lostcarnival | so about those faeries

Entry tags:

so about those faeries

Who: Lambert, Strange, and (some form of a) Childermass
When: Early into their arrival in the Summerlands, after Lambert is actually fucking awake.
Where: The Carnival, Supervisor's Grove
What: Stuffy magicians and a witcher become aware of plot, then may or may not get blisteringly drunk
Warnings: Drinking, swearing, not discussing traumatic experiences but certainly thinking about them very loudly!

The directions that Lambert provides to the trailer in the Supervisor's Grove are clear and concise, but even if Strange made a complete hash of them it's still not hard to pick out the trailer with the open door and windows to let the breeze in.

Once he gets inside, he'll find an open space that's been converted into a laboratory of sorts. On one side of the room, several bulky somethings have had canvas sheets thrown over them, presumably to keep the dust from accumulating -- and from a month away, quite a bit has -- but the other side has some kind of chemistry setup laid out, beakers and burners and various kinds of equipment for distillation and refining components Lambert needs. Another workbench has been set up as some kind of assembly station, though it's hard to tell at a glance what for. More recognizably, one corner is entirely devoted to large copper vessels that are unmistakably some sort of alcohol still.

There are multiple vials with eerily shifting liquids organized by color along one wall, but what Lambert is looking at and holding up to the light now is a larger bottle. When he hears Strange come in, the witcher turns, golden tail lazily swinging to the side.

As with all the other Carnival workers, his changes have come back full force, scales and horns and all. Unfortunately, Lambert also looks even shittier than the last time Strange saw him, although he might not have gotten a good look: dark, blood-red veins creep across his face, curling under the surface of his skin like snakes, and he's looking a little grey, dark circles under his eyes. However, since his body's worked through most of today's dose of Swallow, it's not as bad as it looks. Really! But it looks pretty bad, so that's not saying much.

"Hey."

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The sharp twist Lambert's expression takes says he absolutely doesn't like that. His tail lashes heavily against the floor, but before he can draw in the breath to do more than make an outraged, non-verbal noise at the back of his throat, the magician beats him to the punch.

"You're an idiot," is what he'll still say, bitingly, cutting off another piece of cheese with entirely too much force. Leaving aside the matter of the Ringmaster being able to cast a ritual to revive the dead, which now seems a much less bizarre proposition than it would have a month ago, it's still a stupid idea, for reasons he's about to outline sharply.

"First of all, what happened to you could have happened to literally anyone else at the Carnival." Assuming anyone else is ever idiotic enough to be kidnapped by the fae in the first place. "Second of all, it has happened. You told me people were controlled in the Matrix, and some of the supervisors attacked us in Hell." Another apple gets fished out of the basket, and he continues in between alternate bites of cheese and fruit.

"So, sure. If it comes down to it, I can and I will kill you. But you better be fucking ready to do the same thing to me or anyone else she gets her teeth into." It's the most he's spoken since they've gotten back, and his voice is a hoarse snarl by the end of it. "Unless you'd like to volunteer any better ideas?"

Edited 2017-08-02 19:17 (UTC)

"I don't have any better ideas!" Strange snaps, annoyed tone in his voice. "She's a True Fae, Lambert, do you know what that means? None of us here could even attempt to match her power or undo her influence in the first place. I can only think of one magician who would have the slightest chance at doing something like that and it certainly isn't me!"

It's obvious the way his voice breaks, the way his hands start trembling despite the fact that Strange is trying to keep them calm, the way Strange just refuses to look Lambert in the eye, that he's scared as hell of Nightshade. He has to complete his contract, he has to save Arabella. He can't do that if he's enthralled by someone else. And for all his blustering and repression and trying to seem like everything fine, he's got this, Strange is absolutely terrified that what happened to him in Portland will happen again.

He takes a larger than expected swig of the alcohol to try and calm his nerves...but then discovers that this is like some 30% hooch and starts coughing and choking slightly.

