lostcarnival | ⇨ THE LUNAR SOLSTICE

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⇨ THE LUNAR SOLSTICE

Who: Everyone!
When: Winter Breaks: Day 6 - Day 25
Where: THE MOON
What: The carnival journeys to one of its moons to celebrate the Lunar Solstice. More information here.
Warnings: Winter fun.

MOON WALKING↴

The journey to the moon only takes a blink of an eye, but it leaves the carnival far away beneath you. The second moon can be seen on the peripheral, massive compared to its usual view. At least when the holidays start out, there will be no notable wildlife on the moon, though this is something you can talk to the Ringmaster about if you think it needs a change. It sounds like this is the first time she's used it in quite a while - it probably needs some dusting off!

Claim your cabins, and proceed to... well, do whatever you want! There is no rush and little obligation, besides to enjoy yourself. For real, this time. She promises there will be no vampires. Or, at least, none that don't already work for the carnival.

► CABINS: Living arrangements are character choice for this event, and there are a variety of cabins of various sizes, mostly built to house 2-6 people, though you can fit more in if you squish. They are all made of wood and of a rustic design - no fancy modern furniture, here! Each building is housed with a fireplace and the needed amenities. You can pick up materials to cook with the private kitchens if you like. Theoretically, you could spend the whole holiday sequestered away, watching the snow fall. Some of them also have outdoor hot tubs available!

► ACTIVITIES: Activities are mostly going to be character driven, though there will be some large group games like bingo and maybe a poker tournament happening at some point in one of the festival halls. Otherwise, there is a lot to offer: skiing, snowboarding, hiking, ice sculpting, snowball fights - it goes on! If you'd like to run a winter activity, just let the mods know, and we will get the word out there for you.

► FEASTING: Every day isn't a full-out feast because that would get a bit unhealthy, but there will be a number of specific feast events over the holidays where everyone is encouraged to let out their inner hedonist and stuff themselves. There will be one big feast per week, with smaller but also delicious meals offered in between. The feast dates will be B12, B18, and B24. There's also plenty of alcohol available for anyone who wants it.

► SHOPPING: As mentioned in the planning post, there is a massive market being run by the World Walker Caravan! The Ringmaster has given everyone 1250 credits to spend on items, but there is a caveat - must spend at least 500 of those credits on gifts for other people. And it better be a good one, if you only buy one! (She will ask that you do not buy her presents, however. She appreciates the sentiment, but it seems sort of silly buying her things with her own money! If you'd like to gift her, please have it be something more personal or handmade, but you are not obligated to get her anything at all.)

► TREATMENTS: The beginning of the holidays will also be about the time that the emergency Medical Team will have finalized their treatments for the Prince's poisoning. Watch out for further information on that - and make sure to get treated if you are suffering from petrification or poison induced illness! The holidays will be a lot more fun that way.

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"You just need to get better at laundry," Lambert fires back companionably. He gets his clothes covered in worse than blood and they get by fine; admittedly, it's also usually made of tougher stuff than just plain cloth, so maybe he shouldn't expect much there.

Still, since he's here anyway, he's also looking at things curiously. Some of it's familiar to his eye, some of it he knows he would have been likely to wear back in Portland, some of it is just ... plain bizarre. He completely tunes out Strange's prattle about budgeting to eye one of the bubble-encrusted bustiers with a shit-eating smirk, hooking a finger into it and holding it up to his chest while Strange's eyes are directed elsewhere.

"How about this?" He asks, innocently, cupping a hand over one very synthetic breast ... cup ... whatever this is. "I think it really flatters my figure, don't you?"

Edited 2017-12-03 06:15 (UTC)

Unsurprisingly, flimsy cloth can only do so much against blood and guts. Strange is about to retort something along those lines but oooh, a different hat! This one is very sci-fi and even dumber than the steampunk hat and it is going right on Strange's head as well.

He models for a moment in the mirror before turning around to look at Lambert and that...bubble covered thing. Strange bites down on his tongue to keep from laughing, but a small little snort of laughter manages to escape. That thing looks real silly and Lambert looks real silly holding it up to him.

"I know the carnival is devoid of women our age, but I didn't think you were that desperate!"

Why does a hat have to have lights on it? Probably the same reason someone decided it was a great idea to have crystal tits on clothes. Lambert feigns mock-offense, shaking his head.

"I'm not desperate, just adventurous. We can't all be married and happy with a rock that plays memories back." He puts the bustier back down, giving Strange a critical once-over.

