Lost Carnival Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ringleaders) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2017-11-11 10:17 pm
ringleaders) wrote in lostcarnival2017-11-11 10:17 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- 9s,
- @heartstone manor,
- alphys,
- amethyst,
- cole,
- commander syrlya,
- doll,
- five,
- ginko,
- gongenzaka,
- hinawa,
- ichigo kurosaki,
- john childermass,
- joker,
- jonathan strange,
- julien delacroix,
- junko enoshima,
- lambert,
- lauren,
- mari makinami illustrious,
- miko nakadai,
- papyrus,
- reira akaba,
- rita mordio,
- sans,
- sora,
- susan,
- tallisibeth (scout),
- tyki mikk,
- yotsuba tamaki,
- yūya sakaki,
- zangetsu
⇨ 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.
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. |
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"That sounds ... useful." More useful than Foster is, generally, which isn't saying much. However, he'll continue without dwelling too much on that point.
"What do you need to learn new spells?"
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Foster almost glows when Lambert concedes his potential use, but the question catches him off guard.
"T... time?" He looks openly bewildered. "I have to craft a frame of reference, and then a... the process. Magic... I need to find the signs."
What he's trying to say, however poorly, is that making new magic requires constructing a platform of symbols to anchor the spell. Unfortunately, while magic is halfway a science, it's still halfway an art. Picky, subjective, and rarely linear. He had books as a necromancer, bodies of previous work to build on. With a few exceptions (known as hard limits, one of which Foster destroyed just before his contract), there's nothing stopping a mage from doing whatever the hell they want except the challenge of figuring out how to do it. Most people aren't especially interested in eschewing centuries of human magical art-science to make something that isn't some degree of related to an existing spell. The extant symbology works for a reason.
Foster doesn't care about the extant symbology unless it's convenient. What he does care about--
He cares about answers. He needs them. And this last question is almost one, but stops just shy of clarifying anything--least of all his intended purpose in Lambert's eyes. Which is what makes that question so frustrating for him--he's growing increasingly desperate, but he's continued to hold it together, just barely. Only to be asked something he can't even answer.
What does he--what does he need? He needs clear instruction, he needs a goal,, a purpose--!
"But what am I doing?" He enunciates the question with excruciating clarity, for an effect somewhere between pleading and condescending.
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"You know your way around bodies. Dead ones, anyway. How much do you know about the living?" Lambert raises his brows, pauses as he actually takes a moment to consider what that sounds like, then course-corrects.
"Keeping them alive, obviously." Though from Foster's current state, he'd guess the answer is 'probably not much.' Regardless, he'll explain his reasoning as much for his own benefit -- feeling the idea out -- as Foster's. Okay, it's basically not at all for Foster and all for him.
"There are only so many times I need a corpse raised. I don't need more creative ways of making them. But I do need something to keep the idiots around here from turning into them, considering this carnival attracts trouble like shit draws flies." Meaning he's not even going to bother attempting to keep them out of trouble, that's impossible. The best he can do is mitigation.
"So. That's what I need. Magic that'll actually protect people, that they can actually use." His gaze focuses on Foster, eyes sharp, lips twisting in sardonic amusement. "Think you can do that?"
Phone tag with worst icon, a winning combo
And his reaction to that is... strong. Repulsion, resistance, the corners of his mouth pulling down so steeply and sharply that it's almost unpleasant to look at (almost?), but he doesn't break eye contact, or lose that look of fixed determination in his eyes.
Even if Lambert had ended it right there, had left Foster with no room but to understand that he was meant to do that which he was never given, Foster would not have refused, nor even argued.
Thankfully, Lambert isn't done, and by the time he's actually finished, Foster looks much more pensive. No, not even pensive. He's simply thoughtful. The dramatic frown is gone, but the eye contact persists.
"Something to protect people...?"
To protect others, specifically. That... should be permitted. Somehow, it can be done. That much can be allowed.
He doesn't know it yet--doesn't know the idea, the form--but he knows... he knows, intimately, the feeling.
"Yes, yes--" he's saying, because even if he doesn't know it, he can feel it, he can feel it--he can feel it undefined, inimicable, steady and real within him. The presence, the possibility, the potential--
"Give me time," he repeats, this time with all the conviction of a vow, breathless and sincere--a passion that only shows when least convenient, generally. Lambert's smirk is just... so delightfully belittling. "Give me time. I'll give you--whatever, whatever you want."
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A pause.
"You actually going to remember all of this, or do I need to write it down?" Maybe he'll write it down anyway, just to make sure he remembers what the hell he even asked Foster to do in the first place.
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"Too creepy or gross," he echoes, nonplussed. "How do I--how do I know what's too creepy or gross?"
Isn't the fact that he's involved automatically repulsive? Too creepy or gross--should he hide his involvement, then?
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"Try not to come up with something that requires anyone getting naked or their body fluids." That's probably a good one to start with, right? Lambert scowls. How much of this does he need to spell out? "That's usually what people have the most problems with."
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So far, this doesn't seem... impossible. Nudity was not... he can't even imagine how nudity would get mixed up in a spell ritual. He's not a new age pentacles and crystals mage, he's not one of those 'dancing naked in the moonlight' mages.
That said, he doesn't think to ask whether his own blood counts as a 'bodily fluid' in this situation. So there's. That.
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"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now..." He looks Foster over again, critically, then snorts. "You don't look like you're in much shape to do anything."
CW: self-deprivation, disordered eating
Foster's laughter is loud and slightly mocking. "This? It's fine! It's fine." His tone, meant on some level to be reassuring, is also decidedly threatening. Miraculously, he drops it there.
Well, it's not much of a miracle--maybe just a mystery no one wants an answer to. It's possible he's just in a good mood because Lambert gave him something--a service, a project, a purpose--then again, maybe he's just fucking tired. This is not actually the first time Foster's just starved himself, but 'poisoned and partially petrified' isn't doing much for his stamina. Breathing hurts pretty much constantly. He'll have to do something about that.
"Don't worry! I'll have something for you."
He smiles.
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He pushes his bench away from the table, rising to his feet.
"I'll be counting on it," he says simply. Maybe it's an implied threat, maybe Lambert just doesn't know how to talk outside sounding vaguely threatening all the time, who knows. "You know how to find me when you do."
And maybe he really will write this down, just in case, because he doesn't trust Foster not to weasel out of it.