Lambert recognizes the fear in Strange's voice, the way he holds himself. He knows what scared people look like -- he simply absolutely isn't used to them being people he on any level cares about. He remembers his own fears from Portland, but the terror feels more distant now, less immediate, shuffled mentally into the same space that lets him stare down a charging griffin with a steady heartbeat.

It's lucky that Strange finds himself choking on the alcohol, because it takes about that long for Lambert to decide on what to say.

"Look, human magic managed to trap all the True Fae on that world for twenty-five years, right?" he tries, once Strange recovers. "So we know their power doesn't make them invincible. They can be beaten, and they can be tricked." Not to mention they pretty much saw that the Ringmaster could be beaten and tricked -- and completely molded out of the shape of her own mind -- because that's not helpful to the discussion right now.

"Of course she's got power. A lot of things have power. You think I'm stronger than a griffin? That I could kill a troll without breaking a sweat?" He does have a point to make here, which he's getting to in a second. "I only beat monsters because I learned to. Because someone else figured out how, and I can use that." His hand clenches on the table, claws pricking into his own palm.

Strange just pauses for a moment, taking another, smaller drink as he does so. Because he recognizes what this is. This is Lambert's attempt at comfort, trying to ease Strange's worries about this whole debacle. And part of him is just so grateful that Lambert's even making an attempt in the first place.

It's just that the attempt is really terrible. Strange could easily counter with how the fae aren't griffins or trolls, how the spell that trapped them came at the expense of the world itself, how they could be beaten but it would be damn harder now that both sides knew what they were going up against, how they'd have access to so many more resources now that they weren't cut off in Portland...but honestly, it's a bit of a losing fight and he's still a bit too frayed to give Lambert a laundry list of all the ways that his plan of 'learn about the monster and then probably stab it' won't really work.

This only impresses on Strange that he's going to have to come up with a plan himself, some sort of spell or ritual that would be better than get info and then possibly stab.

"Do all of your comparisons default to killing monsters?" He can't help but ask, leaning over to grab some bread from the basket. Strange is actually looking at Lambert this time as he talks. The fear's still obvious in his eyes, but he's at least giving the witcher a weak smile to go along with his gentle teasing.

Lambert scowls, because while the intention had been a little bit of comfort, it's also essentially what he intends to do to keep something like this from happening again. Lick their wounds, find out more, don't get caught off guard next time. There's nothing else to do -- it's hardly like they can hunt it down and fight them on their own ground. He's aware of the shortcomings of this plan, but that's what other people's ideas are for. He just needs to find more ways to kill things.

"Considering that was literally what I was made for? Yeah, they kind of do." Since Strange is leaving off the eggs, it's Lambert's turn to go for some, picking out two and making quick work of peeling the shells off as he continues.

"I'd say they're likelier to go after the world we just left, just for the insult of trapping them there. If we hadn't crashed in, they'd probably still be stuck. Beast seemed to think part of how the Severing worked was making Arcadia forget about them."

Edited 2017-08-02 23:27 (UTC)

Now that's some interesting information he didn't know about. They weren't in Arcadia right now, but perhaps the spell caused the Summerlands to forget about them as well? He'll need to ask around, bother the fae, see what's what. After all, he's got a sneaking suspicion that other people in the carnival are going to keep a bit of a distance.

"That wouldn't surprise me," he muses, after swallowing a mouthful of bread. "Nightshade was particularly put out that she was stuck there for so long." Though the fact that Lambert keeps on calling the Ringmaster 'the Beast' just makes Strange's weak smile grow a little stronger.

"You can call her the Ringmaster, you know. That's who she is." And then he takes another sip from the beaker and winces. The slightly potent taste just throws him for a loop every time it hits his taste buds.

Lambert shakes his head. "You wouldn't say that if you'd seen her then." He'd brought her up often enough with Strange, but not in detail, never divulging all that much information, and he can guess he never ran into her himself.

"It was her, but she was ... different." He's struggling to put words around it, it's clear to tell, like he just doesn't know exactly what he wants to say, so eventually just gives up and leaves it at that. From his experience with the Ringmaster, he would never have described her as having morals, but compared to what she'd been, her present incarnation is a paragon of virtue.

