Lambert (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whattaprick) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2017-08-30 12:05 pm
whattaprick) wrote in lostcarnival2017-08-30 12:05 pm
Entry tags:
smoke and mirrors, silver and gold
Who: Idiot 1 (Lambert) and Idiot 2 (Jonathan Strange)
When: Day 148, after fae and Pokemon breeding chatter on the radios.
Where: Training grounds!
What: English magician bullshit meets witcher bullshit.
Warnings: The usual, where these two are concerned
Unsurprisingly, Lambert's at the training course already, eager to get to activities that involve sweating, dust, and exertion a lot more than Strange is. Jury's still out on whether this is going to be more of a physical exertion or a mental one, but he isn't waiting by the course to run Strange through his paces. Instead, he's standing in the raised, water-surrounded arena.
Before Portland, training usually meant bullying the magician through knife exercises, and they've managed to squeeze in one or two sessions since Lambert finally stopped poisoning himself. But today, for a change, it's not the dagger from Atlantis he's wielding: he's practicing with a sword, a blur of silver gliding fluidly through the air as he moves from form to form. A second sword -- one that Strange has seen before, since it's his steel one -- is in a scabbard on his back. Behind him, his tail swings and curls with every movement, counterbalancing his weight as it shifts ... and throwing his rhythm off, since he'll periodically stumble or tread on it and curse, before straightening to try the movement again.
Regardless of when Strange arrives, he'll complete the series of movements he's working through before he glances over towards him, grinning broadly.
"About time."
When: Day 148, after fae and Pokemon breeding chatter on the radios.
Where: Training grounds!
What: English magician bullshit meets witcher bullshit.
Warnings: The usual, where these two are concerned
Unsurprisingly, Lambert's at the training course already, eager to get to activities that involve sweating, dust, and exertion a lot more than Strange is. Jury's still out on whether this is going to be more of a physical exertion or a mental one, but he isn't waiting by the course to run Strange through his paces. Instead, he's standing in the raised, water-surrounded arena.
Before Portland, training usually meant bullying the magician through knife exercises, and they've managed to squeeze in one or two sessions since Lambert finally stopped poisoning himself. But today, for a change, it's not the dagger from Atlantis he's wielding: he's practicing with a sword, a blur of silver gliding fluidly through the air as he moves from form to form. A second sword -- one that Strange has seen before, since it's his steel one -- is in a scabbard on his back. Behind him, his tail swings and curls with every movement, counterbalancing his weight as it shifts ... and throwing his rhythm off, since he'll periodically stumble or tread on it and curse, before straightening to try the movement again.
Regardless of when Strange arrives, he'll complete the series of movements he's working through before he glances over towards him, grinning broadly.
"About time."
no subject
"Well! I'm not certain whether that says more about my mental fortitude or your spellwork, but that's certainly a good sign!"
Strange's attitude has turned on a dime: nothing lifted his spirits like success! As such, he's far too pleased with himself and with this whole endeavor.