"Not very magician-like." He grins, spotting a big ol' witch hat with a flopping brim, reaching over to flick it at Strange. "Here, how about this?" Because yeah, he's absolutely not taking this seriously. None of this is really stuff he'd seriously consider wearing, for the aforementioned 'probably just going to get fucked up by blood and guts' reasons, but his eyes look over the selection anyway, frowning slightly.

Taking the witch hat, Strange can't help but smile. Taking off the sci-fi hat, he puts on that floppy hat, curls peeking out from underneath it. He looks silly as hell but hey, that's the purpose of this sort of thing.

"Rocks can only do so much," Strange responds, with a little shrug. Yes, it's nice to be able to look at Arabella, but the rock isn't the real thing

When Lambert goes to look over the other clothes, Strange joins him. "Some of these aren't too bad. A few of them remind me of things I'd wear at home."

"Maybe they've got something for that here, too," Lambert smirks slightly. He's pretty sure he saw a sign for some kind of aphrodisiac and other substances before Strange pulled him over to the clothes -- and a sign primly telling customers they can inquire about more "adult" outfits by request.

"Some of it looks more like stuff from Portland." Which, if he sounds wistful about? It's because he traded away his decent (if thoroughly damaged from a run-in with Strange's ice-spikes) winter jacket in Greysol, and he wishes he had it right about now. There's a rack of coats in one corner, and he begins to browse through them, occasionally pulling one out to get a better look before shaking his head.

"You should get clothes for nightrunner work," he comments, distractedly. "Maybe then you'll stop wearing out your regular ones. Armor would be better, if you can find some light enough for you." Because no offense, he can tell Strange won't wear anything that's too much work to put on in the first place or too heavy to wear for long.

Edited 2017-12-03 22:15 (UTC)

"It wouldn't surprise me if they did," Strange responds, with an equally shithead grin. "They've got all sorts of products that are of a more adult nature." He knows there's a sign for some other substances. After all, he's been exploring the market more than Lambert and has already made a trip or two, he's already found the person selling that faerie weed—which he is straight up going to buy sometime during this shopping trip.

Strange just stays a bit silent thanks to that Portland comment. He still has his coat, still in one piece if a little charred from the Psionic's psionics. But why Lambert sounds oddly nostalgic about Portland is beyond him. Maybe he's just oddly nostalgic about heavy jackets (he hopes he's just oddly nostalgic about heavy jackets.)

The final comment though, causes Strange to let out a little bark of laughter. "I managed to survive the peninsula without any armor. I should be able to do the same here." At least, he hopes so.

"The peninsula didn't have fae, demons, or giant monsters," Lambert points out, missing Strange's silence entirely. It's easier to miss awkward pauses when you're not looking at a person and are doing something else, after all; he just assumes Strange is as distracted as he is.

"They might have clothes that ward against poison or magic, or something you could enchant," he goes on. Not that he knows the ins and outs of such things, but he has a vague idea that the concept's possible, at any rate. He finally looks up from what he's perusing, a heavy black coat whose material he's feeling through his fingers, to grin at Strange.

"Come on -- you're a fae carnival's magician now. Ordinary clothes just don't fit the part."

That's a valid point. Strange could point out that the peninsula had guns but then they'd be back and forth the rest of the evening about armor versus guns and guns verses demons and so on and so forth. But something that could be warded against magic...truth be told, most of Strange's problems had been magical ones instead of physical ones, getting shot aside. A piece of clothing to ward against illusions or mental compunctions could certainly be useful—though Strange has no idea how he'd even enchant that in the first place.

But, Lambert's suggesting something silly so best to focus on that. Strange looks up at him as well, matching that grin with one of his own. He's still wearing the dumb witch hat and idly flipping through a rack of sweaters in various levels of tacky.

"I have a performance outfit, you know." It's dark purple and slightly spangley. "But if you want me to wear clothes like that all the time, I'm afraid I'll pass—that is, unless you want me to leave a trail of glitter everywhere I walk."

"Well, you're a mercenary, not a scout. It's not like I expect you to be subtle. Maybe glitter's the best way to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies," he points out, mockingly. But he's sliding the jacket off the hanger now, beckoning Strange back to him.

"Here, try this on for size." It's a navy and gold and tragically fancy waistcoat that doesn't fit Strange's style at all, but that's not really the reason Lambert's asking him to model it. Still, he figures he can get a good laugh out of it.

Strange can't help but raise an eyebrow at the waistcoat. At the very least, he could try it on and Lambert would make fun of how it looked on him. Because it isn't his style in the slightest. As he takes off his coat, Strange hangs it up on a stray coatrack someone kindly set up. Slipping the garment on, Strange frowns a little as he does up the buttons.

