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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Look on the bright side, Strange: at least he let you keep your towel on. What else are friends for? Gratifyingly for the magician, perhaps, Lambert yelps as he's splashed right on the front with water, but he recovers quickly enough and hops right in after, though not without a shout.

"Fuck, that's cold!" Even as he complains he's ducking his head and upper body so he can vigorously sluice sweat off his entire body, his tail churning in the water. Dripping water off his scales and horns, he starts to wade towards the shallow end.

A couple of fluffy-looking robes have been hung up for them, and a sign directs them to deposit used towels in a bucket. After squinting at it for a second, Lambert shrugs and strips the towel off, leaving him bare for a few eyesearing seconds before he puts on the robe to replace it.

Strange can't help but let out a laugh of triumph as he splashes Lambert in the face. That's enough for him to call it even and he doesn't make any move to splash Lambert any more.

He's about to ask just how long they have to stay in this freezing pool when Lambert's making his way to the shallow end--and thank God for that. Strange also wades to the shallow end, as he desperately tries to keep his soaked towel around his waist. The haphazard attempts at modesty only continue as they get out and oh no, yep, that's a penis, thanks for that view he did not want to see at all, Lambert. It's an awkward few seconds while Strange tries to put on the robe while also holding the towel around his waist while also trying not to get the robe wetter than it already is. Unsurprisingly, nothing's working.

"Unlike you, I actually have some modesty remaining. Turn around, please."

At least in Strange's mind, it's not a terribly hard request if you don't want your friend and your boss to see you naked. It's just common sense.

Better still, it's a penis that's just been in freezing cold water, so it's not at its proudest at the moment. None of that is going to stop Lambert from outright leering at Strange, though it's mostly in jest.

"No need to be modest, Strange. I'm sure your wife doesn't have any complaints." After the obligatory shitgiving, though, he'll roll his eyes and turn away, if only to investigate the vaguely fruity and sweet-smelling complimentary drinks left for them at a side table.

Strange better get something on quickly, though, because the smiling faerie from before is just gonna pop right up in front of him with no warning again, cheerfully asking them if everything's to their satisfaction.

"And the last time I checked, you weren't my wife." As Lambert turns away, Strange quickly drops the towel and throws the robe on. After all, it wouldn't surprise him if Lambert turned around again right when he was in the middle of changing just to spite him.

He's got the robe on, everything's covered, and he's fiddling with tying a knot when the smiling faerie appears directly in front of him. As he hears her voice, Strange tenses up, obviously not expecting her to just appear like that...as his feet vanish into smoke again.

At least Strange is remaining upright, though it's obvious she gave him a bit of a scare by the flustered tone of his voice. "No, no, everything's fine. We both enjoyed the sauna, by the way."

"But I'd look just as fetching in a dress," Lambert calls back -- and Strange isn't wrong, he is tempted to look back, and it's only his picking up a drink that saves the magician from further ribbing.

When he hears Strange talking to the faerie, Lambert he looks over, stifling a laugh when he realizes Strange has fallen apart again. The faerie doesn't seem too worried about this state of affairs -- presumably having seen stranger -- and her artificially youthful face doesn't even wrinkle, though she does have to tap her finger as she considers his now-missing feet.

Well, I'm glad to hear that! I hope you enjoy this next part just as much. The smiling faerie ushers them through a hallway to a room that looks more like a garden than anything indoors, a lattice of vines and leaves overhead providing shade. They end up in lavishly cushioned wicker chairs with arm rests and are directed to sit down and put their feet into pools with tiny, silvery fish swimming around.

Edited 2017-08-17 20:29 (UTC)

Strange doesn't bother making his feet solid as he floats down the hallway to follow Lambert and the faerie. If this is going to keep happening, then he needs to at least practice moving so that he won't fall on his face again. That being said, he's still wobbly as hell, but he remains upright the whole way.

Aaand the next treatment involves feet. Of course it does. With a frown, Strange closes his eyes again, wrinkles his nose, and thinks his feet solid. He's getting better at this, but it's still too awkward.

"Well, at least the chairs seem nice," he remarks, as he looks at the pool of fish with a frown. They're tiny fish. What exactly are they going to do? Very carefully, Strange puts his feet in the pool. Thankfully, the water's lukewarm, something which he looks downright relieved about after that last freezing cold pool.

