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.

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Reira's question startles him, and there's an immediate downswing to his mood--which is matched, inexplicably, by an upswing in his outward behaviour?

"What, me? I'm fine, haha!" It's not the kind of warm, sincerely motivated emotional masking Reira's probably used to from people like Yuuya--it's decidedly more desperate, and a little... ominous.

"Don't worry about me! Really." There's some... unnatural force there. But honestly, Reira doesn't know how lucky she is that this is all there is to it. He's handling it much, much better than he would have a couple of months ago.

It's a precarious condition, though, and one he's barely hanging onto.

Try Again?

Y/N

Boy howdy Foster, if you only knew how close you were to the sorts of feelings that both Yuuya and Zarc have given off-

There's a reason the latter had such a twisted world view. As it is, in all three cases, it was a decidedly frightening switch of emotional masking, and certainly not anything she ever cared to dig into. Or at least, aside from one case, not something she really...knew HOW to dig into. It's a mess. A big big mess, and she looks to his ankle.

It's a good excuse. "...It's not too much blood?"

She was totally asking about that and not the brief sads. Totally.

('Peep!' says the sparrow)

...too much...?

He starts to laugh.

It's like Reira has startled him out of his holding pattern with the audacity of her question. The absurdity, even.

Too much blood?

Life is blood. There is no 'too much' blood. There is no 'enough' blood, never satiation. Only the need for more blood, more death, more life--bleeding is the only way to see that, to see blood, freed from its bonds!

Isn't that, at its core, what necromancy is all about? To feel alive in one's rapport with death? To achieve the illusion of control? To cheat the bonds of fate--no matter how fleetingly, how feebly?

Once he recovers enough, though, what he says is simply--

"No."

.... What is she even feeling right now? Reira's stare is wide and (to some at least) almost creepily 'blank' as she watches the other, holding the sparrow in her hands. There is almost...too much here, she thinks. It's not negative though, is the thing-it doesn't hurt, it doesn't begin to hurt, it just feels.

Odd. Uncomfortable in its elation. It's...

"...Ok." ...Well then. "...You should still cover it though. Otherwise, cuts get infected, and then it causes problems."

Foster doesn't really seem fazed by Reira's thousand-yard, empty stare. Possibly because he doesn't spend much time looking at people. Not the way most people look at other people, with an eye for what fits and what does not.

Nothing fits, or doesn't fit, the way Foster sees things. It's a much more complex equation than that, one with constantly shifting parametres and levels of attention paid--one that, unfortunately, he struggles to articulate even within himself, and so will probably never manage to make sense to anyone else.

Either way, he seems to accept Reira's response as fairly inoffensive.

"It's fine! It's fine as long as it's still bleeding," he assures her, as though that makes any sense at all.

It really doesn't make sense at all. "...If it keeps bleeding forever, then you run out of blood. And then it's not bleeding." Also you're probably dead, but she leaves that bit out for now, merely frowning a bit.

The bird peeps again, and she moves to look down at it, gently adjusting some of its feathers.

"Not actually," Foster replies promptly. Although that isn't what he meant at all, he's still compelled to respond--which is making this conversation even more confusing than it already was.

"Your body makes blood pretty constantly, you can bleed quite a lot without needing to worry. If you're bleeding slowly enough, or just a small enough amount, you could just... keep bleeding forever and never run out."

Which sounds.... so appealing. An infinite fount of blood, a wellspring from which one could always feel, could always see, could always taste one's own blood...!

Or is that more Biblical than provenant....?

But that question doesn't quell his desire for it in the slightest.

He doesn't even notice he's drooling slightly--just out of the corner of his mouth, but it's still there.

Blood, blood, blood...erm...

The general excited feeling that doesn't sit too well with her is back, and she's starting to find that maybe, just maybe, she should stop talking about this PERIOD.

The bird in her hand seems to be a good distraction, and she quickly moves her attentions back to it. "...What happens to the bird now..?" she asks curiously, stroking it gently as it seems to react to the touch. It's happiest being rubbed head to tail, in a downward motion, only that way though, not the other...

It's notoriously difficult to persuade Foster to leave a topic like that on his own. It's the kind of conversation that actually means something, at least to him. A thought that can consume him, a subject that within its bounds contained not only itself but the workings of something greater than itself.

It just feels so inspiring--!

He blinks, and she can practically see him returning to reality. Such as it is, anyway. His reality and hers don't necessarily encompass the same things.

For example: he'd forgotten the bird was potentially important. He didn't care what happened to it, so he'd forgotten it was possible Reira might.

"Mmmm." He regards the bird--and her--dispassionately. Honestly, his initial plan had been to destroy it, crushing the tiny feathered body with his massive paws and leaving the unbound soul to its fate.

Of course, he can't 'feel' the bird's emotions, its innate character. He can control its body, steer its will, shape it in any way he chooses... except physically. For now.

But he doesn't really need to have a sense of its innate desires or hers to see that Reira is enamoured of it.

He shrugs, smiles.

"If you want it, it's yours."

Well, as difficult as it is to do so, she's apparently succeeded...somehow. So Reira listens quietly for an answer, watching as Foster looks over the bird and considers things. She's not getting the sense that he...really thought about this. There's nothing bad in the air, just the sort of feeling that something doesn't matter either way.

The feeling quickly loses focus when he finally responds however, and Reira's eyes widen. "Ah-!! R...Really..?! I can look after them..?"

"Ha ha. Sure." Foster is... a little bemused by Reira's obvious awe. He can remember being a child now, but he remembers nothing of how it felt. He can't remember what something felt like yesterday, how could he possibly remember the experiences of... what honestly feels like someone else entirely?

Technically, the bird is still 'his.' He could summon it back to him at any time with but a thought, could destroy it just as effortlessly. And of course, if he dies...

Either way, it's just a sparrow. A dead one, at that.

But she's acting like it's some.... some tiny miracle. It's actually a little uncomfortable. But it makes destroying it even more uncomfortable. He glances at the bird, his brow furrowing slightly.

Fuck it.

"You... stay with her. Don't go too far." He doesn't need to say it out loud, but it seemed... better to be transparent about it.

Well... ...She's not sure what's going through the other's head...other than some sort of. Discomfort. But the answer is good enough that she can keep her own optimism, even managing a smile. She looks at the bird with wide, and happy eyes, and nods.

"T...Thank you..!!" she quickly says, bowing her head. She's seen people do that sort of thing when they're grateful right? This is how it works? Well here she goes then.

Unfortunately for Reira, it's kind of culturally specific, because Foster has no idea what that weird little gesture was about. Unfortunately for Foster, that doesn't hide her gratitude or sincerity, and he's really uncomfortable with that.

"Don't waste your time thanking someone like me."

Just... don't lose that bird, okay, Reira? Just.

Fuck. Don't make him regret this.

Well that seems just silly to her. "...You're supposed to thank everyone when they do something nice though."

She knows this, it's the Rules.

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⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

I'M CRASHING THIS TAG MAY NEED TO BE EDITED FOR THE ENDING LMAO

but that ending-

I WAS SO TIRED

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