"It fits a bit too loose in the chest." Which granted, is a bit of a nitpicky complaint, but there are moments when it's apparent that for all his madness and going to the dogs and all of Venice, Strange still grew up a bit posh. Aside from moderate complaining about the chest, it looks like it fits Strange near perfectly everywhere else: it's simply that this is obviously a piece of clothing that he wouldn't pick out if given the choice. Far too ostentatious.

"It's not my color either." And here he gives Lambert an 'I'm being a complete shit' sort of smile. "I default to either blacks or earth colors. Only certain shades of blue as they make my eyes look dull."

Lambert raises his brows. "You know, it's not too late to change jobs. Carly probably wouldn't mind another assistant." Except no, Strange might be able to sound like he knows what he's talking about as far as fashion goes, but he also has the attention span of a damselfly and a tendency to set things on fire besides. Lambert was only guessing by eye, but at least he got the size right. But hey, since Strange is claiming to know something about fashion...

"You're about the same size as Childermass." Give or take a few inches in dimensions, but Lambert can't for the life of him imagine the other magician caring much about things like 'a bit loose in the chest,' so that's irrelevant. "He needs a new coat."

Because Lambert had fucked up his. It's a bit of a non sequitur, that's for certain, but it was Strange who'd dropped that idle jab about Lambert needing help with a present for Childermass in the first place, and he's right. Lambert needs the help. It's just awkward to actually say it out loud, much less to admit that Strange and him really must be friends, because they share a similar talent for pissing Childermass off when they don't mean to.

"If I change jobs, I'm swapping to administration. There's a greater chance of being promoted to supervisor that way." Which on the one hand, ew responsibilities, but on the other hand, the chance at having a larger trailer is certainly appealing.

And well then. The coat's for Childermass? A wry little smile plays on Strange's face. He doesn't entirely know what's between Lambert and Childermass but they certainly have been spending a lot of time in each other's company lately. No matter what, he's glad of it. Whether the man realizes it or not, Childermass needs people he can trust. Considering that Strange honestly has no idea if he'll ever reach that point, at least there's Lambert.

"I doubt he'd wear this one," said as Strange examines some of the sleeve detail. "It's too ostentatious. Have you ever seen Childermass wear anything remotely gaudy? He sticks to blacks and dark colors." But mostly blacks.

Lambert can't help it -- he barks a laugh. "I can't imagine you supervising anyone," he says. "No offense. But I can't see you giving up magic for numbers."

Though knowing Strange, he'd still stick with the magic somehow. Just differently, maybe.

"I know he doesn't wear color. I just wanted to see how ridiculous it'd look on you." The performance outfit he used to wear, the same one he wore at the Manor ... that's as gaudy as it gets, and Lambert's pretty sure he only wore that because he was dedicated to the job and then later because he was too practical to discard any piece of clothing. Right now, they haven't actually spoken to each other in a few days, after the argument that left Childermass disappearing through a shadow after so unexpectedly appearing in the first place; Lambert still can't figure out what he was there for in the first place.

"I wouldn't have to. I could still be a magician while being an accountant, I simply wouldn't perform."

He'd definitely stick with magic somehow. It's too much a part of him now to ever give it up.

Blissfully unaware of any arguments Childermass and Lambert might have had, Strange continues rifling through the clothes for something that Childermass might actually wear in the first place. Unfortunately, a lot of these seem to be brightly colored. Thankfully, there's a few other racks of clothing for them to rifle through.

"I'll look through the rack on the other side of the tent if you give this one another once-over." After all, Lambert can't really walk. Strange has accepted the fact that he'll be the one carrying things and walking around and doing things of that sort.

"All right," Lambert nods. It's after a few moments of browsing (and occasionally leaning over to compare something or another, though usually it's Lambert holding up something more to make Strange laugh than anything) that he'll speak up again, casually.

"So is he still pissed at you, or what?"

"We've actually made up," Strange remarks. And from his tone of voice, he's downright surprised about that. "Apparently I'm an 'idiot when it comes to people'—his words, not mine—but I apologized and he accepted it."

And then proceeded to dwell on it for the next however long. He knows he needs to be humble so that Childermass can see he's being humble and take back that 'you only think about yourself' comment but honestly, Strange is struggling a bit on ideas.

He's still wearing the dumb witch hat as he holds up a coat to himself, frowns, then puts it back in the rack of clothes.

"That easy, huh?" Then again, Childermass doesn't seem the type to waste time or energy on pointless endeavors, of which staying angry at Strange would almost certainly be. If Strange was hoping for buttpats, he'll have to live with disappointment, because Lambert grins and follows that up with: "He's not wrong, though."

