lostcarnival | ⇨ THE PRINCE IS DEAD

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⇨ THE PRINCE IS DEAD

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 178 - B1: Day 6
Where: The Carnival and sometimes on top of the Heart of Stone.
What: Now that the Prince is dead and gone, there's a lot left to sort out. As the remaining servants are liberated and those captured by the Prince are tended to, it's time for recovery and goodbyes.
Warnings: Nothing in particular.

HOME GROUND↴

At long last, it is over. The Prince is dead, and all of his stolen Names have been restored - all that's left to do is treat the wounds and move on. For the first day or two, the Ringmaster will be arranging passage for the servants that are left, all of which have remembered their names for the first time in years. The earth elemental that had been trapped and forced to serve as the Prince's manor, the Heart of Stone, is happy to help for the moment. It appreciates the Ringmaster's mercy, and is free after untold eons of imprisonment.

Yet, there are plenty of aspects that are far from simple. There are still servants left mad and transformed into beasts, with no easy way to change them back. The Prince's spells outlive him, and those bearing his poison and his curses will have a difficult road ahead of them. Though most of the bestial servants have been rounded up, and a large number that had been reduced to unmoving statues returned, even the Ringmaster can't return them to normal so simply.

The next week is for rest and for settling remaining affairs. If you want to bid farewell to any particular NPCs, or assure care is given where it's needed, now is the time to do it.

► A CURE: The Ringmaster will tell everyone simply - there is no simple way to undo another fae's magic. The Prince's powers were essentially on par with hers, which means that those who have been transformed to stone and those that were cursed into beasts and driven insane are not something she can trivially fix. It will take the work of the carnival and a couple weeks of treatment to shed the curse of stone, and the maddened servants are an entirely separate matter. She will do what she can, but for the most part she is arranging for the Prince's servants to be cared for elsewhere. At least for now, the Ringmaster will be animating the stone portions of people's bodies with magic, though those portions will still be a bit clumsy and numb feeling.

► THE NEW HEARTSTONE: In the absence of the prince, the Heart of Stone will be taking over the remains of the Prince's realm and preventing it from collapsing into void. As it turns out, the manor had been an earth elemental all along - a form of Wyld Fae almost on par to the Prince and Ringmaster themselves. How the Heart of Stone was enslaved is a long story presumably, but the Ringmaster considers it to be a sign of the Prince's own depravity. The Heart will be allowing visitors for the first couple days of this period through the portal, but keep in mind you are essentially just walking around on its body. At least the realm has a floor, now, instead an endless abyss surrounding it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's tried to look presentable in the early morning even if he wasn't at his best. His hair is barely pinned at the back of his neck, a little wild and unmanageable. He isn't able to lift his arms as high as he wants to with the way the petrification had started to creep up along his shoulder blades towards his neck. Even with the Ringmaster's assistance to move those parts it is a little painful and he avoids it.

When he hears the basket hitting the floor one of his pinned back ears will raise in curiosity and he'll finally look over to where he is to examine it. He is hungry as he has been for a while now. Tyki was a man that loved to indulge in sleeping, eating, and other natural vices.

"I don't really feel like eating," he replies as Joker's words don't seem like an order. Normally they don't need to be and one command is all it'll take him to listen. Yet, he was tired of taking orders and tired of being commanded to do this and that. With Joker, he didn't need to order him because despite his words the sincerity of Joker's offering and advice is there and Feathers will be comforted by the fact the tingle stops, he pitches forward to push a hand down for balance and he attempts to drag the basket over.

A good eye will notice his hand trembling, his arm shaking and his body unable to balance properly. "Are you eating?"

The good news is that, once it's certain that Tyki won't be running off anywhere anytime soon, Feathers is more than obliging enough to finally hop off of his shoulder. (You're welcome, spine.) He still stays near enough, leaning towards the basket that's been dragged closer, and occasionally makes a soft rolling noise in the back of his throat.