Edited 2017-08-17 21:55 (UTC)

And as soon as Strange sticks his feet in there? The fish swim right on over and start nibbling on his feet. It's more a tickling sensation than anything else, given these fish barely have anything that passes for teeth, and given their volume and how eerily their bodies wiggle as they feast on Strange's toe gunk, well... it's a little unsettling.

Lambert, who's sat his ass down in the seat next to Strange, laughs when he catches sight of what's going on, which is all the prompting the faerie seems to need to launch into an explanation of how the fish are eating off the dead skin to make the later treatments more effective!

Is that explanation even slightly accurate? Hell if Strange knows. But then again, the entire theme of the spa so far has been treatments that Strange has no idea even existed actually exist in the first place. The fish might be odd but nothing's actively hurting him so nibble away, you weird little fish.

"Well, go on," he teases, with a little smile. Stick your feet in too, Lambert. "They're just fish. They barely bite in the first place."

They don't really bite at all--this is more nibbling than anything else. But considering that the theme of the evening's swapped to two grown men teasing the shit out of each other, Strange is going to continue that.

"Some of us don't have feet that turn to smoke," Lambert retorts, but as bidden, he goes ahead and sticks his feet in. It's a weird sensation, but not unpleasant, though it's fairly unclear to him how this is supposed to help his feet get any softer.

At any rate, while they leave their feet to soak, the fae claps her hands. Instantly, a pair of other winged fae -- about the size of a cat -- come out carrying baskets almost as big as they are, which they set down on the tables next to the chair's armrests. Lambert sniffs the air curiously, brow furrowing. Something smells ... sweet?

Before he gets a chance to ask about it, they're both being prodded into putting their hands into bowls filled with warm water, the fae tutting over the state of their respective hands. Lambert's, in particular, merits serious head-shaking, but Strange also gets some disapproving chatter, along with the promise that they'll 'take care of it for you, just wait and see.'

Lambert's not sure he likes the sound of that.

The main faerie starts explaining what'll happen next, though Strange honestly has no idea what half of her words mean. The warm water's to loosen and relax the cuticles before something called a manicure? And then there's something involving moisturizer? The word pumice stone is thrown in there as well, to help scrape off some of those callouses, really what were you two doing that your hands got messed up that much, the Ringmaster should know how to treat you lot better.

All of this is just going over Strange's head, so he's decided to ignore most of the technical terms and just follow the faerie's instructions no matter what (though really, it's half technical terms, half terms used in ways that Strange had no idea dealt with spa treatments.) Fish are eating skin off his feet, his hands are in a bowl of warm water, that's normal, he can do this!

"Be careful of my wrists," Strange can't help but advise, giving the faerie a little nod. He's got no idea how moisturizer or manicures would react to the mirrored scratches but he doesn't want to find out. Likewise, he's got no idea if these treatments will even reach his wrists in the first place but fish are eating his feet, he's just going to point out the wrists no matter what. It's as the faerie goes back to grab a few more items that Strange turns towards Lambert, giving him a slightly amused smile.

"I assume you also only understood the bare minimum of what she's talking about?"

"Not a clue, but I could get used to this," Lambert answers, cheerfully, even as his faerie attendant buzzes off to do the same thing as Strange's, clearly feeling her current tools around up to the task at hand. When the witcher settles back into his chair more, the seat back rather abruptly reclines back, making Lambert yelp in indignant surprise, only to relax when he realizes he's not falling backwards.

This is a lot more complicated than anything they had at the Celebration. Which is hilarious, when you think about it, but it made sense. That place could give you almost anything you could think of with its magic; if you couldn't think of it in the first place, it wasn't about to provide. Also, the people attending you weren't exactly the chatty type...

"Unless they're trying to kill us through relaxing, I guess there's nothing to worry about." Lambert's already shutting his eyes, to all appearances ready to doze off.

Edited 2017-08-20 15:54 (UTC)

Well that looks damn cozy. Strange looks around for a lever or something before he makes the seat recline back as well--though he, thankfully, stifles his surprised yelp. Still, hands soaking in water, feet also soaking in water, leaning back in a comfortable chair while wearing a large fluffy bathrobe...he could get used to this.

