him once he wasn't a man of religious faith, but he believed in something nevertheless. It's strange to think about, when the man's so practical about everything else. He's quiet, listening to Strange talk, but the tone of his voice doesn't escape him, and it's a few beats before he responds.

"You almost sound like you look up to him." And then his tone shifts to mocking, because it really wouldn't be Lambert without it. "Doesn't really seem the servant type, does he?"

At Lambert's words, Strange simply shrugs. He's not sure if it counts as looking up to him or not, but he certainly admires the man's determination to keep at what he wants, damn the consequences...especially since Strange is also a person who's determined to keep at what he wants, damn the consequences.

Still, he grins as Lambert points out the obvious: Childermass really isn't very servantish. "I think that Childermass has always done what he wants. It's simply that for some reason, part of what he wanted to accomplish somehow involved him being in Norrell's service." Strange learned that much during their last conversation back home, when Childermass told him of Norrell's attempt to destroy his book.

"And now it involves him signing up for a faerie carnival," Lambert concludes. That's the path that's led them all here -- though he may not know the specifics of what Childermass asked the Ringmaster for, or talked about how he ended, he also doesn't seem like the kind of man who'd be tricked by losing at a game of chance of skill into signing away a year and a day of his life.

However, that seems to be enough gossipping about their mutual acquaintance for now. Lambert sits up, dips the wooden ladle into the water bucket, and splashes more water onto the heated rocks. That sends up a hiss and a fresh wave of humid heat billowing up -- not like they needed any more, since they're both sweating in earnest. Lambert stretches his arms overhead, sweat sliding down his skin with the motion, and rests back against the wood again.

"Maybe we should get one of these in the Carnival. Shouldn't be that hard to build..."

As the heat billows up, Strange can't help but make a small happy noise of content. Why was he so hesitant about the whole sauna thing? This is amazing and he already feels wonderful. So, like usual, he'll happily enable Lambert's dumb idea. "If you find someone to make the actual building, I can find the rocks and provide the water. That should be easy enough with my magic."

The stupid thread is going to get even stupider because at this moment? Strange is just so relaxed and so calm that he forgets to keep himself solid--or, more specifically, he discovers that he might need to start putting in effort to keep himself solid. Mixed in with the steam from the water is a dark purple smoke, the color of nightshade berries. And oddly enough, it's coming from Strange's feet...which themselves are now also made up of dark purple smoke.

Of course, Strange's eyes are still closed so he's got no idea his feet straight up vanished in the first place.

"I can do some carpentry, if I've got the tools." Or he could ask someone in Engineering, but he highly doubts Peridot, Scout, or Rita would be enthused about building a wooden man-cave for Lambert and Strange to sweat in.

With his eyes closed, Lambert doesn't immediately notice the purple color beginning to tinge the air, nor where it's coming from. He does, however, notice it when he reaches to pour more water on the rocks, and tell Strange they should probably start thinking about getting out soon.

The wooden ladle drops to the floor with a clatter as Lambert bolts upright.

"What the fuck?!"

Lambert's explanation is enough for Strange to lazily open one eye...and then frantically open both because he might not know much about saunas but even he knows that's not supposed to happen.

"What the hell--" he starts to say as he gets to his feet, only for Strange to find that surprise, he currently doesn't have feet. The fact that nothing's touching solid ground is enough of a shock for him that he straight up loses his balance and falls over, hitting the ground with a thud and bruising the shit out of his elbow in the process.

It's only when Strange tries to get to his feet that he realizes surprise, they aren't there. "Well," he simply says, trying not to show just how freaked out he is. "That's new."

It's alarming, to say the least. Why is Strange turning into smoke in the sauna? Why is he purple? Lambert opens his mouth to yell out just that, but it turns out Strange's lack of coordination is even faster than Lambert can run his mouth, and he winces as the magician goes down with a thud.