Joker, meanwhile, watches Tyki for a while longer. Things seem... fine, he thinks. At least he's not being asked to leave, so he takes that as a sign that he's allowed to sink down onto the ground himself. One of his legs has to be sprawled out uncomfortably in front of him, still as stone as it has been for a few days now. At least it matches the mark on his cheek.

"Haven't cared much for it either," he says, making the decision to use his good hand to lean back instead of raking it through his hair. He hasn't brushed it in a while anyway. The wood would just get tangled. "But still made myself have some sorta thing now and then. Supposed ta be good for ya." Is that a not so subtle hint that Tyki should eat even if he's not feeling it too? Listen, maybe.

The lifting weight is something he's grateful for as his back straightens even more and a distinct crack and crunch of something signals exactly where his own petrification is. If he's in any pain he doesn't show it or not at least to the unobservant eye. His hand is out to plop onto Feather's head with a rub of appreciation for a couple of reasons. He's glad he made him stay and for getting off of him. He wouldn't have minded the weight if it wasn't for his back right now.

He'd never push Joker away even if he didn't want the company. He would have to have a good solid reason to ever yell at him to leave. He remembers the mark on the cheek but the leg is new. He subconsciously crawls closer to Joker and then makes an effort to close the gap between them if only so he doesn't have to lift his voice any higher than he wants to right now. With the basket between them he can open it and pick at what is inside. Nothing really looks appetizing but he does listen. He's learned a value lesson about listening to Supervisors. He reaches in for an English muffin and peels it apart to let his thumb squish against the fluffy insides. He's staring at it for a long while as he listens.

Then he just says what he needs to, "Don't let me push you off a balcony again. You called my bluff so you know I didn't want you to die. That was too risky, Joker." He takes a bite of the plain bread and chews with a slow tear of it. "Still, I do apologize."

There, that's good. Joker watches him inspect the contents of the basket with little fuss about it. Once they're all back to regular order, better things will be made especially to replace the memories of all the nonsense that they had to eat while being under the Prince's "care" one way or the other... But for now, whatever they can eat should be. Sometimes that means plain simple things that don't upset the body.

At the request, he huffs out a dry and short lived laugh. "I wasn't in any danger from the start, there's no need ta fuss or apologize about it."

He has two English muffin pieces in his hand but he has yet to eat it. He's not necessarily debating whether he should or not. It's just the matter of getting close enough to Joker to have a normal conversation and not feel so out casted. He feels bad about what happened but then he doesn't at the same time. There's a question of choice to everything including himself. It was only those select people that had no choice at all he might somewhat feel bad over.

"Around me you're always in danger, Joker. I saw you as the enemy. You, out of almost everyone else in the carnival, know what I am capable of. Well, almost everything." He's going to make a very awkward sandwich as he tears some of that baked chicken and throws it into the English muffin. It's only then that he attempts a mouthful of it with a chew. "But alright, I won't dwell on it if it doesn't concern you." There wasn't any point otherwise.

"Ah..." Right. On more than one occasion in their chat back during the ball had Joker tempted that hand on his chest. He supposes he really does know what Tyki does better than a good deal of people in the Carnival besides anyone he works with under Childermass. Still, he can only shrug once more response. "Be that as it may, the danger wasn't from bein' shoved over a balcony."

Wings, and all, even if he hadn't shown any signs of using them at that particular point in time. It's fine; there'd been a lot of air to fall through before he ever hit the ground.

"Anyway, can't get a reward if ya don't accept some of the risk, yeah?" He flashes a grin over to Tyki, wide for all its weariness. "And I figured it was worth it."

Truth be told not even Childermass knew a lot about him nor any of the members of Acquistions. He did kind of spend a lot of time in the Underbelly instead of getting to know his coworkers. "I will admit it was a good gamble."

A bad gamble but still a successful gamble. He's not going to mention that the sharp fall could've possible snapped his back or his wings. There's no point in arguing with Joker over details and points when he just wanted to move past it.