"Death via comfort? I wouldn't mind going out like that." Unlike Lambert, Strange is keeping his eyes open, as they dart across the room, like he wants to take in as much of this place as he can.

By now, the fae have returned. Lift your hands up, please, they ask. Moments later, the attendants have started to go to town on Strange and Lambert's hands, using pumice stones, moisturizer, cuticle scissors, nail clippers, and nail files to try and get their hands and nails something close to acceptable before the nails get painted. It's an uphill battle for both but hilariously an uphill battle for Lambert's poor attendant, who can't help but look at his calloused hands with something close to horror.

"I'll second that," Lambert answers, voice already muffled as he snuggles his head more securely into the pillowy headrest (which somehow is constructed in a way that it doesn't make it uncomfortable for his horns to rest on! It's a problem he never thought he was capable of having until he showed up here and started turning into a bigger freak than he already was).

Whatever the fae are doing with his hands, Lambert doesn't particularly care. He does, however, crack an eye open when that sweet smell hits the air again, and he realizes his hands are being vigorously rubbed down with ... sugar? Whatever. It's surprisingly relaxing, and thus it's no surprise at all that Lambert, exhausted as he still is, passes out right in the middle of all of it, meaning he isn't awake to answer the fae prodding him about whether he'd like his nails (now magically filed down into bluntness) painted.

Thankfully for both of them, Strange manages to stay awake through the entire thing...though it's mostly because halfway through, one of the fae nudges him because would he terribly mind making his feet solid again, it's hard to give a pedicure to smoke. So he's able to answer questions about whether he and his friend would like their nails painted, to which Strange happily answers of course they would, having no idea what painting one's nails means to begin with. Likewise, when asked about the color, he'll state that oh, whatever you think looks best, in a manner that's designed to make it seem like he knows what he's doing.

So, their fingernails and toenails are trimmed, painted, and buffed to an inch of their lives while their hands and feet are scraped and moisturized as much as possible. Strange has a grand time chatting with the fae as he does so, gossiping about everything under the sun while trying to remember to keep his damn feet solid. After everything's dried off, one of the fae informs Strange that their final stage is a facial and full body wrap, would you mind waking up the man you came in with?

Well of course that's not a problem and Strange happily agrees to do so. And he does so by giving Lambert a gentle shove in the shoulder. "Lambert, get up. And if you don't wake up now, I'll wake you up myself with my magic," said so that any fae listening can back him up if he does decide to be a nuisance and wake Lambert up by splashing water in his face or knocking him out of his chair or something equally childish like that.

Lambert makes a mild noise of discontent as he's prompted to wake up, cracking an eye open to glare balefully at Strange. It a threat that holds no water whatsover, though -- the way his tail is practically boneless, draped over one arm of the chair. If Strange is close enough, he'll make a half-hearted effort to swat at him (or reach for him like it's attempting to) before the witcher stifles a yawn and stretches.

"I was awake," he says, not at all convincingly -- then does a double take when he catches sight of his own hands, and Strange's. In his case, because he never got the chance to state a preference, the fae have used magic to file his claws down into blunt, oval shapes and painted them a smooth, metallic gold. When he looks at Strange, his hands are in a pretty similar state.

"What'd they do to us?" he asks, with an incredulous laugh. In the meantime, the small pools they were sticking their feet in have been covered and slippers provided for their bare feet (which were in an even sorrier state for Lambert) as they pad their way to their next destination.

He dodges Lambert's half-assed swat, giving him a raised eyebrow. He was awake. Suuuure. Though, as Lambert looks at his hands, Strange raises his own up so that the witcher could see just what they did to him. Strange's claws are also filed down, but his nails are silver, which the faerie happily reassured him would bring out the sparkle in his eyes and those things along his wrists. (Strange just shrugged and let them do what they wanted.)

"It's called a manicure," said in a bright tone. "There's apparently one for the feet called a pedicure--I think I'll go back and get that one later myself. We've got the facial and body wrap next. And before you say anything else, I've no idea what they are either. I heard one of the faeries muttering something about packages, but that's it."

He'll find out pretty soon. Because as the two are led into a different room, with long massage tables to lay on, a different blonde, perky faerie who had been setting things out for the two, looks up with a happy Oh! Are you the two who've been upgraded to the couples package?