"No shit, unless you have something you wanna tell me." Lambert says, stepping over to Strange in order to cautiously crouch down beside his legs. Yep, that sure does look like smoke. He takes a cautious sniff of the air, just in case, and then...

Reaches out and waves a hand right through the smoke where Strange's feet should be, brow furrowed. "You know, you're usually an easy person to see through, but this is a little too literal, don't you think?"

Strange awkwardly tries to push himself up so that he's sitting on the ground. Considering that he's still absolutely naked and just wearing a towel, the awkwardness only increases. It's odd, though. As he sits up, he definitely feels like there's moments where he could stand up, despite the fact that he currently doesn't have feet.

As Lambert sniffs the air, he'll find that unsurprisingly, Strange smells even more like smoke than normal, but there's a sickly sweetness to it as well, like someone had burned something sticky.

Still, Strange can't help but roll his eyes at Lambert's joke. His feet just vanished into nothingness, is this really the time for bad jokes? "Do you really think I'd have any idea how this happened in the first place?" he grumbles. "Here, give me your hand," said as he extends an arm to try and grab Lambert's hand.

"You'd have a better idea than me," Lambert answers, smirking. It's always the time for bad jokes, Strange. It's practically a time honored witcher tradition.

Why does it smell like burned sugar? Lambert shakes his head and reaches out to clasp Strange's forearms with both hands, getting a firm grip so that he can pull he magician with him as he gets to his feet. Well, 'pull' is a bit of a generous word. It would be more accurate to say he yanks him upright, more carrying Strange than just supporting him, meaning Strange is liable to find his face smacking into sweaty chest (or worse, on the silver medallion Lambert still hasn't shed) if he isn't careful.

Edited 2017-08-12 15:46 (UTC)

And Strange gets yanked up to his feet, awkwardly smacking into Lambert as he does so. This isn't anywhere remotely near what he wanted. He's supposed to be relaxing! Not getting his face accidentally shoved into his friend's sweaty pecs and awkwardly trying to figure out how to navigate his current lack of feet.

Now that he's on his metaphorical feet, Strange is somehow balancing and remaining upright. He's terribly wobbly, like someone trying to figure skate for the first time, but at least he's still standing. "The Ringmaster isn't even here!" he whines, trying to remain upright. "I've no idea why she decided to stick me with another change now."

Because this is what it is, isn't it? Another carnival change. It has to be! Though why the carnival's decided Strange might be best without his feet is beyond him.

Edited 2017-08-12 17:05 (UTC)

"Maybe it took a while to kick in," Lambert answers dryly. He'll keep his hands where they are, steadying Strange so he doesn't just fall over while his feet try to slip all over the place (do they count as feet if they're not technically feet right now? Now there's a mental conundrum if there ever was one). Since Strange doesn't seem to be in any immediate distress, it seems like a good time to make things worse.

"Is it just your feet, or is anything else starting to feel gassy?" he ponders out loud. "Hope this isn't permanent." Though with some of the people running around... this is hardly the most outlandish change that exists, is it?

Before he can expound much on that thought, though, the sauna door opens again, revealing a cheerfully smiling faerie ... whose expression immediately changes when her eyes land on the sight of one sweaty, mostly naked man supporting another, equally sweaty and naked man, both standing in steam marbled with purple smoke. She doesn't look so much scandalized as she does coyly delighted.

Oh, excuse me! Should I give you a few more minutes? Just step outside once you're ready for your manicure and pedicure, she trills. From the look on her face, she's already trying to figure out how to incorporate this new information into the rest of their beauty regime.

Later, Strange is going to put the pieces together and realize just what that cheerfully smiling faerie thought about the awkward situation Strange and Lambert gave off. As it is, he currently doesn't have any feet, so that's priority number one.

But as Lambert mention the fact that it might be permanent, Strange just looks aghast for a moment. "I hope it isn't," he can't help but mutter, looking down at his lack of feet. He really wanted that pedicure and also he just kind of wants his feet back.