"Hard to say what was real and what wasn't," he settles on, finally. "She called herself a Wyld Fae, and those don't get along with the courts. Rumor said she killed a True Fae called the Winter's Claw, and she was willing to kill the Rose Queen just ... for having a face she didn't like and to brag about it." He waves a hand, vaguely. Hopefully, this is helping Strange see some of why it's so bizarre to think of the Beast and the Ringmaster as one and the same thing. The next part is harder to remember, so he's going to take a drink and shut his eyes, resting his forehead against the heel of his hand.

"The Courts were going to repurpose the world, if they'd succeeded," he says slowly. Now how did she describe it...? "Something like creating a changeling, only with a whole universe."

He groans, opening his eyes and leaning back. "You'd have to ask her or Peridot for the rest of that. I wasn't exactly taking notes."

"As blunt as this sounds, there is precedent for some of her more extreme behavior. Remember our trip to hell?" Aka remember the time the Ringmaster literally ate the heart of her ex-girlfriend. Lambert might think this is different but, as much as Strange loved the Ringmaster's company, there were some definite things about her that made someone remember just how not human she was.

As for the Winter's Claw...how Strange would love it if that was just something that happened in Portland, nothing to do with the Ringmaster herself. But her address sticks in the back of his mind. The Ringmaster could have been a heartless fae who would be happy to murder someone based on their looks just as Strange could have been a heartless man keeping a servant bound out of sheer spite.

"Oh, I've an entire list of things to ask the Ringmaster when she gets back," he mutters, with a sigh. This whole dying thing is far too inconvenient, RM. "I'll put that on the list somewhere." Strange knocks back the rest of the beaker with the ease of someone who's been chugging poison for the past few weeks.

"Good luck getting a straight answer," Lambert responds, dryly. Strange has got the right sort of idea anyway, so when he sets his glass back Lambert will top him off again.

"And that's a good point." However, maybe your perspective gets a little skewed on what's more unsettling when someone's literally sucked out part of your soul and put it back in. Weird, how he used to think Hell was the worst they'd be put through, but he sighs and knocks back what's left of his own beakerful, grimacing as it hits.

"Was that all you wanted to meet me for? Extract some kind of death pact out of me?" One wonders why he needed Childermass present at all, though Lambert now suspects the request was really more so Strange didn't have to hang out with the other magician alone...

"Well I wanted to tell you what I learned about the fae," Strange explains, with a little shrug. "But I do have something to show you as well."

And Strange just seems so excited as he stands up, setting his empty beaker down on the table. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulls out a ruby gem, the size of a ping-pong ball. He holds it up to the light so Lambert can see the stone as well.

"Now don't get any ideas. This isn't for you, though I do have some books you should borrow back at my trailer--oh damn I'll need to remind Childermass about the books as well." That is, if the other magician would even speak to him after this. He knows Childermass is alive and well enough to talk about the Ringmaster (how did he find out she had died anyway?) though any other details beyond that, Strange doesn't know. The lure of books would worked to draw Norrell into conversation but Strange honestly has no idea how well they would work for Childermass.

"Here, help me clear off some table space and I'll show you what it can do."

Lambert's gaze snaps to the gem, of course, instantly interested, though his lip curls as Strange warns him off. With the air of a man suspecting he's about to be tricked, but deciding to humor a friend anyway, he moves the basket off the table, though he'll tip the bottle and refill Strange's glass while he gets things set up.

"You got me books?" is what he'll ask to pass the time, brows raised. "I told you I wanted jewelry, not paper."

But there, now Strange has his space, his rapt-if-sardonically amused audience, and his big shiny rock. Lambert waves a clawed hand generously, lips curling to show off sharp teeth. Come on, Mr. Strange, you have the stage!

Very carefully, Strange sets the stone down on the table, point down. Oddly enough, it balances perfectly despite the fact that it really shouldn't be doing that at all. And then, from the stone into the air, projects a memory. It's Arabella, gently chastising Strange for something. Snippets of conversation flit in and out--it's hard to remember every spoken word of a conversation, after all. But the general gist of the memory is obvious enough: it's Arabella telling her husband to get a goddamn job.