Navigating this is all on you Lambert, because Strange has no idea how to react to that question (COUPLES package???) and is just kind of staring at everybody with mild confusion.

Lambert, on the other hand, doesn't miss a beat.

"That's us," he chirps, and Strange will promptly find an arm companionably slipping around his waist and giving him a nice, all too comfy squeeze. For the sake of friendship, Lambert will at least keep contact above the belt (the currently soft, fluffy belt) but that's not going to stop him from running his mouth.

"Isn't that right, honey?" He bats his eyes at Strange outrageously, hoping the expression he's making as he tries not to burst into laughter looks appropriately besotted. It doesn't. It still mostly looks like Lambert trying not to burst his spleen cackling at Strange's expense, but thankfully the fae doesn't seem to notice at all.

You should have told us sooner so we could have been more prepared more for you! she says, with just a touch of reproach, but she quickly recovers, clasping her hands together. If you take your robes off and get face-down on the tables, we can get started right away!

Edited 2017-08-23 22:24 (UTC)

Couples package? How on Earth did they think they were a couple? He's still a bit confused about the whole thing but Lambert's giving him shit and batting his eyes at him and wrapping his hand around his waist so like Strange is going to let himself be outmatched in the stupid department.

"I'm afraid it's my fault why we didn't tell you sooner. I'm not as forward about these things as darling is." Strange isn't as forward about a lot of things compared to Lambert so that much is at least true. And Lambert's at least won this round of 'who can make the other the most embarrassed' as the mention of taking off their robes causes Strange to flush pink for a moment or two. Again?! If he knew how much a spa day involved getting naked, he wouldn't have signed up in the first place!

He can't help but continue to think on why the fae thought they were a couple as he tries to undo the knot in the fluffy robe belt that he just now realized he tied a little too tight. They were just bros. Just two bros on a spa day. Two bros getting naked in front of each other and oh good Lord Strange now realizes why the fae thought they were a couple. With a sigh, he finally undoes the knot...and then accidentally looks over at Lambert who probably has gotten his robe off a lot faster than Strange has. Goddammit, why does he keep doing these things.

One day, this pointless contest of 'who can be the bigger shit' is going to lead to tragic things, but today at least, it's mostly just leading to fun at Strange's expense.

In any case, Strange's supposition is completely correct and Lambert was naked within five seconds of peeling away from each other and the fae leaving the room to give them a few moments of privacy. Mercifully, at least, his back is facing him so he mostly gets the view of ass, tail, fae marks ... and scars. A lot of scars. It was less obvious when he was further away, but Lambert's close encounter with a wall riddled with icy protrusions (courtesy one Jonathan Strange) and subsequent healing have left his back covered in healed-over lines and patches of shiny scar tissue clearly fresher than others.

At this point, Lambert glances over his shoulder, tail swishing lazily through the air as he grins. "What? See something you like?"

Now that they're closer, Strange's eyes are drawn to the scars on Lambert's back and he just blatantly stares at them. He can tell the signs of freshly scarred over wounds thanks to his time in the peninsula. And that's what these are. Multiple small and jagged scars as if...as if Lambert was flung backwards into a wall covered in sharp icy spikes and jagged protrusions.

Oh damn. Strange knows precisely how Lambert received those scars. Incapacitate before a swift kill. That was his strategy while brainwashed, and now Strange is viewing the results of his actions. Still, there's a little part of him that hopes this is some sort of ritual nonsense and not his brainwashed actions, so he has to ask. So, Lambert's grin is matched with a concerned expression from Strange. He's still wearing his bathrobe, but it's loosely tied around him.

"Did I--" Did I do that, he wants to ask. But he stops himself at the last minute, choking down the words. Strange asks instead, "Those scars on your back. Are those from Portland?"

This may come as a surprise to Strange, but Lambert doesn't actually spend a lot of time thinking about his back, much less remembering other people can look at it too. His expression turns briefly quizzical -- he has a lot of scars, Strange, which ones are you talking about -- before comprehension dawns.

"What these?" He reaches his hand over his shoulder, absently touching the few scratches he can reach, like he'd already forgotten they were there. In a sense, he has -- they look nastier than they are, and his only concern is if the scar tissue could limit his range of motion.