"As long as it is worth it, Lord Joker. Some risks don't outweigh the consequences." He knows at least one person that didn't return and he remembers shooting her full of Dark Matter. Then there was Allen that had disappeared all together.

Unlike the first time, hearing that title associated with his name doesn't earn a bout of laughter. Instead, his lips twist a little. Perhaps it's their most recent "stop" that has him filled with distaste at hearing it. Right now, he thinks he could go a nice long time without having to stay in some manor, whether without all the stifling manners or clothes or not.

"All depends on the person," he says. "Anyway, it's all in the past now. Gotta start dealin' with the present." He nods to the other man, and tries to ignore how such a simple motion makes his head swim.

"How have ya been doin'?"

It's gotten sour even off his lips and he picks at the baked chicken squished between two english muffin halves and makes a face at it. He takes a hearty bite and forces himself to chew and swallow. He might keep up the mister and miss with some people but lord and lady didn't feel right anymore. He'd be fine not going to another party for a while either.

"The present. What a fine mess that is. New people showing up in a time like this, others disappear including your clown..." he starts off with a mouth half full of food. At least his hand is up and it is packed into one cheek. How he manages to swallow is something else from his throat a little raw from extreme dehydration from not drinking for days. He really should be resting more than he is.

"I'm fine, Joker. I'll live."

He'll live, huh? "Well ain't that a hard bleedin' thing," he mutters before heaving out a breath. Not for the first time, he contemplates on how easy it is to die compared to continuously truck on. Yet here they are, pushing ever forward as always. Certainly it's thankless work at times.

"Well, there's more ta life than just livin'." His eyes flick for just a heartbeat in Tyki's direction. Perhaps he should have brought other things, but the man is eating well enough. That's the best he can ask for. "I'm not gonna push ya inta anythin', but I'm about." For talking, or just being near, whatever. There's no demands here.

"Just so y'know."

"That's something you don't have to remind me of. I know the difference between living and existing," he says bitterly and quite matter-of-fact in tone. He is the Noah of Pleasure, the embodiment of the pleasures of life in all of its comforts. Yet, here he was simply saying he was 'fine'.

He swallows hard in order to force his throat to accept food and he stares at the muffin in hand with a squeeze of it. It's then that his head lifts like he's looking for something. In truth, he was searching for other nearby souls that happened to be in the tent at the time and only when his eyes settle on Feathers as the only soul present does he bother to look back at Joker, "Do you know what it is like to be swallowed up by something to the point you're just someone screaming from the inside?"

He shoves the rest of the English muffin and chicken into his mouth and chews hastily in order to force it down before he changes his mind. His hand wipes at his mouth after he swallows, "I do."

If quiet is what's needed to wait out an answer, then Joker can let it reign for a little while. Anything to get anything at all out. Yet as words finally fill the air, well... His own gaze drifts elsewhere, sharp pink becoming a little harder and a little more distant.

Do you know what it's like to be swallowed up by something to the point you're just someone screaming from the inside?

The songs, echoing against hard stone, had always been meant not for anyone else but himself, really. Oh, he had known that it might have annoyed the others, or maybe even helped them, but it had been for him over anyone else. In the darkness and the cold, there'd been nothing else for them. A little white noise had been the only defense he was capable of summoning up.

It'd been the only thing to keep his mind away from the harsh cacophony of his own memories.

The feel of cold iron burning into his wrist, around his throat, through his hand and against his back. Mocking titters hanging in his ear. Fear pounding ever present in his chest as he'd wondered about the others, about his only family. Yet all of that had been a precursor to being limp, helpless, feeling the life drain out from him and then, in its place...

Sometimes, Joker wishes he was the smoking type, or that he wasn't an absolute wash with alcohol. Both of those are things he wishes he could do right now, just to take the edge off of his own memories. Instead, all he can do is lean out and let loose a long low breath. "Yeah, me too," he says plainly, no dancing around it.