A man needs an occupation, Jonathan, the memory of Arabella says, as Strange just stares at her, absolutely twitter-patted and madly in love despite the context of the memory. It's amazing how just seeing his wife, hearing her voice, does absolute wonders for Strange's psyche. Any remaining trace of fear or terror in his expression is just melting away as he hears her voice and sees her face.

God. It's been months since he heard her voice. Something like this...it's amazing.

"That's Arabella," he simply offers as an explanation, once he realizes that Lambert probably has no clue who the woman projected by the stone is.

On some level, Lambert's aware that this is supposed to be a meaningful moment. However, the look on his face as the images and snippets of sound begin to flicker past is increasingly deepening confusion. The only part that makes sense is the gem as a focus; megascopes worked in a similar way for recording things. Not that Lambert's ever had a reason to use it himself, but at least he's familiar with the theory.

And then Strange speaks, and Lambert turns to squint at him. Well, that's a hell of an expression.

"Strange," he says, in a remarkably steady voice, though the corner of his lip is starting to twitch and his shoulders are shaking ever-so-gently. "Did you seriously come here to show me a memory of your wife telling you to get a job?"

Edited 2017-08-03 02:03 (UTC)

"It shows other memories as well." Strange picks up the gem and the memory fades away into nothingness. "And, if I spin it, it also plays music."

Again, he gingerly sets the gem down on the table, point down. This time the memory is another that doesn't make much sense. It's Arabella sitting down at a table, making herself breakfast and talking to Strange about something. Carefully, Strange reaches over and gingerly twists the gem into a spin. It remains perfectly upright while it spins, like a children's top. The music it starts playing is honestly a little unnerving at points but Strange just keeps staring at the memory with a doe-eyed expression.

"This was when I returned from the peninsula," he explains, lost in his own memories and not really paying any attention to Lambert. "I always knew she was beautiful but that morning, when I was looking at her...she seemed like the most beautiful woman in all creation."

Being in love, Lambert decides, must be the fastest way to losing intelligence. He already knew that much from seeing Geralt lose his shit over Yennefer, and Strange's twitterpated expression is just supporting evidence for that hypothesis.

Seriously, if he's going to sit here having to endure Arabella and Jonathan's greatest hits, can't they at least get to the spicy parts? No, nevermind. With the music playing that would be even worse.

"Do I need to give you some privacy with the spooky memory rock?" Lambert asks, loudly. "Because I'll be honest, I really don't feel like I'm necessary for this." So much so that he's already eying potential escape routes from his own laboratory, including possibly jumping out of the window--

Hang on, is there something out there?

Edited 2017-08-03 02:48 (UTC)

Fortunately for Lambert, between the music and Strange yammering up a storm, it's providing perfect cover to investigate things that might be at windows. Because that creepy music just keeps going and Strange just continues to look at the memories of Arabella like they're the greatest things in the world.

"I don't know why you're acting so annoyed about it. I'll put the gem up in a moment, I just wanted you to see it first. Because this is Arabella, she's my wife, and I thought that--oh! Lambert, look, it's our wedding!"

Being in love makes you a total idiot.

Why yes, there is something out there. It's just holding very still and irritatingly difficult to make out for sure, even with those fancy witcher eyes.

Fortunately for whatever's there, Strange's voice is going to make Lambert distracted enough to glance back over his shoulder despite himself. All right, it's still sentimental enough to make him want to take his own eye out with a spoon, but literally nobody would ever invite Lambert to their wedding, so it's weird and interesting to see a different -- wow, that sure is some kissing happening there, huh.

"Is it going to get to the wedding night too?"

...it has literally just occurred to Strange that if the gem shows memories of Arabella, then it might accidentally show his more intimate memories of Arabella. And yoink, that gem's going right back in his pocket before we get an accidental memory gem sex tape broadcast. The laboratory settles down into more of the quiet it was before music box music started to play while Strange tries to regain a bit of composure.