"Yeah, from the Count's castle. Fucker should've sucked it up and dodged that move. Could see it coming from a mile away." There's nothing but irritation in his voice for the person he'd been, and little respect for the fact that he'd already been injured and working at handicap to start with. That was thanks to his own stupidity too.

"Least he managed not to break his spine."

Strange takes a few steps closer, trying to get a better look at the scars. They were already healing so they couldn't be that bad? Or they were already healing because Steven and Zecora healed them. But on the other hand, Lambert was uninjured enough that he could punch Strange in the face at the end of the ritual fight, so perhaps they weren't as bad as they looked (which looked worse than they actually were, thanks to Strange's massive guilt about the whole thing.)

"You had barely regained your witcher magic and he didn't have any combat training," Strange points out, willing to cut Portland Lambert a little bit of slack. Honestly, the one moment where Portland Lambert was a bit of a badass came as a massive surprise to everyone involved. "Whereas I had at least a little bit of training from the carnival. Besides, I fought in the peninsula." Which barely involve any sort of magical combat to begin with but details details

Without thinking, Strange reaches up and idly traces one of Lambert's Portland scars with his fingers. He's hurt more people than he thought himself capable of since arriving at the carnival, though most of them were vampires. But here, confronted with the consequences of his actions right here physically in his face...he's massively uncomfortable about all of this.

"Shouldn't have been there in the first place. I'm surprised he wasn't dead by the first week--"

Lambert cuts off there, because of all the reactions he could have expected, that light, gentle touch on his back isn't what he was expecting, even if he saw Strange telegraphing it a mile away. Strange won't get a chance to do it for long, either, as he almost aggressively shrugs his hand off, a motion that also means turning to face the magician fully.

The witcher opens his mouth to say something, expression doing something with the furrow in his brow and the way he wants to tell Strange to stop looking at him like that -- but it's promptly interrupted by the re-arrival of the fae there to douse them both in scents and who-knows-what treatments, tittering.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you'll have more than enough time together after your treatment!" One of them tsks, and Lambert huffs in amusement, stepping away from Strange and turning back to table he's supposed to be getting on.

"You heard the lady. Time to take it off." The moment very thoroughly broken, he settles in to wait.

Edited 2017-08-28 12:50 (UTC)

Strange recognizes Lambert's expression and is about to get ready to defend himself or defend Portland Lambert buuut the faeries return, effectively killing the mood. The mood's killed even further when one of them raises an eyebrow and gives Strange an 'aw yeeeeeah, you go and get that man' sort of look to which Strange can't help but blush in embarrassment and annoyance.

It's also at this point that Strange realizes this small little moment of bonding happened when Lambert was buckass naked. He flushes even redder and quickly turns around, so as not to see more of Lambert's junk.

"I am, I am," he grumbles at Lambert's teasing. However, the robe stays on until the very last minute when Strange has to take it off so the body wrap (whatever the hell that is) can start.

And...hold the phone, he recognizes one of those smells. "Is that chocolate?" he asks, downright confused. Truth be told, he's had more chocolate in the carnival than he ever had back in England, but it's a distinctive enough smell in the aroma of smells he can't recognize.

By then, the witcher's already planted face-down and ass-up on one of the tables, tail curling lazily over his legs while one of the fae drape a towel tactfully over his lower half, his tail twitching lazily.

Strange's interjection, though, is enough to make him look up, peerily lazily over at where the fae are vigorously stirring something in bowls. The smell is certainly unique, Lambert's experience with chocolate is almost purely limited to what he's been able to consume in the Carnival and his fractured Portland memories thereof, and what he does remember is that it's something that goes in the mouth, not on his body. Consequently, his expression is just about as confused as Strange.

He doesn't get much of a change to ask any questions before warm, wet, something is being smeared all over his back, his fae attendant tutting under her breath while his tail tries to rise in alarm.

Do hold still, it's perfectly fine! Lambert would quite like to object that there's nothing fine about being turned into a candied dragon, but he only squirms a little more before he manages to mutter a response.

"And what is this doing for us, exactly? Except making us smell like dessert?"

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kingsroads - 2017-09-01 03:38 (UTC) - Expand

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