He loves the quiet but not when it came to people. The uncomfortable silence of the radio when an important question is being asked and the way he cannot read body language when addressing it makes everything irritating. Tyki was a manipulator and almost naturally when it came to conversation. He often steered things in directions when he needed to which is why conman fitted him so well in the carnival.

Right now he can watch the way Joker looks away, hear the change in posture and tone, and watch eyes harden with recognition. Even if Joker didn't understand, like he knows he does right now, it felt right telling him just because he had waited and asked.

"Waking up somewhere else. Not knowing where I was or what happened until I was filled in," another dig into the basket for more muffin and chicken to distract himself from just sitting there. "Never again, I told myself, would I let myself be swallowed up. What little good that did..."

Tyki was a smoker and he had smoked over two packs in one day while down in the Underbelly. It eased the stress since alcohol did nothing for him. "But it happened again under that Prince's control. This time instead of inky black with my conscious drifting in and out?! I remember everything I did in that Manor." Yet again he can blame no one but himself but he feels terribly cheated. "It didn't matter how much I fought or what anyone's efforts amounted to."

Ah, Christ. Twice, then. Joker wants to do something with his hand, he just doesn't know what. Move it somewhere, twitch his fingers, something. Yet none of it feels enough, and he ends up feeling uncomfortable with energy jerking beneath his skin. Once, he thinks, was more than enough for him. He can't imagine going through it a second time.

At least even if he doesn't have two hands, he has two wings, and those are, in some ways, similar enough. He extends one out, letting it brush against Tyki and rest there. "We're out now," he says, although he knows that he personally wasn't down wherever they put Tyki and Sora and the others. By the time he got involved, things had gone to shit in a completely different way. "It didn't last." It's the best thing that he can say. However long the things they've gone through might have felt in the moment...

It hasn't lasted.

Small blessings.

"I'm not asking for pity," is the almost instant response. At least his tone has no bite and it is more of an after effect of the conversation. He hates all of this more than he wants to admit and for now he's going to continue to hide his wings underneath his shirt. It's not shame as much as it was he just didn't want to deal with them. Sure, the changes to his body might have been against his will but he had signed that contract on his own. That was his choice. With the Prince it might've been his choice to wander outside but it was different.

"I've just learned that when it comes to fae I have no real choice of my own. Not the Ringmaster hasn't given us some freedom to stretch our legs," he mutters under his breath. He doesn't want to lean but he finds himself subconsciously leaning towards that wing of comfort and he exhales outwards a lot of tension easing. "It didn't last. Not last time. Not this time."

The closer Tyki leans, the more the soft glow from the innermost feathers reflects lightly against his clothing and along his skin. They're not the brightest things in the world, especially since it's rarely an entire feather which is awash in light... but they're small, and enough, here in the gloomiest corners of the big top.

Joker keeps his wing there, unmoving, and listens quietly to Tyki's bitterness. "Well," he says slowly, careful and slow, "s'not quite true." Oh, he can't deny that the good ol' Fair Folk are more powerful than most things and people. Anything that can toy around with reality at is will... Yeah. Still... His fingers tap along the ground, just as slow as his words. "But the other choices are usually a good deal more risky. We won't get much there while we're still workin' under the Ringmaster. Decidin' who we align with, that's the easier and safe choice."

With all the comfort and pleasure running through him right now at appeasement and decent company he had forgotten he was suppose to be eating. While Joker is talking he'll stuff the rest of what is in his hands into his mouth and chew vigorously. He doesn't want the conversation to devolve into quiet and discontent again. It's an interesting glow but he's in no mood to further examine it.

He knows he has to be one of the strongest and most capable person here in carnival. His power was unique and dangerous. Even someone as the Warden had to have some powers capable of backing up the job he was required to have. Both of them had easily succumbed to being captured and enchanted after days of starving, restlessness, and the waiting. Normally such mental trauma wouldn't have easily broken him.