"If it does, those memories are going to stay private," said in a very pointed tone of voice. "Let's talk about something else--with more drinks, of course. I'm still sober which means that disgusting alcohol of yours isn't doing it's job."

Edited 2017-08-03 03:33 (UTC)

"Show's over already?" Lambert feigns disappointment as the evening's entertainment disappears, but really, he's as glad that's over with as Strange probably is right now. As expected, the alcohol's kicking in more sharply than it would if he were in full health, but that's not necessarily a bad thing in this case...

"It's been hanging out in the carnival for a month. Quality's not guaranteed, only alcohol content. But you're welcome to help yourself." Rather than immediately heading over to Strange, he'll head to a bench and rummage around beneath it to produce another bottle, which he'll bring over and thump down next to the opened one. The food basket goes back on the table as well, Lambert fashioning himself a rough sandwich which is really just a huge wedge of cheese jammed into a hunk of bread.

Hanging out for a month...Strange can't help but shake his head slightly at that as he opens the bottle. Everything certainly looks like it was left out to pasture for a month, but after shaking a lifetime's worth of fake memories from his head, it feels like it must have been much longer.

"It still seems hard to believe were in Portland for an entire month." Carefully, Strange pours himself another beaker full of alcohol. As the smell hits his nostrils, he can't help but continue musing. "You know, the madness was only so that I could communicate with faeries in the first place. That idiot was poisoning himself for no good reason."

Unsurprisingly, England Strange has a very low opinion of Portland Strange.

"Is there ever a good reason to poison yourself?" Asks the witcher who's been essentially poisoning himself over the course of the past few days, and is technically continuing to do so as he knocks back more booze. If they're going to be talking about Portland, he's going to need it. Thinking about his past life is enough reason for anyone to reach for the bottle.

"Could have turned out worse. At least you didn't end up making any human sacrifices ... or at least, I hope not."

Lambert doesn't know how the spell chose who ended up as what, but it seemed to have a real wicked sense of humor at times.

At Lambert's question, Strange shakes his head, taking a small sip of the alcohol before he continues.

"Mm, thankfully not. I tried to kill at least two teenagers, though." If you joke about it, this means you've accepted it! That's how these things work, right? That is not how they work entirely, but Strange just tears himself off another hunk of bread as he tries to convince himself that this is entirely how it works, why would people think otherwise, he's coping!

"I also ate a few spiders. But that was when I was a cat, so I don't think that counts." God, what a uniquely bizarre and uniquely sad statement that is. At least now he knows that the madwoman in Venice must have been truly mad if that was her desire.

Lambert subscribes entirely to the school of 'make a joke about it and pretend you're over it,' so he isn't about to question Strange on that.

"Lucky thing Portland you turned out to be a pretty incompetent killer, huh?" He says, picking up another apple. This time, he's cutting it roughly into slices, with the intent of making himself some apple-cheese sandwiches to munch on. Really, he should get something more substantial, but the idea of confronting anyone else in the cookhouse is exhausting.

"I think I ate a couple of birds when I was a cat. But ... that happened months before we showed up, so that probably never really happened." Most of the things that didn't actually happen in the month they were there are fading in his mind like washed out paintings, growing harder and harder to remember. "Mostly I can't believe I ever thought I had sisters."

"I can't believe you thought Peridot was your sister." There's going to be a little bit of shit-talking poor Peridot but hey, she's not here, that's the best opportunity to shit-talk. Though, this does bring up another point that Strange really hadn't thought about until now.

Though, this is after he straight up steals one of Lambert's apple slices. Hey, hey's hungry and they're available for eating.

"You thought Peridot was your sister and Foster thought Amethyst was his sister. Do you think any two carnival members thought they were married?" And then, Strange continues the logical train of thought and gives Lambert a smirk that he knows is most likely going to get him shoved slightly or yelled at. "I know there were at least two carnival members who thought they were secret boyfriends."

Peridot might be obnoxious but she at least pointed out the secret boyfriend aspect that Strange would have completely overlooked. He can't entirely dislike her.

Edited 2017-08-03 05:09 (UTC)

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