He's still leaning against Lambert, though. Awkward as this may be, he's not an idiot, he doesn't want to eat floor for the second time in five minutes. And might as well answer the first question while he's at it.

"I feel...lighter? Not gassy thank you very much. It's like the moment before I vanish in a puddle or how I feel whenever I create a breeze." He's light enough that, as Strange quickly finds out, he can float. Moving his grip to Lambert's arm, he tentatively moves forward a few inches...and then a few more...and then he stops and his claws straight up dig into poor Lambert's arm as he wobbles precariously.

That confusion is slowly fading away in the face of Strange's excitement at the unknown. This is an odd new discovery and honestly, Strange is a little bit excited to figure out how it works.

Lambert doesn't have to have much of an imagination to know exactly what the faerie was thinking, but he does have to pause and consider whether it's something that's going to get them in trouble or use to their advantage. The concept of a couple's discount doesn't exist where Lambert comes from, but he's certainly adaptable.

"So ... full of yourself?" Lambert resigns himself to being used as a balance beam while Strange figures his shit out, flinching more out of surprise than actual pain when his claws prick into his skin. As soon as the magician seems to start settling down, Lambert's going to step away from him too, though won't quite shove him off (yet).

"Not that this isn't entertaining to watch and all, but maybe you should start feeling like you have feet."

"What a ridiculous idea," Strange can't help but grumble. "How does one feel like they have feet?"

But, ridiculous or not, he's trying. Strange sighs and closes his eyes, squinching his nose up in concentration as he starts thinking of feet. It all feels a little bit silly, picturing his feet, thinking of the feeling of walking on something, remembering what his toes look like and oh god, this is so stupid. But hey, it's working. The smoke that had dispersed through the room starts floating back to Strange as if being sucked up by a vacuum. The smoke around his feet turns into feet shaped smoke...and then poof, his feet are back to normal.

As Strange actually feels the wood under his feet, he opens his eyes, gives the floor a little frown, then turns to Lambert with a slightly smug 'I totally meant to do that' sort of expression. "There we go! Back to normal!"

He has absolutely no idea how he managed to do that. "Shall we continue the spa day?"

See? Stupid suggestions or not, Lambert does know what he's about, sometimes. He can't help rolling his eyes at how darn smug Strange looks about all this.

"Fine. Whatever you did to make that happen, try not to let it happen again," he says, letting Strange go and stepping towards the door on the far side of the room. Maybe it was being in the sauna that set it off? One can only hope Strange doesn't keep doing this through their stay, or it's going to be a very aggravating afternoon.

At any rate, Strange will have to contend with his next hurdle: the icy-looking pool waiting for them, glinting in a faintly menacing way, much like Lambert's eyes.

"Sauna virgins go first," he chirps, cheerfully, before pushing a hand into the small of Strange's back to try and shove him into the water.

Edited (THAT WAS AN UNFORTUNATE TYPO) 2017-08-16 23:55 (UTC)

It's going to be the most aggravating afternoon known to man. Sorry Lambert, but Strange not having control of his limbs is going to be a reoccurring theme for the next lord knows how long.

As they enter the room with the pool, Strange makes a fatal mistake: he stops to look at the pool instead of remembering what Lambert had said earlier about the fact that freezing cold water comes after the steam room. He's an easy target and straight up gets pushed into the pool, letting out an undignified little yelp as Lambert shoves him in and he submerges with a splash.

Thankfully, it's shallow enough to stand because yeah, Strange can't swim. He splutters slightly, thrashing around a bit before his feet touch bottom. He looks like a wet, soppy mess and is just glaring up a storm at Lambert. So, of course it's time for retaliation. It only takes a gesture of his hand and two or so quickly muttered words for Strange to cast a spell and cause a jet of that cold water to shoot up from the pool directly at Lambert's face.

He deserves it, the jerk.

that IS probably useful

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