"I'll listen now," is all that he can think to say. He has a higher appreciation for the Ringmaster now after what he's endured under the Prince.

Really, a lot of the times, despite how suspicious some might be of the Ringmaster, it's really their best option for anyone foolish enough to be put under debt or who agrees to the terms of her contract. Joker might not like it, but he knows they've been given a fairer deal than most.

Even if she is absolutely ridiculous most of the time.

For now, all that's been able to be said has been, and Joker figures they shouldn't dwell on it even if he feels like shit. So instead he says, "What are ya gonna do when ya get sober?" That is to say, when they've been cured of the poison weighing them down.

He realizes that now. In truth he could've been serving Ringmaster forever but all she had asked for was a year and a day. He's not sure what other fae are like but he's heard a lot about them from Strange and others. They all seem to harbor contracts in the same way.

Despite her putting them all in danger that was his choice to leave his room. He can't entirely blame her for that. As human as she acts sometimes he knows she's nowhere close to being one or even acting like one.

He does feel a little better getting some of that off his chest. Now he just wishes he could get this pain off his back, "Return to normal, I suppose. Prepare for the next trip, the next performance. Sleep more?" Or so he thinks.

"Well, of course that." Once he's a little more recovered himself, Joker plans on getting them back into the routine as soon as he's allowed. For those of them who've come out of this intact if metaphorically bruised and bloody, it will be good to have some normalcy after all that nonsense. For those new, well, it will get them all into the swing of things. Whatever has happened to himself, after all, Joker has to keep in mind this job of his first and foremost.

But that's besides the point. "But after." He humans a little. "Think I'm gonna eat all the garbage I like. Have ya ever heard of chili?"

He knows what Joker was asking but since he didn't specify at first Tyki had given a very generic answer. He looks down at the picnic basket and finds he really doesn't want to eat anymore. The talking had helped but he had lost his will to eat again for the moment. He was too bitter of a mood and far too tired to contemplate forcing another mouthful. It was something and that's all he could do right now.

Reflexively he's always dodging questions, "It doesn't really ring a bell." Even if there is a possibility he's had some poor mans version as a hobo.

"It's this messy kind of red stew stuff-" Flopping backwards, he gestures upwards with his hand. "Spicy! With beans and things like that. I think it's from Spain, or America. Y'know, somewhere like that." Joker doesn't think he's ever gotten an answer on where, exactly. It doesn't really matter.

"I'm gonna make that and eat it. Not even care how mess it is."

A pause.

"Alright, that's a lie. But I'll wear clothes that I don't care about getting messy." That's better. Something messy, and spicy, and which would be utterly out of place on the Prince's table. There's other foods that would fit the bill too, he's sure, but he'll think of them after he's poison-free.

"You know, I only got to really eat nice and have good manners once day in that manor but I'm open to something messy and new." Not that he's complaining. That was kind of his fault. He could go for a good hearty meal when he sobers up. Spicy didn't sound too bad either. He was Portuguese and while he savored things like fish more than larger meals he didn't mind them at all. Tyki could pack down a lot of food given the right circumstances.

He winks at Joker with a geniune smile, "Get too messy and I can just cheat. Wouldn't be hard to remove a messy stain from a shirt or two." He had removed blood from worse.

"Then we'll make a day of it." It takes all his energy to do so, but he manages a nice wide grin. Just thinking about it is nice. It'll probably be even better when they're cured, and his stomach can care to eat things again.

"I'm sure we can come up with all sorts of stuff. Maybe even ask around for recipes, yeah?"

"But then I also wouldn't mind a nice fish roasted over an open fire," and some apples. He could always go for apples. Right now, apples were likely the only thing in his stomach other than what Joker had provided.

"Alright then. That's what we'll do. Make a day of it." He's trying to be cheery like he usually is but that wide smile fades after a minute or two to a small one.

⇨ THE PRINCE IS DEAD

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