His attention drifts away from the coat rack -- even at glance he can already tell the rest isn't anything the magician would wear -- and lands on some of the other outfits instead. If he was picking armor, that would be one story, but clothes a man like John Childermass would actually use? Hell if he knows. He nods towards one of the displays.

"See anything over there?"

Strange was hoping for buttpats because he exists in a perpetual state of wanting buttpats, either for sympathy or people telling him how cool he is. Still, this is Lambert, he expects getting teased. So Strange matches Lambert's grin with one of his own. "If I'm an idiot when it comes to people, then what does that say about you? After all, you willingly associate with me."

It's all teasing, of course, and as Lambert nods towards the display, Strange walks over to look through it. There's few moments where Strange rifles though some of the clothes before he lets out a little triumphant bark of laughter.

"I might have found the thing!" And he pulls out an outfit that looks oddly piratical and far less shabby than Childermass's normal wear, but it's monochromatic and practically understated compared to the rest of the clothing here. "What do you think?"

"Means we both have low standards for company," Lambert grins. Still, as Strange triumphantly holds up his prize, he can't help looking it over dubiously. The coat's fine, sure, but the rest of it...?

"Does it come with all this?" He reaches out to touch the cloth -- the brocade is understated, but between that and the lining it seems sturdy enough, clothing meant to be worn rather than simply a costume. On closer inspection, the stitching is fine and close even if the outfit is just a bit more ostentatious than he'd expect Childermass to put on.

As it happens, the hanger also appears to be connected to one of the hats hung up and out of the way. Lambert laughs as he reaches up for it and tugs it down, twirling it in hand. "I want to see if we can get him to wear this."

Strange just grins like an idiot as he sees that hat. Because compared to some of the hats out here, it's not a terrible hat but compared to the hats Strange and Childermass own, it's definitely a terrible hat.

"Then it's settled," Strange adds in with a little smirk. "That's the outfit we're buying Childermass."

Wait, we're? Strange doesn't know if that's a slip of the tongue or him just barging onto Lambert's plans but yet, it's a we're now.

"So we're buying it now, is it?" Lambert smirks back at Strange. "If that's how it's going to be, you'd better put your money where your mouth is."

If the magician's going to get all conjugal about a gift, the least he can do is pay his fair share of it. Arguably, he's done the lion's work of actually picking something out here because a conscientious shopper for other people, Lambert is not.

"Didn't you hear me talking about my budget? I'll simply subtract my share from the amount I rationed out for Childermass." Strange is all grins and all smiles as he continues talking. He finally takes off the dumb witch hat he's wearing and sets it down on a nearby rack before grabbing the coat, hat, and all the items that come with the outfit.

"Besides, I was planning to spend some money today anyway." And then, in a bright, cheerful tone loud enough where everyone in the nearby vicinity can hear, Strange continues, with zero shame, "Did you know they sell cannabis here?"

"You've got how much you're paying for gifts rationed out?" It's a ridiculous concept to attach that much organization to Strange, of all people, and the disbelief in the witcher's voice shows it, but it's also immediately overtaken by a more pressing question as he follows Strange towards the caravan worker so they can get the purchase squared away. "Wait, how much do you have rationed for me?"

Because you bet your ass if Strange's apparently counting the pennies for gifts for everyone, Lambert had better be up there. When he asks that question, though, the witcher outright just laughs.

"Looking to get high, Strange?" Even if cannabis and hallucinogenics weren't already known in Lambert's world, after Portland, he definitely knows what a high is.

Strange doesn't answer Lambert's question about rationed out gifts. Instead, he finishes gathering up the items and moves towards the shopkeeper, gesturing for Lambert to follow him. It's one of the things from Portland that managed to stick. Some people learned a different language, some people turned into birds, other people learned how to keep a meticulous budget with enough cushion room for expenses.

Besides, it's so much more fun to talk about weed.

"Obviously. I haven't gotten high for pleasure since...probably Venice, if I'm not mistaken. It's long overdue so I'm going to enjoy myself." And get stoned on some magic weed. Great planning! He continues talking as the shopkeeper starts to make certain that all the pieces of the outfit are there before tallying them up himself. "You're welcome to join in, if you wish."

Lambert snorts. Normally, he wouldn't mind giving it a try, but considering how fucked up he got on a bottle of wine when it normally wouldn't touch him...

"I think I'll pass, but I can be there to keep you from breaking your neck or throwing up in the snow if you need a chaperone."

And now the shopkeeper's asking if they'd like this gift wrapped, which just sort of gets a blank look from Lambert. Even Portland Lambert, alas, wasn't particularly sharp with gift-giving.

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